Martin and the Wolf

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

…“I want to mate with you,” Lucas said. “Are you willing?” I almost laughed. Maybe I would have done, if my cock hadn’t been straining against my briefs and my skin searing at his touch. For a second I told myself he couldn’t be serious. Not here, so near the house, though we were, I think, protected by the trees, and in Frank and Miranda’s garden to boot. Then I understood how serious he was. “Are you willing?” he said again, his tone low, urgent. “Tell me.” Unable to find any words for this situation, I nodded and made a sound of assent. Almost a whimper. “Good,” he said, letting me go. “Then turn around and take off your trousers and pants.” I obeyed. It didn’t even cross my mind to do anything else. Almost immediately, I heard the sound of a zipper and the hard slickness of his cock against my arse. It felt delicious, but there was something we had to do first. “Please,” I managed to whisper. “Condoms…” He snarled. Not words, but a sound of annoyance that both terrified and thrilled me. “No need. As far as this is concerned, we’re both clean. We can’t infect each other.” That was crazy, of course, but I knew that somehow he saw it as the truth. “Please,” I said again. “Humor me. You’ll find what you need in my trouser pocket.” A moment of silence passed when I sensed he was weighing my words in his own private balance. Whatever his decision was, I understood right then that I’d accept it, come what may. I wanted this too much…

ALSO BY ANNE B ROOKE The Delaneys And Me Give And Take The Hit List Martin And The Wolf A Stranger’s Touch Tuluscan Six And The Time Circle

MARTIN AND THE WOLF BY ANNE BROOKE

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

MARTIN AND THE WOLF AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2010 by Anne Brooke ISBN 978-1-60272-701-4 Cover Art © 2010 Trace Edward Zaber

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PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

With grateful thanks as ever to all at Amber Quill Press

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

MARTIN AND THE WOLF I wasn’t looking for anyone when I first met Lucas. Not really. I’d split up with my boyfriend about ten months previously and, frankly, couldn’t be bothered to seek out another relationship. The ex had put me through the mill a damn sight more than once, and I needed the break. Didn’t mean a bloke couldn’t have fun, though. So when the midsummer party invitation came from the couple who used to live next door, I thought, What the hell, why not? I’d got on well with Frank and Miranda, and I was more than happy to catch up with them in their new home. It was only about twenty miles away, not that far at all. Which explained why, on the evening of June 21st, I could be found in a posh house in the middle of the Surrey countryside, with 1

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a cocktail in my hand—unknown ingredients but it exploded in the mouth—and a smile on my face. A genuine one as I was deep in conversation with Miranda, a woman in her fifties with cropped blonde hair and wise green eyes. “Good,” she said with pleasing conviction once I’d reassured her I was still definitely single. “Alan was a nasty piece of work, and I have no idea why you stayed together for so long. Frank and I never took to him. I’m so happy you’ve finally got rid of him.” I shrugged and smiled. It wasn’t the first time she’d said this, but it was nice to hear it again. Actually, the final showdown hadn’t been quite like that, though I did feel proud that I’d thrown a plate at the wretched Alan’s departing back. Without my glasses, it had missed and bounced off the wall, but, hey, at least I’d tried. Right here and now however, I couldn’t help the secret glow that came from Miranda’s assumption I’d been the one doing the dumping. Still, knowing her, she was simply trying to make me feel better. An effort for which I was grateful. So I gave her a hug. I can do touchy-feely like the rest of them. In the right circumstances. It was then, of course, that I saw him— a tall hunk of a man, with dark, sleek hair and a dark beard. He walked across the crowd of people in the makeshift dance area behind us as if he were loping across the savannah. Almost dancing. The movement had all the elegance and danger of a panther on the hunt. Or a wolf. I blinked, my eyes following the stranger. Heck, I couldn’t have looked away. Miranda glanced around and saw whom it was I was gazing at just as the man disappeared into the garden. She laughed. “Ah, now, that’s Lucas. Maybe he’s your type. Come and meet him.” Before I could object that, as a thirty-six-year-old college 2

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lecturer, I was probably capable of finding my own dates if I wanted them, Miranda had grabbed my hand and was tip-tipping her way in Lucas’ direction, with me stumbling along behind. I’d learnt long ago that when Miranda made up her mind to do something, it was best to go along with it. In the garden, lights were strung up across the trees and bushes, which gave a magical effect to the scene. Not that they were strictly necessary, as the natural midsummer light was still strong enough to see by. Miranda sighed and scanned the lawn for signs of life. “Ha!” She’d obviously spotted her unfortunate quarry, and the two of us headed, hand in hand, to the other side of the garden. I thought perhaps after all it was time to object. The brief glimpse I’d had of Lucas told me loud and clear that he was way out of my league. “Miranda, don’t you think—” “Oh hush, Martin. Don’t you think it might be time to move on? And you can’t tell anything until you try.” Before I could either concur or object, we’d all but reached our destination. The man—Lucas—swung around. In the lights hung in the nearby branches, I could see that his upper lip was raised, as if he were about to snarl or say something cutting. His eyes were so light they were almost yellow and, this close up, I could see the thick dark hairs on his arms. He glanced at me and, to my surprise, something in those eyes sparked. At exactly the same moment, he changed his expression from a scowl to a smile and put out his hand to greet Miranda. “Mrs. Falconhurst,” he murmured, his voice low and deep. Like the richest earth and the deepest water. “So kind of you to invite me. I haven’t been working for your husband for very long.” “Nonsense! No kindness at all. It’s a delight to meet you at last, 3

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Lucas. Frank speaks very highly of you. You have a great gift for design, he tells me.” “Thank you,” he said and then he turned to me. Miranda introduced us, and Lucas held out his hand again. I took it, hardly able to look the man in the eyes. The warmth of his skin travelled up my arm, over my chest and across my face. At the same time, that warmth travelled downward past my stomach and into my legs, and everything else in between. I blinked when I realized I actually had a hard-on. That hadn’t happened in a while, at least not in response to someone else. I didn’t have a clue what to do about it, couldn’t remember what the etiquette might be. All of which was made doubly embarrassing by Lucas squeezing my fingers slightly before finally letting go. In that instant, I knew he knew. Thankfully, Miranda didn’t guess anything. I hoped. She made a few introductory comments about Lucas’s design skills and his portfolio, filled him in on my position as senior English lecturer at the local college, and then she vanished. Part of her skills as a hostess, I assumed. So Lucas and I were left alone. I thought what would happen was that we’d chat for a while, politely and about nothing in particular, and then he’d make his excuses and move on. Leaving me to get another cocktail—nonalcoholic this time—and drive home at an appropriate moment. On my own. To my empty house and my single lifestyle. None of that happened. Instead, Lucas reached out and gripped my arm. The heat of his fingers seared through my thin cotton shirt and into my flesh. Or at least that was what it felt like. It felt like being branded. I gasped and opened my mouth to say something—though, God alone 4

