by Bru Baker
Kenya reached out and stilled his hand, stopping him from ripping the thread out of the borrowed shirt. He dropped it guiltily.
“There is no normal,” she said, her voice oozing patience. Instead of soothing him like it was probably supposed to, it set Adrian’s nerves on edge. He didn’t want to be coddled or pandered to. He was here to learn control so he could get back to his life, not to have his hand held through any emotional blip.
“But most people feel it, right?”
“Adrian, there’s no right way to be a werewolf. Maybe you won’t ever connect on a deeper level with your Pack. Maybe you will, but only after you return home and have a chance to bond with them as a werewolf. Maybe—”
She cut herself off with a shake of her head, and Adrian leaned in. “Maybe what?”
“It’s unlikely, and I don’t want to freak you out.”
There was literally no chance of that, not with the lead-in she’d given it. “Just tell me.”
Kenya sighed. “I’ve read that werewolves who are moonmated have muted Pack ties because their bond with their mate is so strong.” She shook her head again. “But it could be anything. Just go easy on yourself, Adrian. The truth is we don’t know what’s normal for you. Diann said physiologically and control-wise you’re further along in your Turn than the other wolflings in your cohort. Maybe this is different too.”
“If that was the case, wouldn’t I have formed my attachment to my Pack earlier rather than later? If I’m on some sort of accelerated path?”
“I don’t know.”
Adrian wanted to be mad at her for the cop-out answer, but she was clearly frustrated by it too. It wasn’t fair to blame her for not having answers—she was just as out of her depth here as he was.
“I’m sorry for badgering you. I’m just a little on edge, and I hate feeling so out of control.”
“I can’t even imagine. You’re doing so well. I have no doubt that by the next full moon, you’ll be in control and ready to go back to your life.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “And that isn’t me blowing smoke up your ass, okay, Adrian? I mean it. And for me to be so certain, despite everything we don’t know? It means I have complete confidence in you. You’ve got this.”
Adrian swallowed past the lump in his throat and blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the tears that had welled there unexpectedly. “Thanks.” A tear escaped, and he dashed it away with the back of his hand. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
Kenya rubbed his back. “Hormones,” she said wryly. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’re as level-headed as you’ve been. Look around.” She removed her hand from his back and gestured toward the emptying mess hall. “These wolflings are a hot mess, and unfortunately, you’re one of them. Don’t feel bad about the tears. It’s part of the process.”
He blew out a quavering breath. “Stupid process.”
“The stupidest,” she agreed solemnly. “Just one more bit of advice. Don’t let Tate shut you out. That man has a head as hard as granite, and it’s going to take someone who’s every bit as stubborn as he is to get through it.”
“FIND a seat, everyone, so we can started,” Tate called out from the front of the small stadium-style lecture hall. There were only fifteen kids in the room, but it was so loud there could have been twice as many. Remembering the way he’d teased Tate earlier, Adrian took a seat in the middle of the first row, almost directly in front of the desk Tate was sitting on.
It took a few more minutes before everyone was seated and quiet, and Adrian took advantage of the time to look around. All the buildings looked pretty rustic from the outside, but the inside of every one he’d been in was state of the art. It was obvious that no expense had been spared in the camp’s construction and upkeep, which made him wonder exactly how much this stay was costing him. He’d blindly signed anything they’d put in front of him when he’d arrived, exhausted from the trip and fully aware he didn’t have a lot of room for negotiation. That had seemed reasonable at the time, but in the light of day, he could see that might have been a mistake. Odds were good that a night here cost more than a night at the Four Seasons.
Tate clapped his hands, and Adrian winced at the sharp sound, regretting his seat choice. Would his hearing always be this sensitive? How did people deal with that?
“Now that we’re all ready to pay attention,” Tate said, standing and leveling the class with a solemn look, “let’s get started. I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today—”
“Social media?” a girl from a few rows behind Adrian said, her tone confused. “It’s on the syllabus.”
