Chapter 10 Animkii
What the fuck was with the Resort’s staff this summer?
Dorian had picked up Spanish in his first year on the team, hoping he’d be transferred to another team after helping get them to the Cup with Mason and Animkii. No dice, but it came in handy alongside his Portuguese when they took trips south.
“You have to play nice with the baby athletes tomorrow. Go!” Becca laughed. “If you’re not coming back for dinner, let me know. I’ll put leftovers in the fridge.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Becca.”
He stepped out and pulled out his phone to send a note to the administration about the quality and attitude of the help. He took the winding stone path that connected the villas facing the ocean together, passing two others before reaching the stone steps that would take him to Animkii’s terrace.
After keying in the code, he took the carved stone steps up, past the cameras lining the walkway. Animkii’s security had always felt a little too serious. He was a hockey player, a wealthy hockey player, sure, but he wasn’t some government official with death threats hanging over his head.
Then again, after what happened to his family, no one thought it strange that Animkii was the first to know about every element of their security detail and enhanced it when they were on the road.
He tensed, his breath hitched at the presence he felt coming up behind him. A second later, a shadow slid into his vision and slowed to an ambling pace. Dorian shivered and forced a smile as he waved at the huge, masked patrolman who would have had him in a chokehold in a second if Dorian had been anyone else.
The man nodded and continued down the path that circled the property. Dorian hurried up the rest of the steps, shaking off the sudden surge of adrenaline. He remembered getting put in said chokehold the first time he came to visit. After that, he made it his usual habit to come through the front door, but it was a longer walk, and the coffee was already wearing off.
Water bubbled. The wind was cooler near the terrace. As he reached the top, Animkii’s legs came into view: thrust into the air above his head in the straightest head and forearm handstand Dorian had ever seen. He wore the tiniest set of compression shorts and nothing else. His hair was tied up in a ponytail, and his eyes were closed. The early morning sun brought more golden red to his skin and cured it to a rich, ruddy tan color. Based on the sheen of sweat on his back, Animkii had been at it for a while.
“Can your nuts breathe in those?”
“Since you manage to walk around with your head up your ass, I’d say my nuts are fine.”
Dorian chuckled and crossed the terrace, taking a seat on a lounger beside the saltwater pool that was fed by the ocean. A glance through the floor-to-cieling bulletproof windows told him that as usual Animkii’s place was spotless. An older woman in plain jeans, a t-shirt, and an apron stood in the kitchen facing away from the windows. Several pots sat on the stove and ingredients covered the counter.
Dorian hummed. “Who’s your maid service again?”
“Why? So you can be an asshole to them, too?”
“I’m looking to stop giving the Resort money.”
“Going bankrupt?”
“Fuck you. I’m reaching the end of my patience with them, is all.”
He owned his villa, a deal he brokered the deal through Animkii, but the service of getting meals from the resort, general maintenance, and the cleaning service were things he paid for to make his life easier during the off-season.
Animkii hummed, exhaling and bringing his legs down in a slow, controlled movement that made Dorian feel like he didn’t spend enough time in the gym, but Animkii was a beast and used physical activity to manage a laundry list of issues Dorian didn’t want to ever imagine having.
“I’d consider giving you an in, but you’re an asshole to staff at the least provocation.” Animkii’s toes reached the ground, he walked himself forward until his lower half lay on the ground, and pushed himself up, lifting his face to the sun. “But you’re not here for a new maid, what’s eating you now?”
“I’m hungover, I want more coffee, my sister’s here, and the Knoxes are assholes.”
“Only one of those is a surprise, and none of that explains why you’re here.” Animkii sighed and pushed himself back up before walking his torso back and standing. “Let’s get you something to eat, you pathetic little baby.”
Dorian scowled. “I am not pathetic.”
Animkii laughed and sauntered past, leading Dorian inside. “Isla, could you make enough for Dorian? Thank you.”
“Spicy or no?”
“No. He’s going to have to ruin someone else’s bathroom.”
Isla burst into giggles.
Dorian’s face heated. “Really?”
Animkii shrugged and grabbed a towel, blotting himself off and drinking from a glass water bottle.
Dorian flopped onto the couch. “I don’t need managing. I’m not Mace.”
“You’re worse than Mason on any day, and don’t insult our lamplighter. He’s delicate.”
Delicate, right. Was that how they were not talking about Mason’s constant, unspoken battle with what the fuck ever was wrong with him?
“I’m stealing your couch.”
A familiar, fluffy, and fuzzy blanket landed on his face. This one was scented with lavender and just fuzzy enough to be pleasant to touch. It made him think of that short stint in which the team had a dog, and petting the little beast was supposed to be good for their mental health.
Mason spent a lot of time with that dog, and Dorian would never admit that he was probably only a few hours behind.
“Why are all your blankets like tactile catnip?”
“Because I have a lot of emotionally unstable friends.” Animkii leaned over the couch, grinning at him. “You all are basically a menagerie of cats.”
“Given the difference in intelligence, I don’t feel insulted, but I know I should be.”
He wiggled his eyebrows and tossed him a tiny bottle. “Rest. Isla just started cooking, Mason isn’t waking up for at least another hour. I’ve got business to handle. Crawl your ass to a bed if you can manage.”
Despite himself, Dorian closed his eyes. The plushness of Animkii’s couch, the light lavender scent, and the knowledge that even if the Knoxes or anyone else wanted to find him right now, they couldn’t unwound the tension in his shoulders.
“Remind me…” he whispered. “To ask how to make my place this comfortable.”
Animkii snorted and walked off, but not before ruffling Dorian’s hair. Dorian shook the blanket out over himself and shut his eyes, letting sleep take him. A small smile twitched on his lips. Relief pressed his mind further into the realm of sleep.
He floated through the halls of an ancient temple, stopping to look up at the patron god he didn’t let himself remember the name of, and glared.