The Jason guy licked his lips, gave him a scary damned smile. "Biology. You?"
"Education."
That got him another smile -- one that made his balls pull up. "Oh? You a little teacher wannabe? That's just delicious."
He nodded, eating a green bean. "Yeah. I like kids a lot, like teaching. You going to do research?"
Jason laughed and nodded. "Yep. I study canine habitats, social behaviors, that sort of thing. You like dogs, Keith?"
"I guess." He shrugged. "I mean, who doesn't like dogs?"
"Exactly." Jason leaned back, watching him. "I mean, they run in packs, have stable family-type units with an alpha. Simple rules, basic rules. Real rules."
Keith nodded. "And they make cute puppies and catch Frisbees."
His date made the oddest sound -- low and rumbling and unhappy, it was almost a growl, almost animalistic.
"You... you okay?"
"Yeah. Something in my throat." Those eyes flashed again and Keith looked behind him, looked out the window, wondering if something were out there shining in. Maybe neon lights or something.
"You looking for someone?"
"No. Some light's hitting your eyes, making them glow funny. I was trying to figure out what it was." Keith felt his blush deepen, gave Jason a sheepish grin. "Sorry. It makes you look sort of creepy."
The wolfish grin widened. "No problem at all. So, you want to go get something to drink, maybe do some dancing?"
No way. Not a chance. Gag. Ick. Blech-o. "I can't, I'm sorry. I have to work in the morning. 6 a.m. shift."
"Oh, that's too bad. I'd like to spend some more time with you tonight. You never know what's going to happen, yeah?"
ëCause I'd be devastated if you found someone else to grin at. Christ. "Yeah, but work's work, you know?"
They finished their dinners, splitting the check. Keith got up and shook Jason's hand, Jason's really big, really strong, really long-nailed hand. "Nice to meet you, Jason. Maybe we can get together sometime, yeah?"
His hand was squeezed tight, almost hurting. "Yeah. See you."
Keith walked out of the restaurant, heading for the campus at a fair clip. No more blind fucking dates for him. None. Christ.
He heard the growling as he passed 18th Street, low and rumbling. He turned to see a dark figure following him, eyes shining in the lamplight.
Oh. Oh, fuck. Panic flared in him deep and he started running, legs pumping as he headed for the library. For lights. For safety. For anything.
A heavy weight landed on his back and he screamed, falling into the circle of the streetlights. Something sharp and hot pierced his shoulder, piercing deep, burning him.
Biting him.
Biting him.
Oh, fuck. Fuck, no.
The next few seconds where wild, insane, filled with lights and sounds and shots and screams and when the world righted itself? He was shaking, sitting on the sidewalk, blood pouring over his arm and Jason was in handcuffs, snarling at him.
"You relax, son. We got him. The paramedics are on their way." The lady cop was petting him, avoiding the blood. "You're lucky. He's a strong one. He's in custody now, though. You're okay. You're going to be okay."
He blinked up. "I saw a dog."
"Yeah? Well, I didn't, but he was already on you and you were screaming when I came out of the car. We'll look for your dog. Later. Now, just sit tight." She looked over at her partner. "That EMS team coming?"
"Yeah. Hold on, kid. You're okay."
Jason snarled low. "No. No, you're not. You're a dead man. You just don't know it."
"Christ, don't let him bleed on you, Mike. He might be sick." The pretty little lady cop looked back over at him, but she didn't pet him anymore.
He nodded, closing his eyes as he slumped to the ground. Going to be okay.
~Chapter Two~
The hunt went poorly. Why they had to give him, of all of them, a passel of young ones to fend for, Seamus would never know. Lord knew the elders would never tell him straight. They spoke in fucking riddles.
One way or the other, he had a lot of mouths to feed, and he had to do it soon, before they started disturbing the fucking neighbors, so Seamus locked the little furry monsters in and headed out, and he was having no damned luck at all.
This one was too skinny, and that one would be missed. He was far enough from home that getting a good meal back might get him noticed, and his fucking feet hurt. Always put him in a foul mood, and this was no exception.
So maybe it was some kind of fate that he heard the sounds coming from the alley he had just passed. Normally he would have ignored the sounds of flesh striking flesh, the noises that came with a pack of drunken men, but there was another sound underneath, a desperate whining growl, layered over a scent he would know anywhere, at any time, and Seamus couldn't pass by.
He hit the alley at a run, taking in the situation at a glance. Five men, backing one like him into a corner, broken beer bottles and pocketknives in hands. The young one, for he was very young indeed, was halfway to the change, but fear and pain had him confused, if nothing else, and he didn't know how to fight back.
Seamus had no such difficulties. Like a duck shedding water he slipped out of the human guise he wore, unearthly snarls coming from deep in his chest as he attacked, ripping two of the men away in his first pass, tasting the gush of hot blood in his mouth.
The young one started panicking at the scent of blood, fear and hunger flooding the air. A short sharp growl sounded, more animal now, the kid's teeth snapping.
