by BA Tortuga
The Lexus, the Infiniti, or the…. Well, the SUV was definitely Helena’s.
Gus followed. “My truck’s just over here.”
“Yeah? Okay.” Weird, but okay.
Gus didn’t say much, which Sam was grateful for. The man just drove. The cab of the truck smelled strongly of man and wolf, gamey and yet not offensive. All he needed to do was sit, keep his mouth shut, and not have a meltdown. Easy.
“So, you look different, man.” That was the understatement of the year.
He sighed. “I grew up.”
“You did.” Gus shrugged, not looking at him. “Good on you.”
“I was hoping you’d gone bald.” Gotten warts, lost his teeth….
That seemed to surprise Gus, but in a good way. The man laughed right out loud. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Sam chuckled softly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Shit, he was tired.
“Pete’s after your sister, you know.”
“I have twelve of them. Three of them have fucked the man. I’m not surprised.”
“My brother, the skanky ho.” Gus chuckled some more, and Sam had a feeling he’d just handed over a goodly bit of brotherly ammunition.
“You married?” He grabbed his phone, texted Helena for his grocery list.
“Hell, no. I’m queer, man. I always have been.”
“Oh.” Huh. No wonder the man had been such a fucker. It was tough to be so manly and growly and be queer, right?
“Yeah. I figured you knew. You were the gayest thing in the world.”
“You don’t know that I don’t have a wife and ten kids.” Asshole.
Now Gus did glance over, the look one of complete disbelief. “Oh, right.”
“Are you suggesting I’m not the paragon of manly virtue?” This was almost fun.
“No, I’m saying you had a mouth made to suck cock even then.”
Sam stared. Well, what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?
Gus snorted. “I was the one in denial, Puss.”
“Well, good for you. I would have thought you’d be shooting for alpha.”
“Shit, no. I’m never here, really.”
They were out on the highway now, and Gus still drove too fast. Sam found himself tensing; he didn’t even own a fucking car in the city.
“You okay?”
Asshole knew how tense he was. “Fine.” His nails were digging into the palms of his hands.
“Cool.” Gus took the big curve on the way into town on two wheels, and a low, scared snarl started growing inside Sam. Was the crazy son of a bitch trying to get him killed?
They hit the straightaway, and Gus was grinning like a fool.
Sam focused on calm. Breathing.
Not committing murder.
Fucker.
“So, are you gonna call and get a list or hold your phone all day?”
“I’m going to hold my fucking phone.”
Asshole.
Fuckhead.
Dickmonkey.
“’Kay.” That grin got wider. Now he knew why Gus had wanted to drive him into town. Too bad for Gus he wasn’t a teenager anymore.
Helena sent him a list of random shit, and he forced himself to text her back, ignore Gus altogether. He could do this.
They made it to the Walmart without anyone dying, so that seemed good.
Sam slipped out of the truck as soon as it swung into the space, stalked into the store, teeth bared at the greeter. He was not in the mood.
“Hey, Barbara Ann.”
“Hey, Gus. Wasn’t that Finn’s weird one?”
Sam spun around, his growl tearing out of him, and he backed the wee pup up three steps. “Indeed. Is there a problem?” If there was, he could just tear her throat out now and deal with it.
“No, honey. You just didn’t say hi, so I wasn’t sure.” The old lady smiled at him before her face slipped into sympathy mode. “I’m sorry about your daddy.”
“Everyone is.”
Potatoes. Tissues. Toilet paper. Chips. Doritos, olives, and chocolate for a quiet, private stoner party with Helena and Gray late tonight.
Gus didn’t chastise him, which surprised him. The man just followed, putting stuff in a separate basket.
Sam did his shopping without a word. No one spoke to him either. No surprise, really. He’d spent eighteen years in town without any of these fuckers acknowledging him. Gus, everyone spoke to. Gus mostly growled in return. Looked like Mr. Perfect wasn’t so socially adept.
Sam paid for the groceries, his hackles raised, his teeth actually pushing at his lips.
“Come on.” Gus yanked him out of the store. “You live in a city?”
“Yes.” And he needed to go back where he was just another dark-haired asshole.
“If folks make you that mad, how do you do it?”
He looked over, confused. “Do what?”
“Live around all of them. I mean, you obviously hate people.”
About a dozen answers tried to claw their way up his throat, but he clawed them back. “No. I just have a problem with close-minded, prejudicial asshole fucks so lost in the pack structure that they can’t manage an original thought.”
“Well, don’t hold back, Puss. Tell me how you really feel.” Gus was laughing at him. Laughing.
He placed the bags in the back of Gus’s truck, carefully, the animal in him desperately close, in true agony that went beyond any physical pain he’d ever felt. How he really felt?