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knows what—but didn’t get a chance. Because the next second the man’s lips were crushing mine, and his tongue was ravishing my mouth. He tasted of wine and spices. For another heartbeat, I simply stood there, taking the sudden assault, then my body woke up. For real. I dropped my drink on the grass. I didn’t intend to, but it slipped out of my grasp. Luckily, it didn’t break. Then I wrapped my free arm around his shoulders—my other arm was still imprisoned in his grip—and held on. I realized I was moaning, but I couldn’t help it. It was just so damn good, and so unexpected. He growled a response into my mouth, but I didn’t want to hear what he had to say. I just wanted him to keep on kissing me. I didn’t need to worry. His body pressed against mine, all muscle and purpose, and he walked me backwards until we were deeper into the trees, away from the light. I came to an abrupt halt against the rough stonework of a wall. It was then that he ended the kiss. I was panting, hardly able to catch my breath at all. My glasses were half on, half off, and my lips felt bruised and swollen. God, but I missed his tongue. His hand caught my chin, held it firm. He shook me, not so it hurt, but as if wanting to make sure he had my complete attention. Which he did. No question. Without a word, he removed my glasses, folded them up and dropped them into the grass. I prayed they wouldn’t break either. Then he spoke. “I want to mate with you,” he said. “Are you willing?” I almost laughed. Maybe I would have done, if my cock hadn’t been straining against my briefs and my skin searing at his touch. For a second I told myself he couldn’t be serious. Not here, so near the house, though we were, I think, protected by the trees, and in Frank and Miranda’s garden to boot. Then I understood how 5

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serious he was. “Are you willing?” he said again, his tone low, urgent. “Tell me.” Unable to find any words for this situation, I nodded and made a sound of assent. Almost a whimper. “Good,” he said, letting me go. “Then turn around and take off your trousers and pants.” I obeyed. It didn’t even cross my mind to do anything else. Almost immediately, I heard the sound of a zipper and the hard slickness of his cock against my arse. It felt delicious, but there was something we had to do first. “Please,” I managed to whisper. “Condoms…” He snarled. Not words, but a sound of annoyance that both terrified and thrilled me. “No need. As far as this is concerned, we’re both clean. We can’t infect each other.” That was crazy, of course, but I knew that somehow he saw it as the truth. “Please,” I said again. “Humor me. You’ll find what you need in my trouser pocket.” A moment of silence passed when I sensed he was weighing my words in his own private balance. Whatever his decision was, I understood right then that I’d accept it, come what may. I wanted this too much. His grip on me changed, and I heard the sound of scrabbling at my feet and the blessed tearing of a packet. Then he was back, cock at my entrance and his hand pushing my head down so I bent forward over the wall, allowing him easier access. The sound of spitting, a brief but gloriously wet finger at my arsehole and then he was thrusting himself inside me. His cock wasn’t as thick as Alan’s was, but it was certainly longer. It divided me in two, and I was convinced that if he stopped now and 6

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looked right inside me, he could have seen all my secrets laid bare for his delectation alone. Thankfully, he didn’t stop. He pushed right on in, catching my sweet spot so I cried out and arched upwards. “Stay still,” he muttered as he withdrew a little and rammed himself in once more. Three of these and I was coming, my spunk shooting out over my own hand and over Miranda’s stonework. At the same time, he shuddered against me and he came himself with a low howling moan that pierced right through my body. I could feel the thunder of his heart against my back. For a few moments, we stayed like that, his body pinning me to the wall. I thought I’d have some bruises in the morning. Frankly, I didn’t care. It had been quick, but still it was the best sex I’d had for a long time. Maybe ever. I loved the feel of him heavy on my back, the rough sensation of his beard on my neck and shoulder and the smell of spices and sweat from his skin. More than all of these, I loved the sensation of being overpowered. Finally, he slipped from my body and took a few paces away. I peered round, still panting. His hazy shape leant over and reached for something. “Can I see you again?” He snorted, though whether in surprise or disdain I couldn’t tell. So I tried another tack. I used his own words right back at him. Hell, I was an English lecturer after all—words were my business. “Don’t you want to mate with me again?” I said. “Maybe we can take it slower next time. You might like that even better than this time. If you think you can handle it.” I wasn’t sure quite how he got there without me really noticing, but the next second he pressed against me again, his hand gripping 7

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my neck and stroking my Adam’s apple. I swallowed and felt the weight of his thumb move with me. I thought then that, if he wanted, he could kill me right there. He seemed to have the power for it. Thus, it seemed odd then that I didn’t feel fear, but more a tingling excitement. “Yes,” he said with a growl, his breath hot against my ear. “Yes, I can handle it, if I choose to.” With that, he brought up his other hand and placed my glasses on my nose again. They must have been what he’d been retrieving after we’d finished having sex. Mating. How he’d found them in the undergrowth, I really didn’t know. He smiled, released my neck and began to stride away. I couldn’t let him go that easily. I wanted to see him again. “Wait!” I called out to his disappearing back. “How will I find you?” He stopped at once and swung round. I caught the glimmer of those strange yellow eyes in the gloom. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll find you,” he said. And then, he was gone. *

*

*

The next day, after work, I rang Miranda, mainly to thank her for the party, though I was prepared to offer heartfelt apologies if she thought I might have frightened the guests with an unexpected display of outdoor passion. But she didn’t mention it, so I thanked the gods above for allowing me to preserve a good friendship and moved on. She chatted, mainly about work, the weather and the current state of play with MPs’ expenses. The usual British topics for discussion. It was only when we’d exhausted these excitements 8

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that I found enough courage to raise the topic I’d been desperate to bring up since I picked up the phone. Well, before that, actually. I cleared my throat and went for it. “That man you introduced me to—Lucas, who works in the design department for Frank’s company. He’s…interesting.” Miranda’s response wasn’t at all what I expected. She snorted with laughter. “Did you make that judgment before or after you were plighting your troth in the bushes? Is interesting a new dating phrase I haven’t heard of yet?” “Oh, God.” I groaned, my eyes squeezed shut, though, of course, she couldn’t see that. “I’m so very sorry, Miranda. I can’t imagine what came over me. I feel wretched. Please accept my apologies. I really hope we didn’t ruin your party.” She laughed again. “Actually, I think everyone will be talking about it for months. I know we certainly will.” I made a noise like a cat being strangled, slowly, and she took pity on me. “Hey, I’m only joking, Martin. You were discreet enough, and anyway I’m just glad you’re back in the dating game again. I don’t think anyone realized but me and I haven’t told Frank. It can be our secret. So, do you want Lucas’ number?” That was exactly what I wanted and I smiled. When I finally finished chatting to Miranda, I disconnected the call and drew in a deep breath. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look my former neighbor full in the face again, at least not for a long, long while. Embarrassment was the least I deserved, and I made a mental promise to myself not to act like a teenager again. Not if I could help it. I was, after all, a grown man and a lecturer. I had responsibilities to shoulder and some kind of reputation to uphold. Lucas on the other hand didn’t seem like the kind of man to pay either of those ideas much attention. Perhaps calling him 9

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would be a stupid thing to do? I tore off the sheet of paper on the telephone pad with Lucas’ number on it. Then I turned it round and round in my fingers for a while, before dialling the first three digits and then disconnecting the call. No. Probably best to leave it as a one-off thing. The heat of the moment. Something between the two of us that had ignited in the garden and burnt itself out almost as quickly. Maybe. I sighed and folded up the paper. I’d think on it for a while, see how I felt in a couple of days’ time. I didn’t want to look too keen and, besides, as I’d already told myself, he was way out of my league. By now, he’d have forgotten I’d existed at all. How wrong I was. Two days later, on the Wednesday, Lucas appeared at my doorstep. But perhaps not in the usual way that people do. It had been a hellish day at work. Too many damn management meetings that went on and on about strategy and focus and student engagement until my brain felt as if I’d been pummelled with words. Until I was too weak to object. All I’d ever wanted to do was read the authors I loved, teach them to my students and add in a little research to the mix. I hadn’t wanted my life to be kidnapped by process. But a college lecturer’s life was inclined to be filled with paperwork and meetings, no matter how much I tried to keep them to a minimum. All of which meant that the moment I opened the door, I shrugged off my old green jacket, slipped off my shoes and headed for the kitchen. Where I went straight to the fridge and opened an ice-cold lager. Bliss. Hoping it would take the edge off the day, I swung round toward the living room and, as I did so, I caught a glimpse of something dark moving swiftly across the front garden. When I looked out the window, I could see nothing, but, 10

