Camp H.O.W.L.

by Bru Baker

  Adrian melted against him and Tate sank into the kiss, his world narrowing to the feel of Adrian’s full lips and the heat of Adrian’s naked chest against his with only Tate’s thin cotton T-shirt between them. The cashmere blanket dropped to the floor with a whispery sound when Adrian wrapped his arms around Tate’s shoulders and pulled him even closer, their bodies touching from mouth to thigh.

  Tate wasn’t a monk by any means, but he wasn’t out prowling the bars every weekend, either. To say he was in a dry spell would be charitable, given that Tate couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in this position. His entire body felt electrified, and the world narrowed to the feel of Adrian’s body against his. Forget his dry spell—he’d never felt like this before period. Full fucking stop. His brain couldn’t even come up with the words to explain how different a simple kiss from Adrian felt.

  Tate nudged his thigh between Adrian’s legs, a thrill running up his spine at how the move brought them even closer. The need to eliminate any barrier between them thrummed like a wild thing in the back of Tate’s mind, and when Adrian shifted his hips and curved his leg around Tate’s calf, the dull roar of lust and need drowned out Tate’s thoughts.

  For a few precious seconds, nothing existed except the two of them. Their breathing synced, and the heartbeat thundering against Tate’s chest matched up with his own racing pulse. They were one, joined at the lips and wrapped around each other like vines.

  And then Tate felt a wave of anxiety that wasn’t his crash over him, dripping icy fingers of fear through his arousal, making his breath stutter. A moment later, Adrian’s nails scored Tate’s shoulders where he’d been clutching him.

  Adrian stumbled backward, and Tate tried to follow, desperate to maintain their link, only to stop dead when he saw the blind fear in Adrian’s eyes as he looked down at his own hands, which had started to shift. Adrian’s expression was wild, and he looked like he was about to bolt.

  “Whoa, hey,” Tate said, catching Adrian by the wrists. “Hey. Breathe. Don’t fight it. Shift if you need to.”

  “Don’t want to,” Adrian bit out past clenched teeth that were lengthening into fangs.

  “Okay then,” Tate said, doing his best to bring his own heartrate down so Adrian might follow suit. “Close your eyes. Find three sounds to focus on. Got ’em?”

  Adrian nodded tightly.

  “Now find two smells you can identify.”

  Adrian drew in a deep breath, and Tate breathed with him. The sour tang of Adrian’s fear still saturated the air, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been moments ago.

  “Good. Now open your eyes and find one thing to look at.”

  Adrian’s eyes blinked open and he stared at Tate’s face, his gaze downcast. It took Tate a second to realize he was staring at Tate’s lips. He wondered if they were as kiss-swollen as Adrian’s were. He shook off the thought and focused on Adrian’s slowing heartbeat. His claws and fangs were receding, but he still looked strung out and upset.

  “You did so well,” Tate crooned, talking to him like he would a wolfling during the Turn. “So well. You pulled it back and didn’t shift.”

  Adrian tugged his arms out of Tate’s loose grasp and frowned. “But I almost did.”

  “And if you had, there would be nothing wrong with it. That’s why you’re here, Adrian. To gain control over your shift. It’s natural to feel the urge to shift when you’re experiencing a strong emotion.”

  Adrian scoffed. “Wanting to fuck your brains out is a ‘strong emotion’ now, is it?”

  A fresh wave of arousal swept down Tate’s spine at Adrian’s words. Even through the sarcasm, he could feel the truth in them. And he wanted the same. But now wasn’t the time. Hell, he wasn’t sure if there would ever be a time.

  “Sure is,” he said easily. “But I’m glad we stopped. We’re going slow, remember?”

  “Glacially slow,” Adrian muttered.

  Tate was relieved to see Adrian’s sass returning. “Let’s get you back to bed, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  ADRIAN hesitated outside Harris’s office door, debating whether or not to knock. He could call home and talk to one of his brothers about this. Or he could even swallow his pride and talk to Kenya. He flashed back to his cringe-worthy sex-ed class and shook his head. No, he needed to talk to a guy for this, and Harris was the only one he knew aside from Blake—the yoga instructor—and Tate.

