The Moonlight Breed 8: Leap in the Dark by Gabrielle Evans (chrysanthemum read aloud .txt) 📕

he felt a second hand kneading his hip, realization penetrated the dizziness from the kiss, and Braxton shoved at the alpha’s shoulders. It took several starts and stops to get the words out as he gasped for breath, and he didn’t know whether he should be elated or furious with his lover. In the end, he settled on somewhere in between.

“You are a gigantic asshole, Alexander Brighton,” he accused with a wide grin. “Why do you do things like that to me?”

“Because you’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Not cute.”

“You’re adorable and you know it. Now, stop pretending to be mad and kiss me again.”

Braxton gave an overexaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes as he grabbed Xander’s face and pulled him close once more. “So demanding.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

* * * *

Celebrating the reuse of his arm, Xander made good application of the appendage in a variety of ways, which mostly involved pinning Braxton to one flat surface or another. The only downside to their energetic exploits was that it had left very little time for sleep. Xander wouldn’t trade a minute of it, though. He’d sleep when he was dead.

He’d spent all of ten minutes berating himself for waiting so long to take Spiro’s advice, but he was too elated at being whole again to muster the proper level of self-debasement. Yeah, he’d fucked up and been a ginormous idiot, but everyone was entitled to a breakdown at some juncture.

Slumping back in his hard, wooden chair at the kitchen table, he rubbed at his itchy eyes and yawned loudly. Crawling back into bed sounded like heaven, but it was nearing three in the afternoon, and he had a honey-do list a mile long. “When do I have to meet these new guys?”

Braxton rounded the table and kissed the top of his head. “I told Demitrius we’d be over in about ten minutes.” A mug was placed on the table, and steam rose from the dark liquid inside, wafting the glorious scent of freshly brewed coffee toward him. “Here, this will help.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“Don’t I know it,” Braxton answered with a teasing smirk. “Actually, bring that with you and let’s get this over with. We still need to see the doc about those microchips, and then you have that meeting with Stavion after sunset. Oh, and Spiro came by while you were in the shower. He said he’ll be back later tonight to talk to you.”

“Did he say why?” He owed Spiro a lot and really needed to track down the shrink and thank him. He got the impression that this wasn’t going to be a social visit, however.

“No, but he looked upset. It kind of worries me, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look anything but confident.”

Problems were racking up left and right that needed his attention, and that was on top of the already extensive list of things he’d neglected while he’d been playing the wounded victim. Gods, he really wanted to kick his own ass, but he didn’t have time for it. Maybe he could schedule a conversation with himself for later in the week if nothing else cropped up before then.

Snatching his coffee up, he took a long, satisfying drink as he followed Braxton outside and across the short distance to the second cabin. The dorm was bustling with activity when they entered through the back door. Music blared from speakers in the living room, while some little slip of a man danced around the kitchen, banging pots and pans around as he prepared an early dinner.

He’d thought Braxton was small. Then he’d met Oscar, Cicero, and the twins, and he’d had to reevaluate that definition. The guy swinging his hips on the other side of the room was positively tiny, though. For a moment, Xander thought it might be a child.

The runt finally turned with a smile and gave them a cheery wave. “Hi! You must be Braxton and Xander.”

“How old are you?” Xander blurted before he could stop the words.

The little redhead just laughed, though. “I’ll be twenty-six in July. I know I look little.” He curled his upper lip and growled. “But I’m mean.” Then he dissolved into giggles, and Xander found himself snorting in amusement.

The growl had been more of a throaty chuff and anything but ferocious. He certainly smelled of feline, and the noises he made supported Xander’s suspicions. “Mihail, I’m guessing.”

“Yep.” He bounded over, wiped his hand on his jeans, and thrust it toward Xander. “Nice to meet you, sir.” There was a slight drawl in his accent, but wherever he was from, he hadn’t lived there for a while.

Xander shook the offered hand, smirking the whole while at the bewildered look on Braxton’s face. The size of the person didn’t always correlate with the size of their animal, and Miahail was tiny, bubbly, energetic proof of that.

“Anne Hathaway is classy and beautiful,” someone yelled from the common room. “I would totally go straight for that woman.” A short pause followed that statement. “Okay, no, I wouldn’t, but she’s still fabulous.”

Braxton and Mihail looked at each other and burst into laughter. “Jacobi,” they said in unison, while Xander just looked between the two in confusion.

“Come on, big guy. You’re going to love him.” Braxton was still chuckling as he took his hand and led him toward the living area.

He seemed much more relaxed now that they’d met Mihail, and he’d seen that there wasn’t much of a threat that the shifter would challenge Xander for the right to rule the pack. They hadn’t seen him in shifted form yet, so technically, the possibility could still exist, but the way Mihail had addressed him as “sir” didn’t lend much credence to the idea.

“What happened to your hair?” Braxton asked Jacobi when they entered the common room.

“Pink is so”—Jacobi glanced over his shoulder toward the clock—“twenty-seven minutes ago. Green looks much nicer with my skin, don’t you think?” He puckered his lips and turned his head