“I know you do,” Seamus replies, still staring at me. “But I think I’ll stay a while.” I direct my gaze at the cats, uncomfortable with his presence. I don’t think he’ll hurt me, but I do think he might want something from me. Earlier, he asked if Dorian would be willing to share me. I don’t intend to sleep with Dorian, and Icertainlyhave no interest in sleeping with Seamus. He’s too… feral.
“Where is she sleeping tonight?” Seamus calls out.
“My room,” Dorian replies.
Seamus smiles at me. “If you get bored of him, you’re very welcome inmyroom, Mira.”
“No, thank you,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not interested.”
“Hmm,” Seamus hums. “I’minterested, though.Fascinated, which is quite unusual. Not much fascinates me, but you do.”
I lift a shoulder, swiftly catching the kit that tumbles from my neck with a hand. I set her on my lap. “Find someone else to be fascinated with.”
“How’s your shoulder?” he asks, glancing at my right arm.
I blink, having forgotten about it. The pain has already waned until it’s barely noticeable—just a low pulse when I shift too abruptly.
“It’s fine. Thank you for putting it back in place.”
“You’re very welcome.” He grins. “I’m good with my hands.”
Dorian emerges from the tech room, my phone clutched in his hand. He pockets it and turns a cutting gaze on Seamus.
“Back off,” he warns lowly. “You’ve got a revolving door of hookups, focus on them.”
Seamus tilts his head. “So do you.” He glances at me. “Do let me know if you change your mind, love. I’d be happy to give you the ride of a lifetime.” He taps the couch twice and winks at me before trotting back up the stairs.
I sigh, shaking my head. “Can I go homenow?”
“Nope. Say goodnight to the kittens, we’re heading to bed.”
It’s a process to extricate myself from Credence and her kittens. I give them all kisses and cuddles, then pause to examine one of them. A black kit with a patch of white fur over one eye doesn’t appear to be doing so well. Her breaths are shallow wheezes; there’s colored discharge clogging her nose, and the membranes in her face are a bit swollen. She’s the runt of the litter, and she’s struggling.
“This one needs to go to a vet,” I announce to Dorian. “She’s sick. Upper respiratory infection, I think. Kittens are super susceptible to them.”
Dorian’s eyebrows lift as he gazes at me. “Oh?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’ve seen this before, I’m ninety percent sure that’s what it is. Babygirl needs antibiotics and special formula to help her get back on track.”
The kitten meows her outrage at being examined so closely; Credence leaps up and grabs her by the scruff, taking her back to the box. I smile vaguely at how utterly adorable they are, even though concern for the runt is dampening my mood.
“Where have you seen it before?” Dorian questions, watching me with lowered brows.
I frown right back at him. “You don’t believe me? People don’t usually question my affinity for animals or experience with sick ones.”
He shakes his head. “No, I believe you, I’m just curious to know where you’ve seen it before. Have you worked with vets?”
“Workwith vets, present-tense,” I tell him. “I have a job at a local animal shelter. The pay is shit and most of it goes to my wolf pack, fox skulk, and groceries, but the experience is fantastic. One of the vets there is kind of a mentor to me; she lets me shadow her during examinations and surgeries. She’s offered to write me a recommendation letter when I apply to vet school, which will be super useful.” I gaze back at the box with Credence and her kittens. “Can we take them with us to wherever your room is?”
Dorian shakes his head, smiling faintly. “No, leave them be here. You can check on them in the morning.”
I bite my bottom lip as I look at him. “I’d like to clarify that I do not want to spend the night with you. I’d really prefer to have my own room, or even take the couch down here.”
Dorian’s smile widens. “Noted. Now get your ass over here and let’s go to bed.”
Dorian’s bedroom is on the second floor of the house, and it’s a study in minimalism. A king-sized, four-poster bed lies against the far wall, with dark grey covers pulled over it. Off to one side is a bathroom and a walk-incloset. On the opposite wall is a bank of windows that faces the courtyard of the house. There are no pictures or knickknacks.
“You want to shower?” Dorian asks me once he’s closed the door and locked it with a key.
