She couldn’t say for certain, but she swore Logan’s eyebrows arched. Wait a minute, did wolves even have eyebrows? Before she could fully ponder that mystery of life, Logan stretched onto his hind legs and instantly morphed from canine into man. Talk about a truly awe-inspiring spectacle. Particularly since Logan just so happened to be buck naked.
A female would have to be blind not to be left gaping at the outrageous display of man candy. Fortunately she’d been gifted with 20/20 vision.
Clarissa joined them, her cheeks wearing an identical shade of red as the rhododendron blooms in the distance. “For goddess’s sake, Logan, how many times do I have to ask you not to shift like that out in the open?” Clearing her throat, she averted her gaze. “You know how it embarrasses Peach.”
Jemma glanced sideways and spied the older woman vigorously cleaning her spectacles. Stuffing her hankie back in her pocket, Ms. Peach returned to ogling Logan’s dangly man bits. Oh yeah, clearly the woman was mortified.
Logan gave his chiseled abdomen a lazy scratch. “Sorry, shug. I’ll try to remember to keep the public nudity to a minimum.”
“You said that last time.”
Flashing his incisors in a grin, Logan ambled toward the mansion. Jemma noticed she wasn’t the only one who turned to gawk at the man’s flexing butt. Grumbling beneath her breath, Clarissa grabbed the shovel from Ms. Peach and stalked to the portly zombie. Her face an emotionless mask, she pitched the tool’s blade through the corpse’s neck.
Stomach lurching, Jemma covered her mouth. Griffin released his grip on the now-motionless dead man and surged to his feet before striding to Jemma and enfolding her in his arms. Though she felt like a huge ninny, she pressed her cheek into the cotton of his shirt, her shaky exhale stirring the fabric. “Is it wrong that I can’t help feeling bad for him? He did just try to bite your face off.”
Griff’s fingers continued soothing along her scalp. “No. It’s not his fault an evil ghost decided to play puppeteer with his body.”
She watched as Clarissa finished off the female zombie. The dispassionate way the coven’s mistress handled the grizzly business of zombie dismemberment was a little disturbing. She could never lop off someone’s head—dead or not—without getting totally squicked out.
“Who wants to help me dispose of the bodies?” Clarissa flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and stared pointedly at Griff.
He sighed and gave Jemma a lingering squeeze before crossing the lawn. When he crouched down and reached for the head sitting nearby, she figured it’d be a good time to return to the mansion. Hugging her chest, she hurried toward the porch. The bouquet of lilies situated between the two rockers smelled inordinately pungent, reminding her of funeral homes and death. Nauseated all over again, she rushed inside the foyer and sucked in a deep breath. A new stench hit her and she scrunched her nose. “Ugh. What is that? Wet dog?”
She turned toward the stairway and froze at the sight of Logan standing there. His lips curving in a half grin, he knotted the white towel that was slung low on his hips. “Don’t look at me, sugar.”
The click of nails preceded Floyd’s appearance in the entry. Slimy pond water dribbled from the hound’s mangy coat.
Logan chuckled. “I do believe we’ve found our culprit.”
Floyd plopped down in the middle of the marble floor and rested his muzzle on top of his paws with a chuffing snort. Jemma eyed him skeptically. “Clarissa’s going to be pissed.”
“Clarissa’s always pissed. It’s her emotion du jour.” Logan leaned against the newel post, his towel dipping lower. A single bead of sweat slid down his sternum and meandered toward his abdomen.
Jemma fidgeted with the frayed hem of Griff’s T-shirt and pretended giant clothespins were affixed to her eyelids, preventing her focus from traveling south of Logan’s bellybutton. It didn’t help matters that she’d just been treated to a grand viewing of the impressive cock now modestly concealed beneath the towel. Nothing would shake that image from her brain.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve noticed Clarissa tends to be cranky with Griff but seems to get along fine with you.” She paused, suddenly recalling the half dozen times she’d spied Clarissa glaring at Logan in the past hour. “Well…mostly.”
“You caught us on a good day. Aquarius must be in the twelfth house, or some such shit.” Logan gave a crooked smile that managed to be both sexy and endearing.
Vastly discomfited by the flush of heat pooling at the apex of her thighs, she tucked her hands in the rear pockets of her jeans and casually peeked down the front of her shirt. Oh thank God. Her nipples were behaving for once.
“If you want to know the truth, your cat used to be Clarissa’s favored pet.”
Logan’s unexpected admission—along with the faint note of bitterness in his tone—had her jerking her focus back to the werewolf. Tiny lines of tension bracketed his mouth, ruining his otherwise bland expression. Was he jealous of the relationship Griff and Clarissa once shared?
Come to think of it, the bristling hostility between Logan and Griff definitely seemed to fester from a sense of competitiveness. She’d just assumed it was the standard my-dick-is-bigger-than-yours bullshit. “What happened?”
Logan gave his well-defined belly a lazy swipe. “Catman grew a backbone. Clarissa didn’t like that.”
She wasn’t surprised. The coven’s mistress gave off a strong vibe of authority. It probably chapped her panties to have one of her familiars rebel against her.
“You’re the cause of his transformation, you know. Being assigned to you obviously undomesticated our cat.” Logan rubbed against the newel post, using it as an impromptu backscratcher. He caught her frown and arched his eyebrows. “What, don’t believe me?”
“No, I was just wondering how in the world your towel hasn’t fallen off with all that wiggling around.” She caught the humor dancing in his eyes and coughed. “Sorry, whatever’s in my mind tends to flow freely from my mouth unfiltered. It’s like the damn Niagara Falls in there.”
Logan flashed a grin. “Nothin’ wrong with that, darlin’. I’ve been known to speak my piece freely m’self.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that too.” She eyed him, her thoughts returning to the volatile nature of his and Griff’s interactions with each other. “Griff thinks you’re an asshole.” Good God, she really did need a muzzle for her mouth.
Rather than look offended, Logan hooted in laughter. “Well shit. I’m kinda disappointed he didn’t call me worse.”
She sighed. “I just don’t get why you guys can’t get along. It’s not healthy constantly going at each other the way you guys do.” It was beyond her how Clarissa could think Griff and Logan might stop sniping at each other long enough to…
Nibbling on her thumbnail, she met Logan’s intense stare. It seemed to peer straight into her head, rifling through her innermost thoughts. Oh Jesus, she hoped not. Because that last thought was pretty damn racy.
“Sugar, I’ll be the first to admit that Catman and I aren’t exactly best buds. But I’m willin’ to bet we can lay our differences aside and do what’s necessary for the greater cause of mankind.”
She didn’t need to read between the lines to know she was the greater cause and doing her was the necessity. It would have been easy to be infuriated, even convince herself she was only a commanded duty, except for the way Logan was looking at her. The fire in his eyes and the way he licked his lips didn’t suggest obligation. They hinted at hunger.