Page 17 of Siren in Love (In Love #1)

Mike

“S o is he cute? Did you, like, enchant him so he does what you want in the sack? I mean, that’s what sirens do, right? They enchant men and then drag them into their lair.”

The werewolf looked at Mike with his golden eyes shimmering in the low light of approaching evening, and Mike gripped the steering wheel hard as he pulled into the driveway.

“I didn’t enchant him, and I’ve never used my song on him, not that that’s any business of yours.”

John bobbed his head as he looked at the house. “Yeah? Right, no dragging, no enchanting, but he’s cute, right? I heard sirens like cute guys.”

Of course Corvin is cute, but me liking him has nothing to do with that.

Ridiculous pup. “How about you keep your thoughts to yourself, John. And remember, Corvin doesn’t know about sirens or werewolves, and I will be the one telling him, not you.

” Mike laced his voice with menace and didn’t even try to keep his siren song out of it.

John stiffened immediately. “Sorry, man. I was just curious. You know, to each their own.”

Mike growled, allowing power to flow into the sound, and John seemed to shrink in the passenger seat.

“That’s better. Behave.”

He cut the engine and got out of the car, not even bothering to see if the werewolf followed.

He unlocked the front door and walked straight into the living room, where Corvin had settled down on the couch.

He wore sweatpants and his gray By the Power of Coffee-skull T-shirt, the one Mike had given him for midwinter.

With a large bowl of popcorn in his lap, Corvin looked over with a grin plastered to his very kissable mouth.

“I was just about to dig into the popcorn and pick a movie for when you got back. Perfect timing.” He stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth and crunched noisily.

“Something came up, hon. Listen—”

“Oh, so that’s the boyfriend,” John said, swaggering into their living room. Mike had heard him close the front door but had hoped John would at least keep his mouth shut for a hot minute. Apparently, no such luck.

Corvin visibly stiffened and stopped chewing.

Mike cleared his throat. “John, there’s a guest bedroom on the second floor, last door on the right. There are some clothes in the wardrobe you’re welcome to. How about you settle in, make yourself at home? I imagine a shower’s going to be relaxing after the long day you’ve had.”

John shrugged. “Sure, whatever. Hey, boyfriend, I totally dig the shirt. So shapeshifter themed—scaredy cat to battle cat.” With that, the annoying wolf sauntered toward the stairs.

Corvin swallowed. “What just happened? Who is that?”

Mike sighed and sat down on the edge of the coffee table across from Corvin. “Listen, John is going to stay with us for a few days. He’s involved in one of Peter’s cases and needs a safe place to crash for a little while. I know this is sudden, and—believe me—it wasn’t my choice. I’m really sorry.”

Corvin blinked slowly, his hold on the popcorn bowl never wavering. “He looks like someone who’s hiding behind a wall of attitude. And he looks like he needs a meal or three. Don’t be sorry, Mike. I bet if Peter the Terrible asked you to let him hole up here, he has his reasons.”

“You really shouldn’t call Peter that.”

Corvin grinned. “Come on. I whispered, and there were so many people at your office holiday party. I’d never call him the Terrible where he might overhear, okay? I’d never do anything to get you in trouble with your boss. Your terrible, terrible boss.”

It’s really not his fault. He couldn’t know Peter has vampire hearing and was the Peter version of giddy about being called the Terrible for most of January.

Mike cupped Corvin’s cheek, enjoying the warmth and softness of his skin. “I know, hon. You’re okay with John staying?”

Corvin nodded. “Yeah. Your boss has his reasons to park him with us, right?”

Mike nodded. “He does. Which means you can’t tell anyone about John staying here.”

Corvin nodded. “I finally have two men in the house, and I can’t even brag.”

“John isn’t anyone I’d want you to brag about to begin with.” Mike got up, but only so he could lean over Corvin’s popcorn bowl and kiss him, taste the sweet caramel on his lips, the flavor of home. “What movie are we watching?”

Corvin grinned. “There’s this new werewolf one.

I know you’d prefer a documentary, but I overrule you on account of the fact that documentaries are lame.

” He leaned in to whisper. “Plus, we have a houseguest. What’s he going to think if he catches us watching a documentary?

Might hurt your reputation, Pineapple Mike. ”

Mike wanted to groan but he clamped down on the urge. “Okay. Werewolf movie it is.”

Corvin bounced on the couch. “Yay! It has great reviews about the romance in there too.”

“How wonderful.”

Corvin raised his finger at Mike. “I can tell you don’t mean that, but in the end, you always end up enjoying the movies I pick for us, right?”

Mike nodded. “Hon, I enjoy that you like cuddles with your movies.”

Corvin stuck out his tongue. “Nope, I know you’re having fun too.”

Mike leaned forward for another kiss. “Okay, you got me there. You’re fun, and I love having you.”

Corvin didn’t say anything back, but Mike knew it was because he was getting kissed. Corvin, sometimes, was easy to please.

Twenty minutes later, Mike found himself in the kitchen, slicing celery and cucumbers for movie snacks. Corvin had insisted there be “nice snacks” for their “guest.” Corvin was also too kind to start the damn werewolf movie without the werewolf.

Mike glanced at his fridge and the photos Corvin had put up there.

He’s always smiling. He always looks good in photos.

I think he’s too kind. I probably shouldn’t have taken in the damn werewolf because Corvin is too kind to tell him to shut up and mind his own business.

