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“I’m talking to you because you’re the one who started it. Just like you did last month and the month before that.” Gummy popped the last of the candy into his mouth and chewed with loud smacks of his lips. “I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but get that shit worked out.”
“There isn’t jack in my past.” Not even a Jill or a John, more’s the pity. For a hot, single werewolf, he was annoyingly celibate.
Gummy raised his hands. “I don’t need to hear the details. I just need you to work it out.”
Yordan echoed his alpha’s motions. “There isn’t anything to work out. I’m not lying, Gummy. There’s nothing wrong except the usual. I’m getting older, the pups are getting younger, and I hate the fucking swamp—”
“Talk to one of the shrinks while you’re in Michigan. That’s an order.”
An ugly chill iced down Yordan’s spine. “Michigan. I’m not going back to HQ.”
“Yeah, you are. It’s almost time for your annual review. They’ve added a mandatory shrink session, thanks to all that nightmare shit in Wisconsin.”
“Oh, hell no. I’ve had it with the geek pack.”
The geeks were the brain trust of Wulf, Inc., and Yordan had been pulled in to help train them. They were nice enough for nerds, but somehow they got the idea that they were supposed to fight as well as think. Talk about a disaster in the making. Those nerds were always tripping over their dicks. Then they started having feelings—not just about how things were done, but about each other. Werewolves were naturally horny, especially at their age, but three of the six recruits had already coupled up, one with the group’s alpha. All that lovey-dovey bullshit made Yordan feel old and alone, which was why he’d hightailed it back to Gummy’s pack as soon as he was able.
Meanwhile, his alpha was staring at him thoughtfully. “I thought you liked them.”
“I did. Until they started having feelings about everything.”
“Like getting therapy?”
“Exactly like that. It’s whiny and—”
“Yeah, whatever.” Gummy folded his arms over his chest. “Maybe being around a bunch of whiny babies will remind you that you’re a goddamned adult and you can’t take your shit out on the rest of us.”
“I don’t have any shit—”
“Keep lying to me if you want, but you better damn well work it out or I’m not letting you back after the puppies are housebroken.”
Fear did shitty things to a man’s gut, and Yordan could feel acid’s toxic rise in his belly. Yordan was a career Wulf, Inc. guy. Like so many others, he’d been there since high school and had no job prospects outside the paranormal world. And since he was a werewolf, he worked at Wulf, Inc. or nowhere. There was literally no other job for him, and getting cut from a combat pack was akin to being tossed into the reject pile.
Worse, eighteen months ago, a black hole of death had opened up in Wisconsin. It had taken everything Wulf, Inc. had to stop it, but the disaster had taken its toll. His hometown was now a blighted circle of nada. Which meant he had no one and nothing outside of Wulf, Inc.
Typically, terror made him square his shoulders with a show of bravado. “I’m the best you have, Gummy. I’m the reason we survived in Alaska. I took down that fire-breathing vamp, and if it weren’t for me—”
“I’d still be burning to death in Hell.” Gummy meant literal Hell, thanks to a devil cult.
“Exactly—”
“So I guess you know how serious I am that you get help.” Gummy’s eyes softened as his shoulders drooped. “Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole, but I can’t watch you pull another idiot stunt. You gotta work your shit out.”
“There isn’t any shit!”
Gummy’s eyebrows went up. They were bushy things, like two thick caterpillars crawling upward on his otherwise bald head. “Are you sure?”
Yordan didn’t say anything. The last few years had been brutal. He’d lost good friends when the cataclysm in Wisconsin was followed by an ugly mop-up. For the last eighteen months, Wulf, Inc. had been run ragged, chasing down every monster juiced up by the black hole. Everyone was exhausted, and those who could leave had turned in their resignations in favor of a quiet, mundane life.
That wasn’t an option for him, though. He didn’t have family in the civilian world. So, he’d toughed out the creeping loneliness and aging body, but apparently he wasn’t as cool as he’d thought.
“Everyone’s fucked up,” he muttered. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Eight flying alligators say you haven’t.”
Yordan’s eyes narrowed. “Eight? I thought there were—”
“Turns out there were two in NG’s truck,” Gummy said with a snort. “Didn’t you hear him squeal?”
