Page 8 of Were-Geeks Save a Kitten

“That’s a great idea, Yordan,” he drawled. “Make that your first task.”

“What?”

“You’re getting a promotion. I was going to go gentle on you.” He gestured to the food. “Planned to ply you with a bonnie fine meal and a friendly beer. But that’s not how an alpha is supposed to work, is it? Find the right guy, then force him to do the job.” Kit’s whole stance was one of challenge and dominance.

Yordan didn’t take it well. He didn’t fight back, though; he evaded.

“I’m not the fucking right guy,” Yordan snapped, panic edging into his tone.

“You don’t even know what the job is,” he retorted. “We’ll talk about it as soon as you see Gelpack.”

“I don’t need a shrink!” More panic. Damn, the guy was on the ragged edge about something. Which made it even more important that he start talking to someone.

“So, you’re just fine?” he taunted. “Big macho man who’s been around long enough to know what’s what. You haven’t been affected by the last eighteen months of shit. And any weakling who is needs a good kick in the ass.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you’re thinking.” Kit reached up and poked the man hard in the chest. He wanted to spread his fingers and roll his palms down the gorgeous expanse of muscles. Instead, he used his nail and shoved. “Well, big man, now you’ve got your chance to put your money where your mouth is. You’ve got the age and the experience. You know the combat packs better than I do because you’ve served with or trained every single one.” He lifted his hand and patted Yordan’s rough-hewn cheek. “So go to it, laddie. Fix what’s ailing in Wulf, Inc.”

He watched Yordan swallow, his breath short. But in an impressive display of control, he firmed his chin and glared down at Kit.

“Why aren’t you doing it? Missed too many golf games lately?”

Was that what Yordan thought of him? That he was hanging out waiting for a tee time? “You’ve spent too much time in Florida, Swamp Thing. It’s winter in Michigan. I’m going on a well-deserved vacation,” he lied. “I haven’t been back home in a decade, and I need to see my nanna.” That was true. She was the only one who might have a clue how to fix his current problem. “So you’ll be in charge the minute I take off. Everything you want to do to Wulf, Inc. is yours to command.”

“When are you leaving?”

“As soon as you’re up to speed.”

“For how long?”

“Don’t know.” He winced. “Got a problem that needs fixing before I can come back.”

“And you’re putting me in charge?”

“Sure am. Because an alpha doesn’t ask what his people want. He just puts ’em where he needs ’em. Right?” Instead of a brogue, he put on a bad Texas accent.

Yordan’s jaw worked furiously. He wanted to fight. He wanted to rail. He was a man who perennially avoided command, and Kit wanted to know why. But instead of talking, he just stood there and took it.

Which meant Kit had to push.

“Unless you want to sit down and eat your meal. Maybe drink that craft beer that is pretty damned good. Then you can stop bellyaching about all the things I’m doing wrong and talk to me about what the fuck is going on with you.”

Yordan’s gaze slid to the floor. “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with me, and I’ve got nothing to say to you or that alien plastic bag Gelpack.”

Kit sighed. For some people, taking on the hardest job in the entire organization was easier than facing their feelings. “Then congratulations. You’re now my understudy.”

Chapter 4

Why Do Aliens Care about Assholes?

WTF had just happened?

Yordan watched the Scotsman stride out of the locker room like a god finished with his mortal acolytes. He spun on his heel and walked his cute ass straight out before Yordan could even think to shut his mouth.

He shouldn’t have found that sexy. Damn it, everything about the bureaucrat ought to disgust him. But the man had brought him food and beer and had somehow turned Yordan’s arrogant posturing into a put-up-or-shut-up promotion.

And he was perverted enough to find that sexy as hell. The man had sat here with a hard-on—yes, he’d noticed that despite the clever placement of Kit’s hands—and listened to Yordan’s blathering criticism. He’d let Yordan go on and then showed him exactly how much of an idiot he was. And then he’d nailed Yordan with more work and more responsibility. Put up or shut up. The perfect, no-nonsense response to a blowhard.