Camwolf

by J. L. Merrow

  “So. I am here, Dr. Sewell. And now we must discuss what is best for the boy.”

  Nick resisted the impulse to grind his teeth at Herrscher’s arrogant tone. “There’s nothing to discuss. Julian is staying here with me.”

  Herrscher laughed. “You think you are the one to make that decision? I am his father. I know what is best for him, and it is not to stay here with one who hardly knows what it is to be a wolf. If he stays here, his potential will be wasted.”

  “His potential for what? To become a killer?” Nick felt his hands bunching into fists. “Forgive me, Herrscher, but that’s not the kind of education I tend to view as essential.”

  Herrscher stepped forward. It took every ounce of self-control Nick had not to leap at him. This was his territory, damn it. Julian was his. “You know what your trouble is, Dr. Sewell?” Herrscher asked scathingly. “You think like a man, not like a wolf.”

  It was clearly intended to provoke, but it had the opposite effect. Nick relaxed infinitesimally and even managed a laugh out of sheer bravado. “And you think that’s a character flaw? I’ve got news for you, Herrscher—I am a man. So is Julian. And there’s a damned good reason humans are the dominant species on this planet.”

  “Humans!” Herrscher’s lip curled in a sneer. “Don’t you see, Sewell? We are the higher species. We have everything—the intelligence of men and the instincts of the wolf. If Julian does not learn to master his wolf side, he will be nothing—a pale shadow of what he might have been. Is that what you want for him?”

  “It’s what I want,” sounded from the darkness, and Julian stepped forward. Nick hoped the scent of Julian’s fear wasn’t as obvious to Herrscher as it was to him—and that the sharp spike of fear that had coursed through his own breast on Julian’s behalf was equally undetectable.

  But the anger he felt swiftly subdued it. There was a foul taste in Nick’s mouth from Herrscher’s speech. It had called vividly to mind images of older, hate-filled tirades against Untermenschen.

  “I don’t want to go back with you,” Julian continued, his voice high and tight to Nick’s ears, “and I don’t want to stay with my mother. I belong to Nick.”

  Herrscher turned to face his son. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he visibly bit down on his instinctive response. “Schräger was a misjudgment,” he said at last. “This time, I would train you myself.”

  Nick felt a fierce sense of pride as Julian managed to look his father in the eye, even if only for a moment. “I’m staying here.”

  Herrscher’s face darkened, and every hair on Nick’s body seemed to stand on end. This was it. This was where it could all go horribly wrong. His wolf instincts were screaming at him to change, to fight. To defend his pack, his mate. “There’s something you should know,” he said quickly, before he could lose control.

  He had Herrscher’s full attention now. “What?”

  “There’s a police officer who’s been investigating the murder of the young man your misjudgment killed. Detective Inspector Phillips. Met him?” Nick paused. “Interesting man. Bit like a pit bull terrier—once he gets hold of you, he really doesn’t like to let go. He seems to suspect the existence of werewolves. I thought, seeing as he’s taking such a keen interest, it would be only fair to enlighten him.”

  “What?”

  Nick carried on past the dryness in his throat. “So this afternoon I put together a file, with names and addresses in Germany. Photographs of myself mid-transformation. Julian helped with all that. At present, it’s lodged with a friendly solicitor, but I’ve given instructions for it to be forwarded to Inspector Phillips should anything happen to me or Julian. Including, of course, unexplained disappearances. Obviously, Phillips has no jurisdiction in Germany—but I shouldn’t have thought he’d really need that to make life exceedingly difficult for you.”

  There was a moment of absolute stillness. Nick waited, every sense alert to Herrscher’s reaction. To find out if he’d pushed the man—the wolf—too far. If they fought, was there even the remotest chance he would win? Even if Julian were to help? Nick wasn’t sure he could count on that in any case. This was Julian’s father, for Christ’s sake. Please, God, let me not have to kill Julian’s father in front of him.

  Although in the circumstances, he’d definitely prefer that to the alternative.

