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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

Damian's Wolf - 8. Baking Biscuits

The neko’s arms relaxed as the bike slowed in front of the bookstore. Jordan took a deep breath he hadn’t been able to take since Damian first wrapped his arms around the werewolf.

Damian climbed off the bike, allowing Jordan to follow. They entered the shop, finding Halor sweeping the floor while Blanche reorganized a shelf of books.

Jordan immediately rushed toward the woman, kneeling beside her.

“I can finish this,” he said.

“Thanks,” Blanche smiled, pushing off his shoulder to stand.

She winced slightly, but a second later her face was back to her usual smile.

“Did you two get everything worked out?” she asked.

Jordan frowned as he shelved a book. Work what out?

“Yes we did,” Damian said from under his hood.

“Good, I’m glad,” Blanche smiled. “Halor, you can head out, I don’t need you for the rest of the day. Damian, can you come with me please?”

Halor breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he hurried from the shop, not even taking the time to put the broom away. Muttering quietly, Jordan moved the broom, watching Damian follow Blanche into the back room.

He resumed shelving the books, looking up as an elf entered the shop.

“Hello, can I help you?” he asked, putting a smile on his face.

“I’m just browsing,” the elf smiled, a slight twinkle in her eye.

“Well if you need anything, feel free to ask.”

Nodding, the elf began scanning the books on the other side of the shop. As Jordan worked, he swore he could feel her eyes scoping out his body. He ignored the feeling, concentrating on his work.

Damian came out of the backroom slowly, his hood down. Jordan glanced at him in surprise, and the neko shrugged nervously. His tail flicked behind him, emphasising his nerves.

Blanche stepped out behind Damian, a smile on her face.

“Good day,” she said to the browsing elf.

Damian grabbed the broom Halor had abandoned, continuing to sweep where the elf had left off. Jordan mouthed a thanks to the neko, and he smiled slightly.

The elf left soon, a book under her arm. Damian deposited the silver into the register as Jordan stood up from his task. The store taken care of, Blanche called the two over.

“Damian tells me you have an idea for the store Jordan,” she said.

“Yeah. It’s still in the works, but Damian says he can bake. I was thinking about having a bake sale of sorts. Maybe like if you buy a book you get a biscuit.”

“I like that idea. Damian, could you bring in some samples before we do this? No offence, but I want to make sure you aren’t poisoning our customers,” Blanche chuckled.

“Of course. It may take a couple days though. I’m not doing so well financially.”

Blanche opened the register and withdrew the silver the neko had placed inside. She handed it to Damian, the cat’s eyes wide.

“Call it business expenses. And get yourself something to eat too. You’re practically skin and bones.”

“Thank you…” Damian stammered.

“No, thank you. Both of you,” Blanche smiled. “You two look like you got the place covered. Damian, I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Jordan, come in the same time you did today.”

The two nodded as the woman walked out of the store.

“Well, it looks like you have a job,” Jordan grinned.


Damian was a bundle of energy, speeding around the tiny kitchen in Jordan’s apartment. The oven was on, a bowl of dough waiting, and the neko was searching frantically for a baking sheet.

“I don’t have one,” Jordan said for the third time, but Damian was single-minded in his pursuit.

His tail flicked excitedly as he pulled out a metal sheet from behind the fridge.

“Found one,” he grinned, carrying it into the bathroom to hose it off.

Jordan shook his head in wonder, sitting on the bed. He didn’t want to get in Damian’s way. The werewolf thought it was funny; the neko had taken over his home in his quest for cookies. He didn’t mind though. If it meant Miss Reyla would keep him on at work, he would give his apartment to the neko.

He wondered about the draw of the neko. He liked Damian as a person. The cat was funny, a little withdrawn at times, but he also seemed outgoing at the same time. It was like he was hiding his true self.

Even his wolf had strong feelings toward Damian. They had been mixed feelings when Damian had just been a faceless figure, but now it seemed Jordan’s wolf wanted to claim the neko for his own.

“Mate him…” his wolf said possessively.

Jordan scowled. He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t bring himself to do that.

A musical knock interrupted his thoughts and he stood up. Crossing the room, the werewolf opened the door, allowing Arisa to enter.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, how’s everything going?” she asked, plopping onto his bed.

