Howling on Hold

by E. J. Russell

  Riptide Publishing

  PO Box 1537

  Burnsville, NC 28714

  www.riptidepublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.

  Howling on Hold

  Copyright © 2020 by E.J. Russell

  Cover art: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design-portfolio.html

  Editors: Rachel Haimowitz and Kelly Miller

  Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at marketing@riptidepublishing.com.

  ISBN: 978-1-62649-924-9

  First edition

  January, 2020

  Also available in paperback:

  ISBN: 978-1-62649-925-6

  ABOUT THE EBOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED:

  We thank you kindly for purchasing this title. Your nonrefundable purchase legally allows you to replicate this file for your own personal reading only, on your own personal computer or device. Unlike paperback books, sharing ebooks is the same as stealing them. Please do not violate the author’s copyright and harm their livelihood by sharing or distributing this book, in part or whole, for a fee or free, without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner. We love that you love to share the things you love, but sharing ebooks—whether with joyous or malicious intent—steals royalties from authors’ pockets and makes it difficult, if not impossible, for them to be able to afford to keep writing the stories you love. Piracy has sent more than one beloved series the way of the dodo. We appreciate your honesty and support.

  Sometimes it’s harder to teach a young dog new tricks.

  That’s why werewolves embark on a Howling: a three-year rite of passage in which they’re sent to a group residence to wrestle with their wolfy instincts and assimilate into the Wider World. But Tanner Araya’s Howling is almost over, and he could be called back to his remote pack at any moment. His twenty-first birthday might be his last chance to act on his strongest instinct and finally kiss Chase Denney.

  Chase is RA at the Howling residence affectionately dubbed “the Doghouse,” and he takes his job seriously. So seriously that when he realized he was developing feelings for a resident, he forced himself to keep Tanner at a distance. But now that Tanner’s twenty-one, he’s not Chase’s charge any longer. They could be friends or—if Chase is lucky—something more. At least until they both return to their home packs for good, as tradition demands.

  It would take a miracle for them to get together—especially when the other Doghouse werewolves insist on “helping.”

  Warning: Many Frisbees are harmed in this story, forgiveness is not always easier than permission, and the five-second rule does not apply.

  For Nino

  About Howling on Hold

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Also by E.J. Russell

  About the Author

  More Like This

  Tanner had been staring at his bedroom window in Howling Residence Seven since midnight, waiting for the first day of twenty-one to feel different than the last day of twenty. But as dawn filtered through his blinds, he was still the same not-tall-enough, not-social-enough, not-alpha-enough werewolf that he’d been before he’d crossed that invisible threshold from junior to senior, from provisional pack member to full adult.

  Guess it was too much to hope for a magical transformation, some ping that would turn me into a stronger, wiser, more worthy version of me.

  A thump outside his closed door drew his attention away from the slow creep of light across the carpet. Whispers, giggles, another thump, a hissed warning. He sighed, turned onto his back, and laced his fingers across his belly.

  “You might as well come in, everyone. I know you’re there.”

  The door burst open, and the other juniors at Residence Seven—nicknamed the Doghouse—tumbled into the room. They were led, of course, by Jordan, who, at eighteen, was the youngest of them.

  “See?” Jordan bounded across the carpet, shaggy brown hair flopping, and leaped onto the foot of Tanner’s bed. Tanner moved his legs just in time. “I told you guys it was okay. It’s his birthday. He doesn’t want to sleep all day!”

  Dakota, tall and lanky, locs framing his amiable brown face, flipped Tanner’s desk chair around and straddled it, leaning his arms along its back. “Some people like to sleep in, pup. Ever think of that?”

  Jordan scoffed, settling himself on the bed cross-legged, his back against the wall. “Old people, maybe.”

  His arms full of—gods help me—wrapped gifts, Gage entered more sedately, although he was grinning as he deposited the packages on top of Tanner. Hector followed, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration as he balanced a cake in his hands.

  “Cake?” Tanner struggled to sit up, gifts sliding off his chest onto the floor. “It can’t be nine in the morning yet. Maybe not even eight.”

  Jordan bounced on the mattress. “So?”

  As Gage cleared a stack of Tanner’s books off the desk so Hector could slide the cake onto it, Tanner noticed Chase hanging back in the doorway, watching them all with an indulgent smile.

  Chase Denney, their RA. Chase Denney, the perfect alpha-in-training. Chase Denney, who still sees me as a kid.

  True, weres developed at a slightly slower rate than humans, but it still rankled, imagining that Chase thought Tanner was no more mature than Jordan. At least I don’t dig up the backyard and try to hide the evidence like Jordan does. But Jordan wasn’t even halfway through his first year. Tanner was a third-year resident, with the end of his Howling in sight.

  The thought sent a chill down his spine. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. I don’t want to go back.

  When he’d first arrived, his eventual departure was so far in the future that it was easy to pretend it wouldn’t happen. Technically, he had another six months before the three-year residence allowance was up. But in reality, once weres turned twenty-one and passed their assimilation exams, they weren’t bound by the regulations mandating strict supervision and education. Tanner had passed every test with honors. I should have thrown them somehow. Made it look like I still needed the structure and support of the instructors.

