Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance

by Primrose, Ella

  Drew looked over at him briefly, the ghost of a scowl teasing at his lips as he fussed with his hair. “You didn’t doubt me, did you?”

  “Not even for a second.”

  Drew grinned at that, his smile wild and toothy as he reached over to fondly ruffle his hair. “My first goal tonight will be yours, Sammy.”

  Sam beamed at him. “I’m surprised coach Emerson is letting you play.”

  From across the room, Carson observed their interaction. They made it look so easy, the way they were so comfortable with one another. He envied that closeness, longed for it, ached for that level of understanding. It just wasn’t fair. He was prepared to spend a minute or two sulking over his situation when he heard someone clearing their throat behind him. He jumped, spinning around to come face to face with Ian.

  “Ian!” He squeaked, unable to bite back his smile.

  Ian looked him up and down, raising his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

  “Huh? I’m fine. I was just…you know, letting my mind wander.”

  Ian nodded, though he didn’t quite seem convinced. “You should focus on the game, Carson.”

  Carson sighed. He knew he had to focus. He never had a problem with it, though, and he didn’t need to be reminded. “I know, I know. I am focusing.”

  “Good,” Ian smiled. “Because I was thinking, afterward we could grab a bite to eat or something. I’m pretty sure I owe you a talk.”

  Carson’s eyes lit up and he nodded quickly. “I’d love that. I mean, I’d really like it a lot.”

  Ian was pleased and Carson also seemed pleased. He still couldn’t quite explain it, but it made him so happy whenever Carson got excited over the things he said and did. He felt like he was the center of Carson’s world. It was an ego boost, to be sure, but it was more than that. That amount of adoration felt a lot like love, and Ian loved feeling loved. “Meet me at the hotel bar at midnight then. We’ll figure out what we’re doing from there.”

  “Okay,” Carson purred, staring as Ian walked away. He had a date tonight with Ian. His life couldn’t get any sweeter.

  “Hot date tonight, eh?” Carson was torn from his internal celebration by the annoying drawl of Simon. He rolled his eyes at Simon who was practically prancing around him, suggestively waggling his hips. “What did I tell you, Carson? Ian’s got a crush. And all it took was a little push for him to make a move.”

  “Hush,” Fabian scolded, approaching the two of them from the opposite side. “You meddle too much. Besides, I was the one who did the pushing, not you.”

  “And who did the pushing last night, Fabian?”

  Fabian blushed, wagging a finger scoldingly, “Don't be such a brat. Leave them alone, Si.”

  Simon pouted at Fabian, reaching over to gently slap at his cheeks. “Oh please. If it wasn’t for me, these two would be sitting alone in their rooms, sadly whining to whoever would listen about how pathetic they are and how much they like each other and how much they want to jump each other’s bones. It’s fucking annoying. You know it. I know it. Cass over there knows it.”

  Cassius gave them a confused look from across the locker room. “Huh?”

  “See what I mean?”

  “Ahem,” Carson interjected with a guarded hiss. “I’m literally standing right here next to you, you know. And would you keep it down!”

  Simon didn’t seem to notice. Instead he was winding around Fabian, encircling him again and again like a shark in deep water. “And now they’re going to live happily ever after. Or at least they’ll get a happy ending tonight. What did I tell you? I’m a genius!”

  Fabian shook his head, though he was still smiling. “Enough teasing, Si. Ignore him, Carson. He's being lewd.”

  “All right, all right. Party pooper.” Simon huffed, weaving around Carson once more for good measure before slinking off. Fabian gave Carson an apologetic shrug as he followed along behind. Carson felt half a dozen pairs of eyes on him as he gave a frantic smile, then scampered off to get some fresh air before the bright lights of the field would be on him.

  Across the locker room, Garry slammed his bag shut and stomped away alone.

  * * *

  Cassius sat down on the bench beside Adrian, mindful to keep his usual distance from him. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

  Adrian grunted a little, shaking his head. He seemed pale, tired, decidedly under the weather. “I feel like shit,” he murmured as he carefully tugged his shirt over his head. As he did, Cassius got a good look at the scabbed over bite marks on Adrian’s left shoulder. Cassius winced, glancing around quickly to be sure that no one else had seen them.

