Chapter 1 The Demon’s Touch #2
I heard him shift behind me but he didn't leave.
I could feel his eyes on my back as I worked, which should have been annoying but for some reason it wasn't. I pulled off the access panel on the heater and immediately saw the problem—the thermostat was completely fried, the wiring melted together in a way that meant it had been stuck in the "on" position for far too long.
"Your thermostat's toast," I called over my shoulder. "I'm gonna have to replace the whole unit."
"Do you have the parts?"
"Not on me. I'll have to order them." I sat back on my heels. “This is bigger than most stuff we work on, so we don’t keep those kinds of parts on hand. Should have them in a couple days though.”
"We can't wait that long," Michael said, and I heard him step into the sauna behind me. "We've got members who've been complaining non-stop since yesterday."
I turned to look at him, wiping sweat from my forehead. The heat in here was already getting to me, even with the unit off. "Look, I can't pull parts out of my ass. This is a commercial grade heater. I'll put in a rush order, but even then—"
"What about a temporary fix?" He moved closer, crouching down beside me. This close, I could smell him. His cologne was woodsy and clean that cut through the lingering heat and steam. "Anything to get it running safely until the new parts come in?"
I looked back at the melted wiring, considering. "I could bypass the thermostat entirely and wire in a manual shutoff. You'd have to turn it on and off yourself, and someone would need to monitor the temperature, but yeah. That'd work for a few days."
"How long would that take?"
"Maybe an hour? Hour and a half?" I pulled my tool bag closer, already mentally running through what I'd need.
"Do it." Michael stood up, and I found my eyes tracking the movement of his legs, the way his jeans hugged his thighs. Fuck. I needed to focus.
"It's gonna cost you," I said, forcing myself to look back at the heater. "Labor and parts."
"That's fine. Just get it working." He headed for the door, then paused. "I'll check back in an hour. If you need anything, just go to the front desk. You can call me from there.”
Then he was gone, and I was alone with the broken heater and my suddenly very inconvenient thoughts about my client's employee.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. This was just another job.
The fact that Michael was hot as hell and had an ass I wanted to bite didn't matter. I was here to fix shit and get paid.
I got to work stripping out the damaged wiring and rigging up the bypass.
The heat made everything harder. My hands were slick with sweat within minutes, and I had to keep wiping my face to keep it out of my eyes.
I ended up stripping off my work shirt, leaving just my undershirt, which was soaked through almost immediately.
About forty-five minutes in, I heard the door open behind me.
"How's it going?" Michael's voice made me jump, and I nearly dropped my wire cutters.
"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me." I turned to glare at him, but the look died when I saw what he was holding—a bottle of water, condensation beading on the plastic.
"Thought you might need this." He stepped into the sauna, letting the door close behind him. "You look like you're about to pass out."
I took the water gratefully, cracking it open and downing half it in one go. The cold liquid felt like heaven against the back of my throat.
"Thanks," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "I'm almost done here. Just need to test it and make sure the manual shutoff works."
Michael nodded, but he didn't leave. Instead, he leaned against the wall, those amber eyes watching me work. I tried to ignore the way my skin prickled under his gaze, and instead tried to focus on connecting the last few wires.
"You really don't have a problem with this place, do you?" he asked after a moment.
I glanced up at him. "Why would I?"
"Most straight guys get uncomfortable around this much dick."
I snorted. "Who said I was straight?"
That got his attention. His ears perked forward slightly, and I watched his nostrils flare like he was trying to catch my scent. "The way you've been keeping your eyes to yourself. Most guys who come here for the first time either stare or actively avoid looking. You're just... working."
"That's because I'm here to do a job," I said, twisting two wires together. "Not to gawk at your customers."
"Fair enough." He was quiet for a moment, then added, "But you did look."
My hands stilled. "What?"
"At me. In the hallway. You looked." There was something almost playful in his voice now, like he was testing me.
I set down my tools and turned to face him fully. "Yeah, I looked. You're hot. Sue me."
Michael's lips curved into a slow smile that showed off those sharp canines again. "Just making sure I wasn't imagining things."
