Chapter 1

Byron squeegeed the blood off the cutting table, swooshing it into a bucket. He poured the red liquid into a dozen plastic cups lining the sink—he’d put them in the freezer later to make bloodsicles. It was all that was left of four hundred pounds of meat they had cut to serve the cats.

Outside, Walter Martin, the male lion, roared. His cage was only ten yards away from the prep trailer and when he stood on its west side and let loose at feeding time, like he was doing now, Byron could feel it in his chest, the air moved by the lion’s enormous lung power. “Ooorrrruuunnnggghhh!” Walter Martin’s roar vibrated through the air.

“We’re getting to ya, big guy. Hold on!” Byron called out. Walter was silent for a few seconds–he’d heard Byron–and then he started in again, relentless and hungry.

Just as Byron finished the last pour, Kendall shouldered through the prep trailer’s front door, puffing. His face and neck gleamed with a light sweat, and his Patacoochee Wildlife Refuge T-shirt clung to his broad chest.

“New Year’s Day and it’s eighty friggin’ degrees out there!” Kendall complained. He dropped a stack of metal feed trays into the sink’s soapy water. Chunks of bone and beef flesh floated on the water’s surface.

“Welcome to winter in Florida.”

Kendall grimaced as he washed off his red-stained hands and arms. “Oh, never mind, I’ll just take a bath here.” He stripped off his damp T-shirt and bent over the triple industrial sinks. Kendall splashed soapy water over his face and head. He spoke over the running water. “Moondance ignored her food again.”

“You know how leopards are temperamental, especially after they’ve moved. I’ll go check on her later. Maybe she just wants some play time,” Byron said.

“I could use some play time,” Kendall answered, eyes closed while he washed himself

Byron stripped off his gloves and stepped over to the laundry area, stacked with dirty blankets and towels, rank with the odor of various cats’ scent markings. Christmas week had been traditionally cold and they’d put out linens for the animals. Now, in a reversal common to Florida winter weather, the temperature was back to tropical and blankets weren’t needed. Byron grabbed a clean towel from the refuge’s dryer.

Kendall bent low over the sink, running his soapy hands over his shoulders and upper back. The water sluiced off his caramel-colored skin, some into the sink, some onto the tile floor. Byron enjoyed the show: Kendall’s thick chest and sculpted arms, the way his waist narrowed into his khakis, the absurdly cute belly button. He rinsed off, and Byron scrubbed the towel over Kendall’s face and shoulders, then leaned in for a quick kiss.

I like taking care of him, I really do.

Kendall gazed at Byron, brown eyes soft, the look that said, “Come here and fuck me, big boy,” the look that made Byron’s knees tremble even after four months together.

After the investigation, Byron had stayed on after, taking a desk duty job up in Tallahassee, commuting the two-hour trip on Friday and Sunday nights, so he could spend weekends in Kendall’s arms—and bed.

Now, Kendall leaned back against the sink, arms and chest out, posing.

“You want winter? I’ll give you winter.” Byron scooped some cold water from the rinse water sink and flicked it Kendall’s way.

“Anything. As long as it’s cold!”

“Babe, if I could change the weather for you, I would,” Byron whispered. He had to push the words past a knot in his throat, unexpected. It jarred him. His heart sped. “Winter? Step right this way.”

He grabbed Kendall’s hand and dragged him to the walk-in freezer. Two bare bulbs sent a dim light in the small space. Boxes of meat stamped “not for human consumption” were stacked on utility shelving. The flesh showing through the carry holes was dyed blue. A pallet in one corner held five gallon buckets of chicken parts. A row of bloodsicles gleamed with red-brown ice crystals. The door thunked shut behind them, and air filled with frosty condensation as their breath spiraled up to the lights.

Kendall grinned and shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You ever made love in the snow?”

“I’m a Florida boy. It’s you Yankees who hobnob in the cold.”

“Hobnob, that’s an interesting term for it.” Byron let his gaze drop to Kendall’s shorts. The outline of Kendall’s thick cock pressed against the khaki fabric. “Lose those.”

“Are you serious? In here? Now?”

“Randy and Monica are still out on feeding rounds, right? They’ll be back pretty soon. If you’d rather I stretch you out on the prep table, we could do that, but they’d sure get a big surprise when they come in to wash up.”

Kendall’s eyes were dark, hard to read in the freezer’s twilight.

Steven nuzzled Kendall’s tanned neck. “You know, for a guy who gets in cages with lions and tigers and leopards, you sure are slow about gettin’ a little wild in the sheets.”

“This isn’t in the sheets, in case you hadn’t noticed.” But Kendall grinned and dropped his shorts. He went commando and his half-hard cock bobbed to one side. His testicles crawled up a little in the cold and his nipples were hard and tiny.