Magpie by Kim Dare Page B

have much weight to him, but he stomped far better than many men twice his size could have managed. One brief glance told Everet that the men at most of the tables around them were staring at Kane, some with disapproval or amusement, but most of them with straightforward lust.
    Everet automatically quickened his steps, making sure he walked so closely behind Kane no one could miss the fact they were together. Kane was his, and Everet needed every man who even thought about screwing Kane to realize that it wasn’t an option. Kane had already been claimed.
    Everet’s hands itched with an unaccustomed desire to lash out at any man who went near Kane. He’d never felt anything like it, never felt so out of control inside his own skin.
    Damn, but he’d have loved to be able to put a collar around the magpie’s neck—and to attach a lead to it. The idea of Kane being marked and kept at his side appealed like nothing else he’d ever known.
    As his mind raced, Everet forced himself to keep his expression neutral and his fingers relaxed, no matter how badly they wanted to furl themselves into fists.
    It only took them a few minutes to descend the stairs into an administrative part of the building. The elaborate décor of the public rooms morphed into a more business-like space that supplied a middle ground between the grandeur above and the Spartan servants’ quarters below.
    Mr. Johnson’s office stood halfway down a long corridor housing the entrances to a dozen different offices. Searching for something to keep his mind off thoughts of killing anyone who tried to steal Kane away from him, Everet glanced at the brass plates on the doors as they passed them.
    Owls, pelicans, penguins, gulls. No ravens’ names were etched there. They weren’t quite in Everet’s domain, but the men who resided behind those doors weren’t exactly birds of prey either.
    No men occupied the line of chairs in the corridor directly outside Mr. Johnson’s doorway. The door stood open.
    Everet tapped on the doorframe to catch the attention of the rather portly gentleman sitting behind the large leather-topped desk.
    “Everet, always a pleasure!” Mr. Johnson stood up and extended a hand across the table, offering him the status of an equal without hesitation.
    Everet shook the other man’s hand, but even while he looked at Mr. Johnson, all his other senses homed in on Kane, ready to react to any movement on the magpie’s part.
    “And who have we here?” Mr. Johnson asked, as jovial as ever.
    “You don’t have me , darling,” Kane drawled. “And if you had ever had me , you’d remember who I was. Some of us aren’t forgettable.”
    Everet looked toward Kane just in time to see him run his eyes up and down Mr. Johnson in a way that made it quite clear which side of the memorable-unmemorable divide Kane thought the nest’s household administrator fell onto.
    “Ah, yes, Everet,” Mr. Johnson said. “Your new charge. There has been more than a touch of gossip surrounding your little endeavor.” He took his seat and indicated the chairs on the opposite side of the desk.
    Everet sat down.
    “We all can but hope you are successful,” Mr. Johnson went on, absentmindedly shuffling some of the many papers that littered his desk. “It would be a fine day indeed if someone were to find a way to rehabilitate the less savory species in our—”
    “I am still here, you know,” Kane snapped.
    Mr. Johnson glanced up at him. “Yes, so you are!” He completely dismissed him and turned to back Everet. Amusement danced in his eyes as their gazes met. “What can I do for you today, Everet?”
    “Kane would like a job at the nest. Preferably nothing too strenuous, but definitely something which will entail supervision and structure,” Everet said.
    His unease at his submissive's behavior gradually dissipated as he realized Mr. Johnson had no intention of taking offense at anything Kane said. He put Everet in mind of a female owl who’d