Page 73 of Her Wolf

Simon says

“Jesus, look at that queue!” Lars said. He could easily see over most of the guests who had lined up at the bar beside the buffet table in the hotel’s dining room.

“I think I’m going to die if I have to wait that long.” Dean grabbed his elbow. “I’ll even drink fucking tap water right now.”

Lars glanced around, but even the resident hovering waiters with their trays of champagne glasses were nowhere in sight.

“I’ve got a plan,” Lars said, ducking conspiratorially close to Dean so he could murmur to him. “I got access to the kitchen. Let’s see what they got in back.”

“Sonofabitch!” Dean clapped a hand over his chest.

Lars quickly wet his lips before turning to lead the way. Was it just the weed, or was he getting some seriously bi vibes from his guy?

True, they were both stoned as fuck, but there was something about him…

Lars pushed through the back of the dining room and into a small servant’s hallway that led straight to the bowels of the hotel. He’d been this exact way earlier, when Ana had disappeared to the kitchen for something and he’d had to track her down to get the guest register from her.

Two waiters came past them, both loaded down with more food for the buffet.

None with anything liquid.

Christ, his mouth was cork-dry.

Dean’s shoes rang out on the linoleum floor. Here, the hotel looked almost brand new with its freshly painted walls and industrial flooring.

Lars pushed through the double swing doors leading into the kitchen, blinking as light blazed into his eyes. Several chefs and kitchen staff bustled past carrying steel trays. The air was humid with the smell of roasting meat and garlic.

Glancing over his shoulder, Lars beckoned Dean through the throng of people and down a narrow passage. The door of a cold storage unit appeared on the right. He opened it, gesturing Dean inside.

Their breath misted, cold clamping over Lars’s body like a glove.

“Take your pick,” he said, waving at the row upon row of liquor, wine, and mixers. “And hurry—I’m about ten seconds away from getting blue balls, and not for the usual reasons.”

Dean laughed, and grabbed the closest bottle of mix—soda water. Then they hurried out of the fridge and stood for a moment toe-to-toe in the passage outside.

“Uh…where—” Dean began, looking hesitantly back to the kitchen.

Too noisy. Too busy. He wanted quiet right now. Quiet, and half that bottle of soda water.

Lars pointed to the right. “That door goes outside.”

“Yeah, perfect,” Dean said, and headed straight for it.

Cool air washed over Lars as they stepped outside. The sun had set, but the sky hadn’t yet turned dark purple. The evening star was out, along with a bloated moon hanging low in the sky.

“Full moon,” Lars said.

“Perfect timing, what with it being Day of the Dead and all,” Dean said. He twisted open the bottle of soda water and chugged at it, lifting the bottom half of his mask to do so. Then he handed the bottle to Lars.

“Guess we don’t need these,” Lars said, lifting his mask off his head. It was giving him a head ache, anyway, much as he loved the way it looked on him.

Dean shrugged. “Isn’t it like bad luck to take off your mask at a masquerade?”

“Doubt it,” Lars said through a laugh. “Else no one’s getting head.”

It was an idiotic thing to say, of course, but the words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Dean had been looking at the moon, but he dropped his head when Lars spoke and then slowly turned back to him. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, sounding a little uneasy. “So, uh…”

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