Adrian’s lips quirked into a grin when he saw Tate stifle a groan. He met Adrian’s eyes for a split second, and a chill went down Adrian’s spine at the playful annoyance in his gaze. Poor Tate. It must be hard to be surrounded by teenagers all the time.
“Well, that joke went over like a lead balloon,” Tate said, shaking his head. “Yes, Brittany, we’re talking about social media today.”
Adrian turned to look up at the back row when someone scoffed loudly. “What can an old guy like you teach us about social media?”
It was pretty close to what Adrian had asked earlier, but with a knife-edge of irritation and scorn instead of playfulness. The kid was clearly trying to cause a scene, but Tate didn’t take the bait. Adrian did, though. He could feel his skin start to tighten, and he tamped down on it as hard as he could, silently begging his body not to shift.
“Well, Ryan, I’m so glad you asked!” Tate said cheerfully, as if Ryan’s question hadn’t been dripping with condescension. Tate’s easy manner made it easier for Adrian to breathe through his own annoyance, and after a moment the itchy-hot feeling subsided.
“I’m sure everyone in this room is well-versed in how to use social media, but it’s my job to make sure you are using it responsibly,” Tate continued.
“Who made you the dick pic police?” Ryan jeered, and this time Adrian didn’t turn around. He kept his gaze trained on Tate, who aside from stiffening a little didn’t outwardly react to the taunt.
“Honestly, I’m not interested in policing who you share intimate photos with,” Tate said, unruffled by Ryan’s disrespect. It was probably a daily occurrence around here, Adrian realized. How the hell did Tate do this every day? Adrian had spent a grand total of less than an hour out and about with these kids, and he was ready to kill them all. And he wasn’t even in charge of them—he was just a bystander! Adrian couldn’t imagine putting up with this kind of irritation every day.
“That is,” Tate continued, “unless those photos in any way compromise the safety of werewolfdom. And even in that event, I’m not the one you have to be worried about. Your Alpha is bound by werewolf law to turn anyone who flaunts our rules and risks exposure, literally or figuratively, over to their local Tribunal.” Tate arched a brow as he lifted his face to look in Ryan’s direction. “I don’t have firsthand experience with that, but from what I’ve heard it’s not pleasant. And that’s if your own Alpha doesn’t kill you instead of handing you over for trial.”
The snickering and whispers that had filled the room quieted as Tate spoke, his voice measured but firm. Adrian doubted any of these kids had witnessed a trial or punishment, but he had. In addition to being the Alpha of the Pacific Northwest, his mother also sat on the West Coast Werewolf Tribunal. Adrian was well aware of the fate rogue werewolves met, and it wasn’t something he’d wish on anyone.
“That goes for any exposure,” Tate said. He let the words hang for a moment before continuing. “Even accidental. So let’s say you take a selfie at a Pack run on the full moon because your eyebrows are on fleek, or whatever the cool wolflings are saying these days, but in doing so you accidentally capture your cousin shifting in the background. That photo will land you in the same cell as a werewolf who posted a Vine of himself cleaning his claws with a cheese knife.”
The class laughed, but Tate shook his head. “Both of those are true sto
ries. You can read about the cases for tonight’s homework.” He handed a stack of spiral-bound books to the girl who’d taken the seat next to Adrian, and she started passing them out amid groans and growls from the class. “I want you to read the first four cases and be prepared to talk about them in class tomorrow. We’ll be using this time for the rest of the week to talk about social media and how you can use it responsibly.”
Tate’s head shot up, and his gaze zeroed in on Ryan. “Like I said, Ryan, it isn’t your penis that concerns me. It’s your claws and your fur,” Tate deadpanned, responding to whatever Ryan had whispered to the person sitting next to him. “Or rather, to put it in words you’d understand, I give no shits about your dick, dude. If sending pictures of your schlong to other people is what puts lead in your pencil, that’s really none of my business. As long as it’s your wang and not your wolf, you won’t have problems with the Tribunal.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “Now, your Alpha is another story. I doubt your dad would be thrilled to know his son is sowing his virtual oats like that, but that’s between you two.”