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wondering whether the neighbor’s Labradors had escaped again, I padded back to the front door, my glass of lager still clutched in my hand. Outside there were no dogs to be seen. They couldn’t have got that far away. The road was clear and quiet. No barking. With a sigh, I turned round to retrace my steps and it was then that I saw it again. That quiver of something dark at the edge of my vision. This time, it was around the corner of the house, near the yew hedge. Damn dogs. I trotted that way, making what I hoped were soothing noises that wouldn’t scare them away. Still nothing. Strange. Eventually I made my way around the entire house, but there was no sign of any run-away pets. I turned the final corner to reach my front door again, feeling like an utter idiot and hoping the neighbors hadn’t spotted my antics, and there he was. Lucas. Standing on the path, panting a little as if he’d been running, and smoothing one large but shapely hand through that thick, black hair. I gulped and dropped my lager onto the gravel. This time the glass broke and the liquid spilled out. I ignored it. It took him only three paces to reach me. Then, without regard to who might be watching, he grasped my head and brought his lips fiercely down onto mine. I barely had time to draw breath before his tongue was filling my mouth, just like it had before. The heat from his skin made my glasses steam up, but it didn’t matter because I was operating purely on feel. And he felt—and tasted— bloody delicious. Finally, he broke the kiss, then wiped his lips dry. I was still shaking and couldn’t say anything at all. I didn’t need to, as Lucas spoke, or rather growled out a few words, first. “I’ve tried mating with other men,” he said, “but they’re not you. They’re never you. I need to mate with you again.” 11

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Hell, those weren’t the best chat-up lines I’d ever heard, but, for some strange reason, they were surely the most effective. By the time we woke up the next morning, sprawled across my bed together, gloriously naked and exhausted, I thought they were probably the height of romance, in Lucas’ eyes. It was obvious he and I were very different. Those differences started early, too. That first morning, he woke me up by the simple means of biting my ear. Which was rather more committed than the sweet-talk I’d been hoping for, but didn’t get. It wasn’t a serious bite—more of a nip-with-intent, but it had the effect of plunging me into wakefulness with a yell as I was thrashing about on the bed like a stranded fish. Not a pleasant sight. “What the heck was that?” I batted at his mouth, and he had the grace to look crestfallen. “Just wanted to see if you were awake,” he muttered. “By biting me?” “That’s what we always—” he started to say and then changed it. “It worked, didn’t it?” True enough. And once I’d realized my ear was still attached to my head, I was certainly glad to be awake. With him. Because his eagerness was in no way diminished from the evening before. If I could put it like that. After we’d both showered, and I’d shaved, I gazed at his body in the full light of day as he dressed. He must have been the hairiest man I’d ever seen. Certainly, the hairiest man I’d slept with. Dark hairs lined his arms and legs and covered his chest. Even his back was sprinkled with them. On any other man, it would have looked strange, but on him, it was perfect. My mouth watered and I couldn’t keep from touching. He laughed and danced 12

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away, clutching his shirt. It was the first time I’d heard him laugh. I liked the sound of it. “What are you doing?” he teased me, keeping just out of reach. “Can’t help it. I just want to touch you.” “Like the way I look, do you?” I finally cornered him between the bed and the window, pushing him back down onto the duvet. He gave half a snarl, but there was no threat in it. I ran my hand over his chest, feeling the hairs flow through my fingers. Those strange yellow eyes of his darkened. “If you carry on like that,” he said, “both of us will be late for work.” Damn it, but he was right. With a sigh, I gave his body one last stroke and fell back on the pillows. He nuzzled my shoulder and my neck, causing me to gasp. “I could say the same about you,” I said, but my voice shook more. It struck me that if I let him get to me, my life wouldn’t be my own at all. But even then, though, it was perhaps too late to do anything about it. I was already snared. I could have stayed with him in my bed all day, forgotten all about the college, my fellow lecturers, even my students. But real life isn’t like that and there’s always a price to pay because tomorrow does turn up after all. So I indulged myself with kissing him for a while and then eased away. “Come on. I’ll make you breakfast.” Downstairs, Lucas looked out of place in my pale green, allwooden kitchen. It was almost as if I was trying to trap a tiger with a butterfly net. He sneered at my suggestions of toast, cereal and even porridge. But his eyes brightened when I mentioned bacon. “I knew I could smell it,” he said. 13

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I didn’t see how that could possibly be true. He helped me cook the bacon, though really he was more of a hindrance than a help, and laid the table following the instructions I gave him. I learnt quickly that Lucas’ skills didn’t extend to the kitchen. And he wasn’t a great fan of cutlery either. At the breakfast table, after a quick, almost challenging glance at me, he dropped his fork and went for the bacon with his fingers. Watching him wolf it down stirred something inside me, as if I’d been living with lace for too long and had finally been introduced to steel. I reached over and touched his mouth. He snarled, swallowed down the bacon he’d been chewing and imprisoned my finger with his lips instead. The heat of his tongue sent a flame right through my hand and arm, across my shoulders, down my body and into my groin. “God,” I whispered and my eyes caught his. The next second, he pushed the crockery onto the floor. All of it—plates, cups and saucers, followed almost at once by my mother’s best tablecloth. I heard the sound of breaking china and knew I’d have to fit in a trip to the shops sometime today, if I wanted to eat like a normal person again. For now, I found myself lying spread-eagled across my own table, with Lucas dealing swiftly and expertly with my zip. “I can’t do this,” I managed to whisper. “No time.” “You can,” was his no-comeback reply. “There’s time enough.” He had my cock in his mouth even before I’d managed a groan and was swallowing me down as if I was the best thing he’d ever tasted; maybe even better than the bacon. It felt as if one false move and he was likely to bite me instead of sucking, but that thought only seemed to spur me on. The next moment I was 14

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howling and my spunk filled his mouth. When he finished licking me clean, I was still shaking, unable to bring any of my responses under control and utterly open to him in a way I didn’t remember being with anyone else before. My head was telling me to be cautious, that this was too soon and I was falling too fast, but neither my body nor my gut was paying that warning the slightest attention. Finally, Lucas took a step or two backwards and stood up. He was smiling. I watched as he wiped a few globules of my cum from his lips. I couldn’t speak, but I didn’t need to. “That’s something for you to remember, Martin,” he whispered, as those eyes of his glittered. “And a token gesture for how thoroughly I’m going to mate with you tonight.” Then he was gone, so fast I never even saw him leave the room. Must have been the effect he had on me—I was still shattered from the early-morning blowjob. That day was the first time I’d ever been late for my Browning lecture, but, frankly, I didn’t give a damn. *

*

*

During the next few weeks, Lucas and I moved easily and somehow inevitably from a one-night stand in a friend’s garden status to a regular shagging status. We both knew it, whatever that meant when it came to Lucas. As I’d already thought, he was certainly different from most of the other men I’d known. Correction: from all the other men I’d known. For a start, he didn’t like fruit, vegetables or salad. Before him, I’d never met a gay man who turned up his nose at rocket lettuce. Meat was fine, though—the less cooked the better. I kept trying to 15

