by Kate Lowell
Then he came, pouring himself out into his lover, his wolf howling in the fierce joy of possession. He heard Glyn cry out, a sound close to the howl his wolf would someday make, and then Glyn was coming too, splashing his seed over the hardwood before them. Levi gave Glyn a few last strokes as Glyn’s ass gave him a few more as well.
When they were both well and truly exhausted in all senses of the word, Levi pulled out, then turned Glyn and wrapped him up closely in Levi’s arms. Glen rested his head on Levi’s shoulder, his arms around Levi’s waist.
“Love you,” he heard Glyn say.
“Love you too,” he said back.
“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to explain exactly what happened to the house.”
“I know. At least the wainscoting is gone.”
“That’s the only thing saving you right now.” Glyn sighed. “Bed?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Neither of them moved.
“You first.” Glyn muffled his chuckle against Levi’s neck.
“I’m afraid to move.”
This got a real laugh, and Glyn stepped back, though Levi was half-proud, half-embarrassed to note that he seemed a bit rubber-legged.
“All right, I’ll lead the way,” Glyn said and pulled Levi toward the stairs.
Levi leaned down to kiss that sweet ass as it climbed the steps in front of him. “I’d follow you anywhere, gorgeous.”
* * * *
The sunshine streaming across the bed and into his eyes was what woke Glyn, late the next morning. Or at least that was what he thought had done it. He stretched luxuriously, eyes squeezed shut, as he enjoyed the warmth of Levi’s back against his chest. He lay with his head pillowed between his lover’s shoulder blades and his body stretched the length of Levi’s. They must have switched roles at some point during the night—he’d have to ask. After the first couple of times, it had all started to blur a little. Except for that once, near dawn, when he had woken up to find he already had Levi stretched out on his back and had frotted the two of them almost to orgasm in his sleep. It had been a rather spectacular climax, though.
He smiled sleepily at the memory, pried his eyes open, and levered himself off Levi’s still-comatose body and onto the bed beside him.
Which was when he noticed his grandmother sitting cross-legged on the trunk at the foot of the bed.
“Gram!” he exclaimed, lunging to pull the sheets up to cover Levi’s bare ass. For that matter, over his own too.
“Good morning, Glynnie.” She eyed him with amusement. “You know, I have seen one of those before. Several, in fact. And yours more than once.”
“Changing my diaper doesn’t count. What are you doing in my bedroom?”
“Besides admiring your taste in men?” She giggled and tugged on the sheets.
“Not a chance!” Glyn replied, tightening his grip on his end. Levi snorted a little in his sleep and started to roll over. The sheets slipped, and Glyn only just managed to toss them back over his hips in time.
“I wasn’t going to touch! I just wanted to look! It was too dark to see much last night.”
“No touching, no looking. Mine, remember?”
She sighed, and he hoped it was mock irritation and not real. “He’s too old for my taste anyway. I just came by to tell you something.”
“What?” he asked, looking around for something to cover himself with so he could get out of bed and get Gram out of his bedroom before she got any more inappropriate ideas.
“I’m going to Ireland.”
He stopped his fumbling about in the bedclothes and gaped at her. “You’re what?”
She shrugged and stood up. “I’m taking that pretty young thing from the restaurant to Europe for a little while, visit some castles, maybe spend a bit of time in the fae court.”
“This is a bit sudden, isn’t it?” His heart sank in his chest—he was going to miss her. Even if she did drive him mad on a regular basis.
She leaned down to pat his cheek. “Well, you’re looked after now, and I’m sure you’ll want a little time alone with your wolf. And his. I’ll be back again in a few months, but now that the man who took your grandfather from me is dead, I feel like traveling again.”
He found a pair of Levi’s sweats tangled at the foot of the bed and pulled them under the covers to slip them on. “What do you mean, the man is dead? Who?”
She sent him a slightly condescending look. “That man who died last night. He was the one who killed your grandfather.”
“You mean McCourt?”
“Was that his name?” She seemed totally unconcerned. “Whatever. It all worked out.”
A suspicion grew in Glyn’s mind. “You didn’t set this up, did you?”
She waved a careless hand at him. “Oh, well, I might have tweaked a few things here or there. I didn’t make anyone do anything.”
Glyn slid out of bed and took her arm to lead her out into the hallway. A glance back showed Levi still peacefully sleeping and still decently covered, thank the Lady. He closed the door behind them and escorted her firmly down the stairs.
“Gram, how much did you do?” How much of this nightmare had been her doing?
She led him into the kitchen, where she proceeded to make herself at home. “Well, for starters, I sent you Levi,” she said while sniffing the various containers of tea in the cupboard and putting them back in nonalphabetical order.
