Once Upon a Wolf

by Rhys Ford

  The push into his flesh was slow, a tightness on the brink of pain with flashes of heat, followed by a silvery brightness almost too sharp to bear but too delicious to deny. Gibson seemed to go on forever, or at least it was an eternity that Zach was more than willing to spend the rest of his life in. His breath hitched at a point, and Gibson stopped, giving Zach time to breathe through the moment.

  They said nothing—or at least not words—but there was no need for anything other than the feel of their torsos rubbing up against each other and the points where they touched. The amber in Gibson’s eyes remained, flecks of gold beaten into the folds of silver already there, but the growing heat between them bordered on savage, especially when Gibson began to move.

  Zach rose to meet him, demanding as much as Gibson was willing to give. The discovery of their rhythm was a slow one, a syncopated beat twisting into the rise and fall of their joined bodies. Wrapped around Gibson, Zach reveled in the power he had at his fingertips. Scratching his nails across Gibson’s shoulders drew out an aroused hiss, then a frenetic pounding of Gibson’s cock into his depths. His teeth sunk into Gibson’s throat and the shock of pleasure nearly unseated Zach from his purchase around Gibson’s hips, and they shared a small burst of laughter before their passions took over again.

  The horizon of his release came too soon, rising up to drench him in a light Zach wanted to embrace but mourned. The shift between pleasure and orgasm struck as hard as lightning from a winter storm. His heartbeat became the thunder, an unending, booming percussion following the flashing sensations he was beginning to drown in. Then Gibson moved, in some inexplicable tilt of his body, a curve of some kind driving him so deep, stroking at Zach’s core and lighting up the edge of his climax.

  He had a vague sensation of Gibson’s fingers around his dick, a tight caress followed by the rub of callused fingers, but none of that seemed to matter. Zach raced the lightning, riding it to its zenith. Then he gasped, welcoming the spill of Gibson’s release inside of him. If his climax was the storm, Gibson’s was the break in the clouds afterward. There was too much to see, too much to feel, exposed by an incandescence as golden as the wolf in Gibson’s eyes.

  “I love you,” Gibson whispered, moving his hips slowly, his length softening, but they both were reluctant to break apart. Not just yet. Not when they could still taste and feel each other in their own blood. “I cannot live without you.”

  “Well, that works out, then,” he murmured back, tightening his hold on Gibson, refusing to let go. “Because I can’t live without you either, and I love you so much, I want to spend my life making you smile.”

  Epilogue

  SPRING BROUGHT with it a burst of flowers to the hills and warming of the pond they hiked around all winter. They’d woken up one morning to find the snow melt nearly complete and the ground thick with rivulets and mud puddles. Mud puddles a certain oversized wolf seemed to take great delight in rolling in, then shaking off what he picked up all over Zach.

  “Oh no.” He spotted Gibson eyeing a nearly pool-sized puddle a few yards ahead, and he bumped the wolf before he could run toward it, throwing Gibson off his stride. “You are not going to get me again. I am already covered, and I feel like a termite mound. You shake over me one more time and I don’t care how big you are, I’ll throw you into the goddamned lake.”

  There was nothing more mocking than a wolf’s laugh.

  They’d locked up the cabin, expecting to be gone the entire afternoon. Zach left the running of the inn to Ruth and Martha, fully admitting he knew little to nothing about customer service, and when it was all said and done, knew he would do a horrible job. They spent a few hours a week going over what needed to be done or deciding who to hire when the refurbished bed-and-breakfast began to get busy. He liked the quiet energy of the place, a welcoming grandmother of a building, but he was always grateful to go home to the cabin.

  To Gibson.

  The same Gibson who was still chortling behind a wide wolf smile, bounding on long legs toward the spot they’d come to think of as their secret hiding place.

  The pond was lovely, but Zach spied the shards of ice floating just beneath the surface, an image at odds with the blanket of tiny purple flowers climbing the hill above. Several trees were bright green, sparsely leafed but working toward filling their branches, and the lush emerald needles of sturdy evergreens, cradling dots of emerging pinecones. The air was still crisp, as if threatening to return winter to the area, but Gibson had reassured him earlier, the cold would soon be on its way out.