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secrete a few spoonfuls of peas or sweet corn under his steak, simply to ensure optimum health for the man who was beginning to take over my every waking and dreaming thought, but that never got good results. Once, though, when he was about to shag me over the washing machine (full cycle), I managed to extract a promise that he’d add more healthy food to his menu before I allowed us to mate. Afterwards he kept to it, too, though not without a lot of dark looks over the table and a hell of a lot of snuffling and snarling. He didn’t like my jewelry either. I had a small silver crucifix I wore occasionally, but the first time he saw it, he leapt back over the coffee table with an elegance I couldn’t help but admire in a man so imposing. Once there, he literally growled at me until I took it off and promised never to wear it again. He told me he didn’t like silver—thought it was a poor man’s riches—but at the time I wondered if he had some kind of religious objection to it. However, it couldn’t have been that, as he presented me with the exact same crucifix the next evening, but in gold. Said he thought it went with my eyes and coloring better. As the design expert, I assumed he would know. Lecturers aren’t renowned for their fashion sense, whether gay or not. After that, I quickly found that all my silver jewelry—what little there was—was unaccountably vanishing and being replaced with the same item, but in gold. I said nothing, simply smiling to myself as I thanked the powers that be that my cutlery was only silver-plate. That didn’t seem to rile him quite so much. Then again, he wasn’t a fan of cutlery either. Neither was Lucas a great one for what I would have called normal pastimes. He didn’t do much reading, got bored easily with TV and really didn’t much like being indoors at all. My garden had 16

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never been better. He was always doing something or other with plants and flowers I couldn’t name and it made the lawn look glorious. I supposed it had to be his designer background. Sometimes, he would simply lie down on the grass and stare up at the sky. Watching him like that made me feel freer in a strange way, as if seeing him cast aside the expectations of behavior might allow me to do the same, too. One day. In spite of all these contrasts, however, something between us gelled. He made me feel more alive. And for now he kept to the condoms. I’d insisted. I told all this to Miranda as we shared a Danish pastry and sipped our Cappuccinos one Wednesday afternoon at a café halfway between her home and mine. Neither lecturers nor students work on Wednesday afternoons—it’s not in their job description. Unless they’re forced into attending management meetings, but today I’d been lucky. “So do you think it’s strange?” I asked her when I’d finished. “I mean Lucas being so different? Does Frank find he’s like this at work?” She sprinkled more chocolate on her coffee and wrinkled her nose at me. “He tells me Lucas isn’t a team player, but then a lot of designers are like that. He’s very talented, and talented men don’t act like the rest of us, you know.” “True, but to be honest, I don’t really know how to react to him. I don’t know if it can go anywhere.” “Ah.” She sat back and wiped a few crumbs of pastry from her lips before dropping her napkin back on the table. “So what you’re asking isn’t about Lucas at all. It’s about you and Lucas.” “There’s a difference?” “Come on, Martin. Don’t be coy. It doesn’t suit you. You like 17

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him, don’t you? A lot.” I considered that. Staring round the café, looking anywhere but at Miranda, I took in the small wooden tables and the scattering of comfy seats. I gazed at the bright counter with its shelves of baguettes and cakes, and the line of eager customers. I glanced at the modern but not overly intrusive artwork and I breathed in the pungent smell of coffee. Finally, I looked back at my companion. She was smiling. “Yes,” I said at last. “I really like him. What I don’t know is how to handle it.” She leant forward and I caught the scent of Clarins’ Par Amour. “I don’t know if anyone needs to handle anything or anyone else,” she said. “You look the happiest I’ve ever seen you, so maybe the oddities of Lucas suit you more than you’d imagine. I know you academics tend to analyze everything to the nth degree, but my advice is just lie back and enjoy the ride, my dear. Because you never know where it might take you.” She was right there. Because just under a month later, I was watching TV and flicking idly through the channels when I heard the sound of the key in the front door—I’d only given Lucas this the previous week—followed by a loud crash. I was already on my feet by then, my skin fizzing with the presence of my new boyfriend in the house, but the noise of his entry had me running out into the hallway, wondering just what the hell was going on. Lucas was lying across the hall floor, his glorious hair messed up, mud all over his trousers and with what looked like blood on his arm. 18

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“What the hell?” I dropped to my knees beside him and took him into my arms. “What’s up? What happened? Are you alright?” Panting heavily, he gazed up at me. His eyes were dark, almost gold, and he didn’t seem able to speak. The questions could wait. Somehow, I got him to his feet—but that was more him than me as I didn’t have the strength to carry him—and we staggered to the bathroom. He collapsed with his back against the tub, and I filled the basin with warm water and grabbed the iodine. My heart was beating fast and I had no idea whether I was doing the right thing or not. Hands shaking, I helped Lucas take off his shirt and gasped at the scratches and smears of blood on his chest. His arm was worse, though. It looked as if he’d been bitten or clawed by some kind of animal, though I didn’t have an idea in hell what that might be. I washed him clean as best I could and then dabbed iodine on the worst of his wounds. “Do you want to go to hospital?” I asked him. He shook his head fiercely. “No.” “Then get in the bath. You’re filthy.” He snarled. “Are you telling me what to do?” I quirked one eyebrow at that, though my hands were still unsteady. “I wouldn’t dare. Please would you get in the bath, Lucas? I think it might help. I’ll run it for you.” Something in his eyes softened and he blinked at me. As if seeing me properly for the first time. “Yes, thank you,” he said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” “Forget it,” I said. Five minutes later, the bath was ready and I was helping Lucas into it. In the water, his body stretched out, and I couldn’t help but admire the planes and angles of his chest and legs, the sleek length 19

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of his cock, all that glorious black hair. He was breathing a bit easier now. As was I. While he stared upward at the ceiling and sank deeper into the water, I gathered together his dirty clothes and made my way downstairs to the washing machine. I flicked through them before setting the wash cycle. On Lucas’ trousers, under the mud, which explained why I hadn’t seen it at first, was a hank of black fur. I laid my hand across it. At once, it reminded me of Lucas’ beard in its softness, but it was somehow more animalistic than that. More bestial. It felt warm. Unable to think, but not sure why, I extricated the fur from the mud and laid it on the table. Then I started the wash and sat down. Every so often, my eyes strayed to the torn fur, but mostly I just sat. After a while, I heard the sound of the bathwater running out. I wondered if I should go upstairs and see how Lucas was, but something inside told me it was best to wait. Finally, he came downstairs, and I heard the pad of his feet across the hall. The kitchen door opened and I looked up. Now my boyfriend seemed more…more human was the phrase that sprang to my mind, though that didn’t make any sense at all. He was clean and neatly dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, and although his hair was still damp, at least it was smoothed down. Those strange eyes of his pierced me through, and I felt my skin tingle. It was the effect Lucas always had on me. I tried to ignore it. “Are you okay?” I asked him. “Do you need anything for those cuts?” He shook his head. I understood he’d already spotted the fur on the table. He sat down opposite me, the flow of his stride like a dancer, but a dangerous one. I swallowed. Laid my fingers on the hank of fur again. “Did an animal attack you?” 20