  But their instructors were supes too, and fooling them was no easy task. Besides, Tanner loved his classes with Dr. MacLeod, their druid professor. Not doing his best, seeing disappointment in Dr. MacLeod’s eyes . . . Well, Tanner couldn’t face that.

  Hand-to-hand combat lessons with Mal Kendrick, their fae instructor, were another matter. Tanner and Hector both had problems there—Tanner because he was smaller th
an all the other guys, and Hector because he didn’t see the point of so much physical exertion. But Mal had laughed, clapped them both on the shoulder, and told them they didn’t need to be enforcers. They only needed to be able to ward off an attack without going wolfy, in case the assailants were human. So Tanner had unfortunately passed those exams too.

  Bottom line, nothing was keeping him here other than his desire to stay. As long as he flew under the radar, didn’t cause a ruckus, and didn’t give anyone a reason to report him and remind his uncle that he wasn’t required to stay, maybe he could delay his return until May.

  And maybe sometime during those months he’d be able to convince Chase he wasn’t a kid anymore. And then what? Chase wouldn’t be an RA forever. His service requirement was almost over. He’d be returning to his own pack at about the same time Tanner would. Maybe if I do really well, I can apply to be an RA for my own service.

  Even if he managed that, Chase would still be gone. But at least I wouldn’t be stuck out in the back of beyond in Imnaha, with no future but a dead-end mill job.

  Jordan nudged Tanner’s knees with his foot. “Dude. Come on. Presents! Don’t you want to see what we got you?”

  Tanner blinked. “Um. Sure.”

  Jordan rolled to his knees and leaned over the edge of the bed, butt in the air. He rummaged among the fallen gifts and retrieved a clumsily wrapped package with its bow askew. It looked like a collapsing layer cake. “Here.” He plopped it onto Tanner’s lap, causing the paper to rip a bit. “Open mine first.”

  Gage and Hector settled onto the floor next to the bed, Hector licking what looked like a glob of chocolate frosting off one finger. Chase stayed by the door, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder as if he were on his way out. Not joining in our reindeer games. Tanner’s stomach knotted, and not just at the prospect of cake for breakfast. But with Jordan wiggling on the bed, causing it to bounce, eager brown eyes on Tanner’s face, Tanner tried to at least pretend at some enthusiasm.

  Tanner turned the package over and eased the tape off the bottom.

  Jordan punched the mattress. “Come on! Rip it open! It’s not like you have to save the paper for prosperity.”

  “Posterity,” Dakota said. “Nobody could use it again anyway, Jordan. Not after you’ve mangled it.”

  Jordan shot Dakota a glare. “Hey. I’ll have you know that’s a stellar wrapping job. You try and wrap six Frisb—” He clapped both hands over his mouth.

  Dakota lifted an eyebrow, his grin wide and white. “Gee, Tanner, I wonder what Jordan’s gift could be?”

  Tanner laughed and ripped the paper, much to Jordan’s wriggling delight. “Wow. Six Frisbees. That’s—”

  “What you want, Jordan,” Gage said. “But Tanner hasn’t been put on toy report three times in the last month.”

  Jordan pouted. “Those were accidents. Anybody could have—”

  “It’s okay, Jordan.” Tanner put the stack of Frisbees on the floor. “Thank you. It’s a great present.”

  Jordan beamed at him. “I know, right? You need extras. Everybody needs extras.”

  Tanner leaned over and picked up an improbably thin package, longer than he was tall, with a lump at one end.

  “That’s from me,” Gage said. He brushed his sun-streaked hair off his high forehead, but it only flopped forward again, the sides parting over his rather protuberant ears. “Although there’s something included that’s not in the package.”

  “Why not?” Jordan said. “Half the fun is in opening the present.”

  “Sure, Jordan.” Hector bounced a balled-up piece of wrapping paper off Jordan’s forehead with pinpoint accuracy. “That’s because for you, the paper is another toy.”

  Jordan froze, his hand halfway to the paper ball. “You guys just don’t get the point.”

  Tanner carefully removed the paper from Gage’s gift. “A fishing pole?”

  Gage scooted across the carpet on his butt until he was next to the bed. “It’s the same as my favorite offshore rod. Graphite-fiberglass hybrid. Cork handle. Aluminum oxide glides.”

  Jordan flicked the end of the rod with a finger. “What does he need this for?”

  “Fishing, of course.” Gage smiled up at Tanner. “The extra part of the gift is that I’ll take you out on one of our pack’s boats and teach you how to use it anytime you want.”

  “Thanks, Gage.” Tanner’s voice was a little rough. It wasn’t only Chase who’d become part of his life. The other guys in the house had become his friends too. “I’d like that.”

  “Why?” Jordan sounded genuinely perplexed.

  “You know what they say.” Gage grinned at Jordan. “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day . . .”

  Jordan snorted. “Yeah, but give a wolf a fish and he’ll bury it in the backyard.”

