Page 6 of Were-Geeks Save a Kitten

Not his favorite late-night activity, but it was worth it. Especially when a quick glance around the motor pool showed him that everyone else appeared calm as they went about their job. Hopefully, a long weekend off would help Rowland settle back into his job as well.

“I guess I’m going to have to move ‘spin cycle motor pool’ up to a higher priority problem,” he said. “I can’t give every nervous Nellie time off when things get weird...” His voice trailed away. In his head, he’d been talking to Yordan, who had waited patiently for him to finish. But of course, Yordan wasn’t someone who waited for anyone.

The man was gone, and now Kit had to waste more time searching for him like a lost puppy.

FML.

Chapter 3

Some Things Don’t Shrink in Water

It wasn’t hard to find Yordan. The lingering stench of swamp muck led straight to the showers. The guy probably was desperate for a long, hot soak. He probably hadn’t eaten either, so Kit stopped off in the kitchen and reheated some of last night’s pot roast. He wasn’t supposed to encourage drinking during the workday, but he figured Yordan deserved a beer. The man had driven solo up from the Everglades. So Kit grabbed a local craft brew and wished he could justify taking one for himself. He couldn’t. He never drank just one, and if he was going to repair an Oldsmobile tonight, he would need to be sober.

He settled into the bench area of the locker room, the meal tray resting beside him. As long as he was here, he threw a thick towel into the heater and waited. And by “waited,” he meant he let the steam wash over him as he imagined what Yordan looked like all wet and ripped underneath a hot spray.

What a joy to sit with his fantasy for a few minutes. He rarely got this kind of time. He’d been yanked from his combat pack when his problem with shifting appeared. They’d given him no choice in the matter, just threw him in an office and labeled it a promotion. Fortunately, he was good at logistics and quickly earned his current role. It helped that Wulf, Inc. was woefully understaffed. Still, coordinating seven combat packs was an all-consuming job and one that no single soul could manage for long.

Thankfully, work was slowing down—finally—after more than a year of mop-up from Wisconsin’s black hole of oblivion. And if he sat and dreamed about hot water, soap, and Yordan, then who would blame him except his own blue balls? He’d had fantasies about the guy since the man had taken over training during Kit’s first class at Wulf ten years ago. Back then, he’d been a horny teen, but some things never faded with time. And Yordan looked as hot now as he had back then.

Kit was thick and achy when the shower shut off. He let his eyes drift open to see Yordan step out through the steam in all his dripping, naked glory. Broad shoulders, ripped abs, water droplets clinging to flat, tight nipples. Yordan had relatively little body hair, but that only made the dark treasure trail more pronounced. What Kit wouldn’t give to lick—

“Luncheon peep show?” Yordan drawled without even bothering to reach for a towel. He knew how gorgeous he looked. Apparently, he didn’t care.

“Towel—” Kit had to clear his throat. “There are towels in the heated bin.”

The man frowned at him. “Heated towels?” Then he looked around. “What bin?”

“The denim one to your right.” Kit smiled while keeping his hands casually relaxed over his groin. No point in advertising what he’d been thinking. “Stratos was testing some old incantations. The only thing she accomplished besides some orange mist and shorting out half the electronics in the house was heating all the denim in the place to near scorching. Ladin suggested making them into towel bins since they’re too hot to wear.” He grinned and let his brogue slip into his tone. “I like them.” Though the seamstress had had to wear silicone gloves to stitch it.

“Denim pants?”

“Something about smokin’-hot cowboy pants. She hadn’t meant to get it into the incantation.”

“And why the fuck are werewolves doing incantations?”

Kit shrugged. “Why the fuck not? Who says we can’t use other magic just because we go hairy?” Apparently, Yordan was one of those purists who thought their whole organization should be restricted to going wolf and beating up on bad guys. “Wulf, Inc. has to adapt or die, Yordan. That means experimenting with new stuff.” He watched as the man gingerly pulled out a hot towel from the bin and wrapped it around his waist.

Pity that. Kit had enjoyed looking at the man’s long, thick cock. But right then, he was more interested in the way Yordan’s expression softened as the hot towel wrapped around his flesh. Sometimes the simple pleasures were the best.

“Not so bad, huh?” Kit taunted.

“How much did it cost to replace all the blown computers?” Yordan retorted. “All for hot towels.”

Too much, but sometimes shit happened. That was the nature of experimentation. Especially with magic, so Kit pulled out his canned answer. “They were learning things. It happens.”

Unfortunately, one of the things he liked about Yordan was that the man never settled for canned answers. “What they learned is what we already knew. The incantation means nothing. It’s all about the power of her belief focused into a result. In this case, we learned that Stratos really loves hot cowboys. As do a lot of other women.”

Kit couldn’t argue. Magic depended upon belief. Increase the number of people who believed, and the power combined to create every kind of magic ever imagined, from glittery vampires to knife-wielding Chucky dolls. Some, like him, came from ancient mythology. The Scots loved their spooky monsters on the moors. Others, like Yordan, came from way too many B-rated horror flicks. Add in the peculiar random magics from Fairy creatures, and it was a wild, wacky world.

Instead, Kit pulled out another canned answer. “The geek pack follows its own rules. Nero’s got it under control.” He jerked his chin at Yordan. “You should know that better than anybody. You helped train them.”

“And not a damned soul listened to me.” He shook his head. “Look at you. What the fuck is that?”

“I thought you’d be hungry after your shower.”

He sauntered over, all that big flesh and rippling muscles as he picked up the bottle of beer and curled his lip.

“Craft beer. Of course.”