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“No.” “Then what’s this, Lucas? How the hell did this fur get there? And where did it come from? A dog? Just what was it that did this to you?” He sprang up, so quickly my eye barely caught the movement, and began to pace up and down in front of the sink. A small growl came from his throat. “Nothing did this to me.” “Oh, come on. I can see how injured you are. God, you could barely stand up when you arrived. Don’t lie to me. What have you been doing to get like this?” The next second he was in front of me, and his fingers were gripping my chin. The light in his eyes was brighter now, but I faced him down. I didn’t flinch away. Instead, I repeated my question, as best I could with the way he was holding me. He let me go and stepped away. “Nothing. I’ve been doing nothing. I was with—” He stopped abruptly, as if he’d revealed too much, and turned his back to me. I wasn’t going to let this one go, though. Not after what I’d seen tonight. I stood up. “Who?” I asked. “Who were you with, and what the hell did they do to you? Are you seriously hurt?” Several horrific scenarios flooded my mind and I put my hand on his arm to try to give comfort, if that was what was needed here, but he gave a sharp laugh. “No! I’m not hurt. Nothing like that! I was with—friends, that’s all. Old friends.” I let him go. “Some friends, if they let you leave in that state. For God’s sake, what did you do—get into a fight or something?” Again, he shook his head. “We were just playing.” He closed his eyes, and I blinked at him. “That’s no game, if 21

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this is the state you get into. Who are these friends of yours anyway?” He would say nothing else to me, however, and eventually we got into bed, still silent. That night we made love with the most intensity I’d ever known, as if he was trying to convey something to me that I couldn’t even begin to understand, and as if I were trying to keep him with me against all the odds. In the morning, the strange hank of fur was gone. Even stranger was the fact that after a couple of days, the scratches on his body had all but disappeared. I said nothing about it. I just looked at him and wondered. *

*

*

The next month, September, the same thing happened, though it was less obvious. Lucas sneaked into the house while I was attending a college party for the start of term, and by the time I got back, he was in bed, asleep. Even by the landing light, I could tell there was something wilder about him, though. I found his muddied clothes—though this time with no fur—at the bottom of the laundry basket in the bathroom. Lucas was never one for thinking things through on the domestic front. I might have had no idea if he’d simply washed them himself. With all this, I lay awake for a long time that night pondering. Over the next few weeks, Lucas and I began to know one another a little better. And I don’t mean simply in bed, though that continued to be as explosive and revolutionary as ever. I met some of his workmates, had the tour of his offices and chatted with Frank for a while. I gained the impression Lucas was respected for the results he produced, but that some of his colleagues were a 22

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little wary. Not that I could blame them—the man had the same effect on me, but if I’d discovered one unexpected fact about myself, it was this: I liked living with that sense of danger, and of mystery, too. At the same time, I persuaded him to attend a college barbeque with me, which was part of our principal’s “welcome to the new academic year” celebration. He loped around the outskirts for a while, but the smell of the meat drew him in and, by the time we left, I think he’d quite enjoyed it. His eventual comments were something along the lines of: “not too bad, your colleagues, are they? And the burgers were good.” Which I considered praise enough. For the rest of that month, I was busy with the new college year and doing a hell of a lot of research and reading, learning and marveling at the facts I found. But not all of that was for work. And then October was upon us. *

*

*

This time, Lucas had the courtesy to ring me, so perhaps something of my normal, everyday existence was rubbing off on him after all. “I’m going out tonight. I’ll be late back. Or I might just stay at my place,” was all he said. I swallowed. Seeing as we’d been all but living together at my house for the last few weeks, this was obviously something different, and Lucas knew it. I glanced at my watch. It was nearly 8:30 P.M. “You out with those friends of yours tonight?” I asked him. The only answer from his end of the line was a soft growl. 23

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“Because if you are,” I continued, “do you want me to set the washing machine up for you this time?” “Don’t you question me,” Lucas said and now the snarl in his voice was more than evident. “I do what I want to, when I want to do it. That’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will. I’m the one in charge here. Do you understand?” I made no answer to that. I simply waited until both our breathing was a little steadier. Lucas coughed. I waited some more. Finally he spoke. “I’ve not been in a relationship with a… with someone like you before,” he said. “I might not be good at it. Yet.” “You make me very happy,” I whispered. “Confused, but happy. So maybe you’re not as bad as you think. All relationships are difficult, Lucas. They take time. And I’ve known from the start that the one in charge is you. You know that.” “Yes, I know.” We were silent for a while. Then he said, with a rising note of urgency, maybe almost panic, in his voice that I hadn’t ever heard from him, “I’ve got to go. It’s near the time. Tonight’s my last chance to…” “Last chance for what?” I cut in when his sentence stopped. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Can’t your friends wait?” “No. No, they can’t. Trust me, Martin, please. Tonight, it’s important that I’m there. More important than I can say. I’ll tell you. I’ll try to tell you soon, but not now. It can’t be now.” His last word was more like a low moan, almost a howl, than an actual word. I was about to tell him that I did trust him, but I also needed to know more and he needed to trust me, too, but the line disconnected and he’d gone. 24

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I took a deep breath, thinking about what was important and what was not. I could let this go and wait for Lucas to come back and explain everything, if he could. But my unpredictable boyfriend wasn’t one for explanations. Not without a lot of help anyway. Somehow over the last few months, he’d become more vital to me than I realized, and I wanted to know him, through and through. Whatever it took. It also sounded like, for the first time, he might need help. I might have been an ordinary lecturer, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make extraordinary decisions. Once in a while. I’d do it then. I was going to follow him. God knows what good it would do, but if I could be there with him, I might somehow be able to help him, as well as finding out whether or not my suspicions—and what suspicions they indeed were!—might be true. Twenty minutes later, and as prepared as I could get under the circumstances, I was sitting in my car at the end of Lucas’ road. I could see his house from where I’d parked. The upstairs lights were on, though I couldn’t discern any movement. Perhaps he’d already gone? If so, I needed to make several decisions and quickly. I waited for another five minutes, fingers drumming on my steering wheel and throat as dry as Dickens could be. Then I told myself not to be so stupid and try Plan B. Not that there was much of a Plan B, but Plan A where I stalked my boyfriend to where he was heading was history and never that clever in the first place. Lucas, with those incredibly heightened senses of his, would probably have known I was here even before he opened the front door. So, heart beating way too fast and wondering how the hell I was going to explain any of this in the morning, to anyone, I drove 25

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to the park. Not that it was much of a park in all honesty. It was more of a wood, with a small playground for the children on one side and a lake on the other. But it was the largest area of natural countryside our town had, and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. I left the car near the lake, shrugged on my jacket, checked I had what I’d thought, in the utterly insane world I’d been living in recently, might be useful, and began walking towards the woods. It was mid-October and I needed my torch even though the moon was full. I strained to hear the sound of anything unusual coming from the trees, but all I could make out was the wind and the odd screech of a barn owl on the hunt. If I were Lucas wanting to meet those strange friends of his where nobody would see, where would I go? The answer to that was easy. In the deepest part of the trees, as far away from the lake and from people as I could get. Taking a long, ragged breath and desperately thankful none of my colleagues could see me now, I turned right and plunged into the woods. Branches snagged at my hair and bracken clung to my legs, but I kept on going. The moon sparkled between the branches overhead and cast an eerie light and dancing shadows across my path. I felt as if I were stepping into a magical place where anything might happen. I didn’t know how far I’d walked, stumbling over grass and tree roots, before I realized I wasn’t alone. Something in the keening of the wind must have been different for a while before I noticed it. I stopped at once and turned round. Even in the darkness, I sensed a movement at the edge of my vision, a greater blackness against the shadow. I held my breath, wanting to speak, 26