The class erupted into raucous laughter, and Adrian could practically feel Ryan’s glower from five rows away. He was surprised to hear Tate needle the boy, but he had to defer to Tate being the expert here. Obviously he felt that was the way to get through to Ryan. Adrian hoped he was right. If he wasn’t mistaken, Ryan was the son of a prominent Alpha. They could make a lot of trouble for Tate if they wanted to.
Tate spent another twenty minutes talking about the different social media platforms and giving a brief overview of how each presented a unique challenge for exposure. It wasn’t a subject that interested him in the least, but Adrian absorbed it all, enjoying the chance to sit back and stare unabashedly at Tate.
“We’re going to split up into small groups to talk about how you’ll approach using social media differently now. Go ahead and choose your own. We won’t be reporting back to the class on this, so feel free to take your discussions onto the grounds.”
The class broke up immediately, and Adrian hesitated. Should he go find a group to attach himself to? It wasn’t like he was dumb enough to get himself into trouble online. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Tate he wasn’t much for social media. He was on Facebook and Twitter and he had a Snapchat he only used to talk with a few close friends and his siblings.
And Grindr. But it wasn’t like he was going to be putting up a profile picture of himself wolfed out or include his new penchant for rare steaks and moonlit strolls on all fours in his bio. Grindr was good for scratching a very specific itch, and it wasn’t one that involved giving any details away other than a few photos that were skimming the lines of decency—though not the dick pics Tate had teased Ryan about earlier.
“Adrian, hang back, yeah?”
Tate’s soft words had Adrian breathing a sigh of relief. He wondered if Tate actually wanted to talk to him or if he was just saving him from what promised to be an excruciating group conversation.
“I promise most of the things we’ll do here will actually be beneficial,” he said, his tone apologetic. “There’s one large group session in the morning—Tribunal rules and werewolf politics, stuff you probably know backward and forward, given who your mom is—and the session I teach in the afternoon about werewolfing in the community. We’re doing social media this week, but we’ll move on to other exposure risks soon.”
A thrill went through Adrian at the knowledge that he’d have this afternoon slot with Tate every day. It didn’t matter what he talked about; Adrian just enjoyed sitting there and getting to drink him in.
“Please tell me Werewolfing in the Community is the official title on the syllabus that girl was talking about.”
Tate flashed a toothy grin. “Brittany. She’s a real stickler for the rules. There isn’t a syllabus. It’s more of a guidebook that lays things out for the month.” He frowned. “Normally you’d have gotten one at orientation.”
“But my entrance to camp was unconventional,” Adrian finished for him, rolling his eyes. “No one’s going to blame you for not giving me the welcome speech and the tour, Tate.”
Tate flashed him an apologetic smile. “Your next class today is a small group session working on relaxation and focus with Quinn. She’s great. I sit in every once in a while for a refresher because she’s so good at guided meditation.”
“It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”
Except he did. He’d already missed a day of meetings and planning sessions back in Portland, and assuming everything went perfectly, he could still expect to miss at least a full month of work. He’d taken Tate’s advice this morning and cleared his schedule indefinitely, but it wasn’t like he could turn off his brain by moving some meetings around. Not to mention his frustration with the way Tate seemed to run hot and cold. Meditation sounded like a pretty good idea.
“It’s weird, having so much energy but also being exhausted.”
Tate hummed sympathetically. “That’s normal. It’s also why we recommend campers attend both the morning and evening workout sessions.” He sized Adrian up with a curious look. “It’s SoulCycle tonight, but if that’s not your thing, Harris and I usually go for a run around dusk. You’re welcome to join us if you’d rather work off some of that energy in the woods.”
That brought all kinds of dirty images to Adrian’s mind, and he shook them aside. “I’d like that. Assuming my clothes get here today,” he said, looking down at his makeshift outfit.
