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The snow still hadn’t stopped yet, but a short time later, Logan kissed Anais and Clover’s foreheads before Charlie and Kale carried them through the root cellar door for the short walk home. While Roark collected Bowie and Acer and carried them downstairs, Wren led the way to the bathroom and all the bubbles.
“Hey folks.” The radio announcer’s voice had an ominous note to it. “Stay safe out there. This storm isn’t going to blow out anytime soon, so the shelter-in-place edict has been extended until 8am on Monday morning. Monday, not tomorrow, so keep your claws and tails indoors. Here’s a couple songs to drive the point home, for all you hardheaded wolves out there.”
“Bet he plays Black Ice,” Rusty said.
“Naa man, it’s gotta be Sabbath’s Snowblind,” Logan protested, the opening notes of the song soon proving he was right.
“Nice, I love this song!”
“Same!”
Their singing recommenced as they moved easily around one another, rinsing dishes, loading the dishwasher, and wiping all the countertops once the proper pod had been inserted and the machine turned on. Logan leaned against the counter and studied Rusty as he filled the pups’ bedtime bottles with goat’s milk.
“Can I talk to you guys about something once the kids are asleep?”
“Anything. You never have to ask,” Rusty said as he glanced over his shoulder at him. “You okay?”
“Better than okay,” Logan admitted, crossing the room to press his head against the back of Rusty’s shoulder. “And looking forward to what tomorrow brings.”
Chapter Eight
(Rusty)
Someone’s tail smacked him across the nose. Rusty sneezed and cracked one eye open to see fluffy black fur in his face. Huffing, he rubbed his snout against it before pressing his head to the softness and attempting to go back to sleep. Weak light shone through the window, a sign of the impending dawn, perhaps, or there could be enough snow clinging to the glass that it was obscuring the sun.
Shit.
What time was it?
He raised his head enough to check the clock, cocked his head, and dodged the tail that flipped up to smack him as soon as he stopped pinning it down. Damn, it was only six thirty-two, definitely the ass crack of dawn then and far too early to be awake on a Sunday morning. This time, he caught his mate’s tail between his paws so he could situate himself properly on the full, fluffy length to avoid any more unintended nose smacks.
When Logan asked if he could join them in fur tonight and explained about the nightmares he sometimes experienced, they’d shifted and joined him in their wolf forms. They could tell he hadn’t expected it, but when he’d snuggled up on the side closest to the door, in case he had to make a hasty exit, he’d done it with his head on Rusty’s belly, while Roark had draped himself over Rusty’s shoulder.
They’d all wound up shifting around in their sleep, but Logan hadn’t left, and that meant everything to Rusty, who knew what it was like to wake up drenched in sweat and desperately seeking the exit. They’d left the room door open enough for a snout to open it more, in case Logan panicked, the last thing they’d wanted was for him to feel trapped.
Mmmmm. His fur smelled like snow from the romp they’d taken through it. Inhaling, he rubbed his cheek against it a few more times, just to get more of Logan’s scent on him.
Are you trying to make out with my tail?
Only after I got smacked by it. It’s a lovely tail, though, very soft. I was contemplating taking a nap on it.
The laughter that drifted through their mind link made Rusty shiver and let out a low rumble as he nuzzled Logan’s tail before starting to groom it.
Dude, you are making out with my tail.
I’m just tasting it.
Fine, but any nibbling and I will nibble back.
Is that a threat, a promise, a request or an invitation?
Uh…all of you above.
Works for me, Rusty thought back before resuming his grooming efforts.
I bet. This hardly seems fair.
How so?
