by Bru Baker
Adrian let out a sharp, loud bark.
“This is a little bit too much like Lassie,” Tate muttered to himself. He’d never tried to communicate with a werewolf in shifted form while he himself was human before. And when he was running with a group of shifted werewolves, there wasn’t any reason to try to communicate. Their sensitive noses were able to navigate most situations for them. Fear, happiness, pain, hunger, thirst—almost every strong emotion or feeling had a scent. The same was true in human form, but their noses were less streamlined to pick it up then. An emotion had to be very strong for Tate to be able to scent it out as a human, but he could pick up the anxiety coming off Adrian in waves now that he was so close and Tate’s senses weren’t overwhelmed by his own panic.
“Okay,” he said, releasing a long breath. “You want to shift back.”
Adrian shifted his paws slightly, like he was digging in and getting ready for something.
“It’s not—it’s not something you can force,” Tate said, and Adrian’s shoulders dipped a bit.
God, he was botching everything. This was literally his job. He’d helped hundreds of wolflings through this exact thing. If Adrian hadn’t formed a Turn bond with him, Tate would be in a room with three wolflings monitoring their shift right now. And he’d be handling that a hundred times better than he was handling Adrian.
He tried to shove his emotions out of the way, imagining putting them in a box and setting it to the side like he did when he was going into counseling sessions. He needed to be a blank canvas, in control of himself and open to helping Adrian. Images from his own Turn kept flashing through his head, unbidden. It wasn’t helping.
Tate slid down the wall and settled on the floor next to Adrian. “Do you mind if I touch you?” he asked, his hand hovering a few inches above Adrian’s coat.
Adrian ducked his head and brought it up under Tate’s outstretched arm, nudging it. Tate took the invitation for what it was and cupped his hand around the top of Adrian’s skull, fingers slipping into the soft, dense fur. Adrian visibly relaxed at the touch, just as Tate had intended.
“Shifting—either to wolf form or to human form—is a natural function for us. If you think about it too much, it will be difficult.” Tate explained, his own stress levels responding to having his hands in Adrian’s fur. “Like breathing. We just do it, right? Naturally. It requires literally no thought. We don’t have this constant internal monologue about how we need to take another breath, right? Our bodies just do it. In fact, when you do think about it, it becomes harder. The shift is a lot like that. Our lungs need oxygen, so we breathe. The shift happens because we need it to. Your body needs to become human, so the shift takes over and does it for you.”
He stroked his hand lower, fingers running between Adrian’s shoulder blades. “The shift isn’t a conscious thing. We don’t think, ‘Okay, now I’m going to have claws.’ It just happens. So try to relax. If you want to stay like this for the night, that’s fine. The moonset will force your shift, like the moonrise did. But if you want your human form right now, you can shift on your own. Just think about being human, relax, and let it happen.”
Adrian was still for a moment. A low, sad whine came from his throat, and Tate couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s harder than it sounds,” he admitted. “But not impossible, I promise.”
Adrian whined again, sharper this time. Tate paused his petting until Adrian nudged his chest with his nose.
“Oh, right. I guess promises from me won’t be worth much to you now,” he said as he resumed his slow massage down Adrian’s back. “But aren’t you glad I lied? Did you want me to tell you it would be the most painful thing you’d ever experienced?”
Adrian growled, short and low.
“Right? Better to have gone into it not expecting it,” Tate said. “Really, though, I’m not lying. Once you get control of your shift, you can do it at will. I mean, I’m human right now, aren’t I? That wouldn’t be possible if I didn’t have control over my shift.”
He felt the pull of the moon, but it was more like a suggestion, not a command. It would take at least a few weeks before Adrian had that kind of control. Most mastered it before their second full moon, but not all wolflings did.
Tate thought about Ryan. He was supposed to be with Tate tonight. With a month of training under his belt, his night should have been easier for him than for his fellow wolflings who were in the throes of their Turn, but with his dicey control, his shift would be as forced as theirs. Who had ended up with him tonight? Probably Harris. Hopefully they were working on the same thing he and Adrian were right now.