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” he whispered guiltily, words coming out in a jumble. “Fuck, Adrian, I think it’s maybe infected or something. Are you sure you’re okay to play? I can get one of the paramedics if you need, tell them you need to sit out or—”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Adrian said firmly, taking hold of Cassius’s arm. “I asked you to do it. I wanted it. I still want it. And I’ll be fine, okay? Just leave it alone.”

  Cassius pursed his lips, then gave a slow nod. He felt so uneasy about it, he thought he might be sick. He hadn’t exactly wanted to bite Adrian…Well, okay, on a purely needs based physiological level he did, but what his instinct wanted, his heart and mind did not. He loved Adrian, he didn’t want to see him cursed and suffering as he was. But he couldn’t say no to him. He’d thought about it, sure, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a halfway decent idea. And the more it seemed like a halfway decent idea, the less likely he was to say no and mean it.

  Sam would be mad. Sam would be livid. He knew it, and he didn’t want to disappoint his friend, but there was a lot about lycanthropy that Sam didn’t know or understand or was purposely keeping from him. Like, why hadn’t Sam told him that werewolves could control their transformations and change at will, even without a full moon? It seemed like kind of a major thing, and something which should have been disclosed to him right away.

  If Sam was allowed to keep secrets and make major decisions, then so was Cassius. And in the end, Cassius wanted Adrian to be a werewolf too, and with Adrian asking—no demanding it to be so, Cassius saw no real reason to deny him.

  Except of course the recovery time. Even a small bite from a werewolf was still a bite from a werewolf.

  As the other teammates departed the locker room, Cassius looped his arm around Adrian’s waist and leaned in and gave him a brief kiss on the forehead. “I love you.”

  Adrian smiled then, a little strained, but sure as ever. “I know you do, Cass. Now help me stand up. We’ve got a game to win.”

  Chapter 27

  A Win

  The opening whistle blew at five o’clock and the men were off to a rousing start. They were up by two within forty-five minutes, a good result all things considered, and with the half about to end, they were prepared to double down and take charge in the second half. But then, it happened. A clash on the field, and someone was thrown to the ground.

  There was clamoring and shouting for a moment before the movement stopped and they look down in horror at Carson, his head gashed, blood spilling out. He didn’t get up, eyes shut tight as his face contorted in pain, and the paramedics were quickly waved on to tend to him. From the other end of the field, Ian could only watch in silent horror as Carson was stretchered off the field.

  The referee blew for half time and they streamed off the field to the locker room. Ian hurried back, hoping to see Carson in the hall, reassuring them all that it was just a superficial cut and nothing more. But Carson wasn’t waiting for them. He was gone.

  Ian cursed in despair.

  “It will be fine,” Perry said as he came up behind him. Ian turned to look at him, wondering how and why Perry always seemed to have everyone figured out. Perry, mildly raised an eyebrow and looked down the hall. “I’m sure he’s being stitched up. He’s very resilient.”

  Ian knew that was true and nodded, watchi
ng as Perry disappeared into the locker room. Tentatively he walked down the hall and around a corner toward where Perry had been looking, and there he spotted them, the paramedics gathered around Carson, wiping blood from his head, doing their best to stop the bleeding. Ian winced at the sight. He never was the squeamish type, but he didn’t revel in seeing anyone hurt, least of all not Carson.

  “Are you…?” His voice cracked a little as he spoke. Carson’s eyes flicked toward him and he smiled easily.

  “They’re going to take me to the hospital,” he said, sounding far more apologetic than he ought to have, all things considered. “It’s just a precaution, but…”

  “I understand,” Ian said.

  “Does it look bad?” Carson asked, and one of the medics gently shushed him.

  “Yes,” Ian said, because honestly, he looked terrible. And he looked scared, scared enough that Ian almost wished he’d lied to him and said it was all fine. “They’ll patch you up just fine, Carson. You don’t need to worry at all, okay?”

