Page 31 of Satisfaction Guaranteed

Tomás cackles and waves the stolen phone, then books it through the side door that leads out to the pasture. “For someone so secretive, you really ought to have a passcode that’s anything other than your birthday,” he snorts. “Ooh, Alana? Cute, cute. And with a heart next to it, too? Was that you or her? Because if that was you, you’re so down bad. Wait, wait, wait…is this the same Alana you’re always—GAH!” His words are cut off as Cyrus tackles him and unceremoniously drags him right back into the house before he can get too far.

“Tommy—I swear,” Cyrus roars, “I’ll make a widow out of your wife if you don’t give me that phone!”

They wrestle right there on the kitchen floor, and Tomás dissolves into panicked laughter as he scrambles to get away. Calling his bluff, his foot kicks out in an attempt to push Cyrus back while he opens the message. But before he can read anything, he’s forcibly flipped onto his stomach. Cyrus outmaneuvers him by sitting on him and snatching his phone back, panting and breathless.

“You’re… such…a pain in the ass!”

Tomás chuckles, unable to fight beneath his brother’s weight. “And you’re pathetic as all hell! Is this the same Alana you’re always talkin’ about from the bakery? You were gonna look me dead in my eyes and tell me you don’t have feelings for the girl you visit every goddamn day like there’s not at least three other options for coffee in this town?” He tries to wiggle away, to no avail.

“Quiet!” Cyrus smacks his brother in the back of the head with his own hat. He settles more weight on top of him, uncaring of the struggles or claims that he’s crushing his lungs. Too damn bad. Cyrus takes a breath and unlocks his phone. Sure enough, there she is: Alana, heart emoji and all. That stupid smile finds itself back on his face.

Hey! Just got home. Thanks for letting me wait out the storm. (: I had fun. Oh, and I still can’t really feel my legs. Thanks for that.

Cyrus’ stomach does a little flip. He scratches his beard, hovering over the keypad. He should probably wait a few minutes and make himself seem busy, but…

Anytime. And if you’re eager to do that again, well, it seems I have an open schedule. Maybe this time I’ll get you a few extra days off work.

“I don’t know what you’re typing, but why do I feel like it’s gross?” Tomás groans. He no longer puts any effort into fighting for his freedom, though. At this point, he’s relented, opting to make himself comfortable on the floor. One hand rests against his cheek to prop himself up while the other picks at the frayed corner of the area rug beneath him.

“Quiet before I lock you in the stable with the horse,” Cyrus grumbles, awaiting a response, heart in his throat. He watches like a hawk while her speech bubbles appear and disappear a few times, and by the Gods, he’s never felt anxiety like this. Jumping headfirst out of a plane would be less terrifying. But then her message pops up, and all his tension dissolves into nothing but butterflies.

Easy, cowboy. I still have a birthday party to survive, you know. I kind of need to be of sound mind and body.

There’s a pause for what feels like hours before those speech bubbles reappear.

But I may just have to take you up on that.

Another pause. Another disruption in the beating of Cyrus’ heart.

After recovery though lol

Fireworks erupt in Cyrus’ chest. Hot, bright, and blinding. Oh, this girl. With the absence of his glamour, his tail shifts out, and it isn’t until Tomás complains about it slapping against the back of his head that he realizes. He rushes off of his brother, and rakes a hand through his hair.

“Well?” Tomás grunts and rolls the pain out of his shoulder as he stands. “What are you going to do, hotshot?”

Cyrus stares at the message. It’s tempting to feed into his inkling of interest. Their night together had been some of the best sex he’s had in a while, and seeing her again doesn’t feel like the worst idea in the world. Maybe, at the end of the day, that’s what this is really about. He may be a wolf, but he’s also just a man. They had some amazing sex, and now his brain is a bit obsessive about it. Whatever the case, he’s sure it’ll calm down in a few days.

Cyrus sighs, scratching his beard again. He needs to put the ball in her court. Professional, professional, professional.

Sounds good, Miss Alana. I’ll be here when you’re ready.

CHAPTER TWENTY

ALANA

The walk of shame hardly seems like the appropriate thing to label Alana’s journey back home. A walk of unbridled self-satisfaction, perhaps? Much better. The sun is shining uncommonly bright.

There’s a rainbow on the horizon, and birds are chirping along to the tune of their favorite song. Alana’s confident that if she joined them, she could summon every forest creature in a ten-mile radius like some strange variant of a magical princess.

Cinderella, if Prince Charming shoved her into a mattress on the regular.

Energy thrums beneath Alana’s skin the entire ride home. When she arrives, legs partially numb and spirits higher than humanly possible, she’s so into her own world that she hadn’t been prepared for the company. In hindsight, it was a little suspicious when Lilith texted her asking when she planned on coming back. She really should have known better.

Lilith and Nakita wait at her door, fully adorned with umbrellas and glasses while they hold several items in their hands. Balloons, champagne, streamers. It’s Lilith who holds out a big translucent box, and as Alana steps in to greet them, she gets a better look at its contents. A cake.

A comically large cake with the word “Virgin” written in fancy cursive and crossed out with red icing. Oh, there’s a knotted penis drawn on it, too.

“Congratulations on getting your cherry popped, babe!” Lilith exclaims, loud and uncaring to anyone who may hear. One of Alana’s elderly neighbors takes that exact opportunity to walk past, and, oh, the poor woman. Alana swears she actually clutches her pearls as she puts her walker into overdrive.