Adrian had gone still and closed his eyes, fur bristling and body almost vibrating with how intensely he was straining. Tate didn’t intervene, even though he was certain it wouldn’t work. After a moment, Adrian whined and pawed at his muzzle, obviously distressed by his failure.
“Just take a few deep breaths,” Tate said, pitching his voice a bit lower to try to keep it soothing. “Maybe think about how different that feels in this form. Have you noticed that?”
Adrian probably hadn’t, but Tate knew talking about it would make him focus on it. Noticing the little things would help push Adrian out of his mind a bit and make it easier for his body to follow its instincts and shift.
“Take in some breaths and think about how different that feels in the body you’re in right now. The air doesn’t taste the same, does it? How does it feel when you breathe? Draw a breath in through your nose and fill your lungs. Your chest expands differently in this form than it does when you’re a human. Use that feeling. Remember what it feels like as a human, and on your next big breath in, focus on how you’d expect it to feel if you were a person, not a wolf.”
Tate had to force himself not to stroke Adrian’s fur while he was concentrating. He wanted to bury his hands in the coarse fur again, but Adrian needed to be able to focus on his shift—that meant no extra sensory inputs. So Tate kept his hands to himself and closed his eyes, both to give Adrian a little privacy and also to calm his own heart. Real privacy wasn’t possible with werewolves around, but he did his best to block out the rasp of Adrian’s breathing and any growls or whimpers of pain. Adrian’s mood was still closely tied to his own, and if he showed how anxious he was about Adrian’s shift then Adrian would get agitated himself and managing the shift would be next to impossible.
Years of self-discipline and training had given Tate the ability to slow his heartbeat at will. It was necessary if a werewolf wanted absolute control over his shift, and Tate had wanted that more than anything. Few could shift as quickly or as seamlessly as Tate, but it wasn’t a point of pride for him. It was a necessity. He couldn’t stand the vulnerability of the shift. For as long as it took to transform, a werewolf was helpless. Tate didn’t like being helpless.
“Did it work?”
Tate’s eyes shot open at the sound of Adrian’s voice. Holy shit, he’d managed to shift back to his human form. That was an amazing feat—it required a huge amount of discipline for a new Turn to shift at will on their first moon.
“Goddamn, Adrian, you did it!”
Adrian’s voice was husky and hoarse as he chuckled. “You seem surprised.”
“I’m fucking shocked,” Tate admitted. Adrian deserved to know how monumental what he’d accomplished was. “It’s almost impossible to do that your first time. Looks like you’re a natural.”
Adrian’s face was flushed from the pain of the shift, so Tate couldn’t tell if he was blushing or not, but the sweet curve of his lips and the way he tilted his head slightly made his embarrassment clear.
“I just did what you said. The breathing thing.”
“I give that speech to every wolfling I help through the Turn, and you’re the first one who has ever managed to shift back before sunrise. Really, Adrian, be proud of yourself.”
Adrian gave a pleased chuff and then wrinkled his nose. “Still hurt like a bitch.”
“But it was faster than your first
shift,” Tate pointed out instead of addressing Adrian’s comment about the pain. It would always hurt, but it would become less noticeable when Adrian’s body learned how to work with the shift and not against it. But that wasn’t something they needed to tackle tonight.
Tate felt a guilty flush creep over his own face as he realized he’d been addressing most of his comments to Adrian without looking him in the eye. Adrian was naked and sweaty, and Tate’s own body was responding to his golden, glistening perfection. He needed to get Adrian dressed as soon as possible.
“You probably want a shower,” he said quickly. “The bathroom is stocked with some great unscented soaps. You’re going to want to take it easy on scented things now that your sense of smell is keener.” He couldn’t stop talking. What the hell was wrong with him? Tate never babbled. He was more of an economy of words kind of guy. No unnecessary small talk, no verbal diarrhea like what was spewing out of his mouth right now. “I’ll go get the water started for you.”