  Carson managed a little smile, and Ian felt hopeful that maybe he was taking it to heart. “Okay. Are we still on for later?”

  “You bet,” Ian said, smiling too. “I’m pre-emptively offering dessert. Ice cream or cake. Whatever you like. You deserve it.”

  Carson laughed, and the paramedics shushed him again, another waving Ian away.

  “The hotel bar at midnight, Carson. Don’t forget.” Ian smirked at him as he ducked away.

  Carson whispered to himself, “I won’t.”

  * * *

  It ended with a decisive win, there was no doubt about it, though they’d have to be careful not to let the victory go to their heads. They’d faced a team not especially noted for their prowess. The win was good for their egos and morale going into the game, but they’d have to do even better if they expected to win the championship.

  Drew was savoring the moment though. After battling the flu and dehydration, he’d come back to net a goal. He hadn’t felt so fit and alive in a long while. The only thing which might’ve made it better was if Sam had been out there on the field with him. But he wasn’t. Sam had been on the bench the entire game, cheering him on, to be sure, but he wasn’t there with him, so it just wasn't the same.

  They had sat together on the ride back to the hotel though, Drew slumped back in contented exhaustion, Sam covertly watching him. Finally, Drew opened one eye, lips twitching in amusement. “What’s up? Have I got something on my face?”

  “No,” Sam said, smiling slightly. “You just look so happy.”

  “I am happy,” Drew grinned. “I feel incredible. I feel better than I have in a long, long time.”

  “I’m glad. It’s good to see you like this.”

  Drew wasn't so sure he was glad though. Not that they didn't share the joy of winning, it wasn't that. He was just sure that Sam was a little frustrated at not getting to play. Like, what was the point of traveling all the way there to just sit on the bench? And now they had to be prepared to play in five days’ time. It was exhausting enough to make a journey like that, and it would be even worse to travel so long and so far, just to sit unused. Drew sensed the anxiety in him, and more than anything he wanted to make it go away. But what could he do to help? How could he change anything? It wasn’t like Sam was in poor form or anything. Coach Emerson just had his preferences, made the substitutions he’d wanted. Sam would get his chance, surely. He’d just have to be patient.

  “We have to leave early in the morning,” Drew said, watching Sam’s expression. He knew he didn’t have to remind him of anything, though. “But we can still celebrate tonight.”

  Sam raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “If this is your way of coming on to me—”

  “Don’t be such a pervert. I was thinking room service and a movie. Jeez.”

  Sam let out a soft laugh and inched closer to him, mindful that their teammates were still all around them. Someone would have to break the news to Carson once he got back from the hospital that he’d need to find another roommate, but all things considered, he was fine. “Alright. It’s a date.”

  * * *

  They’d been back at the hotel for about an hour when things started to get out of hand. Coach Emerson had given them all a firm reminder that they needed to be in the hotel lobby at 6 AM sharp in order to make their flight. There was to be no shenanigans, no late arrivals, nothing, but he was kind enough not to impose a mandatory curfew on them for the night. “Just be responsible,” he said. “I trust you all to make good decisions tonight.”

  John had gone to grab a bite to eat, so Ian had the room to himself for a while with a few hours to kill before he was to meet Carson—presuming Carson wasn’t spending the night in the hospital. He was worried, but not overly so after seeing him at half time, and he figured if there was bad news, he’d probably be one of the first to hear about it. He spent his time watching an old movie on TV and relaxing, and didn’t think much about anything. He settled back onto the bed and had nearly dozed off when someone knocked on his door.

  “Ian! Open up! It’s me!” He bolted up, recognizing Simon’s voice from the hall. Slightly disoriented, he went for the door, opening it to find he was face to face with Simon and Fabian, and one other person: a slumped and pale looking Adrian, propped between the two of them.

  “What the hell’s wrong with him?” Ian asked, ushering them into the room. The two half-carried, half-dragged Adrian in and toward the bed as Ian shut the door behind them.

  “Don’t ask us!” Simon grunted as they flopped him down onto his back. “We found him like this.”