The three remaining men turned toward him, weapons drawn, faces painted in lines of horror. A mistake -- even a new young one could attack from behind.
He sent a sharp bark in the young one's direction, knowing the command would be instinctively obeyed, and went for the strongest of the three, the one with the wicked looking knife. Perhaps that one would give a fight, satisfy his bloodlust.
The knife flashed in the moonlight, sliding close to his chest, another blade appearing in the man's free hand. A scream echoed as the young one struck, feral snarls triumphant.
Beautiful, to see one like that in what might very well be his first kill, but he had to concentrate on his own fight, turning away from the blades, sliding in under the man's guard to attack at the legs.
The man went down with a cry, vulnerable throat exposed as he fell, begging, pleading in nonsense words.
There was no mercy for this man in him, only rage, and he went for the throat, ripping the exposed vein, snarling his triumph. This one would make a meal for the pups.
The final man went down, the young one clumsy and ill-trained, but hungry and full of fury, muzzle ripping at the soft belly of his meal.
Seamus ate his fill, but his neck itched, sending the hair up on his back. They needed to move soon, to take their catch back to the pups, as much as they could carry. They would be found soon.
And the young one would come back to himself, and be afraid.
Now that the crisis was over, and his belly full, it was a matter of a thought to assume his other form again, straightening to stand over the young one.
Gold eyes shone up at him, then the young one snarled, trying to protect his kill. The sound was soft, unsure, more fear than fury.
"Shhhh. Hush now. Come. Come on, and come back. We've gotta go. I know you're hungry. We can eat more later, but the cops are on their way." He kept his voice low and soothing, but they had to get the fuck out.
Those eyes went wide, gold fading to black, a thin, dark-haired boy staring up at him in a complete panic. "I didn't... I... What did I..." The reedy voice got louder, slim body shuddering.
"Hush. Quit it now. Come on, kid, we've got to get these into the dumpster. Gimme that one's coat, though, and you take that jacket. We're both covered in blood. And I want that one's gym bag, I'm taking a haunch or two back."
He didn't wait to see if the kid was following. He would. Seamus knew his voice would brook no argument. The kid moved behind him without another wor
d, even though the soft whimpers never completely ceased, the kid terrified and in shock. The bodies were dumped, the coats thrown on, the gym bag loaded, and they were three blocks away before the black and whites showed up.
Perfect. Now all he had to do was get the kid home before he collapsed. He put an arm around those thin shoulders and steered.
Why him, indeed.
***
Keith stood in the middle of a normal looking living room with a boring couch and a scratched coffee table with a candle and coasters. There was a little dining room table and a beige bar and a kitchen with a refrigerator and a stove.
There was a sliding glass door and a patio and a ceiling fan and, if it hadn't been for the dead man's jacket on his shoulders and the scent of blood on his face, it might have been nice.
Somehow that made it scarier.
The man who'd helped him was down the hall with some dogs. Feeding some dogs.
Feeding them... somebody.
"Oh, God."
He turned toward the door, heart pounding -- from fear, from exhaustion.
From hunger.
"Where are you going, cub?" It was the man again, tall, blood-spattered, looking at him with concern. "Where have you got to go, hmm?"
"I... I don't. You fed the dogs with... I should tell the police. I killed one, didn't I?" His voice sounded weird, whiny, rough. "I should tell the police."
Head tilting, the man looked at him, voice going low and soothing as he spoke. "Tell them what, pup? That there was a big dog who was a guy who was a dog? Better not to talk to them at all." A warm hand closed over his arm. "Let's get you cleaned up, cub, okay? You'll feel better."
"But... I..." God, he was scared. Sick. Really sick. The scent of blood was thick and coppery, almost an ache inside him. "Are you going to kill me?"
The hand moved from his arm to his back, moving in slow circles, almost petting. "No. I helped you, didn't I? Helped you and brought you home with me, and now I'm going to help you get a shower and some food, okay?" The voice was a low growl now, vibrating in his ears.
The touch was soothing and he whimpered softly, head dipping in a nod. He didn't understand. Not at all. But it was true. The man helped him and now was offering to clean him, feed him and he was so hungry again. Always so hungry.
"Yeah. That's it." The touch was good, the voice commanding, and he found himself following to a small bathroom. "What's your name, cub?"
"Keith. Keith Loew." It smelled good here, warm, rich. Peaceful. "Who are you?"
"Seamus." Seamus got the shower going, steam coming out, and reached for his clothes, stripping him like a child. "Go on, get in."
He stepped in, moaning at the heat. It poured over him and he closed his eyes, listening to the water hitting his skin, hitting the tub, hitting the tile. The scent of blood faded, eased, the horror waiting for him, sleeping behind his eyes.
A big, warm body joined him, Seamus stepping in behind him, soaping him up and rinsing him off, soothing him with soft words when he tensed.
It should have been uncomfortable, should have been frightening, but it was too gentle, too peaceful. Whimpers filled the room and those hands eased him, petting his skin.