  Herrscher’s eyes were the merest slits, glinting in the moonlight, and his body seemed to thrum with barely suppressed rage. His fingers stretched out from his hands as if itching to become claws.

  Nick could imagine only too well how they’d feel ripping through his jugular. His throat was impossibly dry, but he felt curiously lightheaded, almost buoyant in anticipation of a fight. His weight shifted forward instinctively onto the balls of his feet as he waited for the man to speak.

  When Herrscher finally did so, it was with a snarl of contempt so vicious Nick almost mistook it for the beginnings of an attack. “I overestimated you, Sewell. And the boy.” Herrscher gave a harsh laugh, turning to Julian. “Did you think I would be impressed by your use of low, human cunning? This is not the way of the wolf. You disgust me. You are no son of mine. Kommt!” As he barked the order, the mismatched figures of Luther and Wahl broke from the shadows to follow their leader.

  Nick watched them move out of sight, scarcely able to believe that they were going without a fight. When he heard the sounds of doors slamming and the car moving off, the tension finally broke and he sat heavily on the ground. He hadn’t had the slightest inkling of the presence of Herrscher’s henchmen. Christ, if he’d had to fight it would have ended up a bloody massacre. “Thank God for low cunning,” he said shakily as Julian dropped to the ground beside him.

  Julian’s arms wrapped around Nick and tightened convulsively. “I didn’t understand,” Julian whispered, his head buried in Nick’s neck. “Why you were not like them. You confused me.”

  “And now?”

  “I think your way is better. Whatever my father thinks.” He looked up into Nick’s eyes. “Can we go home now?”

  “Yes,” Nick told him. “We can go home.”

  The drive back to college seemed to pass in a blur. Nick drove on autopilot, hoping distractedly that enough of his subconscious was paying attention that they wouldn’t have an accident. Perhaps they should have stayed out on the estate, eased the tension with a run—but Julian had wanted to go home, and Nick had felt a powerful urge to get him back where he felt safe.

  They walked back through college holding hands, Nick rather reveling in shocking the few students who were around to see them. For God’s sake, it wasn’t like they were performing sodomitical acts in the middle of Main Court. As they reached Nick’s staircase, the figure of Angus Lemon bore down upon them. “Ah! Sewell. Need a word—”

  Nick smiled savagely and held up his and Julian’s clasped hands so that Lemon couldn’t possibly overlook them. “Not now, Angus. Julian and I are a little busy. I wouldn’t bother knocking later, either—I doubt we’ll be opening the door.”

  He had the satisfaction of rendering the old goat absolutely speechless, although the faint sputterings of “Well, really!” that followed them up the stairs showed Lemon had recovered fairly quickly. Still, Nick had a feeling he’d be staying well out of their way for the foreseeable future.

  Julian was in his arms the minute the door had closed behind them. Their bodies melted together, fitting perfectly, and Nick reached up and stroked that pale gold hair that had fascinated him as long as he’d known the boy. Having Julian in his rooms seemed to have gone from awkward and unusual to entirely natural and proper. The short times he’d been absent earlier in the day had made the place seem far too empty. Christ, had he really ever thought living together would be a bad idea? First thing tomorrow he was heading down to the estate agent’s.

  Julian leaned into the caress. “Take me to bed?” he asked.

  “God, yes,” Nick breathed. He didn’t move for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of Julian pressed against them, b
ut as Julian tugged gently at his shoulders, Nick recollected just how much better it would be if they were naked. He shrugged off his jacket and dropped it to the floor, then reached up to push Julian’s jacket off his shoulders. “New?” he asked absently, enjoying the way Julian’s scent intensified as the leather fell to the ground.

  “Yes.” Julian sounded distracted, possibly because he was busy undoing Nick’s shirt. Presumably Tiffany was claiming squatter’s rights on the old jacket.

  “I like it. Better off, though.” Nick breathed in sharply as soft hands moved over his bare chest, and his fingers fumbled with the buttons of Julian’s shirt, desperate for more skin-to-skin contact. Julian wasn’t helping—he’d leant in to nuzzle at Nick’s neck with teasing little nips and kisses that were entirely too distracting.