  “He was in the elevator, on the floor, passed out,” Fabian said, carefully arranging pillows beneath Adrian’s head, looking over him like a mother over a wayward child.

  “Is he drunk?” Ian narrowed his eyes, looming over him.

  Simon shrugged. Fabian shook his head, taking a seat on the bed beside Adrian. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve never seen him like this before.”

  Ian leaned over him, to examine him closer. Adrian was still breathing, which was step numero uno in assessing the situation. Ian didn’t smell any alcohol on him either. He pressed his hand to his forehead to check for a fever. “Shit. He’s burning up.”

  “I wonder if he caught whatever Drew had,” Fabian said. “What if he’s not well enough to travel?”

  “He’s going to be fine,” Ian said firmly, reaching for the phone to call for room service. “Maybe he just needs some electrolytes.”

  Simon sank down on the other bed, shaking his head in amusement. “I hope you’re right, because he looks fucking terrible.”

  In his listless sleep, Adrian shivered a little. Fabian frowned and draped the duvet over him, pulling it right up to his chin. Ian watched them as he ordered up some sports drinks, fever reducers, and chicken soup.

  “I’ll go see if I can find Cass, let him know what’s happened,” Fabian said quietly.

  Ian nodded as he hung up the hotel phone. He didn’t notice that the clock next to it on the nightstand had just struck 11 PM.

  * * *

  An hour. That’s how long Carson had been sitting in the hotel bar waiting for Ian. He’d tried to be patient, he really had, but he was absolutely about to lose his mind. He’d even hurried to get discharged from the hospital early just to make it back on time. And now he’d been stood up, neglected, abandoned. Ian had let him down.

  “So much for him loving you, eh?” Carson muttered to himself, finishing off his drink. It was probably unwise to be drinking at all, considering he’d just had stitches and everything, but fuck it. He was feeling hurt. He was allowed a few drinks to cope.

  He compulsively checked his cell phone again, in case Ian had texted him with an excuse, a flat-out rejection, any word at all. There was nothing. Cursing quietly, he started to stomp out of the bar, through the lobby, toward the elevator bay, with the sole intention of banging on Ian’s door and giving him a piece of his mind.

  He press
ed the call button, buzzed from liquor, slumping lazily against the wall as he waited for the elevator. Footsteps approached from behind, and he slowly rolled his head back to see Cassius beside him.

  “Carson! Hey! You’re alright!” Cassius smiled at him warmly.

  Carson couldn’t help but smile back. “Hey. Yeah. I’m good.”

  “That’s great. We were worried about you.”

  “No need. Just some stitches. No brain damage or anything. I’m not any dumber than I already was.”

  Cassius looked slightly put off out but kept on smiling. “Good. Um, listen, I was wondering if you’ve seen Adrian around?”

  Carson’s face faltered slightly, eyebrows raised. “Lost your boyfriend, huh?”

  “Um…”

  “I haven’t seen him. But if I find him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

  Cassius nodded, his smile forced this time. “Thanks. Get some sleep, Carson. We fly out early, you know.”

  The elevator doors slid open then and Carson stepped in, giving Cassius a wave. “You too.”

  Sighing bitterly, he pressed the button for Ian’s floor, ready to give him a real piece of his mind once he got there. Who did Ian think he was anyway, trampling on his feelings like this? He was hurt, really and truly hurt at being stood up, especially after the shitty day he’d had. The least Ian could do was tell him he didn’t want to meet him, instead of just breaking his promises.

  The doors opened again and Carson stepped out, glancing down the hall just in time to see someone emerging from Ian’s bedroom. It was Fabian. Wait…Fabian? What was Fabian doing in Ian’s room at such a late hour? There was absolutely no excuse for that!

  Fabian didn’t notice Carson as he headed in the opposite direction down the hall, moving so quietly it was like he was tiptoeing, hoping he wouldn’t get caught. Carson felt his blood going cold. That two-timing bitch! Fabian was fooling all of them! He’d convinced Carson that Ian loved him, when the whole time he’d been messing around with Ian himself! Did Simon know about this? Did everyone know?