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even ask who was there, but knowing it would be useless. For a long moment, everything was quiet. Even the sound of the owl had vanished. Then I heard it again: that low keening that wasn’t the wind. No, it wasn’t the wind at all. Perhaps this hadn’t been quite such a good idea. I took a step back toward the lake and turned to run. And then they were there—shapes in the darkness surrounding me, black silk undulating in the night, disappearing and reappearing between the trees. But not silk: fur. And those yellow eyes. They were so fast I couldn’t focus on one creature before it had vanished and another had taken its place. I couldn’t help myself. I cried out. Even though I’d thought I was prepared for this, I wasn’t. In any way. The moment the sound pierced the night air, the wolves were upon me. Limbs I couldn’t describe snatched me up and carried me even deeper into the trees. I managed to cling onto my glasses while around my ears rang a howling that pierced through my very blood. The woods rushed past my eyes at such speed I couldn’t focus on anything but the wild pace of the journey. I could barely even draw breath. At last, when I thought I might pass out for lack of air, I found myself tumbled onto bracken and weeds. Something dug into my back, perhaps a tree root, and I scrambled away, the pulse pounding in my head. Alongside the sound of my desperate panting, I heard a low growl. I knew at once it wasn’t Lucas, but God knows how. When I twisted around and tried to get away, something warm and hard grasped my neck and flung me back to where I’d been lying. It knocked what little breath I had left out of me. The next second, a shape loomed overhead and I blinked upwards, trying to focus. What I saw in the strangely piercing moonlight was a tall animal, 27

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as tall as a man, but covered in thick black fur and leaning toward me. Sharp teeth glinted white and too close. Its head shimmered between one shape and another—sometimes a man’s head and sometimes that of a wolf. Its eyes glittered yellow. So like Lucas, yet not. I struggled upright so at least I wasn’t lying like a vulnerable fool at this mythical creature’s feet. From my jacket pocket, I drew out the silver chains I’d brought with me and shook them at him. The wolf snarled again and snapped at empty air. “Are you afraid of that then?” I spoke as loudly as I could through my throat’s dryness, trying to puff up my own poor courage. “Are you afraid? Lucas hates silver, and all the books say you fear it.” For a long moment more, the man-wolf glared at me and then he raised his head to the moon and howled. The sound brought other shapes I hadn’t seen looming closer and, at the same time, as I stared horrified at them, the creature in front of me brought one great paw low and swiped the chains away from my hand. They landed where I could no longer see them, though I heard the telltale splash of water and knew we were near the lake. And that my hoped-for protection had vanished. Then the creature bent his head to mine. “Do not be so foolish, human. Because we of the wolf-race hate a thing, it does not follow that we fear it.” To that, I could say nothing. His voice was a mixture of beast and man, each word a growl, each pause a menace. Still, I knew what I’d come for and, even if he tore me apart with his next breath, I would say what I needed to. “What are you doing to Lucas?” I whispered, as the wolfcreatures gathered from the trees around us. “Where is he, and why 28

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do you hurt him? Whatever is going on here, it’s not his fault.” There. That was it—my ridiculous attempt at saving my boyfriend from whatever these wolves intended for him. “You question me?” Now this kind of response I could deal with; God knows I’d had enough practice with Lucas. “Yes,” I said, my voice a little steadier now, but only a little. “Not because I challenge you, but only because I want to know.” “Call me Alpha-Wolf when you address me.” “Yes, Alpha-Wolf,” was my instant response and then I waited. Under the circumstances, I could do no other. But it did strike me that if some unlucky person found me torn to pieces tomorrow, it would be an unusual way for a simple college lecturer to meet his end. I also wondered what Lucas might do then, and if it might be a good thing for him after all. Before I could formulate any kind of answer to that question, one of the wolves surrounding us in the trees sprang toward us. He skittered to a halt only a few feet away and I felt my skin begin to tingle. Compared to Alpha, this one seemed younger, his fur glossier and more undulating. I knew who he was at once. “Lucas?” At the sound of his name, he swung toward me and I saw the familiar glow of his eyes. I swear I would have recognized him amongst a thousand wolf-people. He took one pace in my direction, but Alpha-Wolf growled and raised himself up to his full height, and Lucas stopped at once. “Stay where you are,” Alpha said with a snarl. “You are under our questioning and you have no right of reply here.” Lucas’ eyes shone more brightly at that and he lifted the edge of his lip. He looked at Alpha and then at me, once, twice. His fur 29

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rippled, and I gained the distinct impression that, in spite of the command, he was prepared to leap between us if the lead-wolf threatened me more physically. Whilst I appreciated the reassurance of that more than I could ever convey, I remained unconvinced that a full-on fight here would do anyone any good. Hadn’t I already seen Lucas’ injuries? “Please,” I said, and at once all the wolves’ eyes turned to me. I swallowed. I hadn’t even intended to speak, but seeing I was here in the out-of-this-world situation I was in, I might as well continue. “Please, sir, why is Lucas being questioned? What’s he done that’s so wrong? From what I’ve read, he’s doing nothing that other…other werewolves haven’t done before. With men or women. Why is this different, Alpha-Wolf?” In truth, I expected another rebuff, but instead the lead-wolf fell to all fours again and stared at me, his strange, shimmering head changing from man to wolf and back again. No matter the oddity of the circumstances, it was beginning to make me feel dizzy. This evening wasn’t working out to be one of my best by any measure. Alpha padded closer to me, and Lucas gave a low snarl. I could see he was once more ready to leap, despite whatever his leader had commanded. “You should not believe everything human legends tell you,” Alpha said, with the merest flick of his muzzle at Lucas. “Here it is against our traditions to mate with one of your species. We wolves of this pack keep to ourselves, in every way.” At that, the company of creatures circling ever nearer set to with a great howling. The sound filled the air and trees, the water and the night, rising upward and ever upward until I could barely contain it in my mind. I covered my ears with my hands, but still the noise of it pierced me through. Just when Alpha-Wolf joined 30

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his terrible call to the chorus, I felt soft warmth, with the undercurrent of sinew and muscle, across my shoulders. It smelled of Lucas, even in the form he was in, and I almost sobbed at the comfort of that. Burying my head in his fur, the sound lessened and I was able to breathe again. Finally, the howling ceased, and the silence that followed it was the deepest I had ever heard. Still, I knew I had to speak into it. “Is that why you punish him?” I asked, looking at Alpha-Wolf. “Because he chooses to be with me?” Alpha padded back toward me, and I saw he was panting. At his approach, Lucas slipped away from my body, but kept his position at my side. Without warning, he snarled and snapped at the lead wolf, who lowered his head and snapped back. They began circling each other, and I sensed that probably wouldn’t end well either. “Please,” I said, my heart beating so fast I thought they all could hear it. With their abilities, they no doubt could. “Please, Alpha-Wolf, I would love to hear your answer. How can I know your wisdom if you fight?” The two wolves turned at once to me, as if they had been engaged in a private quarrel and I had dared to interfere. It was then that Lucas spoke for the first time. “I, too, am an Alpha,” he said in a growl, but the threat to me was minimal. “Do you think I don’t know that?” I replied, lowering my voice as if only he could hear. “I understand that more than anything else that’s happened since I arrived here. Believe me, Lucas, I’m not likely to forget it.” “Be silent or I will kill you both,” the lead-wolf said, and Lucas 31

