Floating with a Sea Cow - Charlie Richards Page 0,1

a haughty expression and gazed back at the man. “And why would I need to do that?”

“You know why,” the man responded, his black brows creasing as his eyes narrowed. His nostrils flared for an instant, then a soft growl escaped the man. “Don’t make a scene. You won’t like the consequences.”

Braylon knew a losing battle when he saw one. That didn’t mean he had to act like a lamb to slaughter, though. “Very well.” He rolled his eyes as he heaved a put-upon sigh. “Let’s get this over with. I have places to be.”

The way the security guard swept his gaze over Braylon’s form, from head to toe and back again, coupled with the gleam in the man’s eyes actually caused a tingle of awareness to work down his spine. Goose bumps broke out on his arms. Even his prick plumped as his blood flowed south.

Was that attraction in the man’s eyes? No way!

Burying the inclination under wishful thinking, Braylon allowed the security guard to turn him. The guy moved his hand to the middle of his back and guided him forward. As they walked, the guy teased his fingertips down Braylon’s spine to his lower back, then skimmed his hand back up again.

Heat flooded Braylon’s groin at the intimate contact. His nipples beaded. Only the shock surging through Braylon kept his dick from going ramrod straight in his jeans.

What the hell?

Then the huge man pointed to the right. “Turn here.”

Braylon obeyed, turning down the aisle. A large sign that read Security Office in bold, black, blocky script hung on the building to the left. The man reached past him and opened the door, guiding him inside.

Spotting the blond male sitting behind a reception desk as well as a brown-haired Caucasian leaning against the wall near a door behind the other man, Braylon felt a tremble work through him.

“Hand over the fish and have a seat,” the guard ordered. He held out his left hand, palm up, waiting to be given the stolen goods even as he pointed at a chair in the waiting area near the desk.

Braylon figured he didn’t have any other recourse. He pulled out the fish, placed it into the man’s hand, then crossed to a chair and took a seat. As he watched the huge man lumber past, telling the blond behind the counter, “Keep an eye on him, will ya,” a fresh wash of fear slithered through him.

* * * *

Tyrone Coonan slipped past Eban O’Gillie and headed into the head security guard’s office. Eban also happened to be the head enforcer for their loosely classified pod of shifters. Tyrone trusted the other male’s judgment and hoped he could give him some advice.

Hearing the door close behind him, Tyrone crossed to Eban’s desk. He placed the stolen blown-glass fish on the enforcer’s desk, then turned to face his boss. Seeing Eban’s lifted brow, he shoved his hands into his khaki shorts’ pockets.

“So, I just hauled in my mate for shoplifting,” Tyrone rumbled softly. “Any advice?”

Eban opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. His brown eyes widened. Then he scoffed, and his lips curved into a wry smile.

“Wow, okay,” Eban began slowly. He shook his head, although his eyes did dance with mirth. “Congratulations?”

Tyrone shrugged, then rubbed his chest with the forefingers of his right hand. “I know we have a strict policy, but how can I report him and send him to jail, then try to—” He snapped his mouth shut and heaved a sigh.

“Let’s get his ID, see if he has any priors, and go from there, huh?”

Nodding, Tyrone realized he should have already gotten the man’s information. It just went to show how out of sorts he was for him to screw up standard procedure from step one. He headed back out of the room, doing his best to breathe shallowly because the skinny, dark-skinned guy’s scent was already permeating the room with a musky, spicy goodness.

Sweeping his gaze over the shoplifter’s body, Tyrone admired the way the slender, toned human sat up straight. The man wore designer blue jeans, a form-fitting pale-blue polo shirt, and comfortable-looking Dockers on his feet. His shortly buzzed hair had been bleached blond, which made his skin appear an even darker chocolate. He sported a bored expression on his lean face as he stared in the other direction.

Only noticing the slight tensing along the tendons of his long, slender neck told Tyrone that he had noticed his approach.

At least he’s not ambiguous to me. And