“Really well to be honest. Damian has a job now.”

Arisa’s eyebrow rose, her head turning toward the open bathroom door, the shower still running.

“I don’t suppose he’s showering with his clothes on,” she grinned, standing up.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Jordan warned.

“Oh my god, he is naked, isn’t he?!”

Jordan shrugged as the shower shut off. The sound of a shaking metal sheet grated in their ears and a moment later Damian stepped out of the bathroom, fully clothed.

“Oh, hello,” he said, his ears flattening.

In an instant, his brooding posture reasserted itself, and he slunk back into the kitchen, starting to roll the dough into balls.

“Are you cooking?” Arisa asked, surprised.

“He is,” Jordan said. “You know I couldn’t cook to save my life.”

They grimaced, both recalling the last time Jordan had made a meal for the two of them.

“We only have enough dough for six biscuits,” Damian said quietly, looking at Jordan.

“That should be enough,” Jordan said.

The neko nodded, sliding the sheet into the oven. He remained in the kitchen, leaning against the wall uncertainly.

“So to what do we owe the honour of this visit?” Jordan asked.

“Well, I know you are going to have a rough time next month, trying to feed both of you. Don’t worry about rent. It won’t matter to me if you miss one month.”

Jordan sighed. It wasn’t the first time Arisa had told him not to worry about rent, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. He couldn’t deny it would help a lot, but at the same time…

“You’re getting your rent on the same day you always do,” he said firmly.

“Why can’t you accept my help?”

“Because you’ve already helped more than enough,” Jordan said. “Besides, I’m not paying for classes any more. That will help me out enough.”

Arisa scowled, crossing her arms stiffly.

“You know, I told you to go to the local pack and ask for a werewolf teacher,” she said.

“And you know why I couldn’t do that,” Jordan shot back.

“At some point, you have to get past the fact that you’re a wolf. People aren’t afraid of you anymore.”

Jordan laughed.

“I was just denied the ability to learn healing spells because I am a wolf. There is a reason I hide who I am.”

He noticed Damian almost cowering against the fridge. The neko’s tail was tucked between his legs, his ears flattened against his skull. Wide eyes spoke of his terror at the sight of the angry werewolf. Berating himself, Jordan lowered his voice.

“Look, I’m grateful for the offer, but I have to do things on my own,” he said.

“Your damned pride,” Arisa sighed. “Well, the offer’s still on the table. So, what’s with the biscuits? And the rather frightened-looking baker of said biscuits?”

Damian relaxed slightly, though he remained huddled in the corner of the kitchen. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk.

“Well, Damian said he could bake, and I had the idea that if we held a bake sale, maybe business for the bookstore would pick up.”

“So you’re making six biscuits.”

“For Miss Reyla to taste,” Jordan said.

Arisa hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, how about I help the business out by feeding a couple of employees?”

She caught Damian’s glance at the oven and amended her statement.

“After the biscuits are finished.”

Jordan frowned.

“Damn it woman, you know I can’t say no when you talk to my stomach.”

Arisa laughed.

“Is that okay with you Damian?”

“Sure,” the neko said quietly.

Arisa turned toward the cat.

“You don’t have to hide in there you know. I don’t bite. Unless you ask me to.”

Damian smiled nervously, but he moved out of the kitchen. The beep of the oven sent him scurrying back, checking his biscuits.

Jordan shook his head, moving to his dresser. He began pulling out clothes, a pair of jeans and a tight black shirt.

“I’m taking a shower before we go. Damian, do you want to take one after me?”

The neko shook his head, pulling his hand out of the oven. Shrugging, Jordan went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He locked the door after a moment’s thought.

Copyright © 2019 Yeoldebard; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Arisa doesn't mince words.  I like her direct approach and kind heart.  I am puzzled about why Damian's reactions to Jordan vary so radically.  

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He noticed Damian almost cowering against the fridge. The neko’s tail was tucked between his legs, his ears flattened against his skull. Wide eyes spoke of his terror at the sight of the angry werewolf. 

I think Damian was abused at home and that is why he cowered against the fridge. 

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