  Of course Gibson also assured him that the pond was swimmable, but unless Zach had every intention of pretending to be a penguin, there was no way in hell he was going to climb into that water.

  He’d grown used to seeing Gibson shift, but the wonder of it still remained. The ripple of skin parting black fur, then the ebb of amber from his eyes fascinated him, but the brief flash of agony across his face when the change hit his bones was something Zach heartily wished he could ease away. It was part and parcel of being a shifter, the price a man paid to carry a wolf in his blood, and even though the process was painful, there were times when Gibson needed to run on all fours.

  That morning was one of those times. The hike was a long one but fairly easy, something they’d done more than a few times as the weather grew warmer. The vista from the large flat boulder wedged into the ground next to the pond was breathtaking, a spectacular view of the lake and the mountains beyond. They’d had picnics on the rock, mostly during the day, but a few of the moon-drenched evenings when the sky was clear, they’d watch the sunset, then make love under the stars.

  Zach had grown very fond of the rock.

  Gibson stood shivering on the pond’s shore, his hand stretched out toward Zach. “Can you hand me my clothes? I’m pretty sure I’m not going to have any balls left if I stand out in the cold much longer.”

  “Well, we certainly don’t want that.” Zach dug through the backpack he’d carted up the trail, then pulled out the bundle of clothes he’d carried up for Gibson. “You know, they make saddlebags for service dogs. I bet you can find something about your size so you can carry your own damn clothes.”

  “And here I thought you loved me.” Gibson’s wicked grin flashed, taking Zach’s words as the teasing he’d meant them to be. “’Sides, I don’t think those things would let me run like I need to or I’d be all over it. Nothing worse than going wolf, then finding out you’re really craving a hamburger but you don’t have your wallet because you’re buck-ass naked underneath your fur coat.”

  It was a shame Gibson had to hide his body under a pair of jeans and a Henley, but Zach knew from experience the rock could be very rough on a piece of bare skin. A few rounds of rash along the back of his thighs and across his own ass made him more than willing to tuck a thin, durable blanket into his backpack for the long hike.

  “I think it would be awesome.” Zach bit his lower lip, watching Gibson’s face carefully. He had a tell of sorts, an uneven narrowing of his eyes before he pounced, and Zach knew that expression very well. Most of the time, Gibson’s pouncing led to a very good, sweaty bout of sex, but the close proximity of the icy pond made him cautious. Still, sometimes chances had to be taken. “If they were big enough, you could carry food and maybe even a six-pack of beer. Wouldn’t that be great?”

  Zach scrambled up onto the rock before Gibson’s eyes finished twitching, and Gibson caught himself before lunging at where Zach’d been standing.

  “Stay up there,” Gibson growled. “Let me put on my sneakers and I’ll join you.”

  “Just remember, if you toss me into that pond,” Zach warned, “I’m going to make you carry me all the way down, because I’m not walking in wet socks and damp jeans.”

  The blanket might’ve been too thin, or perhaps Gibson was still running hot with the rush of wolf blood in his veins, but either way, Zach’s back was a little raw after they ended up naked and rolling around under the afternoon sun. Zach looked
longingly at the pond, wishing it was a bit warmer so he could soak in cool water, but the wind picked up, wicking away the sweat they built up between them. He also didn’t want to move, not with Gibson still stretched out halfway over him, their legs tangled together.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Gibson murmured, drawing circles over Zach’s bare chest. “I think you need to hyphenate your name.”

  “Like Bob? Like Zach–hyphen–Bob Thomas?” He looked at him incredulously, wondering when his lover had lost his mind. “Do you have plans for me becoming a country-western singer or something? Because I’m going to disabuse you of that right now. I can’t hold a tune to save my life.”