"You weren't." I stood up, wiping my hands on my jeans that were starting to become uncomfortably tight. "Now if you want this thing working tonight, I need to focus."
"Don't let me stop you." But he didn't move, didn't look away.
I turned back to the heater, acutely aware of how small the sauna suddenly felt with both of us in it. The air was thick and hot, and I couldn't tell anymore if the sweat running down my spine was from the temperature or from the way Michael was looking at me.
I finished the last connection and plugged the unit back in. "Alright, moment of truth." I flipped the manual switch I'd installed, and the heater hummed to life. No sparks, no burning smell. Just steady, even heat.
"Perfect," Michael said, moving closer to inspect my work. He was right behind me now, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "You're pretty good with your hands."
The double meaning wasn't lost on me. I stood up slowly, turning to find him even closer than I'd thought. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his eyes.
"It's what I get paid for," I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “Do you… uh… wanna show me to the broken hot tub?”
“We actually got that fixed already,” he replied, taking another step forward.
“Damn…” I muttered, trying not to lose my head. “There goes my overtime.”
“Not necessarily.” Michael reached out, slipping a plastic bracelet with a key around my wrist. “Locker forty-two. Leave everything there and enjoy yourself for a little while. I’ll vouch for you to your boss.”
I stared at the key, suddenly nervous. “W-Why?”
“You’re cute,” he replied simply. “And you smell like you could use a… release.”
“A-Are werewolves’ noses really that sensitive?” I stammered, the heat of his body overriding the heat of the sauna.
“Oh honey,” he said softly, reaching up to cup my cheek. “I’m not a werewolf.”
Suddenly his form began to shift.
I stumbled backward, my back hitting the wooden bench as I watched his body ripple and change.
The white fur receded, revealing dark charcoal skin underneath.
His limbs elongated and faded to pitch black, ending in sharp dark claws.
Those amber eyes began to glow with an otherworldly light before turning red.
Smoke drifted off his skin, forming two dark spiraling horns on either side of his head.
And when he smiled at me, his teeth were too many and too sharp.
"What the fuck are you?" I breathed, unable to look away even as every instinct screamed at me to run.
"Does it matter?" His voice had changed too, layered now, like multiple people speaking at once. The sound slithered down my spine and pooled low in my gut. "You're still hard."
He wasn't wrong. Despite the fear coursing through me, despite the wrongness of what I was seeing, my cock was straining against my jeans. Whatever he was, whatever glamour or pheromones or magic he was putting off, my body was responding in ways my brain couldn't quite process.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, and his form stabilized, taking its final form. He was still humanoid, still beautiful in a dangerous way. "I just thought you should know what you're dealing with before you decide whether to stay."
My mouth was dry. I finished the rest of the water bottle, buying myself time to think. Every rational part of my brain was telling me to grab my shit and get out. But there was another part, a part I usually kept locked down tight, that was screaming at me to stay. To see what happened next.
"What are you?" I asked again, my voice steadier this time.
"Does it matter?" he repeated, taking a step closer. "I'm attracted to you. You're attracted to me. Everything else is just details."
"Pretty big fucking details," I shot back, but I didn't move away when he closed the distance between us.
"True." His clawed hand came up to rest on my chest, right over my racing heart. Even through my soaked undershirt, his touch burned. "But you're still here."
I was still here. That was the problem. Or maybe it wasn't a problem at all. I'd spent six months doing shit work, crawling through filth, fixing other people's messes. When was the last time I'd done something just because I wanted to? When was the last time I'd let myself have something?
"Fuck it," I muttered, and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss.
He made a sound—surprise or pleasure, I couldn't tell—and then his mouth opened under mine and I stopped thinking altogether.
His lips were soft but his tongue was wrong, too long and too flexible, and it should have been horrifying but instead it was fucking incredible.
He tasted like copper and honey, and when he pressed against me I could feel that he was just as hard as I was. And goddamn… his cock was huge.
My hands found their way under his shirt, needing to feel skin. He was warm, almost hot, and when I dragged my nails down his back.
“Slow down, Brad,” he said softly, his deep voice vibrating through my chest. “We’ve got all night.”