I would never, but I can see the appeal of island life for sirens’ lovers.

Corvin came into the kitchen, his caramel popcorn bowl in his arms. “Hey, you’re going to make the yummy sandwiches too, right?”

“What’re the yummy sandwiches, hon?”

Corvin groaned. “We both know you know.” He shuffled another step closer, his house socks barely making a sound. “The orgasm hummus sandwiches.”

“I didn’t hear that. What did you say?”

“Orgasm hummus.” Corvin crunched down on another handful of popcorn. “Make it so!”

“If you finish that entire bowl of popcorn by yourself, how are you going to eat sandwiches on top of that, hmm?”

Corvin pointed at his popcorn. “This is just a snack.” After looking over his shoulder to make sure John hadn’t come back down, he whispered, “He looked really hungry. Come on, let’s feed the poor guy.”

Mike groaned, not just because Corvin was too soft, but also because he could hear John coming down the stairs. The werewolf didn’t make a lot of noise, but Mike wasn’t likely to miss even a pin drop in his own home. “Okay, okay. You want to keep me company while I make them?”

But Corvin had seen John and pointed, mouthing, Company .

Not ten minutes later, Mike had to listen to them chatting. They seemed to get along pretty well, Corvin unbothered by John’s forwardness. Before long, Corvin was laughing , enjoying himself, and the celery sticks took the brunt of the foul mood this induced in Mike.

Once he was done with the sandwiches and the dippable snacks, he arranged the food on plates and carried the cucumber and carrot sticks with dip into the living room, where he found John on the couch right next to Corvin, the popcorn bowl now in John’s lap and already three-quarters empty.

Before Mike could unleash his song at John, Corvin got to his feet. “I’ll get some plates. Thanks for making all this.”

On his way to the kitchen, he stopped to kiss Mike’s cheek—normal behavior for Corvin, but to a werewolf, it was going to be a signal about where Corvin stood. Mike’s mood improved considerably.

“I like him,” John said.

“You keep your hands off him.” Mike was careful to keep his voice too low for Corvin to hear.

“No touching unless asked to, understood.” John’s wicked smirk was bluster, but it also made him look disturbingly pretty, like some damn trickster god.

“You little—” Before Mike could finish, Corvin came back with the sandwich plate stacked on top of three others. Mike followed him on another trip to the kitchen to make some lemon water, and eventually, they started the movie.

Since it wasn’t the kind that required one to pay careful attention to the plot, Corvin soon started a running commentary. Mike hated when people talked during a movie, but when Corvin did it, it always improved the experience. It was more than half the reason why movie nights were always good.

“Oh, I like how they’re going with silver bullets. You get the feeling it’s aconite everywhere else these days,” Corvin said when the shooting started. Mike had unsubtly settled himself between Corvin and John and had his arm around Corvin’s shoulders.

John had finished his third sandwich and gone for a fourth.

As a saving grace, he knew not to talk with his mouth full.

“But both are such bullshit. I mean, if you think about it, why would one single plant kill werewolves? I don’t mind the susceptibility to poison, but why only the one plant?

Makes no sense. And the same with bullets.

I mean, sure, a headshot can kill most things, but why would silver make any difference? ”

Corvin leaned against Mike. “Because it reminds the werewolf of the full moon, which is like a silver orb in the midnight sky. Also, I’m sure there’s some folklore reason why wolfsbane is called, you know, wolfsbane , bane of the wolf.

Oh, Pineapple Mike, do you remember that collection of dried magical herbs we saw at the museum?

They had wolfsbane in there too, right? Do you think that belonged to an ancient werewolf-hunting witch? ”

Mike nudged Corvin closer, hoping he’d end up in his lap like every time they watched a rom-com. “A wicked werewolf-hunting witch with wolfsbane in her witch’s bag?”

Corvin leaned forward so he could grin at John. “Mike is the master of tongue twisters! I swear he never messes them up. Do the one about the fruit!”

That’s right, let the werewolf see how much you adore me. “What fruit, hon?” Mike asked innocently.

Corvin elbowed him. “The fruit . Do it, please?”

“Fine. The pious prince of peaceful Paris loved his apple pie. But pineapple pie said the prince after a try is twice as pious as apples in pie.”

Corvin pointed. “There. He can do this all day.”

“Wow. That’s unnatural,” John said.

“Nope, just Mike.” And with that, Corvin settled on Mike’s lap and cuddled close. “He’s like tongue twister bane.”

That line of conversation was interrupted due to the werewolf hunter accidentally kissing the werewolf’s sister. That set Corvin and John to speculating whose heart would be broken, who’d get shot, and who’d end up happily ever after.

From there, they rated the hotness level of every male on screen, and Mike’s throat itched with the desire to sing John into a trembling mess, ready to wet his own pants. It wasn’t even jealousy so much as the way John demanded Corvin’s attention.

I guess it’s right what Mom always said about sirens being bad at sharing. But it’s okay. Corvin is mine. He wouldn’t take some half-baked werewolf, no matter how hot.

So for Mike, the movie turned into an exercise in control.

He kept holding Corvin, stroked his shoulder and thigh, ran a thumb up his throat.

He knew John would see and know the possessive gestures for what they were, because all werewolves knew non-verbal cues and paid more and closer attention to them than most humans and some other supernaturals.

It still didn’t make the werewolf shut up though.