  “Trust me, I know that. Are you forgetting the karaoke nights down at the pub with Martha and Ruth? Hold on. Since I’m not getting through to you….” Gibson’s grimace was a bit exaggerated, or so Zach thought. He rummaged through his clothes, the ones he’d put on and wore for about a single hot minute, then extracted a small blue box. After cracking it open, he showed Zach a pair of black-gold rings inside, then said, “I’m saying that you should be Zachariah Thomas-Keller. Or Keller-Thomas. I’m not picky. I just want my name to be there. Next to yours.

  “So what I’m asking is if you’ll marry me.” Gibson chuckled, probably recalling more than a few conversations they’d had about his liking to take control and having to learn to give way sometimes. “Sorry, how about if we say I am asking if you will let me marry you?”

  “You know, if you’d known when you pulled me out of the lake that you were going to end up asking me to marry you—”

  “I probably would’ve thrown you right back in.” Gibson yipped, startled when Zach tweaked his nipple. “What? It’s catch and release down at the lake. And I really didn’t have a choice after my brother chased you into the water like you were a rabbit.”

  “Do you think he knew what he was doing? That something inside of that wolf brain of his knew the two of us would fit?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. “The world is too big and too complicated for us to really understand. I am never going to say I know everything about anything. He might have. He might have developed instincts that we’ve lost because he had gone so deep into the wolf. I don’t think we’ll ever know. So is that a yes, or am I going to have to go another round of rock sex in order to convince you?”

  “It’s a yes,” Zach murmured, cupping Gibson’s face. He’d learned to kiss. They were lessons he was eager to take, especially since Gibson could make his toes curl, and he liked being able to bring the amber up into his lover’s eyes. When he drew back from Gibson’s mouth, gold sparkled in the gray, and Zach smiled, delighted at the passion he saw there. “There’s just one thing. One thing that has to happen before we get married.”

  Gibson cocked his head, but his hands continued to roam, stroking all the sensitive spots along Zach’s side. “What’s that?”

  “We have to find out where your brother is and make sure he comes to the wedding.” Zach gasped, aroused at Gibson’s skillful touch. “After all, he’s the one who taught you how to love, just like you’re the one who taught me what it means to have a family.”

  More from Rhys Ford

  Welcome to Dim Sum Asylum: a San Francisco where it’s a ho-hum kind of case when a cop has to chase down an enchanted two-foot-tall shrine god statue with an impressive Fu Manchu mustache that’s running around Chinatown, trolling sex magic and chaos in its wake.

  Senior Inspector Roku MacCormick of the Chinatown Arcane Crimes Division faces a pile of challenges far beyond his human-faerie heritage, snarling dragons guarding C-Town’s multiple gates, and exploding noodle factories. After a case goes sideways, Roku is saddled with Trent Leonard, a new partner he can’t trust, to add to the crime syndicate family he doesn’t want and a spell-casting serial killer he desperately needs to find.

  While Roku would rather stay home with Bob the Cat and whiskey himself to sleep, he puts on his badge and gun every day, determined to serve and protect the city he loves. When Chinatown’s dark mystical underworld makes his life hell and the case turns deadly, Trent guards Roku’s back and, if Trent can be believed, his heart… even if from what Roku can see, Trent is as dangerous as the monsters and criminals they’re sworn to bring down.

  415 Ink: Book One

  The hardest thing a rebel can do isn’t standing up for something—it’s standing up for himself.

  Life takes delight in stabbing Gus Scott in the back when he least expects it. After Gus spends years running from his past, present, and the dismal future every social worker predicted for him, karma delivers the one thing Gus could never—would never—turn his back on: a son from a one-night stand he’d had after a devastating breakup a few years ago.

  Returning to San Francisco and to 415 Ink, his family’s tattoo shop, gave him the perfect shelter to battle his personal demons and get himself together… until the firefighter who’d broken him walked back into Gus’s life.

  For Rey Montenegro, tattoo artist Gus Scott was an elusive brass ring, a glittering prize he hadn’t the strength or flexibility to hold on to. Severing his relationship with the mercurial tattoo artist hurt, but Gus hadn’t wanted the kind of domestic life Rey craved, leaving Rey with an aching chasm in his soul.

