Page 30 of Angel's Vengeance
Equally, the bulge of his arousal was also the gift that kept on fucking giving.It had taken the better part of an hour before it had finally subsided and he was able to sink into the desperate distraction of his beloved ritual visitations.
The black mask and nose greeted him before Rhode’s bulk had even come into full view of the cage’s door.It hardly mattered to the creature, as the fluffy tawny tail wagged with an excitement that belied the stern, pensive posture of the giant animal.
Owing to the beast’s size, it was given the largest accommodations available, but even that wasn’t saying much with how many kennels were built into the space.Adequate headroom was only really adequate for those animals who were adequately average.
“Hello, old friend.”
The male dog relaxed its mouth and tongue and offered licks through the holes in the gate, but its deep tan chest never gave up the bark Rhode suspected it longed to release.
“I know.Silence is safety.”Rhode did his best to ensure all the hard-to-reach spots on the animal got their love, especially since those were the areas that likely never got the attention they needed on account of his size and stature.After all, what high school volunteer, who was only there for two hours a week for college resume padding, wanted to get up close and personal with an intimidating and reserved guardian breed when the happy lab mixes were already rolling over for pets?Laughably few.
Above the dog’s kennel door sat a piece of white paper that was stuffed into a plastic sheet protector, condensing the animal’s entire life into its age, weight, and likelihood of adoption.
Name: Lucky
Age: 3
Weight: 125lbs.
Breed: Anatolian Shepherd Mix
Then there was the ever-condescending four-sentences-max paragraph distilling the animal’s entire worth into bite-sized selling points.
And why this particular dog was, in the mortals’ minds,special needs.
Furry Facts: Lucky came to us from Oklahoma, where he was found wandering the streets after his owners were incarcerated for drugs.We don’t know how he lost his leg, but he has a wonderful temperament and is fiercely loyal and protective.However, he does have travel anxiety but gives the absolute best kisses once he gets to know you!He’d be perfect for a homebody family who loves giant teddy bears and has a fenced-in yard.
Balancing on its one back leg, the dog gently pawed at the cage door when Rhode paused his petting for too long.The enthusiasm stretched across the dog’s fangy and in-no-way-ferocious smile made Rhode’s frown tip up just a bit.
“Why they chose to call you Lucky, I’ll never know.It doesn’t suit you in the least.”The dog seemed to snort his agreement, turned around, and, with no small amount of ceremony, presented his sizable butt as the next part of him hoping to receive affectionate scratches.The copious undercarriage was offered up with a mix of eagerness and reservation as his boxy head swung around.With assessing brown eyes, he waited to see whether the request would be honored or denied.
A low rumble vibrated through Rhode’s chest that might have been construed as a laugh on anyone else.“Always, sir.Let’s have it.”
Lucky scooted his hindquarters as far back as the kennel would allow, and Rhode obliged the pup in the small routine they’d come to share over the past few months when Rhode had found himself seeking out another sort of sanctuary.
As he worked his fingers over the dog’s muscular form, he stared at the creased paper above the cage door and scoffed at the ridiculous name the mortals had given the beast, along with the equally ridiculous notion of what circumstances warranted the emotion.
Like Rhode, the dog had long been overlooked for his usefulness and had come to be defined by the limb he lacked instead of what the rest of him still had left to give.At three years old, and going on the sliding scale of mortal equivalent years, Lucky’s age might as well have seen him, if he were a human, failing to launch out of his mother’s basement while simultaneously aging out of dependent health insurance status a good five years prior.He was too old to be adorable, too independent to be easily trained, and far too disabled to be socially acceptable.
Rhode could so fucking relate.
What he couldn’t patch into was how the mortals thought luck had anything to do with the dog’s worth.Was Lucky truly lucky?The open mockery of the animal’s condition that the moniker implied was so vapid, so simperingly asinine, that it bordered on depressing.As if, by virtue of being picked up off the street and being nursed back to whatever semblance of health passed for adequate once one’s limb had been amputated, the dog should be grateful.Grateful to live out an untold number of days with stale, though somehow reliable processed food as his only source of nutrition, while having a designated patch of grass to pee on during mortal-approved windows of time.
Grateful for the cell, because to the well-intentioned caretakers, the converse could only ever be unfathomable, of course.
Rhode leaned in close and whispered, “Luck has nothing to do with it, and you and I both know that.If you were my companion, I’d give you a proper name, one that suited both of us better.”
“What would that be?”
The icy tendrils that froze Rhode’s limbs quickly eased as the honeyed floral notes of Neela’s voice kissed them away.And while his hackles nearly grazed the ceiling with the realization of his sanctuary being invaded, Lucky’s stayed infuriatingly still.Not only that but the damn animal had the gall to turn around and offer the newcomer his belly, of all things.
Traitor.
“How did you find me?”
Her sharp steps, no longer the dull patter of her thickly treaded boots, clacked gently on the concrete floor as she moved closer.“Drea.”
“Ah.”