7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

B old

As I follow the directions Jasmine punched into the GPS, she explains, "I've decided that if you look more official, it might help my clients feel comfortable."

"I didn't think you would have hired me if you thought my… species would cause problems."

Jasmine's perfect pouty mouth pops open in shock. "No! It has nothing to do with your species. It's about the therapist-client relationship. Having any other person lurking around—especially for the people on my caseload, most of whom have been abused in some form or fashion—is going to freak them out."

She reaches across the console, about to touch me, then yanks her hand back. Too bad. I'd like this pretty human to touch me, especially after her arousal scent spiked, hinting that she might be interested in more than just talking to me.

"You saw my office. I'm the only person working there. It's not as though you can pretend you're waiting to see my partner. So I thought I'd be frank, kind of. I don't want them to worry that a big, powerful corporation is after me. I thought I might say a former client sent threatening letters, and this is just a precaution. What do you think?"

"That's plausible, I guess. So you want me to look more official? Do you want me to wear a name badge?"

After we came to Earth, they lined us up, chipped us with tracking devices—which I later found out they do to animals—and entered our demographics into a computer. Since none of us had last names on An'Wa, the staff who were processing us named those who weren't quick enough to make something up.

I think the woman who named me wasn't very creative. Her name was Debbie Dubois. My name is Bold Dubois. Although it doesn't feel like my name at all, it doesn't bother me because I rarely use it, but the idea of wearing a badge with that name on it sets my fangs on edge.

"So I was thinking of a kind of… uniform." She raises her hand, laughing, and adds, "No three-piece suits for you, I'm happy to announce. I thought making you look official yet not douchy would allow my clients to trust you. We're going to a store called Emblem Elegance. A polo with your first name and the name of your business embroidered on it should work well."

"A Wolven Warriors polo ?" I cock my brow. Back in the Zone, I have a total of two shirts in my dresser. Zero pieces of clothing are on hangers in my closet. I wear jeans, and as I wore to my interview dinner, a leather vest when I'm dressing up. I don't know whether the idea of wearing a polo shirt makes me want to laugh or turn in my resignation.

She must be watching me like a hawk because she observes, "You hate it." She sounds so dejected.

"This t-shirt I'm wearing? Was still in its package this morning. I… don't normally wear shirts."

A few minutes ago, I thought I might be having olfactory hallucinations when I thought I scented her arousal. Now, though, it's hard to ignore. Does my employer like how I look without a shirt? I don't know why this pleases me, but this makes me feel sexy enough that I could have a future as an underwear model.

"Are you willing to give the polos a try?"

It strikes me that Jasmine is a kind person, but she's still my boss. If she wants me to do my job in a pink tutu, I have two choices: comply or turn in my notice.

"Polo shirts with an as-yet-to-be-determined logo sound great. Can't wait." I even managed to say that last part without sarcasm.

"Let's come up with some ideas as we drive." As Jasmine's face brightens into a smile, she wiggles to get comfortable in her seat and says, "Let's brainstorm. That means there are no bad ideas. I'll go first."

After a pause, she says, "I guess the first thing that comes to mind is a stylized wolf?"

"Mmm," is my noncommittal answer. I try not to grimace. She means well, but she doesn't understand the cultural significance of referencing a wolven as a wolf.

"No offense, but we don't think of ourselves as wolves. We're humanoids and we like to keep the separation sharp in people's minds."

"Oh." She heaves a sigh through pursed lips. "How many times in one day can I manage to offend you? Sorry."

"After you offered me the job, I spent every waking hour researching human customs so I wouldn't offend you . How about we agree not to get offended when one of us unintentionally says something stupid?"

"Deal."

"Obviously, we're genetically closer to humans than wolves. Except for our shoulder pelts, wolf-like ears, tails, and fangs. Our hearing and sense of smell are much more acute. Wolven claws retract, more like your Earth cat than a wolf. Plus, our speed and agility are so much better than humans that we've been banned from competitive sports. I'm not quite sure why, since we've only recently been allowed out of the Zone except to work. Oh yeah, we're stronger with denser bones and heal much faster than humans."

I finish the Wikipedia description of a wolven followed by a demonstration of how I can extend and retract my inch-long, very sharp, slightly curved claws.

"So…" She seems eager to change the subject. "I'm a humble counselor who specializes in trauma, but taking all wolf references off the table, my mind is already picturing the logo." Her voice is brimming with excitement.

She turns in her seat as much as her seatbelt will allow, her eyes bright, then makes a W with three fingers on each hand and intertwines them. I glance over when we're stopped at a light.