  When Gus’s life and world starts to unravel, Rey helps him pick up the pieces, and Gus wonders if that forever Rey wants is more than just a dream.

  How do you save a drowning man when that drowning man is you?

  Jake Moore’s world fits too tightly around him. Every penny he makes as a welder goes to care for his dying father, an abusive, controlling man who’s the only family Jake has left. Because of a promise to his dead mother, Jake resists his desire for other men, but it leaves him consumed by darkness.

  It takes all of Dallas Yates’s imagination to see the possibilities in the fatigued art deco building on WeHo’s outskirts, but what seals the deal is a shy smile from the handsome metal worker across the street. Their friendship deepens while Dallas peels back the hardened layers strangling Jake’s soul. It’s easy to love the sweet, artistic man hidden behind Jake’s shattered exterior, but Dallas knows Jake needs to first learn to love himself.

  When Jake’s world crumbles, he reaches for Dallas, the man he’s learned to lean on. It’s only a matter of time before he’s left to drift in a life he never wanted to lead and while he wants more, Jake’s past haunts him, making him doubt he’s worth the love Dallas is so desperate to give him.

  Half Moon Bay: Book One

  Deacon Reid was born bad to the bone with no intention of changing. A lifetime of law-bending and living on the edge suits him just fine—until his baby sister dies and he finds himself raising her little girl.

  Staring down a family history of bad decisions and reaped consequences, Deacon cashes in everything he owns, purchases an auto shop in Half Moon Bay, and takes his niece, Zig, far away from the drug dens and murderous streets they grew up on. Zig deserves a better life than what he had, and Deacon is determined to give it to her.

  Lang Harris is stunned when Zig, a little girl in combat boots and a purple tutu, blows into his bookstore, and then he’s left speechless when her uncle, Deacon Reid, walks in hot on her heels. Lang always played it safe, but Deacon tempts him to step over the line… just a little bit.

  More than a little bit. And Lang is willing to be tempted.

  Unfortunately, Zig isn’t the only bit of chaos dropped into Half Moon Bay. Violence and death strike, leaving Deacon scrambling to fight off a killer before he loses not only Zig but Lang too.

  Murder and Mayhem: Book One

  Dead women tell no tales.

  Former cat burglar Rook Stevens stole many a priceless thing in the past, but he’s never been accused of taking a life—until now. It was one thing to find a former associate inside Potter’s Field, his pop culture memorabilia shop, but quite another to stumble across her dead body.

  Detective Dante Montoya thought he
’d never see Rook Stevens again—not after his former partner falsified evidence to entrap the jewelry thief and Stevens walked off scot-free. So when he tackled a fleeing murder suspect, Dante was shocked to discover the blood-covered man was none other than the thief he’d fought to put in prison and who still makes his blood sing.

  Rook is determined to shake loose the murder charge against him, even if it means putting distance between him and the rugged Cuban-Mexican detective who brought him down. If one dead con artist wasn’t bad enough, others soon follow, and as the bodies pile up around Rook’s feet, he’s forced to reach out to the last man he’d expect to believe in his innocence—and the only man who’s ever gotten under Rook’s skin.

  RHYS FORD is an award-winning author with several long-running LGBT+ mystery, thriller, paranormal, and urban fantasy series and was a 2016 LAMBDA finalist with her novel, Murder and Mayhem and a 2017 Gold and Silver Medal winner in the Florida Authors and Publishers President’s Book Awards for her novels Ink and Shadows and Hanging the Stars. She is published by Dreamspinner Press and DSP Publications.

  She’s also quite skeptical about bios without a dash of something personal. Rhys shares the house with two cats, Yoshi, a grumpy tuxedo and Tam, a diabetic black shorthair, as well as a ginger cairn terrorist named Gus. She is also responsible for the care and feeding of a 1979 Pontiac Firebird and enjoys murdering make-believe people.

  Rhys can be found at the following locations:

  Blog: www.rhysford.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/rhys.ford.author