Page 2 of Too Many Beds

“If that’s it, fine. But they’d probably have it set up like one of those fortune-telling machines, except instead of inserting a coin, I’d need to insert my dick.”

The corner of Daniel’s lips twitched, but he didn’t comment. He leaned back in his plush leather office chair, his sharp gaze sweeping over Storm. “Speaking of the crazier things MateHubhas asked its stars to do. Given any more thought to doing a bonding contract? The money would make this look like pocket change.”

MateHub had started encouraging its canine shifter stars to enter temporary mating bonds so they could knot their co-stars. Fans were insatiable when it came to the scenes.

“I’ll stick to pretending for now.”

As ludicrous as it was to moan about someone clenching so hot and tight on his knot when nothing of the sort was happening, bonding a person he had no feelings for didn’t sit right with him. Fucking people on camera was one thing; bonding was meant to be special.

While those contracts all but guaranteed stardom—with a sizable… swell in viewership—they weren’t for Storm.

“Up to you. But if you change your mind, MateHub would make it more than worth your while.”

“I’m good. Besides, they’d likely want me to bond a mage. Can you imagine that? Smelling like magic constantly for three months, doing a dozen or more scenes with that scent invading your senses?” He grimaced. “No thanks.”

Daniel scoffed. “You’d survive.”

Storm didn’t bother arguing. One-off scenes with mages were more than enough for him.

Chapter Two

Ryder

Ryder leaned against a pile of mattresses and watched Tristan work his magic. Literally. Swirling yellow tattooslit up on Tristan’s outstretched arms, and a faint yellow glow kindled in his irises.

The studio began to transform.

Three beds were already set up in a row, and more would be switched out after they’d used those, but that wasn’t nearly enough for the MateHub writers. Theirartistic visiondemanded more.

Even though Ryder sensed what Tristan was doing, his eyes refused to focus as reality blurred and the walls seemed to shimmer and melt away. The space before them appeared to open up, stretching out endlessly in a strange parody of a mattress showroom.

Beds popped up one by one in the illusion. Dozens of them, hundreds of them. They came in all shapes and sizes, from singles to kings, from dorm-room bunks to Japanese-style futon mattresses that lay on the floor. Some were fit for royalty, with large canopies arching over them; others were rickety frames that might be found discarded on the side of a road. Soft ambient lighting flooded the place, while bright spotlights showcased the latest models.

Ryder clapped as Tristan lowered his hands. No one cast illusions quite like him. Ryder couldn’t do them for shit, but Tristan’s never failed to impress. He was easily the best mage Ryder had ever met when it came to glamours. Other mages aside, very few people would understand the skill that went into his spells. It was insanely difficult to create a believable illusion. Too often, it fell into the uncanny valley—something not right about it that caused a person’s brain to reject what they were seeing.

But this? This looked real. Ryder could imagine someone walking straight into the now-invisible walls if they weren’t aware magic had concealed them.

Tristan surveyed his handiwork, nodding to himself.

“Nice,” Ryder said.

“How much do you want to bet the viewers won’t even notice?”

“A coffee from the break room?”

“Glad my work’s appreciated.” Tristan’s dry tone carried a hint of amusement.

“Hey, if you’re wanting some appreciation, I’m sure they’d let you?—”

“Never gonna happen. I’m good on my side of the camera, thanks. I’ll leave the moaning about getting pretend-knotted to you.”

“Oh, but it’s sobigandhotandpulsing.” Ryder writhed with each word, his back arching, his gaze half-lidded. “And it’s filling me sofulland?—”

“Save it for the cameras. I still can’t believe you want anything to do with wolf shifters. Most of them are obnoxious bastards.”

“Yeah, man, why would anyone get involved with a wolf shifter?” He snaked his hand out and wrapped it around Tristan’s wrist.

Shadows flickered through his mind—electric sparks that brought bits and pieces of the future with them.Yellow tattoos unfurling over a muscular chest, the whir of an espresso machine, the soft brush of fur against his skin.

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