“I miss my father, you classless piece of shit.”
The change took him hard, and he let it, leaving Gus, the Walmart, his clothes.
Everything.
He just let the beast have him, and he ran.
4
“He’ll be back, Mom.” Gus had shown up at the Finn house with all of the groceries and Sam’s clothes, but no Sam. He was being roundly chastised for it.
I swear, Gus,” Helena snapped restlessly, “if I find out you thrashed his ass again, I’ll have your balls, no offense, ma’am.”
“I didn’t touch the little fuck.” He’d wanted to. Oh, he had wanted to, just before the little shit had gone feral. God, Sam had grown up so fucking fine. Gus had just stared.
Now he was paying the price. If one more woman shook the naughty-boy finger at him, he might just run off howling himself.
“He’ll be fine. Y’all just leave him alone.” Gray walked in, the dark glasses hiding the man’s white eyes. “Helena, go let the twins out of the storm cellar and tell them the wailing stops now.”
“Sure.” Helena headed out, and the other women drifted off, save his mom.
Gus rolled his head on his neck. “I didn’t touch him.”
Gray grunted. “He’s not a child, Gus. At this point, I’d bet against you in a fight, and I’d stake my life on the fact that you’d have more than the bruise Helena tells me you have on your chin if you did tie it up with him.”
Gus grinned a little. “You haven’t seen how well I grew up, Gray.” Sam was good; he’d grant that. Fast.
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll come home, and me and Helena will have his back.”
“I know that.” Gus sighed. “Tell Petey he has to drive my mom home, will you? I’m going to the mine.”
“Sure. If he can’t, someone will.”
“Thanks.” Gus turned on his heel and left. He knew in all honesty he was the one who didn’t like people. They didn’t particularly like him either. He was much better at digging up pretty rocks.
He headed out, growling at the misfits who thanked him for coming. Jesus, why couldn’t they have adopted normal cubs? Eighteen of them and not a whole, normal one in the bunch. Even Lizzie changed on the new moon as well as the full.
He climbed into his truck for the umpteenth time that day, needing to be gone. Alone.
Until he saw a black figure streak through the underbrush, moving faster than his eyes could really see. Hello, kitty. Gus sat and watched, waiting to see if a human Sam appeared. It would be worth it to see the f
ool naked again.
He heard the low yowl, the sound tearing through the air. A mourning call. The urge to howl in return rose in him, and Gus gripped the steering wheel, fighting it. It wasn’t his family.
Howls filled the air, though. Dozens of them.
Yeah. Yeah, it was the whole pack’s loss, wasn’t it? Gus stepped out of his truck, tipping his head up and joining the song. He let the change take him with it.
Suddenly his pack—all of them—surrounded him, mourning and howling, crying out. In the doorway of Mona’s house, her human children stood, along with her pups caught between wolf and man. All of them surrounding their mother. All of them but Sam.
Gus scented the air, which was hard with so many others around. Still, a cat would stand out.
Sam was there, downwind, out of sight of the others.
How much did it suck for the man to not even feel at home with his own family?
Gus left the truck for his mom, left his clothes, and went past Sam like a shot. He barked an invitation on the way. Run. Run with me.
He didn’t hear anything following him, but his instincts insisted he was being hunted, followed, chased. Letting his tongue loll, he put on a burst of speed, veering off into the scrub brush and desert, leaping an arroyo. He heard the wild screech behind him, the sound echoing deep in his spine.
Gus knew how it felt to lose someone, even if no one in the pack really knew it. He knew that sometimes the only way to beat back the rage was to run it out of your body. He also knew that Sam was the eldest child, the first, and that the man had loved his father. Adored him.
So they ran.
They ran, Gus changing directions and heading to the mine. He had food there. Water. Blankets. Sam followed him, claws digging into the earth as they moved together. It felt amazing to stretch his legs. Most of the pack couldn’t keep up with him, couldn’t understand why he didn’t challenge the alpha. Like he wanted that load on him.
Sam could keep up, though, the sleek black form moving like the wind itself.
Gus barked his joy, leaping over rocks and small mesquite, the dry air starting to take its toll. The mine was only a few more miles. The feline scent was intriguing, so mixed with canine, with pack, that it smelled right.
He put on a final burst of speed, daring Sam to be as good at this as he was, to try to best him once. Or once more, when he thought about his chin. When the shadow running with him passed him by, he wanted to howl. Look at that tail….
Sam leapt atop some rocks, snarl splitting the air, triumphant.
Gus rose up on his hind legs and barked, acknowledging the feat. Then he turned and headed for the mine. Meat. Water.
Sam followed him carefully, staying out of range of his muzzle.
He drew Sam into the small bolt-hole entrance to the mine, not wanting to take a chance on running into someone.
