He was checking his emails on his phone during smoko while he looked across the highway at the Indian Ocean. Working on site across from Hilary’s Beach Harbour wasn’t the bonus most people assumed it was. Sure, the view was nice, but unless the sea breeze was in, it was just a tease, a reminder that other people were spending their days surfing and swimming and walking their dogs instead of working.
That was another reason he’d applied as a Companion—even if he spent the entire month of January as a companion having super-athletic sex with a werewolf, it wouldstillbe easier on his body than being a brickie’s labourer during an Australian summer.
Itwouldmost likely be a werewolf partner—they made up the majority of the shifter population, followed by felines, and after careful consideration, he’d omitted cat shifters from his selection criteria. Justthinkingabout barbed penises had him squirming.
He opened the email, assuming it was just an acknowledgement of his application, but then he read the words,“We are pleased to welcome you to the Shiftercorp Companionship Programme. Please find attached…”
His breath caught. It looked like a Perth tradie who wasn’t Instagram-pretty but who had muscles and ink and a tan gained from working outdoors might have what it took, after all.
“You right, Nate?” his boss, Sully, asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Nate remembered how to breathe. “Yeah. Just…” He debated if it was too soon to say anything or if he should wait until he had more details, but Sully had given him a job right out of school, and he’d always been a decent bloke. He hadn’t so much as blinked when he found out Nate was gay, and he’d never once laid him off, even when work had been tight. The least Nate could do was give him a heads up that he might need a new offsider. “I might need time off, over the next month.”
Sully creased his brow. “Everything okay?”
“I applied to the SCP and I got in,” Nate blurted.
Sully raised his eyebrows. “Really? You never said you were applying.”
“Yeah. I didn’t think I had a chance, so I didn’t mention it, but it looks like I’m in.”
He hoped Sully wouldn’t try to talk him out of it, but the man just pulled off his hard hat and swiped his brow with a forearm, spreading cement dust across his skin, and said, “Good for you. When do you start? My nephew’s been after me for some hours over his uni break, so the timing might work.”
Nate cleared his throat. “I dunno. I’ve just been accepted.” He read the email again, paying more attention to the details this time. “I have to screen the candidates and see who I like, and then they, um. Bid on me.” His face heated at the thought of it.
Sully broke into a grin. “You’re hot property, huh?” He extended his arms and clasped his hands in front of himself, planted his feet and started doing a weird sort of hip gyration that was no doubt meant to be sexy, all while chanting, “Bow chicka bow-wow.” It was hilarious and disturbing all at once.
Nate snorted with laughter. “Stop it. You’re scaring the seagulls.” He’d expected some ribbing, because it did sound ridiculous, being bid on as ‘entertainment’ for single, wealthy werewolves—but in fact it was big business. Nate knew that he could expect to make thousands of dollars, for just a few weeks’ work.
For that, he could put up with Sully taking the piss.
* * * *
There was a certain set of pearl-clutchers who liked to compare the SCP recruitment process to human trafficking, and they were painfully vocal about it. But a happy side effect of the Puritans and their protests was that the Shifter community was almost fanatical about there being not so much of a hint of coercion regarding partnerships through the SCP—which meant that when it came to deciding who he was willing to sleep with, Nate was the one calling the shots.
The initial match-ups were all done via an online profile, but when he met his selection in person, if they weren’t a good fit, he could change his mind and choose someone else, no harm, no foul. And if at any time during his contract he wanted to walk away from the whole thing he could, and he’d still be paid a pro-rata amount for the time he’d worked.
He got to choose who he’d accept as a partner, how long the contract ran for, and what he would and wouldn’t be willing to do. He’d rejected fisting, figging and watersports right off the bat, as well as a heap of other stuff—some of which he’d googled to find out what it was and immediately wished he hadn’t.
It was a pretty sweet deal that was geared towards enthusiastic participation. Nate could see why people were willing to jump through all the hoops that were needed just to apply. Hell, he’d jumped through them himself, hadn’t he? His least favourite bit had been the mandatory pre-application medical—that shit had been more intimate than some dates he’d been on.
Still, it had been worth it.
Now that he’d been accepted, things moved fast—faster than he’d expected. Nate was sent the profiles of shifters who had expressed an interest in him, and they were all werewolves. He received links to dozens of files so he could give a tick of approval to the ones he liked, and he had to admit, the amount of interest was flattering. It took half a day of going over the profiles while he sat on his bed, laptop balanced on his knees and his ceiling fan going full tilt in an effort to combat the heat, before he managed to narrow it down to just five.
Some people were of the opinion that approving more bidders was better because it encouraged a higher final pay-out, but Nate was more cautious in his choices. He wanted whoever won his services to be someone he could spend the entire summer with, which meant that for him, they needed to tick his boxes when it came to physical attraction. Just because he was getting paid for it didn’t mean he didn’t want to enjoy the sex as well.
Still, Nate couldn’t help laughing at himself. He’d always claimed he didn’t have a type, yet when the five bidder profiles were lined up across the screen, every single one of them was, for want of a better term, a silver fox. Or silver wolf, maybe? Regardless, his preferences were showing. Older, taller, stubbled and with a rugged vibe. And every last one of them had a steely glint in their eyes that said they knew what they liked and weren’t afraid to ask for it.
He wondered if he shouldn’t check the profiles again in case there was someone whowasn’tolder than him, but in the end, he decidedfuck it.
These were the men whose photos made his dick throb. He couldn’t wait to see if they’d do the same when he met them in the flesh.
* * * *
Nate checked the zip on his bag one last time, scanned his bedroom for anything he might need in the next week, and, with a final look around, pulled the door shut behind him and made his way to the limousine parked at the kerb.
It was starkly out of place in Balga, the gleam of the sun off the polished paintwork a stark contrast to the peeling paint of Nate’s front door. He fought the urge to apologise to the driver when he ducked into the back seat. But Liz, the werewolf liaison officer he’d been dealing with so far, didn’t comment on the neighbourhood, just gave Nate a small smile and handed him a cold bottle of water from the mini bar. He took it with a grateful nod, pressing it against his forehead for a second before draining it in one go.