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and I turned simultaneously to acknowledge him. Both of us obeyed; I with rather more humility, I couldn’t help but notice. “Here,” the wolf continued, “it is I who am the alpha. As I have said, the traditions of my pack dictate that we do not mix with those who are not like us. If we do, then situations such as we face now occur and the pack is broken. So, those of us who disobey are punished. Twice have I and my followers disciplined Lucas on the night of the full moon and still he has not given you up. Now he must bear the ultimate price.” I reached out and buried my hand deep into my boyfriend’s fur. I felt the rumble of his response against my fingers. “And what is that price?” I whispered. “Tell me, Alpha-Wolf. Please.” “As long as Lucas stays under my jurisdiction, he must either give you up, or he will die.” I swallowed. Hard. “Surely there’s another way?” “Yes,” said Lucas, his voice rolling through his body and making my fingers vibrate where they touched him. “Yes, there is another way. If I leave the pack, then the honor of Alpha is satisfied.” “No-one has ever left before the time is right.” Even before he’d finished half-speaking half-howling the words, the lead wolf had launched himself into the air. I cried out a warning, but it was already too late. Lucas tumbled over and over in Alpha’s grip, the two of them snarling and snapping. More than that, ripping at each other’s flesh and drawing blood. Even as the pack surrounding us began to howl again, I flung myself at the battling wolves. God alone knows what I thought I might do. My only thought was to save Lucas. Somehow. 32

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I grabbed a handful of fur and held on. The next moment, I found myself slammed against the ground, then lifted upwards into the moon-bright sky and down onto the hard ground again as the three of us rolled over and over. My glasses vanished, and I cursed the vulnerability that caused me. Though, God knows, I was already vulnerable enough. I could smell the acrid scent of blood— Oh, God, let it not be Lucas’s—and hear the gnashing of teeth through the pack of wolves’ song. I had no idea how long this madness went on for, but at last, the earth around me was still. I was lying on mud and covered in leaves and bracken. My heart was pounding and I struggled up onto all fours. “Lucas?” The only answer was a low whimpering, followed almost at once by a snarl. “Leave him,” said Alpha from somewhere to my right, the direction the snarl had come from. “He has fought and lost this day.” “You’ve killed him? No.” Then, uncaring what else might happen now, I scrambled in the direction of Lucas’ wolf-body, nothing but a shimmering hulk amongst the trees. I gathered him into my arms and hugged him to me. His fur felt warm against my skin and face. For a long moment, I rocked him, murmuring soft words and then I turned to Alpha. The lead wolf’s deep yellow eyes glittered at me through the darkness. “I tell you this,” I said to him, “if this man dies, if you have killed him for loving where you said he should not, then I demand that you here and now fight me also, and kill me, too, no doubt. Because, whether you like it or whether you don’t, I am Lucas’ 33

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pack and I have no desire to be in another’s. Not now and not ever.” The background howling of the wolves ceased at once. The night came rushing in. I stayed where I was, holding my strange un-human boyfriend and staring into the eyes of a wolf. His pack drew closer, and I kept tight hold of what I thought of as mine. Finally, Alpha-Wolf gave a strange hissing noise, and I closed my eyes. This was it then. This was the end. I hoped it would be quick. What happened next wasn’t what I’d expected at all. “You would die for Lucas-Wolf, human?” I opened my eyes, blinking to try to focus, though it was worse than useless of course. “If I had to,” I said quietly. It was the truth. I wasn’t a brave man, but there it was: the truth in full view. It didn’t matter that the man I loved might not be a man at all, and that I was about to be ripped asunder by the sort of animal I’d never realized existed. It was still the truth. The lead wolf stepped back, shook his long, dark body so droplets of blood spattered in all directions, lifted up his head and howled. I turned to bury my head in Lucas’ fur, but this time the sound of it didn’t have the devastation of before. It stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Then he spoke once more. “Then you are truly the best of Beta-Wolves,” he said. “Perhaps the time has come for Lucas to leave us after all.” “But you’ve killed him.” As I spoke, I lunged at Alpha, but he skittered back and snarled. “Do not go too far beyond what I have already permitted. We will leave you now.” Before I could say another word, the strange creatures were melting away into the trees, swallowed up by the night. The next 34

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moment, they had gone. I could sense their absence, even though I couldn’t fully see it. I collapsed back onto the ground next to Lucas’ body, panting hard. What now? I needed to take Lucas somewhere, somewhere I could simply be with him. I couldn’t think about what would happen after that. I couldn’t let myself think about it. “Lucas.” I held him again, my body shaking. His fur felt silky on my face. I couldn’t believe he was dead. Ever since I’d met him, he’d been so very alive. I’d never met anyone like him. Not only in what he no doubt was, but in how he was, too. Demanding, difficult, dangerous, but also passionate, committed and real. He’d changed my ordinary world, and I couldn’t see how I could be without him. I began to cry then. Stupid, pointless and distinctly unBritish, but I couldn’t help it. After a while, I became aware of something patting my cheek. Something thin and long. I sniffed back my tears and tried to brush whatever it was away. It refused to go. I blinked a few times and tried to brush it away again. It was then I realized what it was. The arm of my pair of glasses was being knocked against my ear, over and over again. As if trying to attract my attention. More astonishing than that was the fact my glasses were being held by strong fingers covered in dark hair. “Lucas?” The answer was a snuffle followed by a groan. I cried out his name again and found myself wrapped in his embrace. Hot breath flowed over my neck, and I felt the smooth warmth of his hair against mine. I couldn’t stop saying his name, half-laughing, halfcrying, and, somewhere in the middle of all that, my glasses were replaced on my nose and I could see everything clearly at last. Lucas was there, but not there. One moment a wolf lay in my 35

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arms and the next it was a man. Each transformation revealed the cuts and bites of his body where Alpha-Wolf had torn into him, and everywhere I looked, there was blood. I reached out to him, but he batted me away with a sleek black limb that at once turned into his arm. “Leave me, Martin. I’m not dead, but I need to come back. Into. My. Body.” His voice was nothing but a growl I could barely interpret and it was only a moment later that I caught his meaning. As I gazed at him, helpless, the long figure of a wolf was for a heartbeat or two outlined against the moonlight, and then everything about him began to change into the man I knew. From fur into skin and hair. First the head, then shoulders, chest, arms and then, as he began to pant and writhe on the grass, his buttocks and legs also. One last high-pitched wail and he was as I had first met him. But this time his clothes were ragged and torn, and fresh blood oozed from the scars I could see underneath. I didn’t care about any of that. I only cared that he was alive. It took a while for the two of us to stumble back to my car. I couldn’t even remember where I’d parked it, but Lucas’ sense of direction was infallible. I wondered about asking him if he wanted to go to hospital, but knew even as I thought it how ridiculous that was. For now, I simply needed to get him home. Everything else— and there was so much else, wasn’t there?—could wait. I didn’t really remember how we got back to my house. I didn’t think I caused any accidents or jumped any lights, but really, who could tell? All I could think about was Lucas, the fact he was alive and the overpowering imperative to get him home. Once there, I ran the bath as my boyfriend stripped. As he sank into the steaming waters, I cast an anxious eye over his wounds, 36