Eventually, the water ran cold, and Seamus drew him out, wrapping him in a big fluffy towel and handing him a robe. Red. Seamus' hair really was red. Dark with water, but he could tell. And the man's eyes were green.
"I killed someone. I didn't try to. I haven't ever before." A very bright green, but warm, not cool. "Thank you for the robe."
"You're welcome. And of course you didn't mean to, cub. He was trying to hurt you." Seamus stroked his cheek for a minute before slipping into a second robe and steering him back out to the kitchen. "Let's get you something to eat."
He whimpered, so hungry. He'd never been so hungry. "I keep trying to eat. I eat and eat, but it doesn't help. I'm still empty."
"I know. I know. Come on. It'll be all right." Seamus was just big and solid and comforting. Seamus went to the freezer and pulled out a package wrapped in supermarket butcher plastic, labeled eye of round. Which was a relief.
It smelled cold.
How could something smell cold?
He gave that a second of thought and then suddenly realized he was bouncing, nostrils flared as he sniffed, little hungry noises sounding.
"Oh, sorry. I... Sorry."
"Hmm? Oh. Nah, don't worry about it, cub." The meat went into the microwave, where Seamus left it until it was just thawed, then pulled it out. "How do you want it, Keith? Broiled rare?"
He opened his mouth to say well-done, but what came out was, "yes, please." He was salivating so much it was like he wanted it raw which was just... ew.
"Gotcha." Broiler pan, oven, efficient and sure, Seamus set it up for him, then turned, looking him over shrewdly. "Want something? Orange juice? Coffee or tea? You need some sugar. You look kinda shocky."
"Juice, please. I... It's been a long day. Night. Whatever. It has been. Long, I mean." He blushed and sighed, pushing his bangs back out of his eyes.
"Yeah. I bet it has." There was a note of real sympathy in Seamus' voice, and he got another warm brush of a hand on his cheek as Seamus passed to the fridge.
"Here. Drink up. Steak just needs turning."
"'kay. Thanks." He drank the juice, the flavor so bright, so tart and sweet that it almost hurt. "They were going to beat me up. I went in about a job. It's in the paper, the job. I never even got up to the bar."
He frowned, shook his head. He had the world's shittiest luck sometimes. The place had... had smelled weird and he'd gotten confused and bumped into that one guy and then...
Oh, God. He was in some much trouble.
"Do you think I'll go to jail?"
"Nope." The steak plopped onto a plate, and Seamus sat it in front of him. "Eat up, cub. You're gonna be fine. I'm going to take care of you."
"You are? But..." Normally the sight of the blood would have made him sick, made him look away, but this? Oh...
The weirdest sound was rumbling in his chest, his hunger suddenly sharp and real.
"It's all yours, babe. C'mon, tear in." Seamus backed off a step, leaving him plenty of space.
He managed to cut a few bites with the knife before he started eating, but once the first flash of blood hit his tongue, things got... dizzying. The tastes, the scents, the sounds -- they were all huge, his eyes rolling as he feasted, a growl sounding in his ears.
When everything eased, he was panting, licking his fingers, plate perfectly clean. Keith slowly put his hand down, looking up at Seamus.
"Feel better, cub? Your stomach less rumbly?" Seamus looked perfectly calm, not at all upset with his behavior.
"Yeah. Yes." He did feel better, a little shaky, a little scared, but better. "I was so hungry. Thank you."
"Yeah. It gets in you and grinds. Come on, let's sit before you fall down, okay?" As gentle as he had been the whole night, Seamus led him out to the living room, and the couch, sitting and pulling him down, cradling him in the lee of that big body. Oh. Warm.
He cuddled in before he knew what he was doing, little soft noises sounding. "I don't... I shouldn't do this. We don't know each other."
Still, he didn't move, did he?
"Hush, cub. We know each other better than most people ever will." Seamus tucked his head under that strong chin, hands making circles on his back and belly. "Sleep now. You'll feel so much better for it, with a full belly."
Keith went to answer, but nothing but a soft groan came out, the comfort so needed, so perfect, that he was dreaming of running before he realized he was asleep.
~Chapter Three~
Poor kid. Two days later and all he could do was sleep and eat. Hell, the first night he'd been like a rag doll, so deep asleep that when Seamus put him in the big bed with the pups he didn't so much as growl.
When he finally woke up, for real, Seamus figured he'd be two things -- hungry and disoriented. The hungry he could handle with a nice stew m
ade from some leftover elk meat a friend had given him, light on the veggies.
The disoriented. Well that would take more time. Seamus felt for the kid, he really did, because when you grew up knowing in your bones what you were, it was a Hell of a lot easier.
But the cub had Seamus now, and he would help the kid any way he could. The kid who was standing in the kitchen doorway, sniffing and drooling. "Hey, cub."
"Good... morning?" He got a quick grin, the dark fringe pushed back again, dark eyes bright and awake for the first time. "It smells so good. The puppies were gnawing on the furniture, so I gave them their bones like they asked for... wanted, I mean."
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