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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.”
Kit snorted then let his brogue go full force. “What crawled up your ass and died? I was trying to do something nice.”
“Nice?” Yordan curled his lip. “You’re the combat coordinator for seven packs. You don’t do nice. You can’t do nice, or they’ll walk right over you.”
Damn, the guy was grumpy, and Kit wasn’t in the mood to keep coddling him. He was trying to be nice, but the gloves were coming off.
“You mean like you did?” he challenged. “Walking away when I specifically told you to wait?”
“Fuck yes,” he said as he started drying off. “You ought to assign me to shit work for a week for that.”
Grumpy and self-aware. Odd how that combo was really sexy.
“And what would that accomplish?” Kit returned. “I’ve got puppies for the shit work. You’re just spoiling for a fight.”
Yordan dropped his hands on his hips. “I’d fucking respect you, that’s what. Instead, you brought me lunch and a beer.”
Well, that was putting it bluntly. So much for his Yordan fantasy. Kit pushed to his feet. Time to be a hard-ass. But before he could slam the bastard across the room, Yordan kept talking. Apparently, he’d built a whole list of criticisms and was not going to be stopped from letting it fly.
“And what the fuck are you doing giving a guy in the motor pool the rest of the day off? Chess tournament?” He rubbed his face. “Oil Slick runs a tight ship,” he said, referring to the motor pool alpha. “I’m surprised you’re still standing after undermining his authority that way. You see a problem, you let the alpha deal with it. You don’t go around his back and undercut him.”