"See? Two Ws for Wolven Warriors. Basic, stylish, artistic."

"That's settled then." I'm baffled as to why her enthusiasm to make a classy Wolven Warriors logo pleases me so much. Perhaps it's because her commitment to making me and her clients more comfortable tells me a lot about who she is.

When we arrive at Emblem Elegance, Jasmine eagerly bounds out of the car. I follow close behind as we enter the small shop filled with racks of blank polos, hats, and various other items ready for custom embroidery.

"Hello there!" A cheerful middle-aged woman greets us from behind the counter. "I'm Maggie. How can I help you today?"

I try not to reveal my surprise. Although Jasmine and her father greeted me without doing a double take, most humans don't bother to hide their initial surprise, or—for most of them—their immediate fear and distaste. Maggie acted as though she deals with wolven every day. I like her already.

"We need to design a logo and get some polo shirts embroidered for my friend Bold here," Jasmine explains enthusiastically. "His Wolven Warriors Security group wants to up their game."

"I saw you on TV, young man. You're a hero. Let me throw in a free hoodie for saving that woman's life."

Usually, I squelch compliments like this, not wanting to take credit for what came naturally. For some reason, with Jasmine at my side, I allow Maggie's words to feed my ego. I manage to resist the urge to puff out my chest.

"Thanks. That's generous of you."

"Let's get started." She ushers us over to a computer. "Did you have any ideas for the logo design?"

Jasmine grins at me. "Bold, show her that W design I made with my hands in the car."

Feeling a bit silly, I recreate Jasmine's hand gesture. Maggie looks intrigued.

"I like it! Very clever. Let me mock something up." Her fingers fly over the keyboard and soon she turns the screen to face us. "How's this?"

Jasmine leans in close, her arm brushing against mine as she examines the sleek, intertwined W logo. "Oh, that's perfect! What do you think, Bold?"

"It looks great," I agree, pleasantly surprised by how professional it appears. "You've got a good eye, Jasmine."

"Awesome! Now, let's pick out some shirts. With your coloring, I'm thinking jewel tones would look handsome on you." Jasmine leads me to a rack, pulling out an emerald green polo and holding it up to my chest. Her fingertips graze my furred shoulders, sending a jolt of arousal through me.

"This makes your eyes pop. Sometimes they're silver, sometimes they're more blue. When you're wearing this green, it reminds me of glacial ice." Her gaze lingers on mine, something heated and appreciative in their depths.

"Let's try a few other colors, too." She hands me a ruby red and a sky blue. "You can never have too many options!"

At the counter, Maggie chuckles. "Your girlfriend has a good eye for color."

"Oh, we're not—" I start to correct her, but Jasmine cuts me off with a laugh.

"I just want him looking his best. Can't have my security team in drab colors, now can I?"

She winks at me conspiratorially and I can't help but grin. There's something about Jasmine's playful energy that loosens some of the bricks I've built around my heart.

As Maggie rings us up, Jasmine reaches over to straighten the collar of the sample polo I'm wearing.

"There," she says softly, her hand lingering near my neck a moment longer than necessary. "Quite handsome indeed." Her warm brown eyes meet mine and an electric jolt passes between us. Although the connection is nothing more than friendly affection, my cock doesn't get the message that Jasmine isn't my girlfriend. It pulses in response.

I shift uncomfortably. Having Jasmine so close, her scent filling my nostrils and her hands on me… it's making a continuous loop of porno pictures scroll through my thoughts.

"So, if I can get you to relinquish that shirt, Bold, I can embroider the logo on that one right now. Have you had lunch?"

"No."

"Great. Go eat and I'll have at least one of these ready for you to take home with you today. I'll have your full order ready next week."

As we hop back in the car, Jasmine shoots me a playful grin. "That wasn't too terrible, was it?"

"I guess I'll join the rest of the civilized world and start wearing clothes."

Our eyes meet and hold, the air between us crackling with something unspoken. I'm acutely aware of every breath she takes, every nuance of her scent, the drum of her heartbeat. It takes all my willpower not to lean across the console and devour her smiling mouth with mine.

Instead, I put the car in drive and pull out of the parking lot, trying to ignore her tempting heat and the scent I'm quickly becoming addicted to.

She punches in the directions to the Indian place, and true to her word, she orders us way too much food, all of which is amazing.

Since falling to Earth, my whole life has been conducted within the confines of a ten-square-block area. Now I'm outside the Zone in so many ways. I feel as though I'm at the top of a mountain, about to step off into thin air. I'll either have a painful crash, or I'll learn to fly.