Chapter 3 Warren
WARREN
The day after his very confusing session with Hill, Warren stayed home in his apartment to recuperate.
He made a nest of pillows and blankets on his bed, turned the electric radiator on full blast, and then stayed in all day to watch TV and order takeout.
It was an excessive indulgence, and not one he would allow himself for future appointments, but this one time it was fine.
The appointment had gone… very well, he decided.
Hill’s extremely intimidating presence aside – and Warren wasn’t even going to think about the kiss or how he’d kneaded his hands down on Hill’s glorious bulge – the session had actually been easier on Warren’s body than what he was used to.
Hill hadn’t taken nearly as much blood as he could have, and when Warren had woken up that morning, there had been a huge tip deposited into his bank account and his car had been driven back and parked in his allotted space.
The monster hickey that should have decorated Warren’s neck was also nowhere to be seen. Whatever vampire magic that made their bites heal a few hours after they had been made must have taken care of the bruising.
The morning after that, however, Warren had to get his act together and go to class.
It was about a fifteen-minute trek to campus, which gave Warren just enough time to listen to an episode of his favorite celebrity gossip podcast. Today’s topic of discussion was the werewolf action star, Brock Heeler, and his most recent movie.
Apparently, there had been drama on set, and Warren had a blast listening to the hosts speculate who was at fault.
It didn’t sound like Brock had been the source of the drama, which was a relief, because Warren was a huge Brock Heeler fan.
He’d had a poster of him above his bed when he was a teenager, and there was many a night that Warren had fallen asleep after jacking one out to the sight of the shirtless werewolf staring down at him.
Incidentally, buying the poster was how he’d come out to his grandma.
There really was no reason for a straight boy to hang a poster of a shirtless werewolf wearing skintight leather pants above his bed, and after he’d hung it up, he’d had a very awkward coming out to her when she’d asked him about it.
Distracted by his podcast, Warren made it to campus in good time. Before he knew it, his friend Josh was jogging toward him.
“You’re back!” Josh exclaimed, looking freezing cold. He was wearing a thin jacket, no hat or gloves, and there were icicles in his hair.
“And you look freezing,” Warren said, taking off his scarf and mittens and shoving them into his arms.
“I don’t need these,” Josh protested, even as Warren removed his hat and put it on his friend’s head. It was difficult, Josh being half a foot taller than him, but he managed. “Seriously, Warren. I’m fine!”
It would have been more convincing if his teeth hadn’t been chattering.
“You’re cold,” Warren scolded. This was why Josh was sick all the time. He didn’t take care of himself.
“All right, thank you,” Josh said, putting on the scarf and mittens. They walked side by side up the path toward the building where most of the graduate-level lectures were held, making their way up the long, wide stairs toward the main entrance.
They both had class on Thursday mornings. Usually, they met up beforehand to get coffee, and then lunch when they were done with their respective lectures.
“So, tell me about Tuesday. How did it go with the new vampire?” Josh asked.
“I already told you, it went fine,” Warren said. He wobbled when his boot hit a patch of ice, but managed to catch his balance before he fell. “I went, he bit, I got paid. Easy-peasy.”
He and Josh had spoken on the phone the night after he’d come back from his appointment, and again the day before.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Josh mused, grabbing his arm to steady him. “And how can it not hurt?”
Warren rolled his eyes, the question one that Josh had asked a million times.
“The same reason a werewolf can shift into an alpha form that weighs fifty pounds more than they do? I don’t know. It just doesn’t.”
“If you say so.”
They walked inside and headed to the café located off the atrium in the center of the building. They were in line to order when Josh slapped his arm and leaned down to whisper, “Werewolf alert!”
Warren looked up from digging through his backpack for his wallet and followed Josh’s gaze to outside the café. He didn’t see any obvious werewolves.
“Where?”
“Over there.” Josh pointed a little bit to the left past where Warren was looking. Sure enough, at the opposite side of the atrium outside the café, looking at his phone and towering over everyone around him, was a werewolf.
Warren was surprised that he didn’t recognize him. When Josh had said there was a werewolf, he’d half expected to see Max.
Dressed in a sleek suit and wearing a wool overcoat that magnificently emphasized the width of his shoulders, the werewolf seemed oblivious to the attention directed his way.
