Chapter 16 #2
Sometimes I really hate being the youngest and newest member of the team and having been the product of genetic experimentation. Everyone likes to tease me. I hate being teased.
Under the table, Gideon runs his hand along my thigh.
Well, I guess there’s one kind of teasing I’m okay with.
The decision is much tougher than any of us thought it would be, and that’s not even taking into consideration the emotional toll of only needing to do this because we lost Lily.
The top six candidates are all exceptional, and we spend literally hours weighing them up.
In the end, Alistair is our selection. It’s actually because of his existing ties with us that we choose him—there was a three-way tie between him and two others.
They’re all equally qualified in different ways and all have a great track record.
The only variable, the thing that put Alistair above the others, is his connection to me and Elinor and the fact that he worked directly with the team when they rescued me.
So we pick Alistair and hope he wants the job, because if he declines, we need to pick between the other two.
I’m pretty sure he’ll take it, though. It’s a great promotion and he likes us.
Plus, it will mean he won’t have to cower before Vivienne every day.
Harold knew what he was doing when he asked her to be their admin.
“Let’s just tell him now,” Andrew says, eyeing the papers covered in pro/con lists with disgust. “Get it over with, and if he says no, we’ll just stay here until it’s done.”
“He’s not going to say no,” Elinor tells him. “But I vote for telling him now, too.”
Percy pulls out his phone and glances around the table. “Any opposed?”
“No,” David says, and Gideon shakes his head as I shrug.
“Then let’s take a bathroom break while I call and get him up here.”
Alistair, when he arrives and hears our offer, isn’t offbeat, flirty, funny Alistair, my best friend, but rather professional investigator Alistair—sharp, questioning, and definitely a good fit for the job. As we expected, he says yes.
“Welcome aboard.” Percy’s smile is broad but at the same time a little sad. It’s hard not to think that we’re only doing this because of Lily’s death.
“I’m surprised you asked me,” he admits. “Thrilled, of course, and honored, but still surprised. I thought with Ellie being on the team already, you wouldn’t want another hellhound.”
I groan, because for some reason that just never occurred to me.
“We’ll be keeping a strict eye on you both,” David warns jokingly, but I can tell from the way he’s gone pale that he didn’t think of it either.
“We’ll be good,” Elinor promises. “Mostly, anyway. And Sam’s an expert at keeping unruly hellhounds in line.”
“Even if he is a cat,” Alistair agrees, then ducks when I throw a pen at him, just like he used to when I was admin for my old team.
Looks like the good old days and the exciting future are coming together. It’s either going to be fun or leave me in need of a tankerful of brew.
As we leave the office hours later, I slip my hand into Gideon’s and lean against him. Maybe he’s not the only one in this relationship who’s touchy-feely. “Where to tonight, your place or mine?”
My first visit to Gideon’s house came right after we left the bunker lab complex.
He refused to take me home, saying it was technically a crime scene that hadn’t been fully processed, would contain bad memories for me, and wasn’t as secure as his place.
I let him get away with it because I was too tired and upset to really care that much, and I was curious about his home.
It would have to be super organized, right, what with his chronic need to alphabetize cupboards to aid in thinking.
Wrong.
At home, Gideon thinks by constructing Lego sets.
He has literally hundreds and a room just for them.
He no longer organizes his own belongings, and so his kitchen cabinets are a mess, with things stacked and piled in no apparent order at all, and his wardrobe is not only not color coordinated, it’s basically just a pile of clothes on a chair and shoved willy-nilly into the dresser.
How he doesn’t look wrinkled all the time is something I’m in the process of trying to work out.
The lead theory is that he growls and scowls at his clothes until the creases fall out in fear.
Overall, though, his place is bigger than mine, nicer than mine, and even closer to work than mine, which is pretty shocking considering how close I am.
We split our time between the two—after Gideon insisted on overseeing the cleanup and security installation at mine and then approved it as fit to live in again.
“Mine,” he murmurs, leaning close so his breath brushes my skin and makes me shiver uncontrollably. I’m still going through my second puberty, and Gideon loves how sensitive it makes me. He takes every opportunity to rile me up in the most “innocent” ways. “There’s something I want to show you.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet there is.”
His laugh is loud and startles the people waiting for the elevator with us. Several of them edge away, while two step up as though preparing to shield the others. Gideon doesn’t laugh a lot at the office, as you can no doubt tell.
“It’s fine,” I assure them. “He’s just remembering that time he ripped the fingers off a suspect.” I pat his chest with my free hand. “It amuses him to recall the screams.”
Half of them suddenly decide to take the stairs.
“Was that really necessary?” he chides. “You’re the one who’s been trying to get me to be nicer to people.”
“I know, and I feel really bad about it. But this way, we’ll get more space in the elevator. It’s okay for you, but I’m at armpit level with you and your giant brethren, and I’d rather not have my nose shoved in one because the elevator’s crowded.”
He’s still chuckling over that when we make it out onto the street.
It’s a nice evening, and I love that we can walk home.
It gives us a layer of separation between work and home that doesn’t include traffic or being crammed into a bus or train—because armpits, remember?
And now that I’m a shifter, there’s a whole range of new experiences for me to enjoy while walking.
Did you know that you can differentiate between the scent of car exhausts?
Aidan taught me before he went back to Ireland, and Alistair has been coaching me since.
I can reliably pick the make of most cars now, but still struggle a lot with the model.
My olfactory sense and my ability to filter and identify what I’m smelling are getting a lot better.
Aidan set me up with some simple exercises—cars being one of them—until he can come back and help me some more.
We talked about me spending some time with the local clans and letting them help, but I’m not ready for that yet.
After all, I’m a freak—an adult cat who’d never shifted until recently.