Tate laughed, deep and loud. “Ah, actually, you won’t need clothes. We shift and run as wolves. It’s isolated enough here that as long as we stay on the property, we’re safe, but going at dusk gives us an extra bit of protection from prying eyes.”
Adrian flushed. Of course they’d run as wolves.
“Hey, this is a big change for you,” Tate said, resting a hand on Adrian’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “For the last eight years you’ve been living as a hundred percent human. Why would it occur to you that we’d shift? But don’t worry. You’ll integrate just fine. You just have to give yourself time.”
Adrian swallowed past the lump in his throat. Yet again, his emotions were getting the best of him.
“Right.” Unlike earlier, he managed to get control of himself before the actual tears started. He cleared his throat. “I do have one question, though.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Is werewolfdom really a word?”
Tate barked out a laugh. “This from the man who asked about Google+?”
Adrian grinned. “Google+ is a thing. Werewolfdom? Not a thing.”
“What would you suggest I say? Werewolfkind?”
Adrian’s mother often said wolfdom, but Adrian didn’t like emphasizing the wolf part of their biology. It might be a throwback to his own insecurities over not manifesting the Turn when he’d become nineteen, but whatever the reason, his aversion to calling his kind wolves in any incarnation was strongly ingrained.
“Why not just call us werewolves? That’s what most people say.”
Tate clucked his tongue. “Because I’m trying to impart a sense of responsibility to the larger community. Yes, we’re werewolves individually, but we’re part of something bigger. Like humans being part of humankind. We’re werewolves and we’re part of werewolfdom.”
Adrian pursed his lips, considering. Put like that, it sounded reasonable. “I’ll accept werewolfdom, then.”
“Well, as long as you approve,” Tate said, bowing at the waist. He checked his watch. “I’ve got some time before I need to be anywhere. Want to walk over to Quinn’s studio with me? I’ll introduce you. Maybe I’ll sit in for a few minutes. My head could use some clearing too.”
Adrian had absolutely no chance of meditating with Tate near him, but he’d rather spend time with him than achieve inner Zen anyway.
“Sounds good. Lead the way!”
Chapter Fourteen
Two weeks later
EVEN though he was
surrounded by people, Tate had spent years living alone. He’d put in his time monitoring the campers’ cabins when he’d started at Camp H.O.W.L., but that was behind him. Now someone else was the low man on the totem pole and was stuck living with an ever-revolving cast of teenage boys.
Tate liked his quiet, and he liked knowing he could do what he wanted and not worry about anyone else. He’d grown up sleeping in a dormitory along with the other boys under the age of nineteen on his father’s compound, and that had meant no privacy.
Worse than no privacy, it had meant there were half a dozen spies with eyes on him at all times. If he borrowed a book from the bookmobile the library sent out from time to time, his father knew about it within the hour. He’d had to resort to making himself a nest in the hayloft, hiding there when he needed to escape or wanted a moment to himself to think or read.
He’d expected living with Adrian to be difficult, but it wasn’t. And that upset him more than the thought of sharing space with someone who inconvenienced him. Adrian didn’t inconvenience him. Not in the least. Tate liked having him there. They’d been living in each other’s pockets for two weeks, and by all rights Tate should be climbing the walls—but he wasn’t. He looked forward to coming back to the cabin and having someone there to talk to. The way their scents had mingled in the shared spaces was maddening, but also comforting. For the first time he could remember, the cabin felt cozy and welcoming.
They were on the same page almost across the board—when they liked to eat, what they did in their free time, balancing quiet time with time spent hanging out. Adrian had slipped into Tate’s daily routine seamlessly. He was the ideal roommate, which should have been a good thing.
It wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Because along with the inside jokes and comfortable companionship came smoldering looks and flirty banter that made Tate’s inner wolf sing—and the rest of him shy away.
“Tell me again how it annoys you that he puts the cap back on the toothpaste,” Kenya drawled, and Tate scowled at her from his place on the floor.