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Kat tilted her head to the side, listening intently, as she picked apart her blueberry cupcake with perfectly manicured fingernails.
“Sorry, this is probably boring you–”
“Not at all. I love it when people share the things they’re passionate about with me. And it’s clear you’re burning for your company.”
Not just for my business, Kat.
“I am. Well, anyway, uh, we want to branch out, and cater to other species, too. You’ll see later what we’ve come up with.” Picking up my donut, I took a large bite. I was starving.
“I’m really looking forward to it. Are you nervous? I mean, I’m okay with having my picture taken, but I imagine it’s different when you’re modelling?”
“Mh,” I hummed, trying not to choke in my eagerness to reply, “it was weird at first. You have to do these poses, and flirt with the camera. That’s a bit odd, but sex sells.” I’d said it without thinking, not realising that Kat had drunk from her coffee.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I added hastily when she choked on it.
“Mean,” she snorted, “I bet you’re an audience favourite.”
Her violent blush that followed her words was everything. I couldn’t do much more than stare, wanting to commit the moment to memory.
My God, you’re perfect.
When I glanced at my watch, I yelped. “Oh shit, it’s ten past.” Jumping to my feet, I wrenched my hooded jacket up over my shoulders, grabbed my bag and piled our empty dishes on a tray. “Sorry, I should’ve been there fifteen minutes ago. The photographer is going to have my head on a spike if I’m any longer. I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” I froze when I noticed Kat’s gaze lingering on my heaving chest.
A slight tremor ruffled one of her dark eyebrows as she inspected the print there, her eyes glued to my pecs. The intensity of her stare heated me to the bone.
“Great shirt,” she breathed throatily, then seemed to come to her senses. That flush spreading over her pretty face nearly brought me to my knees.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, involuntarily rubbing my hand over my neck. I never knew what to do with compliments. “Right, see you at noon.”
“See you later, Roy.” Shuffling her feet, she let me pass, and I tried my best to ignore that I was brushing up against her side as I shimmied between her and an empty table.
***
I arrived ten minutes later, dashed up the stairs, apologising as I burst through the metal door leading from the staircase to the huge loft. A few racks had been set up in a corner next to a chair and a large mirror where our American make-up artist, Callum Castaneda, was busy getting our Kraken model, Gilliatt, ready for his turn. Callum, a broad-shouldered human with green eyes and soft dark blonde curls, was the best make-up artist in all of Scotland. We’d been one of the first jobs he worked on after he moved to the city, and even though he was usually fully booked, he made sure to make room for us in his schedule.
Gill was a horrible grump, and resolutely blocking all Callum’s attempts to start a conversation with him.
Suppressing a grin, I made my way over to them.
“Roy.” Callum shot me a relieved look. “Thank God, you’re here,” he drawled in his Southern American accent.
“Good to see you, mate.” I pulled him into a hug, ignoring the sour faced Kraken. I couldn’t be arsed with his lip, not when I was still riding the high that came wrapped in the neat package that was Kat McGowan.
We chatted a bit while he got Gill presentable for his shoot, not that he needed a lot of work. What the Kraken didn’t have in charm, he made up for in looks. I was pansexual, and generally more interested in women, but damn, he was hot.
Our other model was already working—Rafe, a hulking green beast of an Orc. Neda had introduced us. I still wasn’t sure if they were related, or fucking—not that I cared. He’d been a lucky find. He looked dashing in our smart casual line, the thick hoops in his ears and his tusks clashing beautifully with the crisp white dress shirts and blazers.
Callum finished with Gill, and beckoned me over to take a seat in the chair.
He took a soft brush to my face, and began to smooth the hairs on my cheeks, then moved down my arms, evening out the kinks my clothes sometimes left. The brush was too soft to hurt on my forearms, but being touched there still made me wince.
Ainsley, our photographer, kept clicking away, barking instructions. They, too, were one of the best in the entire country. I’d made it clear that I wanted them to work on the project. Them and no one else.
I’d known them for years. I knew a lot of people found them difficult to work with, but I held them in high esteem. Having my pictures taken was a routine part of my job, but when we first started, Ainsley had been the only person able to make me feel relaxed in front of a camera.
I changed into the first outfit, then lounged for a while longer, watching Gill do his Kraken magic. He was a natural. Seeing his body at work was a pleasure, even if I couldn’t say the same for his personality.
“Roy, you’re up,” Ainsley called eventually, beckoning me over.