  He took a breath and rapped on the doorframe, opening the levered handle when he heard Harris invite him in.

  “Adrian, hey,” Harris said, clearly surprised by the visit. “Are you looking for Tate? His office—”

  “Is on the other side of camp, I know,” Adrian said. “Actually, I was looking for you. I was wondering if you had some time to talk.”

  Harris closed the folder he’d been studying and sat up, pinning Adrian with a curious gaze. “I was just catching up on my daily reports.”

  “If I’m interrupting, I can go,” Adrian said quickly. The bravado he’d used to get himself through the door was fading, and only embarrassment and shame were left in its wake.

  “Not at all. If anything you’re saving me from mind-numbing boredom.” Harris’s smile seemed genuine, and Adrian relaxed a tiny bit. “Come on in and shut the door behind you. Whatever’s on your mind looks like a conversation best had in private.”

  Adrian usually had a fairly good poker face, so the fact that Harris could see through his smile either meant Harris was really good at his job or Adrian was slipping. Maybe both.

  “Have you talked to Tate today?” he asked without preamble. In the time he’d been at the camp, he hadn’t seen Tate spend time with anyone outside of official business, aside from Kenya and Diann. Everyone was cordial to him, but Tate didn’t seem to have many friends among the staff.

  Harris’s brows furrowed. “Today? No. We have an all-staff meeting on Thursdays, so I’ll see him tomorrow. Is there a problem? Are you not getting along? He can be a lot to take sometimes, but he’s a good guy. Secretive as hell and quiet, but a good guy.”

  Adrian had experienced the secretive part, but not the quiet. Distressed as he was, it made him feel warm inside to know Tate felt comfortable talking with him.

  Adrian blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yes, but I’m the problem, not him.” He scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable and not sure where to start. It was probably better to just go for it. “We were, uh, getting intimate—” He raised his gaze from the carpet to Harris’s face, but he didn’t see any judgment there. It gave him the courage to continue. “—and things were getting, uh, involved, when all of the sudden….”

  He trailed off, too mortified to continue. But luckily he didn’t have to. Harris made a sympathetic noise and nodded.

  “You lost control and shifted.” He just shrugged when Adrian made a strangled sound of agreement. “It happens. You may be an adult, Adrian, but in wolfling terms, you’re a baby. A fresh Turn. From what I’ve heard, you’ve been working your ass off in your classes and taking all the sessions seriously. But it doesn’t happen overnight. You’re doing all the right things. You just have to give it time.”

  Adrian was getting sick of that refrain. He understood, but it was still frustrating not to be in control of himself no matter how hard he worked at it.

  “But is it normal to shift then? I mean, I’ve had it happen when something startled me or when I get angry, but during sex? Really?”

  Harris grinned. “Any strong emotion can trigger a shift before you have control. Mad props on that, by the way. Tate’s been happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

  “Thanks,” he said, flushing.

  “So I can’t imagine Tate didn’t tell you shifting was normal, so why are you here? Did you want a second opinion?”

  Adrian looked away.

  “Cut yourself some slack, Adrian. There are going to be fuckups.”

  His bluntness surprised a laugh out
of Adrian. “Is that the advice you give all the wolflings?”

  Harris snorted. “With different language? Yes. But I figured you’d appreciate it if I just cut to the chase.”

  Adrian felt lighter than he had since he’d bolted from Tate’s cabin. “I do.”

  “Good.” Harris checked his watch. “If you’re not ready to go face Tate yet, Blake’s got a class soon you might enjoy.”

  He wasn’t, and Adrian was grateful Harris saw that and gave him an out. He just wished it wasn’t Blake’s morning yoga class.

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to use the word enjoy,” Adrian said, wrinkling his nose. “He has us chant through some of the positions, which is weird. But it would be good to work off some of this energy. I feel like I’m amped up to an eleven all the time now.”

  “Ah, to be young again,” Harris said with mock wistfulness.

  “I’m older than you,” Adrian said flatly.

