No wonder his human half didn’t want to come out and face the consequences of his actions.
“What did Viggo say when you did that?” Sebastian asked, trying very hard not to let his voice wobble.
Bjorn shrugged, unconcerned. “Didn’t tell him. I’m second. I protect the territory. He trusts me.” He looked at Sebastian with a proud little smirk. It was cocky as hell, and in other circumstances, Sebastian would have been reluctantly charmed.
Sebastian looked down at the grass and took a calming breath. There had to be some kind of miscommunication here. He’d talk to Viggo when they got back, and everything would be cleared up.
“I’m going to get dressed,” Sebastian announced, jumping up and walking over to his clothes. He was still wet, but he pulled on his pants and shirt anyway, ignoring the way they clung to his wet skin and soaking wet briefs. He turned back to Bjorn. “Do you want me to hand you your clothes?”
Sebastian knew that his voice was too hyper – his whole body vibrating with unease after what Bjorn had told him – but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down. The more he thought about it – that Bjorn might havekilledsomeone – the more freaked out he became.
What if Viggo, learning that Bjorn’s feral status wasn’t something that Sebastian could solve, decided that the best thing to do was to get rid of him? If Sebastian wasn’t the solution to Viggo’s problem, what use was he?
Sebastian, even though he wished it were the case, didn’t think that Viggo would let him go home and pretend like nothing had ever happened – not knowing what he knew.
Viggo struck Sebastian as the kind of person who dealt harshly and efficiently with anything he deemed a threat to himself or the people he cared about – and a few orgasms aside, Sebastian didn’t think he numbered among people that Viggo actually cared about.
“Yes,” Bjorn said, his deep voice jolting Sebastian out of his spiraling panic. Sebastian stared at him, confused.
“What?” he asked.
“Clothes,” Bjorn said, holding out his hand like he wanted Sebastian to toss him something. “Please.”
Sebastian looked down at the pile of Bjorn’s clothes, realizing that Bjorn had answered the question he’d asked less than five seconds ago.
He must look like a lunatic.
“Of course!” Sebastian bent down and picked up Bjorn’s clothes. He took two steps toward the werewolf, intending to give them to him, but then he stopped, panicked, and threw them instead.
Bjorn snatched the clothes out of the air, huffing in amusement as he rose to his feet and got dressed. Sebastian watched him, ignoring his swinging cock and focusing instead on his massive hands. He shuddered, imagining how easy it would be for those hands to wrap around someone’s neck and wring it.
“Back to the house,” Bjorn declared, walking over to the rock where his shoes still lay and putting them on.
“What?” Sebastian licked his lips.
“You,” Bjorn said, bending down and grabbing Sebastian’s shoes and handing them to him. “Take you home.”
“Oh, right,” Sebastian said, putting on his shoes. He didn’t bother wiping his feet, but at that moment he didn’t care about getting the insides of his shoes dirty. He steeled himself and looked up at Bjorn. “I’m ready.”
Bjorn nodded, his expression making it clear that he thought Sebastian was being weird, but he smiled and crouched down all the same, allowing Sebastian to wrap his arms around his neck and wrap his legs around his waist. He grabbed Sebastian under his knees, using the grip to support his weight, and without saying another word, he started to jog back the way they came.
11
VIGGO
When Viggo arrived at the office, his footsteps echoing in the deserted lobby as he made his way to the elevator, he sorely wished that he was still back at home, in bed, his cock nestled nice and tight between Sebastian’s delightfully firm thighs. He’d been so tempted to ignore the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand when it jolted him awake, interrupting a very nice dream in which he and Bjorn were rubbing their balls all over Sebastian’s face, but in the end he’d let his inner workaholic take over and he’d reached over to see who was calling.
He knew it had to be something important for someone at the firm to be calling after he explicitly told everyone he was taking the next few days off.
At least the air-conditioning had been fixed.
“Morning, Mr. Blackwell,” Morgan, the security guard and the only other person in the lobby, said as he buzzed him through the gate. Viggo shot him a tight smile and a nod, smirking when he turned and saw the young man’s reflection in the mirrored elevator doors, catching him checking out his ass.
Morgan looked up, meeting Viggo’s eyes in the mirror, his face going red. Viggo decided to be nice and pretend he hadn’t seen anything. “Have a nice day, Morgan,” he said, walking into the elevator and pressing the button for the sixtieth floor.
“You, too, Mr. Blackwell,” Morgan replied, sounding mortified.
The office, when Viggo stepped off the elevator and turned left through the doors bearing his name, was strangely silent. His executive team was huddled in the conference room, visible through the glass wall separating it from the open office area, together with every member of legal.