He bit down on his tongue to stop himself from adding anything else and scurried out of the room. He took his time fiddling with the hot and cold taps, dawdling in a way he never had before with the dozens of showers he’d started for wolflings in here before…. Those showers had been a hell of a lot less awkward than Adrian’s was going to be, because since the moon hadn’t set yet, Adrian had to be supervised while he took it. He’d done something amazing by controlling his shift so quickly, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t shift back at any moment. At least there would be a shower door between them. A flimsy, see-through door, but a door all the same.
Tate swallowed hard. Hopefully Adrian was in the mood for a scorching hot shower, one that would steam up the glass and obscure his delicious body from Tate’s sight. Not that Tate needed to be able to see him—he’d seen enough of Adrian tonight to give his fantasies plenty of fodder for the next few weeks. He’d just have to be careful not to give his subconscious any more images to work with.
Tate kept his gaze averted as Adrian stumbled into the room and climbed into the shower, but the pornographic moan he let out as soon as the water hit him had Tate jamming a hand in his mouth so he didn’t join in.
He turned the sink on full blast and stuck his head under the icy cold water. There were only a few hours until the moon set, and then he’d be able to get Adrian situated in a cabin far, far away.
Chapter Nine
ADRIAN ached. Every inch of him hurt, from his toes to his hair. He hadn’t realized hair could hurt, but here he was with aching hair.
All he wanted to do was curl up in a soft, warm bed and sleep. The agony of the Turn was behind him—fuzzy, pain-soaked memories that were already growing hazy. He and Tate had spent the rest of the early morning hours playing card games and taking turns reading to each other. He’d wanted to do something different to pass the time, but Tate had gently rebuked his awkward attempt at a kiss, and Adrian had taken the hint.
So when he said every inch of him hurt, well, he wasn’t taking artistic license. The one part of him that hadn’t been hurt by the Turn ached from an unconsummated Turn bond. Sleep hadn’t been a possibility while he’d been strung out on the moon and panting over Tate, but now that it had set, Adrian felt like all his strings had been cut.
He just wanted to sleep.
And unfortunately, until Tate finished his pissing contest with the tiny woman who’d introduced herself as Camp H.O.W.L.’s director after breakfast this morning, there wasn’t anywhere for Adrian to sleep.
“We don’t have a protocol for this,” she said, her voice grating on Adrian’s sensitive hearing.
“I understand that we don’t have a protocol. That’s why I’m suggesting he room with Harris,” Tate said, voice weary. Adrian wanted to reach out and run a hand over Tate’s jaw to see if the stubble that had sprouted there overnight was as prickly as it looked. Tate’s hair was sandy blond, but his beard was coming in speckled with gray. Adrian wanted to lick it.
God, what was wrong with him? He wanted to lick Tate? Adrian groaned and pillowed his head on his arms. The table was sticky and reeked of maple syrup, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t been this sleep drunk since grad school. If he didn’t get into a bed—any bed—soon he was going to cry.
Tate’s insistence that Adrian room with someone else also made him want to cry, but he knew that was the bond talking. Tate had been nothing but kind from the moment they’d walked into the room last night. Adrian’s memories of the Turn were fractured and fuzzy, but all of them were tinged with the warm feeling of safety. Tate had held up his end of the bargain, giving Adrian all the support he needed to get through the Turn and the horror of his first shift. The unconsummated bond thrummed like a sore tooth at the back of Adrian’s consciousness, but he couldn’t fault Tate for that. He’d been honest from the beginning that he didn’t want that kind of bond with Adrian, and Adrian respected that.
Tate’s expression was impassive, but that didn’t fool Adrian. He could hear Tate’s heartrate picking up, and his distress was making Adrian’s instincts go wild. The bond wanted him to protect Tate. Adrian’s nose twitched at the scent Tate was leaking all over the place—tangy and thick. It made Adrian’s eyes water. He’d never actually smelled anxiety before, not with his human nose, but he somehow found himself absolutely positive about what it was. It was odd. Since waking this morning, he had a clarity of focus he’d never experienced before. Scents that had been muddled before were bright and distinct. Sounds that had bothered him during the first stages of the Turn were still present, but he could disengage from them now. Bright light still plagued him, but it was an annoyance, not an ice pick in his brain like it had been. If not for the pitch of Anne Marie’s voice, Adrian might be able to fall asleep right there.