  “Doesn’t count,” Harris said. “You’re a new Turn. A mere tot. A babe in the woods.”

  “I’m closer to AARP than those woods,” Adrian said, shaking his head. “Thanks for talking me down.”

  Harris waved him off. “I didn’t do anything. You just needed someone to listen. I’m here anytime you need to talk. Unless it’s about hot sex with Tate, because there are some things better left to the imagination.”

  Adrian’s imagination had been experiencing it on overdrive all morning, remembering how a simple kiss had brought all his nerve endings alive and sent him up in flames.

  “No worries on that front,” he said as he headed out the door. “Old fogies like me don’t kiss and tell like you young ’uns.”

  ADRIAN wanted go see Tate as soon as yoga class was over, but he was soaked with sweat after an hour in Blake’s overheated studio. Hot yoga was torture in any setting, but in a studio that overlooked a serene pond filled with clear, cold water? Brutal.

  The poses and heat had taken him out of his own head for a bit, though, which had been the entire point. He didn’t believe in the crap Blake spewed about sweating out his negative energies, but he’d definitely achieved more inner peace while struggling not to let his sweaty feet slip off his mat during downward dog.

  Adrian grimaced as his T-shirt shifted, the wet fabric sticking to his back. New plan. Head back to the cabin to shower and change, and then he could find Tate. Heat flared up his spine—in a good way, this time—as he thought about resuming where they’d left off the night before. Now that he knew arousal could spark the shift, he could be on guard for it and control it, like he’d dialed back his shift at the end of yoga when Blake rang a gong unexpectedly. Half the class had ended up furry after that, which had been the point.

  Everything about the camp and classes was structured to teach wolflings control and then press them into stressful or surprising situations to test them. In hindsight, Adrian was pretty sure that was why there was such a lenient policy about wolflings sneaking out of their cabins to hook up after hours—better to have an unintended shift during sex here than with a human later.

  Adrian’s skin went cold under his sweat-soaked shirt at the thought of being in that situation with a stranger. Not the unexpected shifting, but the sex. He’d known Tate for all of two weeks, and he couldn’t see a future with anyone but him. That was far more terrifying than the possibility of growing claws and fangs every time he popped a boner. How would a relationship with Tate work? Tate’s prickliness was actually the least of their problems. They practically lived on opposite sides of the country. Adrian was part of a Pack, and Tate was Packless—and militantly so. Adrian couldn’t see Tate joining his mother’s Pack, but even worse, he couldn’t see himself joining it without Tate. It was a mess.

  He rolled his shoulders, relishing the burn of overused muscles. He’d take a hot shower, grab something to eat, and hopefully somewhere along the way he’d find the balls to go have a frank discussion with Tate about this moonmate bond. Tate knew a lot more about werewolves than he did, so maybe Tate could shed some light on it. Adrian only knew the basics, and even that was from gossip and family stories that had been passed down. Moonmates hadn’t been included in the werewolf sex-ed class he’d taken as a teenager.

  Though come to think of it, neither had shifting during foreplay. Or at least he didn’t think it had. Like most of his teenage experiences, the class was blessedly a blur.

  Adrian stripped off his shirt in the living room and hop-stepped out of his pants the minute he was behind closed doors in his bedroom. The clammy feel of drying sweat always made him feel disgusting.

  He opened the door to the bathroom and stopped short, stunned at the sight of Tate standing at the sink wrapped in only a towel.

  “Oh my God,” Adrian yelped. He hadn’t bothered to knock because he thought Tate would be wrapped up in therapy sessions until later. “I’m so sorry.”

  He backed out of the room and shut the door, his face flaming hot and his pulse racing. He hadn’t seen anything indecent—or at least, it shouldn’t have been indecent. But this was Tate, and any glimpse of skin was enough to send Adrian into hyperdrive. And seeing Tate naked while only in boxers himself? Not an ideal situation.

  A second later the door flew open, and Tate hurried into the room. “Are you all right? Did you need something?”

  Adrian kept his gaze on the wall over Tate’s shoulder. “Other than for you to put on some clothes?”

  Tate laughed. “I don’t mind you seeing me like this.”

