Page 1 of Their Pup to Tame

1

ASPEN

“Thus, we conclude this week’s Dungeons and Kitten campaign with our faithful party of miscreants and malcontents bedded down beside The Disenchanted Forest,” Dorian declared. “Just remember that you’ll all need to roll a saving throw at the beginning of the next session to see if you made it through the night without being harassed by flying foxes and trash pandas.”

As we gathered our dice and secured them in Crown Royal pouches, I was ready to do battle with far more than sentient winged foxes with klepto tendencies and a marauding band of thieving racoons

It didn’t matter how many D20s I had; there would always be a favorite among my dice. That turquoise and silver-edged beauty had saved me from having to redo character sheets on more than one occasion.

Non-gamers will never know the frustration of designing a character to your exact specifications only to have a tragic incident catapult you right back to square one.

It sucked, which wasn’t even a strong enough word.

“Why is it that every cute thing in this game is hell-bent on killing our party?” Parker grumbled.

“Because our best friend is a sadist,” I pointed out, since he seemed to have forgotten that unseemly quirk about Dorian.

“No, he’s not,” Murry declared. “He’s too sweet to be a sadist.”

“To you two, maybe,” I muttered. “But only because he’s your Daddy. To the rest of the world, he is the embodiment of cruelty and the bringer of abject misery.”

“Wow, talk about character assassination,” Dorian complained. “I’d better count myself lucky that I already collared these guys, or you and Parker might scare them off with all of this talk about me being a dastardly fiend from the fiery pits of Hades.”

“You know what you did,” Parker hissed, side-eyeing him on his way out to the elevator.

I was relieved when Parker didn’t hit the button, since I needed to talk to him before he took off.

“What?” Dorian asked as I shot him the stink eye.

Our characters would have bedded down safely at the inn four miles back up the windy road we’d been traveling on, but no, none of the intel he’d allowed us to gather said anything about flying foxes that pillaged characters’ weapons while they were sleeping or the trash pandas who stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.

What were we thinking when we decided, as the biggest party of dumbasses to ever venture forth on a quest, not to take turns standing guard while the rest of the party slept? It just showed how badly we’d been suckered by the cute aspect of damn near everything in this game. I’d sent Parker countless memes withbears and big cats, suggesting that my death would come during an attempt to pet one, just to show him exactly what was in store for us if we didn’t start respecting what these adorable floofballs could do.

I hurried to catch up with Parker at the lift, hoping for a few minutes of privacy before Phoenix joined us.

If he joined us.

Damn.

Fuck leaving. We could just stand here all night as far as I was concerned. I could barely tear my eyes away from the sight unfolding in front of me to glance at Parker, whose mouth was half-hanging open.

“You’ve Got Another Thing Comin’” pulsed from the smart speaker while Raleigh and Phoenix danced like they were on stage at the strip club they both worked at. When Murry joined them, I could see why he and Raliegh had been the biggest draws in the place before they’d quit to model pet gear for Dorian. I’d known Phoenix was a dancer before he’d started bouncing at the club, but until now, the only moves he’d shown me were when he was striding down a runway, acting as Raleigh and Murry’s handler when they modeled Dorian’s gear.

I waited until the song was over and the trio collapsed against one another, laughing about something, to turn my attention to Parker, who still hadn’t picked his jaw up off the floor.

“Did you see the bruises on Phoenix’s neck?” I hissed the moment I had his attention.

“Yup, and the ones on his knuckles too,” Parker growled. “Seems like every time he shows up for game night he’s got a new mark on him.”

“What the fuck do you think is going on down at that fucking strip club?” I grumbled. “I know his family runs the establishment, but I wish they’d do something about the rough element the doorman is letting in there. This is getting ridiculous.”

“He did say something about an influx of out-of-towners these past few weeks,” Parker pointed out.

“That’s right, some kind of tech seminar and trade show,” I remarked. “I’d forgotten about that. He was bitching about all the yuppies coming in with attitude and no home training.”

“If they’re the cause of the rash of bruises all over him, then I hope they hurry the hell up and take their business elsewhere or, better still, take all their gadgets and apps down the road and peddle them there,” Parker said, casting a glance at Phoenix as if to ensure he wouldn’t accidentally overhear our conversation. “Do you think he’ll tell us what happened if we ask?”

“Doubtful. He’ll probably just brush it off like the last time I asked,” I said, leaving out the part about my plan to catch a ride and a nightcap with him later in the hopes that Phoenix would open up when we were alone.