Who has very little idea about customs within the clan, and is still learning what my body is capable of.
Aidan and Alistair both assured me that it was fine to take things slow. It’s probably the only time they’ve ever agreed. Alistair still holds a grudge over the compelled shift, even though I’ve reminded him a million times that it was done to me with my explicit consent.
I stop to admire the planter boxes on the steps leading up to Gideon’s townhouse. I once asked him how he managed to get the flowers so big and healthy, and he said “by paying an expert gardener.”
He gets the front door open, and I leave the flowers to follow him inside.
“Want a drink?” I offer, heading toward the kitchen. “I was thinking pasta for dinner, so I could open a bottle of red wine if you don’t want brew.”
“In a minute,” he says, catching my elbow and towing me in the opposite direction. “I want you to see something.”
“Oh, really?” I can’t say I’m not up for that.
Second puberty, remember? And it’s been nearly ten hours since I had my hands all over him.
But at the top of the stairs, he turns right.
“Wait…” I furrow my brow as he leads me away from the master bedroom.
“Do you actually have something to show me? That’s not a sexy-times line?
” I can’t decide if I’m disappointed or curious.
Both.
We walk past the main bathroom and the second bedroom, otherwise known as the Lego Lair, and stop in front of bedroom number three. As far as I know, this is used as a combination guest room and storage room, since there’s a small home office downstairs and a proper guest suite on the third floor.
Yep. Three floors. Told you his place was bigger.
He throws open the door, and I gasp, because inside, he’s pretty much recreated my living room, albeit a bit cramped.
My eyes narrow. “Gideon, did you move my stuff ?” He sometimes forgets that life has boundaries. Being born to privilege, then turning out to be hot, intelligent, and a total badass has meant that he pretty much gets his way whenever he wants it—except with me.
“Yes, but I’ll move it back. It’s just here for illustrative purposes.”
I’m getting a headache. Only Gideon could have movers transport the contents of my living room to his house to illustrate a point. “Okay…?”
“You should move in with me.”
Bam.
I knew this was coming, of course. It makes sense—we’re together all the time anyway. There’s no way on this plane or the next that I’m ever letting him go, and I know he feels the same. Really, there’s no point in maintaining separate homes.
Yet, it’s still a shock.
“This could be your space. You can do whatever you want with it, but when I piss you off or you need some quiet time, it’s here.
Yours. Sacrosanct. I hate it when you go home, even if it’s just for a few hours.
I want you here all the time. Or if you don’t want to live here, we can find somewhere else—we could even try living at your place.
” The doubt in his voice makes me laugh.
He smiles too, but his gaze is intent on me.
Finally, I sigh and stretch up to kiss him. “Convince me,” I murmur, and the smile changes from cautious to devilish. He backs me up until we reach the couch—my couch, the one we’ve made out on many times—and pushes me down on it, but when I sprawl sideways and reach for him, he shakes his head.
“Sit up.” He sinks to his knees.
Ooohhh. My cock goes rock-hard just at the sight. Gideon is wicked fucking awesome at giving head. I sit up and undo my pants, wriggling free of them and my underwear with an eagerness that I don’t give a shit about hiding. Gideon chuckles, then grabs my hips and positions me how he wants me.
The first swipe of his tongue is all it takes for me to be “convinced,” but there’s no way I’m interrupting while he’s so focused.
His hot, wet mouth is heaven, and the way he looks up at me while he swallows me down is enough to start every nerve ending in my body tingling.
I suck in a deep breath and try thinking about dead bugs and moldy cheese, but it’s no use—Gideon’s mouth is just that good.
Plus, I can’t look away from him and the sexiest fucking sight ever.
But I’m not coming without him.
Swallowing back a moan as he flicks his tongue against that sensitive spot just below the head, I release the death grip I had on the couch cushions and stroke his horns.
He jerks slightly. He had to know this was coming—it’s my favorite thing to do while we’re having sex—but he still reacts the same way every time. I might as well be stroking his dick.
Our competitive natures come into play as we each race to make the other come first—him with his incredible mouth and tongue on my cock, and me rubbing his horns. It’s not really a coincidence that we both give in at the same time, muscle-tightening, hot-flushing release washing through us.
When my brain comes back online, I’m sprawled across Gideon on the couch. He must have put me there, because I have no memory of it. His hand is sliding lightly up and down my back, one of those idle, casual touches that’s so intimate.
There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here.
“I think moving in sounds great,” I murmur, kissing his chest.
His hand stills. “Oh, yeah?”
I rise up to hover over him. His normal resting bitch expression is softer when we’re alone like this, even if he’s not actually smiling. It’s also so incredibly dear to me. I love that grumpy, scowly face.
“I love you.” I’ve never said it to anyone before, but it’s the most natural thing in the world.
A smile so beautiful that I want to take a photo of it breaks over his face, and in the next second, he’s sitting up, almost knocking me to the floor. His big arms come around me, and he buries his face against the side of my neck.
“Love you so much.”
Nothing ever felt so amazing as this momen—
“Hey, Sam? Gideon? You guys home?”
Gideon pulls back, his scowl firmly back in place. “I’m going to kill him.”
Sighing, I kiss him once more, then detangle myself and get up.
“Give us a minute, Alistair!” I yell, then add to Gideon, “You can’t kill my best friend.
That’s my job. We also need to get the security weaves upgraded now that you’ve got a shifter friend.
The ones that hold back people with bad intentions don’t work on people who genuinely like you and are generally welcome to visit. ”
As I straighten my clothes, Gideon flops back on the couch and stares at the ceiling. “Life was better when my friends were people who would never dream of walking in uninvited. I blame you for this.”
Heading for the door, I blow him a kiss over my shoulder. As annoying as my friends can be, having them is something I’ll gladly accept blame for.