“What do you mean, you sent me Levi? Are you telling me my whole relationship was created by you so you could get back at McCourt?”
She dropped the open bag of gingersnaps on the counter and crossed the kitchen to take his hands in hers. “No, sweetheart. Even a witch can’t create love. But I had hopes. As soon as I set eyes on Levi, I saw that man’s death, the man that took your grandfather from me. But I also saw you two together, and you looked very happy. So I did what any responsible grandmother would do and twisted off just a teensy little spell.” She beamed at him as if she had just presented him with a puppy or a brand-new bike. “I had to wait a little longer than I expected to finish him off—your father took his own sweet time getting you started, Glynnie—but look how it’s all turned out! You have your wolf, I have my revenge, and we both have a sweet piece of ass in our beds. But none of it could have happened if you weren’t a good match already.”
Glyn bowed his head, debated reading her the riot act, and gave it up immediately as a bad deal. She was right. It had all turned out well, and that was all she would be interested in. And screw it—he really couldn’t find it in himself to feel sorry for McCourt anyway. He laughed and hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Gram. Life with you is always interesting.” In a Chinese-curse way, at the very least.
She dimpled at him and skipped back to the cupboards to make tea and pour cookies out into one of Glyn’s mixing bowls.
Glyn turned on the kettle and took a couple of mugs down from the mug tree in the corner. He looked quizzically at his grandmother. “So, Ireland, huh?”
She smiled, dropping tea bags into his large measuring cup. “Yes. Is there anything you want me to bring back for you? Oatcakes? A shamrock? Faerie wine?”
He grimaced. “I’m not sure the wine’s a good idea.”
“Why ever not? You liked it when we were over there.”
He laughed and poured hot water into the measuring cup. “A little too much, I think. But why not? Just one bottle wouldn’t hurt. Levi’s never had any.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Gram replied.
“Gram,” Glyn said, his tone a warning. “You will not be around to take advantage of my drunken boyfriend, got it? If anyone gets the benefit of the libido boost, it’s going to be me.”
She just smiled and poured the tea.
A thought occurred to him. “You’re going to the fae court?” Which one? His lips twitched. Probably both.
She appeared surprised that he would ask. “Of course. It would be terribly bad manners not to if I’m over there anyway.”
<
br /> He wondered if the European fae had any idea what they were in for. Their North American cousins hadn’t fared so well the last time his grandmother decided to visit Underhill. Maybe he should call and give them a head start…
Gram jumped to her feet, interrupting his thoughts and leaving a swath of crumbs and a half-finished mug of tea behind her. “I do so love our chats, Glynnie, but I have to pack, and I must pick up that young man before I go to the airport.” She bent down to kiss him on the cheek. “Look after your wolf. And the one upstairs. And stay in touch.” She looked around absentmindedly, then pulled a permanent marker out of one of the drawers and wrote something on the fridge door. “I have e-mail now. So we can chat while I’m away.”
Gram with e-mail. Lady help him if she ever discovered social networking. He stood and took the marker from her, then tossed it on the counter. “Since when did you get a computer?”
“I’m not a complete Luddite, you know.” But she didn’t seem offended, and they parted on excellent terms. It was only as she disappeared down the street that Glyn realized she’d been doing something to block the effect of his conversion into a werewolf. His head spun for a moment as all the blood in his body headed for his cock. A thud from upstairs told him Levi was feeling the sudden surge of hormones too.
Glyn laughed, ignored the mess in the kitchen with a sense of exhilarating freedom, and climbed the stairs at a run. He had two wolves to look after now.
Loose Id Titles by Kate Lowell
Bite Me Tender
Kate Lowell
Kate Lowell was the only seven-year-old in her neighborhood with her own chemistry set. True to form, she immediately ignored all the carefully designed and completely safe experiments that came with it to focus on blowing things up. After the destruction of a mattress and a bedside table in a freak accident of combustion (and the subsequent confiscation of her chemistry set), she changed her focus to other high-adrenaline pursuits. She has wrestled injured Dobermans, rescued abused horses, taught First Aid, and worked on a number of dairy farms, all of which seemed to involve being kicked, bitten, punched or spit on. (Yes, even the First Aid.) Her favorite job was working as a paramedic, which she’d still be doing if not for being injured on the job. She’s currently married to an organic farmer, mostly because Angus calves are really cute.
Nowadays, she likes to create worlds and throw people in them to see how they get along, usually while laughing evilly. Her tastes in books and writing are eclectic; she reads everything (with the possible exception of western) and she writes whatever looks fun. The challenge of creating a world that hangs together logically in the mind of the reader, and characters that the reader cares about and wants to know better, is easily as thrilling as any of the in-person risks she’s taken in her life.
And if things get dull, well…she can always blow something up.