He opened his eyes when the already-fast heartbeat quickened even more, and Adrian realized he’d missed something important in the conversation.
“You can’t be serious.” The words were delivered flatly, but there was an edge to them that made Adrian’s skin prickle.
“It’s the practical solution,” Anne Marie answered, her tone brooking no argument.
“Why are you forcing this?” Tate bit out, the words clipped.
“It’s obvious the bond took,” Anne Marie said, and Adrian lifted his head to watch the two of them face off.
Tate’s jaw clenched so hard Adrian worried his teeth might crack. “We didn’t consummate it.”
Her nose wrinkled. “That much is obvious. Why you denied yourself that is less so, but it’s not my business.”
“Exactly!” Tate threw his hands up. “None of this is your business.”
Anne Marie didn’t say a word, but Adrian could tell Tate had crossed a line. Her expression turned glacial, and Adrian had to suppress a whine.
“He is staying with you. End of discussion.” Her tone made the hair on the back of Adrian’s neck stand up. She was the Alpha, and she’d just laid down the law.
But Tate didn’t back down so much as a fraction of an inch, which was impressive. Adrian wanted to obey and he wasn’t even in her Pack. That had to mean Tate wasn’t either. If he was, he’d be bowing his head right now, not holding her gaze.
A frisson of fear ran through Adrian. Unfinished bond or not, his body was reacting like his mate was being threatened. He reached out, suddenly desperate for contact, and put a hand on Tate’s arm, his thumb grazing over the soft skin of his inner elbow.
Tate blew out a harsh breath but didn’t shake him off. He looked down at Adrian, his expression morphing from anger to concern. Tate sank back down onto the bench and put an arm around Adrian’s shaking shoulders. Adrian leaned into him, his lips tingling as they brushed against Tate’s jaw. Did that count as a lick? he wondered, hysterical laughter bubbling up.
“Shit. It’s okay, Adrian. You’re just coming down from the adrenaline of the Turn.”
“Which is why he’ll do best with you,” Anne Marie said. “You’ve clearly got a strong bond. Being ap
art will only make things worse for him.”
Adrian was not in favor of any plan that made things worse. “Please,” he muttered against Tate’s neck. He felt rather than heard Tate’s sigh.
“Of course,” Tate said, like he hadn’t just been willing to go toe-to-toe with an Alpha to prevent it.
Relief crashed through Adrian. A bed. He finally had a bed, and now he could go to sleep. He struggled to his feet, unsteady but determined. Heat flashed up his spine and his skin erupted in pinpricks of pain. His senses exploded, and suddenly the sticky-sweet scent of the syrup on the table made him gag.
The room swam, and Adrian saw the table rushing up to meet him.
Chapter Ten
“YES, I can see how well you did keeping the bond platonic,” Anne Marie said, her tone laced with amusement.
Tate glared at her from his place on the floor, where he was cradling Adrian’s head in his lap. Adrian had scared the living shit out of him when he’d started to shift and passed out. He couldn’t be held responsible for things he’d said in the heat of the moment—like calling Adrian baby. He’d never live that down. Luckily Adrian hadn’t heard him. Unfortunately, Anne Marie had.
“Of course you’d find this funny,” Tate snapped. He took the blanket Diann had run to the infirmary to grab and draped it around Adrian’s prone body. Adrian had started shivering before he’d fainted, and even though Diann had sworn he was fine after they’d called her to examine him, Tate didn’t fully believe her. The logical side of him knew Adrian’s shivers were a side effect of the hormone and adrenaline drop and not an actual chill, but he still felt better wrapping him up.
“I don’t find the situation funny,” Anne Marie said sharply. “It’s your complete inability to accept it that is mildly amusing.”
“Every part of this is serious,” Diann broke in, looking at both of them with disapproval. “Anne Marie, would you mind giving us some privacy?”