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Healthy, naked man, and even in his kitten state, Kit wasn’t above a little lustful looking.
Then, still fully naked, Yordan squatted down in front of Kit. When he spoke, his voice was level and serious, but Kit was eye to eye with the twinkle of amusement that lingered in the guy’s expression.
“My guess is the only reason you’re not human right now is that you’ve burned through your shifts for the day.”
He paused as if waiting for a response, so Kit nodded as best he could, given that he was stretched out with his chin on his front paws.
“Now don’t sulk. You’re too purrrrty for it.”
Kit looked up and hissed. It only made Yordan grin.
“I’m going to get the puppies squared away. I know Marsha has them well in hand, but someone’s got to report the crashed copter. They’ll send the other one eventually. Or a van, but you and I, we’re going to have a conversation before then. Might as well be here after the puppies leave.”
Didn’t the idiot realize Kit was his boss? Yordan was acting like he was in charge, which, come to think of it, he was. Kit had already promoted him, which meant that when Kit was out of commission, Yordan was the boss instead.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Yordan continued. “Marsha and I are old hands at this.”
That was the understatement of the year.
“Is there anything else you need while I’m doing your job?”
Kit was sorely tempted to just curl up and die, but he had responsibilities he couldn’t abandon. He’d left in a rush and crashed the helicopter. Best if he reported it himself.
So he mewed at the computer set up across the room. Given that Torch Lake was a common monster zone, Wulf, Inc. had purchased a small cottage next to the kids’ camp. It was home base for all sorts of training maneuvers off-season and a vacation retreat during the summer. That meant it was kitted out with medical supplies, up-to-date computer equipment, and a stocked kitchen for a full werewolf pack. Kit had no excuse for remaining out of contact when he was here.
Yordan frowned. “Really? You can’t be away from the office for ten minutes? When are you going to sleep?”
Kit croaked a cranky mew, which was as intelligible as what he would normally say to a question like that. He had seven combat packs under his direction. If the shit hit the fan, then he needed to know.
Yordan grunted his response—equally unintelligible—then he picked up kitten Kit and dumped him in front of the computer. He even obliged by setting the keyboard in such a way as it could be used—awkwardly—by kitten paws.
“That all?” he asked as he turned the thing on.
Kit mewed his best thank you, and Yordan chuckled.
“That’s fucking adorable.”
And Kit nearly died right there of embarrassment. Thankfully, Yordan sauntered out, his tight butt swinging saucily as he moved. The cottage was outfitted with spare clothing, but apparently Yordan preferred showing off his glorious physique.
An hour later, Kit was ready to claw the computer to shreds. Typing with kitty paws was incredibly difficult, but every time he tried to shift back to human, all he got was a pounding headache. This might be the rebound from the gummies or the sheer frustration of pecking at a keyboard with his very flat nose. He could kill Coffee. Why the hell hadn’t he realized that one drunken night with the werewolf was the cause of this curse? Coffee had actually said, “If you lose, everyone will know you’re just an itty-bitty Scottish kitty.”
Arggggh!
Fortunately, Pee had things under control back home. She’d already emailed him a neat spreadsheet of the bets in Coffee’s book, categorized as money, silly, screw-ups, and world-ending. Thankfully, there wasn’t anything outstanding under “world-ending,” though one never knew with fairy bets. That left the silly and the screw-ups as worrisome, and he was only partially amused to see his bet listed under both.
The door popped open as Yordan strode back in, and Kit was able to hastily change the page on the spreadsheet. It wouldn’t save him from Yordan’s snooping, but it would at least delay the situation for a bit.
“Still too tired to go human?” Yordan asked as he strolled in. He wore low-slung sweats on his narrow hips and nothing else. Even his bare feet were sexy as he crossed to look at the screen. “Email? Need help?”
He wiggled his fingers over the keyboard, then at the last minute, tickled Kit under the chin.
“Unless you’d like a little rubbin’, swubbin’?”
Kit twisted and managed to bite down on his finger in response. Yordan only laughed harder.
“Don’t be a cwanky kitty. Big daddy-o is here to help his little wubbins.”
Kit wished he’d drawn blood. He hadn’t. The man’s human skin was as thick as wolf fur. No kitten jaw was going to pierce that.
