Chapter One
Submit Application
The cursor sat unmoving over the box on his laptop screen as Nate bit his lip.
He could do this.
Hewantedto do this. He’d done his research, and the Shiftercorp Companionship Programme, known as the SCP, was as squeaky clean as it could get without being suspiciously above board. It had been running for almost ten years, since a year after the global werewolf reveal, so it wasn’t like he was worried for his safety.
The inevitable comparison to prostitution that the Programme drew wasn’t what had him hesitating, either. Nate had never seen the Companionship Programme like that. As far as he was concerned, Shiftercorp was kind of like Grindr for shifters—both parties knew what to expect, and everyone walked away satisfied. It was big business, with a lot of shifters preferring a partner who’d consented to and was prepared for the rigours of shifter sex—which was, from all accounts, a wild ride, pun intended.
Natelovedsex, and he didn’t believe there was anything wrong with monetising his talents in the bedroom. What was that saying about “find a job you love and never work a day in your life?” Sure, maybe whoever said it hadn’t had being a shifter’s paid fuck-buddy for the summer in mind, but that was beside the point.
And it wasn’t the shifter factor—Nate had exactly zero objections to getting railed by a werewolf—or even, say, a bear.
Actually, he’d been railed by a bear more than once, but he suspected that it wasn’t even close to the same thing.
Nate hadn’t experienced shifter sex—yet—but he had friends who swore it was a whole other level of awesome, which made sense, given a shifter’s increased speed, strength and stamina. The one thing stopping Nate had been lack of opportunity.
And on a more practical level, applying to the Companionship Programme meant that instead of working as a brickie’s labourer and sweating his arse off mixing cement and building retaining walls in the heat of summer, he’d be getting paid for getting laid. It was a win-win situation.
So why couldn’t he just…hit the button?
He ran a hand through his messy dark hair and spun in his office chair, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror as he did so. When he looked at the picture that he presented, he was able to admit to himself what the problem was.
He was scared he wouldn’t make the cut.
The thing was, most of the applicants for the Companion Programme were eighteen-, nineteen- and twenty-year-olds—uni students looking to clear their HECS debts in one fell swoop. And there was a definitetype.Instagram-pretty, with wide eyes, plump glossy lips, perky little tits on the girls and next to no body hair on the guys. Cute little werewolf snacks, every one of them, ready to be gobbled up by the big bad wolf.
Nate didn’t fit that brief.
For starters, at twenty-four he was older than the norm, and he sported a decent amount of muscle, gained as a result of hauling bricks and sacks of mortar around for years. He was tan from working outdoors, with a light dusting of chest hair and a colourful half sleeve he’d gotten in Bali a few years back on his one overseas trip. His hair got a trim whenever he was near a barber and remembered, so it didn’t exactly have a signature style. His skin-care products consisted of SPF 50+ sunscreen, and his beauty regimen was showering after work.
Instagram-pretty he was not.
He worried that even if he grew a pair and applied, they’d turn him down flat, and he wasn’t sure his ego could take it. As long as the application sat on his laptop unsubmitted, he still had a chance. It was like not checking the lottery numbers—it meant he might still be a winner. Okay, fine. He’d admit that his logic was shaky on that one.
The point was, he wanted this—almost too much.Thatwas why his application had been sitting completed on his laptop for the last three weeks, but he hadn’t pushed the button yet.
Except he’d run out of time to dick about. The deadline to apply for this summer’s intake was midnight tonight if he wanted to make the cut for the January round of selections. And while he made a decent enough wage, it would be nice not to have to worry about money, what with his old ute making weird noises every time he changed gear and his rent going up next month. Nate wanted to buy a place of his own, and this was the perfect opportunity to earn a deposit, because the SCP paidbig.
He ran a hand through his hair again, regarded himself in the mirror and tried to think positive thoughts. Sure, maybe he didn’t have delicate high cheekbones or obscenely long lashes and a pixie cut. Maybe he wasn’t a dance student from the local Performing Arts Academy who could bend in half and lick his own arsehole, but there must be werewolves who weren’t into that whole delicate, waify thing?
Objectively, Nate knew he was decent looking, with deep brown eyes and dark hair that had a hint of a curl when left to its own devices. He’d been told he was hot more than once, and he never seemed to have any trouble finding someone to bring home for the night. Plus, he had a decent-sized dick, and he knew how to use it. That had to count for something, right?
He put on his best smile. “You’re not just a werewolf snack,” he told himself, “you’re the entire fucking buffet.”
And yeah, when he looked at the face in the mirror, he had to agree that he was.
Before he could change his mind, he spun in his chair and hit the enter key. The screen blinked, and a message appeared.
Thank you for your application. We will be in contact in the next seven to ten working days.
Nate let out a loud breath, and the tension he hadn’t known he was carrying left him in a rush. For better or for worse, he was doing this.
* * * *
Nate got a reply the next afternoon.
