“Nothing! Anyway, rough night, Rudy?” I spread butter on a blue metal container.
He groaned. “How long are you gonna keep calling me that emasculating name? I told you my real one, didn’t I?”
I rolled my eyes. What was with guys nowadays and their need to show their virility all the time? Apparently, Rudy was one of thoseI’m tough, I’m manly, I growl, red meat, grr, pfftypes.
“You did. And I don’t care. Rudolph is sticking.” I smiled at myself.
“You’re basically calling me prey.”
“Prey?”
“I ate a reindeer once.”
I paused. “Okay… What’s gotten into your panties this morning?”
Some shuffling on his end, like he was rolling around in his sheets.
“I’m not wearingpanties, Bunny Doc,” he said with a yawn. “I sleep naked.” His tone dropped an octave, but I could hear the smile. “Want a pic?”
I snorted, though itwouldbe nice to see his face. I pictured him as one of those annoying pixies that jumps out at travelers in fiction books.And now the pixie has oily hair. And maybe wax balls in his ear canals.
“No, thanks. I’m good,” I settled.
His husky chuckle suggested that he already knew what my answer would be.
His hair can’t be greasy with a laugh like that!
We never talked about seeing each other in person or even sharing photos, too busy arguing or living our lives. And honestly? It was probably for the best. I almost asked if he knew a certain Killian, then decided otherwise. Maybe Rudy had never proposed to meet up in real life because, no matter what he bragged, he was insecure about his looks. If he knew I’d met someone from his pack, he might have started to suspect I knew what he looked like.
The kitchen door swung open. A grinning Tiziano sauntered in, dropping kisses on both my cheeks like a mafia uncle. His pupils dilated as they locked onto the croissants. Wolf mode: activated.
“Who’s that?” he mouthed, gesturing to my phone.
“Lucien,” I mouthed back.
He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck behind his head forever. Lucien did take his revenge for our prank…but only on Tiziano.
Somehow, he had managed to find his full name and concocted something remarkably similar to what Tiziano did: Lucien signed him up for a dating site…for women over seventy. Complete with an adorable bio. Tiziano nearly had a stroke when the first bouquet arrived. He’d since changed his number, but we were still getting mail for him. And pictures. And proposals for him to be a gigolo.
With zero warning, Tiziano yanked out my earbuds and hit the speaker. “Hello there, walking case of herpes!”
Lucien was silent for three seconds.
“Tatiano, I presume? How are the grandmas?” he cooed. “Keeping your little cock busy?”
I blushed. This man had no boundaries.
Tiziano choked on a croissant. “They arenotokay after I had to break their hearts,” he snapped. “How are your masters? Find anyone who can stand your ugliness and terrible attitude?”
Another croissant vanished into his mouth. A third one followed with the same destiny, and
I fired a kitchen cloth at him to shoo him away before he could go full locust.
“Hey! I’m just testing them.” He rubbed his thigh where the cloth had snapped him and tried to look hurt.
“Moody much today, shitface? Eat a lemon tree for breakfast, or issouryour whole personality?” Lucien paused, then added in a fake scolding tone, “Yvaine. You shouldn’t associate with negative people like him.”
Tiziano growled, crumbs flying all around.