  Nick finally managed to get Julian’s shirt off, and pulled him in closer. He wanted to feel him, not look at the marks that bastard had left on him. Julian was hard, as hard as Nick himself. They frotted against one another for a while, mouths finding necks and nipples and finally each other once more, then Nick felt slender fingers working at his belt buckle and undoing his trousers. As they fell to the floor, he hurried to return the favour, pushing clothing down over slender hips and finally pressing their heated lengths against one another.

  The more he had, the more he seemed to need. Nick grasped Julian’s buttocks, trying to be gentle as he urgently ground their cocks together. It still wasn’t enough. “Bed,” he suggested breathily, and, bodies still entangled, they kicked off their shoes, stepped out of their clothes and headed for the bedroom.

  The sheets, as Nick pulled them back, still smelled of them, of their lovemaking last night. They fell into bed together, as if any loss of contact could be disastrous, and kissed deeply, Nick remembering to be as gentle as he could with his lover’s bruised form.

  “I want you to take me,” Julian said, breaking their kiss.

  Nick froze. A thousand implications of that simple request hung in the air between them like Schräger’s ghost. At Julian’s stricken look, Nick forced himself to relax as far as he was able. “It’s all right—”

  “Please,” Julian whispered, and it was too much.

  Nick could have wept. “If it hurts, you are to tell me immediately, understand?” He almost snarled it. Julian didn’t answer. “Understand?” Nick repeated, more forcefully.

  A little of the tension seemed to drain from Julian’s body. “Yes. I understand.” He trembled almost imperceptibly as he got on all fours. About to tell him to turn over, Nick was suddenly unsure. Did Julian need it to be this way? To drive out the memories of—

  To hell with that. Nick was damned if he was going to do this with Schräger’s psychotic shade hanging over his shoulder. “I want to see your face,” he said curtly. Julian seemed to respond to that. “Turn over.”

  Julian’s eyes were dark as he gazed up at Nick from the sheets. Nick pushed those long, slender legs up and slithered down the bed until he faced his lover’s entrance. Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to that small opening. Julian’s whole body jerked, so Nick took a firmer hold of his thighs and did it again.

  “Nick…”

  “Tell me the minute you want me to stop,” Nick repeated. “Whatever I’m doing.”

  “Don’t stop.”

  Something melted inside Nick at that. He licked a slow trail around Julian’s entrance, then worked his way up that beautiful cock, licking and sucking at it. Julian gasped and writhed, but pushed on Nick’s shoulders. “Please. I need you inside me.”

  Nick gave one last kiss to the tip of Julian’s cock, then reached into the bedside drawer. He pulled out a foil packet of lube, clenching his jaw around all the things he didn’t want to say. Schräger was dead.

  Julian’s body tensed as Nick began to prepare him. “We can wait,” Nick said softly, leaning down to kiss his lover gently on the lips.

  “Can we?” Julian whispered.

  “Of course we can,” Nick told him. “As long as it takes.”

  Julian relaxed, and Nick was about to withdraw when he spoke. “I don’t want to wait. I need you now.”

  His fingers suddenly clumsy, and his vision ridiculously blurred, Nick slicked himself up and pressed inside his lover. Julian cried out softly and clutched at him, trying to pull him deeper inside. “Yes.”

  It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be to go slow. Nick moved in long, easy thrusts that strung out his own pleasure almost unbearably, trying to angle his strokes to hit Julian’s prostate even though he knew that wasn’t what it was really all about for him. Pride, perhaps, although Nick rather thought it might have more to do with love. He kissed Julian deeply, trying to put all he felt into it, to reassure him.

  Julian’s eyes were shut tight. “Look at me,” Nick urged him, and felt a fresh burst of pleasure as Julian’s gaze met his, full of trust. Nick smiled. “Keep looking,” he said, and was answered by a faint smile. Then Julian’s eyes opened wider still, and he let out a soft cry as he came. Nick felt hands clenching on his buttocks, as Julian seemed to try to draw him deeper than humanly possible and, with a loud groan, Nick finally let go, pulsing deep within his lover.

