Chapter 10
Warm Kitty, Soft Kitty, Little Ball of Fur
Kit didn’t mind the drool. It was a lot better than the kitty litter and catnip jokes that he knew were coming. And frankly, it would be deeply painful to receive that kind of humiliation from Yordan, so he delayed it as long as possible by remaining feline.
It helped that he’d shifted far more than usual today, not to mention the icy swim. He doubted he had the stamina to shift, despite the magic gummy.
Truthfully, he was more worried about Yordan. He could smell the blood dripping from his wound, and he was deeply afraid for the man.
He needn’t have worried. Yordan was responsible enough to see everyone got safely back to base camp before making the gut-wrenching shift back to human.
Lord, Kit didn’t know how lycanthropic wolves willingly went through that much pain.
He watched every bone-grinding second as the man turned from wounded wolf to healthy man.
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.
“What have we got here? Email?”
Kit responded with a hard meow and a firm jerk of his chin at the main house. Yordan correctly interpreted that as a question about everyone else.
“Oh, right. The puppies are okay. Some basic first aid and a stern talking-to about thinking calmly during a battle. They’ll probably need to talk to someone about what happened. This was pretty traumatic for a first mission, but they’ll be all right.”
Kit absorbed that and meowed a short question. Again, Yordan seemed to understand.
“Marsha will settle her outstanding debt to Coffee. She’s cool.” He glanced at Kit’s twitching tail and grinned. “But I’d expect kitty litter as your Christmas gift for years to come.”
Yeah. He’d already figured that out.
“They’re all gone, by the way. We’ll take the van.”
What van? Kit looked up with a cat frown.
“Yeah, you don’t know about that. And you still don’t. Because Nero would never hide a sweet conversion van in a garage near here. One that is tricked out as a geek’s paradise sex van whenever they train up here.”
Kit croaked a slow meow of irritation. No wonder Nero’s pack loved training missions here.
“Have I covered all the questions?” Yordan asked.
Kit grunted and looked back at the screen. There were a few things that needed handling by a person with fingers. Might as well get them done now.
Yordan nodded and then started tapping. The problem was that it was awkward with them both trying to see the screen. Kit kept peering around the keyboard and blocking Yordan’s view. In the end, the guy cursed and picked up Kit by the scruff of his neck.
“This is going to take forever if we don’t work together,” the man grumbled.
Then he put Kit on his shoulder. Kit was a big kitten, large enough to dwarf someone else’s shoulder, but not Yordan’s. After an indignant yowl at the manhandling, he settled on the guy’s shoulder with a huff.
“Keep those claws contained,” Yordan grumbled.
Kit did. And in a moment, he allowed himself to lean into Yordan’s neck. Lord, it was warm and comfy here, and pretty soon, the two of them settled into a rhythm, moving through Kit’s work with surprising speed.
They developed a shorthand of yeses and nos by his meows.
Yordan guessed at what should be said in responses—with fairly good accuracy—and typed it in his usual straightforward language.
Typically Kit would be more circumspect, but Yordan’s bluntness had its advantages.
When Kit would normally offer an explanation, Yordan typed, No.
Or, Never. And once, Dream on, sucker, but that was to Nero, so he got away with it.
The important tasks were finished quickly, and Yordan settled in to see the breadth and depth of Coffee’s outstanding bets.
By that point, Kit’s exhaustion was creeping in. The warmth of Yordan’s body, the gentle rocking of his breathing, and even the low chuckle as he commented on the more stupid bets had Kit’s eyes drifting closed.
“So Gummy bet that he’d be surrounded by numbnuts for the rest of his life. Which means the flying gators weren’t my fault.”
Not exactly accurate, but close enough. Kit responded with a low purr.
Yordan lifted his shoulder and nuzzled Kit’s back.
“Getting sleepy?”
Kit couldn’t deny it.
“Me too,” Yordan said with a loud yawn. “Guess the gummy worm has worn off. I think the rest of this can wait for now.”
Kit’s response was a low purr. Honestly, he wasn’t fully aware of making the sound except that it felt so good to let it rumble through his body. This was something cats had over dogs, and he’d never appreciated it until now.
Yordan stood up, still carrying Kit, and headed up the stairs to the bedrooms. There were several there. Plenty to pick from, but of course Yordan headed for the master. It had the biggest bed and a gargantuan attached bath. And somewhere between the door and the bed, Kit fell fast asleep.