Page 3 of Too Many Beds

Yep. It was still there.

Tristan yanked his arm away and scowled at him. “Stop that. Don’t even. I don’t want to hear it.”

Ryder laughed. “You aren’t curious about?—”

“Nope. Not interested. And if you’re tempted to tell me against my express wishes, let me remind you I know a spell that will make you feel like your asshole is itchy.” He gave Ryder a vicious smile. “For the rest of your life.”

Ryder had no doubt that he did.

“It wouldn’t matter if I told you. It’s not destiny, just a possibility. Fate doesn’t exist. You always have a choice. Maybe the universe gives you a nudge, but you make the final decision.”

“And if you make the wrong one, I can predict the future too,” Tristan said with a deadly sort of cheerfulness. “Ten years from now. It’s a pleasant day. You’re walking down the street… and your asshole itches like crazy.”

While the future wasn’t certain, Tristan’s wrath was, and Ryder would rather not risk it, especially with how crap he was at breaking curses.

“But seriously. Most of MateHub’s top stars are wolf shifters. That’s where the money is. If I refused to do scenes with them, I’d barely have any work. Besides, they’re hot. Just because mages and shifters generally don’t get along, doesn’t mean I can’t let a few fuck me.”

Tristan’s gaze tracked movement behind Ryder’s back, and Ryder turned to see Storm Swell entering the studio with a smooth, predatory grace. His jeans and t-shirt fit his tall frame tight enough to hint at all the muscle beneath.

Obnoxious bastards or not, wolf shifters were ridiculously attractive, and Storm was no exception, from his strong jaw and high cheekbones to his broad shoulders and spectacular ass. His black hair was closely shaved, and the deep, rich umber of his skin glowed under the studio lights, accentuating his striking features.

Storm must have felt them watching him because he glanced over, his wolf flashing in his dark eyes. He nodded, then strolled toward his dressing room.

Ryder suppressed a shiver of arousal. Yeah, letting someone who looked like that fuck him was not exactly the hardship Tristan made it out to be.

“Well, I better go get myself prepared for this supremely absurd scene.”

“Enjoy that pretend knot,” Tristan said wryly, his attention returning to his illusion as he tweaked a few of the beds.

“Always do.”

Ryder headed to his own dressing room. Because obviously, the naive character he’d be playing—a straight guy who’d shown up without realizing what his new employer was expecting—would also arrive perfectly cleaned out and waxed for porn close-ups. They truly did strive for realism at MateHub, and no one could say otherwise. Not even in his last scene, when he, an avid sex doll collector, had enchanted his toys to come to life and gang-bang him. If that wasn’t realism at its finest, he didn’t know what was.

Chapter Three

Storm

The set reeked of magic, like it always did when Tristan cast his illusions. Two mages in one place were too many as far as Storm’s nose was concerned.

He walked over to where the director, Brandt, was standing with Ryder and eyed up his new co-star along the way. Storm had to admit that he was hot for a mage. Although not much shorter than Storm, he looked almost petite next to Brandt’s massive grizzly shifter frame. His black hair fell in waves that brushed his shoulders, setting off his golden tan skin and the sharp angles of his features. His gray eyes were framed by thick, well-shaped brows, and his lips were full and pouty enough that Storm was already imagining them wrapped around his cock. Wardrobe had dressed Ryder in charcoal slacks and a white-collared shirt that had seen better days, but still managed tohighlight the lean lines of his body—a more subtle, refined style than the skintight, threadbare t-shirt and jeans they’d given Storm to wear.

“Storm,” he said, holding out his hand when he reached them. Normally he avoided touching mages to keep the scent of their magic off his skin, but considering everything he was about to do to Ryder, shaking hands was the least of his worries.

“Ryder.” He slipped his hand into Storm’s.

The moment their skin touched, magic buzzed against Storm’s palm, and he inhaled sharply, catching a hint of Ryder’s scent under the more familiar stench of Tristan’s magic.

Ryder’s eyes narrowed, and he frowned at their hands before glancing up at Storm, confusion written in the furrow of his brow.

They released their grip, but the tingle of magic remained on Storm’s skin. Huh. He’d never felt anything like that before. It wasn’t unpleasant though. Magic prickled along his palm. He flexed his fingers and noticed Ryder doing the same.

“If you’ve memorized your parts,” Brandt said, “let’s start the interview.”

Rhys, their main cameraman, filmed them as Brandt asked them questions—a few standard ones about how excited they were to film their first scene together and a number that had been submitted by fans in MateHub’s official forum.

“The fans have been requesting you two do a scene for months. Have you seen the song lyrics they wrote for you?”

“I thought them changing the original lyric to ‘like a shifter about to bone’ was particularly inspired,” Ryder said.

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