  “I don’t mind either—that’s the issue,” Adrian said, his voice strangled.

  Tate came closer until Adrian could look him in the eye without getting an eyeful of smooth skin pebbled with water.

  “Hey,” he said, reaching out and taking both of Adrian’s hands in his. “Last night? That was a totally normal reaction.”

  Adrian swallowed and looked away. “I know that now,” he said sheepishly. “But I freaked out, and I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t mess up, Adrian. You were confused and startled by your shift. You have nothing to apologize for. But the fact that you did? That’s huge for me, Adrian. I don’t have a lot of people in my life who would do that.”

  Guilt roiled through Adrian’s gut. Tate forgiving him so easily only made him feel worse. “I was embarrassed,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s kind of mortifying to be the guy who sprouts fangs and a tail when things start to get interesting with their moonmate.”

  Tate didn’t immediately recoil from the word, which gave Adrian hope. “Better that it happen with your moonmate than someone else,” he said, his voice roughening. “Better that it be me than anyone else.”

  Adrian suddenly felt shy. They’d been dancing around each other for weeks, and he felt more connected to Tate than he’d ever felt to anyone, so it didn’t make sense for his stomach to suddenly be full of butterflies at hearing the word moonmate fall from Tate’s lips. A lot about the situation they were in didn’t make any sense, though. “I’d be happier if it didn’t happen at all, but I’m glad it was with you too.”

  Adrian tilted his head and went in for a kiss, ready to pick up where they’d left off last night, but Tate backed up and dropped Adrian’s hands. Disappointment stuttered through Adrian. He’d thought they were finally getting somewhere.

  “I need to talk to you before we go any further. If you’re my moonmate, there are things you need to know about me and my family.”

  “I don’t need to know anything else about your family. You cut all ties with them, Tate. They aren’t part of you anymore.”

  Tate shook his head. “They’ll always be a part of me, whether I want them to be or not. And if we’re together, they’ll be part of you too. How do you think your Alpha will react when she finds out who I am?”

  Anger erased the hurt and rejection that had settled heavy in Adrian’s chest. Even though he’d had the same thought earlier, he bristled at the slam. He might not feel a connection to them, but they were his Pack. And e
ven if that changed, they were his family. They wouldn’t turn their back on him. “My mother will be happy I’ve found my moonmate. It won’t matter to her what your history is.”

  Tate’s eyes were clear and his expression unruffled when he answered. “Your Alpha,” he said, stressing the word, “sits on the Werewolf Tribunal. The organization that has gone on record as saying my father’s Pack needs to be investigated for the way it chooses to live. You really think she’s going to welcome that Alpha’s son into her family?”

  “You renounced your Pack. You even changed your name!”

  Tate nodded again, and Adrian found his calmness infuriating. “And when she asks me to tell the Tribunal where my father’s compound is and I refuse, what then?”

  Adrian’s fury deflated. He wanted to be able to say she’d never put Tate in that position, but he knew that was a lie. His mother took her position on the Tribunal seriously, and Tate’s former Pack was a big issue. She absolutely would put him on the spot, and she’d refuse to take no for an answer.

  “See? It’s not just who my family is, either. I’m Packless, Adrian. There’s a huge stigma against werewolves like me.”

  “But you wouldn’t have to be Packless anymore.” Adrian regretted the words as soon as he’d blurted them out. Tate’s expression hardened.

  “I have no interest in joining a Pack. Any Pack.” Tate frowned. “Even yours.”

  Adrian had suspected as much, but it was still hard to hear. “Fair enough.”

  The lines around Tate’s mouth softened. “That’s going to be a problem for your mother too. Being with me is going to cause a lot of problems for you, Adrian. And not just because of that,” he said in a rush when Adrian opened his mouth to respond. “There are things you don’t know about my Pack. Things I’ve never trusted anyone enough to talk about.” Tate looked down at himself and grimaced. “I’m not having this conversation in a towel.”

  Given what they’d already discussed while the towel wasn’t an issue, that didn’t bode well for Adrian. The dread that had been growing in his stomach multiplied. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”