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Preview from chapter one
Bruno's Moment
The truck's engine rumbled away down the gravel, and I stood in Marcus Webb's living room, arms crossed, trying to play it cool about being alone in a stranger's place with a beast of a dog that could pass for a small bear. Bruno held the doorway, his tongue hanging, his tail swinging slow and heavy like a metronome. Not a bark, not even a whimper—just a stare, and that look sent a primal tingle up my spine that wasn't quite fear, but something rawer.
"Alright," I said, my voice too bright against the dead quiet. "So. You're Bruno."
His ears snapped up at the name. He padded toward me, step by step, claws ticking on the hardwood. The click-click-click stopped at the rug's edge, and he plopped down, panting, that massive chest heaving with an almost hungry rhythm.
I'd been in the house maybe ten minutes. Marcus had shown me around with that eerie, understated control—kitchen, back door, the kennels out back where Rex lounged in the shade, those clever dark eyes tracking me through the fence. Bruno had shadowed every step, close enough that I felt his heat at my heels, his snout grazing the back of my thigh now and then.
"He likes you," Marcus had said, and the flat, matter-of-fact tone—like he was commenting on the damn weather—twisted my stomach into something complicated.
Now the truck was gone, and I was alone with the dog, the silence pressing in thicker than it should.
"You're a good boy, right?" I whispered, crouching to his level. "You're not gonna—"
He rose before the words were even out of my mouth, his head suddenly locking with mine, scorching breath washing over my face like a humid tide. A startled laugh escaped me, and I reached up, fingers digging into the loose, pliant skin behind his ears. God, he was warm—a furnace under my touch—and he pressed into my hand, eyelids drooping with what could only be described as pure, raw pleasure.
"Alright," I chuckled again, the sound shaky and bright. "Alright, you're a little charmer, huh?"
That’s when his paws slammed onto my shoulders.
The force hit me before I could even brace—one heartbeat I was kneeling in front of him, stroking that velvet-soft fur, the next he’d lunged upright, his entire mass crashing into me, shoving me off-balance. My heels snagged on the rug, my arms pinwheeling like a fool as I tumbled backward, landing hard against the couch. The velvet cushions beneath me were slick and clammy, soaked with sweat and something muskier—an earthy, pungent scent that clawed at my nostrils. I was still gasping out a nervous laugh, breathless and shaky, when his tongue lashed across my throat.