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which, to my astonishment, already seemed to be healing. These werewolves evidently had more powers than even I had discovered in my research. After that, I left him to it, made my way downstairs, loaded the washing machine—a chore that I might have to get used to on a full-time basis, depending on what happened after tonight—and retrieved a much-needed lager from the kitchen. It was way after midnight when Lucas finally came downstairs. I’d been sitting and staring at the walls of my living room for a long, long time, and I’d heard the bathwater changed more than once. Three empty lager bottles lay by my chair. Even in these circumstances, I wasn’t a great drinker. When I heard the door open behind me, I didn’t get up, though. This time, I let him come to me. He padded in without a word. I could smell the heat rising from his body and sense the way his yellow eyes pierced me through, though I didn’t look at him. Not then. He stood for a moment or two near the bookshelf and then he sat down on the sofa opposite. “Martin, I want to thank you. I—” “Please,” I cut him off, raising one hand. “I don’t want to hear you talk. I want to think.” The beginning of a low growl met this announcement, but it was just as quickly cut off. For the time being, he wasn’t my Alpha-Wolf, if that was the phrase I should be using now, and I needed him to know it. I swallowed and gazed as far away from him as I could. Even doing that, I was aware of his presence with every inch of my body. After a while, when I was ready and not before, I began to talk. “This is real, isn’t it,” I said, though that wasn’t a question, not at any level. “This is real, and I have to find some way of coping 37

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with it. If I can. I want you to understand just how very difficult this is for me. I never intended to fall in love with someone who isn’t human. Or not entirely. I didn’t even know people like you— werewolves—existed outside the traditions of fantasy literature. Seeing what happened out there tonight and being part of it has changed everything I thought my world was about. It frightened me. Very much. I know you won’t understand this as you must have been living in two worlds for as long as you can remember, but I haven’t. I need time to adjust to what it all means, and how it might be from now on. Do you understand that?” I turned and looked at Lucas for the first time. His hair was still matted to his head and glittered with water. But he was in a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt and looked normal enough. Only I knew better. Moreover, he was crouching, not sitting, on the chair, as if at any moment he was likely to leap out of it and away. The sight of him made my heart beat faster. As it always had. I wanted to touch him, check if he was all right, but there was still so much to say. So much he needed to say, too. I waited, simply looking at him. He took a long time replying and when he did, I could tell how much of an effort he was making. An effort to try to meet me on my own ground. Hell, perhaps that was something we were both going to have to learn, if this—whatever this was now—was going to go anywhere at all. “I’m sorry,” he said, slowly, such words being unaccustomed to his mouth. “I’m sorry that I thought I had to lie to you about who and what I am, but I never intended to fall in love with someone who isn’t like me either.” He shook himself on the chair, shifted his position, those strange yellow eyes holding my gaze. It was like having a wild 38

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animal in the house, one I couldn’t entirely predict. Though, of course, it was exactly that, wasn’t it? I simply hadn’t understood it before. I took a breath, then shut my eyes for a second or two. “Do you want to sit in some other way?” I asked him. “Is that uncomfortable for you?” “No. I’ve run with the pack now. My old pack, that is. I don’t want to stretch myself across the ground, or be free in the woods or howl for the moment. It takes a while to settle again afterwards, that’s all.” “Okay,” I replied, as if any of that made sense. As if we were a normal couple discussing interesting differences in décor or lifestyle. Which, in a way, we were. Something else occurred. “What will you do without your pack when you need to be a wolf again?” “Martin, I’m always a wolf.” “Yes. Yes, of course you are.” “If you mean what will I do when the next full moon rises, then I can run alone. Perhaps, later, find others who are more liberal than Alpha-Wolf was.” “I can come with you, if you like. If it’s possible, I mean. Whether you’re on your own or with others.” He gazed at me, eyes glowing golden in the light. He blinked. “You would do that for me?” “Yes,” I said, simply. “I’m your pack. If you’ll have me.” Some of the residual tension in the room began to melt. Lucas smiled, looked as if were about to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He blinked again, rapidly. Looked away, looked at me again. “Anyway, is this”—I spoke to distract him, made a sweeping 39

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movement with my hand to demonstrate what this might be—“is this the reason why we don’t need to use condoms?” Lucas nodded and gathered himself together. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and he had to clear his throat and start over, “Werewolves and humans don’t cross-infect. You’re not sick, Martin, but if you were, you couldn’t harm me. The same goes the other way round, too, though I’m not sick either.” “I see.” We were silent again together for a while. I felt the terrors of the evening ease themselves away even farther and something like normality began to drift back in. Here we were. Just two blokes living together and sharing an evening. Or rather a very early morning. At least that was what it might seem like from the outside. The fact that only one of us was completely human was simply an additional complication in the already offbeat complexity of dealing with a modern relationship. Wasn’t it? God, I hoped so. After another while, Lucas stood up and came padding over to my side. He hunkered down and placed his head on my knee, rubbing his cheek across my trousers and laying one hand on my foot. Slowly, carefully, I reached out and stroked him. He snuffled—yes, that was the word for it—and arched upwards, seeking more contact with my fingers. Swallowing, I caressed his head, wallowing in the glorious silkiness of his hair. It felt so bloody good to be touching him again, and my shoulders released the knots that seemed to have been stored up for hours. He growled, but it was a sensuous sound, carrying no threat. “We’re very different,” I said. “Yes.” “Being with you has made me the happiest I can ever 40

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remember,” I told him in nothing more than a whisper. “Yes,” he said again, his hand beginning to stroke upwards over my leg. “Me too.” Another silence. Again, it was I who broke it. “We need to talk to each other more,” I said. “If we can. I want to know how things are for you. It seems to me when I think it through that you’ve been hiding yourself ever since we met. Trying to be fully human. Lucas, if we’re going to make this work, we have to be honest with each other, acknowledge our differences and deal with them. That is, if you want to try to make it work. I know I do. I love you.” He rose up then. The strange and beautiful man I lived with. He took my hand, pulled me to my feet, kicked the lager bottles out of the way and lay me down. Right there on the rug in front of the unlit fire. “Yes,” he said. “I want that, too, Martin. I want it with you. There is one thing, however, if we’re going to be honest about who we are now.” “And that is?” I said with a gasp as he licked and bit at my neck, the glorious spicy scent of him filling my nostrils. “I can’t be the Beta-Wolf like this for long,” he whispered. “I need to be in charge. It’s my nature.” I laughed at that as he began to undo my shirt buttons, all but ripping them open to get to my skin. “God, I thought you’d never say it,” I told him while I could still find words at all. “Because, believe me, Lucas, you being my Alpha is just what I need you to be.”

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ANNE BROOKE

Anne Brooke’s fiction has been shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Novel Award, the Royal Literary Fund Awards, and the Asham Award for Women Writers. She has also twice been the winner of the DSJT Charitable Trust Open Poetry Competition. She loves reading dark and quirky crime novels and has a secret passion for bird watching and chocolate. Preferably at the same time. She once took a balloon flight in Egypt but spent most of the time screaming, and she hopes she never has to do it again. To learn more about Anne and her writing, please visit her website at: http://www.annebrooke.com *

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Don’t miss The Hit List by Anne Brooke, available at AmberAllure.com! Jamie Chadwick is straight. Determinedly straight. Or so he keeps telling himself. His small conference business is doing okay and, even though he looks after his ailing father, he loves living in the countryside and life is good. Sort of. But the arrival of old college friend, David Fenchurch, who’s just come out on the distinctly

camp side of camp, together with Lucy Reid, his father’s sexy new physiotherapist, sets Jamie on a path he’d never dreamed of taking. On top of all that, the unexpected return of long-lost family friend, Robert Trevelyan, himself openly gay, means that Jamie can no longer ignore the past he’s kept hidden for six years. When Robert and David get together, Jamie’s feelings begin to surface in surprising ways. Who, amongst the crowd of people set to blow his life apart, will make it onto his fantasy hit list? And in the midst of Jamie’s own emotional battlefield, how can he keep things together at all?

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