Everyone was staring. It took Warren a minute to notice because he was staring too, but when he glanced around, it seemed like the whole atrium was subtly sneaking glances at the imposing figure.
Josh lifted his brow and nodded appreciatively next to him. “Jesus, look at his jaw. That is one hunky man.”
Warren agreed. Even from this distance, he could see that the werewolf was handsome. All sharp angles, with a square jaw and jutting chin, he looked like the very definition of airbrushed in real life.
The werewolf lifted his gaze from his phone. His aquiline nose lifted, like he was smelling something, and then he turned his head and locked eyes with Warren.
The eye contact was so sudden and unexpected that Warren jolted. He tore his gaze away, heart hammering, and looked up at the menu board over the counter.
“Okay, that’s a little weird,” Josh said, also looking away. He nudged Warren with his shoulder. “Do you know him, or something?”
“Nope,” Warren said. He resisted the urge to turn his head and look again. “No clue who he is.”
As far apart as they were, it was more likely that the werewolf was just looking in Warren’s direction. He was in a café, after all. The werewolf might just want a cup of coffee. The way he’d lifted his nose like he was smelling something was probably him detecting the scent of roasted beans.
“Are you having your usual?” Josh asked, checking his watch. It was almost their turn to order. “I owe you, since you paid last time.”
“Yes, thanks,” Warren said, giving up on his search for his wallet. He might have left it at home.
He really should set up his phone so that he could use tap-to-pay.
Josh stepped up to the counter and ordered, receiving his drip coffee immediately, while Warren had to wait for his blended iced almond mocha to be prepared.
“I need to get going,” Josh said, handing back the mittens, scarf and hat that Warren had foisted on him. “Meet up back here for lunch?”
Warren nodded. “Sounds good.”
Josh grinned and exited the café, heading through the atrium to get to his lecture. As he watched him cross the space, Warren noticed that the werewolf was nowhere to be seen.
He wondered where he’d gone.
One of the ladies from the order pick-up area distracted him from his search by calling out, “Blended almond mocha for Warren!”
“That’s me!” Warren said, grabbing his drink and putting a straw in it. Josh might make fun of him for ordering frozen drinks in November, but Warren preferred his drinks cold. Weather and time of year didn’t matter. He took a sip and delighted in the chocolatey sweetness that hit his tongue.
A deep, rumbling voice spoke from behind him. "That looks good."
Warren jumped, almost dropping his drink, and turned around, coming face to torso with the werewolf he’d made eye contact with across the atrium.
Cranking his neck, Warren looked up at the werewolf’s ruggedly handsome face, taking in his dimpled chin, manly jaw and heavy brow.
He swallowed nervously. Even though he was sure he’d never met the man, there was something very familiar about the shape of his nose and the way his features were put together.
“It is,” he agreed. He glanced around, unsurprised to see that just about everyone in the vicinity was looking at him and the muscle-bound werewolf.
The werewolf’s suit was even nicer up close than it had been from across the atrium.
Expertly tailored, it showed off the man’s impressive physique without being vulgar.
The whole package – from the conservative haircut to the expensive suit and classic overcoat – made for something right out of Warren’s business-daddy CEO fantasies.
The werewolf held out his giant mitt of a hand.
“Marcus Miller. Are you a student here?”
His voice was deep and resonant, the timbre matching his manly stature. A shiver ran down Warren’s spine. Hesitating awkwardly and wondering why the man was talking to him, he reached out and let his fingers and palm disappear into the werewolf’s huge grip.
“I am,” he said, glancing between Marcus’s face and his hand wrapped around his. “I’m Warren.”
“And are you single, Warren?”
Marcus didn’t let go of his hand, the tip of his index and middle fingers coming to rest on Warren’s wrist.
Warren blinked, the abrupt question and prolonged handshake making his brain feel fuzzy. He yanked his hand back, flustered and off balance, and took a step back.
“Yes. Why?”
Marcus, with all his height and looming shoulders, was standing way too close. It was making Warren’s stomach feel tight and weird. The man took a step closer, bringing him right back into Warren’s personal bubble, and squeezed Warren’s shoulder.
His mouth lifted in a truly intimidating grin.
Even through the layers of his coat, sweater and shirt, Marcus’s massive hand was warm and heavy. Warren glanced down at it, shocked at the size of his fingers, and trembled.