  “Am I yours?” Julian asked as they eased themselves into more comfortable positions, Nick with his arms firmly wrapped around the slender form beside him.

  “Yes,” Nick said simply, stroking his back. “Always mine.”

  He was about to add, and I’m yours, but Julian had claimed his mouth in a fierce kiss that took away speech and breath as well.

  Never mind. There would be plenty of time to tell him tomorrow.

  Tiff was bored. What with Jools off being soppy with Dr. Sewell, or hunting rabbits or howling at the moon or whatever else they did on their dates, she’d had no one to go to the bar with. She wandered down on her own and latched on to a group of other historians, but to be honest she was in severe danger of falling asleep.

  She was just wondering if she’d be welcome if she popped round to see Dr. Pawlaczek and Marjorie, when a long, thin shadow fell across the table. “Tiff? You want to come out for a walk or something? We could go looking for bats down by the river.”

  Bats? Tiff looked at Crack. He had a worried smile on his face, along with more eyeliner than she’d ever worn in her life.

  Well, he was sort of sweet. And he certainly wasn’t boring.

  Tiff stood up.

  About the Author

  J.L. Merrow is that rare beast, an English person who refuses to drink tea. She read Natural Sciences at Cambridge, where she learned many things, chief amongst which was that she never wanted to see the inside of a lab ever again. Her one regret is that she never mastered the ability of punting one-handed whilst holding a glass of champagne.

  She has had over thirty short stories and novellas published, and is currently plotting murder and mayhem on the Isle of Wight for the purposes of her second novel.

  Find J.L. Merrow online at: www.jlmerrow.com.

  Look for these titles by J.L. Merrow

  Now Available:

  Pricks and Pragmatism

  Easy come, easy go…until the heart gets involved.

  Pricks and Pragmatism

  © 2010 J.L. Merrow

  English student and aspiring journalist Luke Corbin should be studying. Instead he’s facing homelessness, thanks to the lover who’s just kicking him out of their posh digs. It’s not his first rejection—his father tossed him out at age sixteen—but Luke has no problem trading his favors for a home and security. Especially with rich, powerful, handsome men.

  Except now, with finals bearing down, there’s no time to be choosy. He needs a roof over his head and he needs it now. Even if it means settling temporarily for a geeky, less-than-well-off chemical engineer called Russell.

  Luke's fully prepared to put out for the guy—because after all, in this world no one gets something for nothing. But Russell isn’t just a nerd; he’s an honourable nerd who wants to save himself
for someone special.

  At first Luke is annoyed, but the more time he spends with Russell, the closer he comes to a devastating realization. He wants to be that someone special. Except he’s fallen for the one man he can’t seem to charm…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Pricks and Pragmatism:

  I clocked Russell the minute I walked in the door of the café. He was sitting on his own at a table in the corner playing with his mug, short stubby fingers moving nervously over the china. I was almost worried to say hello in case I made him spill his drink. Tom had been right. Russell really wasn’t my usual type. He was… Well, he was a bit of a geek. Actually, he was a lot of a geek. Round face and too-long mousy brown hair, although at least he’d washed it. An actual beard to match; and we’re not talking a neatly trimmed goatee, either. He wore a shapeless sweater over a shirt his mum must have bought him, and glasses from Nerds’R’Us. No spots, thank God. He looked around thirty, although from what Tom had said he ought to be a lot nearer my age. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time Tom had given the truth the odd nip and tuck.

  Three weeks to Finals, I reminded myself. And beggars can’t be choosers. So I plastered on my best cheeky smile, pulled out the chair opposite him with a scrape and sat down. He looked up, startled, and just managed not to drench me in coffee. “Hi, I’m Luke. You’re Russell?”

  “Er, yes,” he said, like he wasn’t really sure. “Nice to meet you.” He didn’t say anything else, just stared into his coffee cup as if helpful suggestions were going to spell themselves out on the foam on top. His fingers linked around the sides of the mug like he was giving it a cuddle. I wondered who’d taken away his security blanket. Maybe it was in the wash.