  “You bury everything in the backyard,” Hector said, leaning his elbows on his knees. “But you have to admit, Gage, he’s got a point.”

  Gage poked Hector’s calf. “Dude. I’m telling you, you’ve gotta try salmon.”

  Jordan wrinkled his nose. “Coastal wolves are weird.”

  Hector handed Tanner a small, slightly grubby envelope. The Dorito-dust fingerprint on the flap meant Hector had probably sealed it at the end of one of his marathon coding sessions. “This is from me.”

  Jordan flopped over and flung his arms out. “Puh-leeeze don’t tell me you got him a gift card.”

  “Jordan.” Chase’s calm voice held a gentle reprimand. “We’ve talked about respecting other people’s choices.”

  Jordan hung his head. “Sorry, Hector.”

  Tanner opened the envelope and drew out a piece of paper—similarly decorated with Dorito dust—that had obviously been torn out of a spiral notebook. When he unfolded it, he saw that Hector had scrawled a URL on it. “Um . . . thanks?”

  Hector knee-walked over to the bedside. “Go there to download the game bits. It’s only a prototype, probably not a legit gift, since I’m hoping you’ll give me feedback. You’re good at that.”

  Tanner met Hector’s dark eyes, and they shared a look—misfit to misfit. Like Tanner, Hector was an anomaly: he wanted to be a video game developer, not work on his pack’s farm. A little warmth loosened the ball of tension in Tanner’s belly. At least somebody values my opinion. “Thanks. Really.”

  “Wait. It’s a game that’s not even finished?” Jordan reached for the paper, but Hector batted his hand away. “What fun is that?”

  “Jordan,” Chase warned again.

  Jordan whined low in this throat. “I keep forgetting.”

  “It’s an awesome gift, Hector. I mean it.”

  Hector’s warm brown skin didn’t reveal a blush the way Tanner’s did—thanks to his Irish mother’s genes—but Tanner’s thermal vision detected the wash of blood to Hector’s cheeks. “Happy birthday, man.”

  Only two gifts remained—a long, flat box and another envelope. Tanner told the butterflies in his belly to settle down, but he couldn’t help it. One of those gifts had to be from Chase. And I’ll treasure it forever. Even if it was nothing more than a card. Because it would prove—or at least hint—that Tanner was occasionally in Chase’s thoughts.

  Gods, I’m pathetic.

  He picked up the envelope, which was completely clean. “That’s from me,” Dakota said, relaxed as usual. Nothing ever riled Dakota.

  Then the box is from Chase. Something other than a card. Tanner’s mood rocketed, and he eased open the flap with a grin at Jordan, who groaned. The card inside was blank.

  Jordan plucked it out of Tanner’s hand, turning it upside down and right side up. “What’s this?”

  Tanner snatched it back. “This is mine. Remember Chase’s lecture about boundaries? The one he has to repeat each time you dog Mal’s every move?”

  Jordan’s eyebrows bunched in a frown, pink staining his cheeks. “Yeah, but Mal’s fae and you’re were. Neither one of you are human.”

  “It still counts, Jordan,” Chase sa
id. “You’re supposed to be applying the lessons to your whole life, not just when humans can see you. That’s what control is all about.”

  “Whatever,” Jordan muttered.

  Dakota grinned at Tanner. “It’s a rain check for a lift pass. I figure we can take a weekend off sometime this winter, after we all get back from break, and I’ll take you to my pack’s resort and teach you to ski.”

  “Ski?” Gage said. “Not snowboard?”

  Dakota nudged Gage with a foot. “His choice, surfer dude.”

  “Yay!” Jordan bounced up, his earlier shame forgotten. “Road trip!”

  Dakota chuckled. “Dude. The present’s for Tanner. Not you.”

  Jordan drooped, his big brown eyes wide with the hint of unshed tears. “You mean we’re not invited?”

  Dakota maintained a straight face for maybe ten seconds before he burst out laughing. “That sad-puppy face isn’t gonna work on everyone, you know. But yeah. I meant for all of us to go.” He nodded at Chase in the doorway. “Chase too. My mom wants to meet all of you, and my dad’ll cook.” He grinned at Gage. “No seafood though.”

  Gage snorted. “No imagination, more like.”

  Tanner lifted the last package. It was wrapped in paper decorated with mistletoe and holly and had a snowman gift tag on it.

  To: Tanner

  From: Hector

  Tanner kept his smile from vanishing, although it probably slipped noticeably. Not from Chase. He cleared his throat, tapping the gift tag. “Christmas isn’t until next month.”

  Hector shrugged. “Last year’s supply. You know how Dr. MacLeod is always on us—”

  “Reduce! Reuse! Recycle!” the guys all chorused.

  “Heh. Right.” Tanner unwrapped the gift slowly, ignoring Jordan nearly vibrating with anticipation, then lifted the lid. Inside lay a pocket knife with a polished wooden handle, a little longer than Tanner’s palm. “Wow, Hector. This is beautiful. But you didn’t have to give me two things.”