Sam got to the entrance, sniffed, stared at him.
He barked, encouraging. He’d share.
Sam followed, cautious, slinking into the darkness.
He led the way, knowing Sam would be able to follow easily. He had a little place set aside in the mine, a little bit of only him. He led Sam to his den—the place good-smelling, home. There were blankets on the floor, cushions, a cot for when he was a man. There was water. Food.
Sam stretched, long and shiny, so dark he almost looked blue.
Gus resisted the urge to go and have a sniff. He didn’t figure that would go over well.
Sam’s nose twitched, green eyes heavy on him. There were clothes. He wondered if maybe he should go human, let Sam see he was ready to eat. Sam stepped closer, whiskers tickling him.
He yawned, the sound loud and surprising. Well, at least he hadn’t sneezed. Sam chuffed softly, then plopped to the ground, tail over his nose.
Well, that answered that. Gus gave Sam a lupine grin before going to one of the piles of blankets to curl up. A nap sounded good.
Sam’s purrs sounded, filling the air as he fell asleep.
Maybe the guy could get some rest.
Gus snorted, wrapping his tail over his nose, just like Sam had. If he found it ironic that he was the one to help Puss out, well, there was no one there to notice but them. That was okay with him.
And he knew Sam. The man could keep a secret.
5
Sam woke up suddenly, shivering and bare, bitterly cold. Fuck. Fuck. He hadn’t gone feral in years.
He changed, sure. Like clockwork. In the comfort and glory and safety of his apartment. His apartment was a playground for a werekitty.
Not like this.
The place was underground, only a tiny light glowing. It smelled like wolf, but it wasn’t offensive. He rubbed his skin, trying to warm up. Man, he needed his fur back.
“There’s blankets. You want a drink of water?” He almost jumped out of his skin; he’d forgotten about Gus.
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Please.” His teeth were chattering. “Where are we?”
“In the mine. We came in the back way.” Gus wrapped a blanket around him, then handed over a bottle of water.
“Thanks.” He drank deep, belly so empty he could hear the liquid hitting his stomach. A mine. Cool.
“No problem. There’s some snacks too, when you’re ready.”
“I think I probably could eat an entire deer.” Whole. Raw.
“Yeah? We could hunt, but that would take a while.” A lamp got turned up, throwing light on Gus, who wore sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “I have a bunch of cold chicken, though, and some turkey casserole stuff my mom made.”
“Sounds good.” It was a little unnerving, Gus being nice to him.
“You run really well.” That sounded a little grudging, making him smile.
“I weigh less than you and have bigger paws.”
“Yeah, yeah. I have more stamina, though.” Gus winked, the expression so friendly it almost knocked Sam over.
“You all do.” He’d not been allowed to run with the pack, of course. “But I have the leaping thing.”
“True.” Gus grinned, the expression pure evil. “You’d get the jump on me, for sure.”
He finished off the water, stretching out a little. “I would.” He still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d ended up here.
“Here.” He got a hunk of meat handed over, cold chicken, but it tasted like heaven. The cat surged up in him again, surprising him, and he pushed it back. Easy. Easy.
One of Gus’s heavy brows climbed on his forehead. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I just… I’m cool.” Cucumber cool.
“Well, I’m not picky. If you want to play feed the kitty, let ’er rip.”
He shook his head, focused on the food, feeling his tail swish, deep inside him.
“Here, man.” Gus gave him a whole plate of meat, along with some casserole, and Sam wolfed it down. So to speak.
God, that was good. Damn. He caught himself purring again, the sound pouring out of him.
“Mmm.” Gus was munching away too, licking crumbs from the casserole off his lips.
He licked his fingers clean, getting every bit.
“Damn, that was pretty good.” Gus nodded, stretching, the sweats riding low on his hips.
“It was.” Sam’s voice had gone all raspy.
“You want a beer now that you’re feeling human?” Gus was looking at him again, this time with no smile, no frown. There was just this… heat.
“Yeah. Do you know what time it is?”
“No clue.” Gus shrugged. “I doubt anyone will be looking for you. That was a dramatic exit.”
“No. No one will. They know I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah.” Gus rubbed his jaw. “I know.”
He chuckled softly. “That was fun.”
“Fuck you, Puss. It hurt like a son of a bitch.”
“Good.” Sam let himself smile.
“Ass hat.” Gus came over with a beer and flopped almost as bonelessly as a cat next to him.
“Fucker.
” He sucked the beer down.
“Occasionally. When I get to town.”
Wait. What? He couldn’t help his stare.
“What? A bigger town, I mean. I don’t advertise, man.” Gus shrugged, like that was perfectly reasonable.
“Advertise?” He wasn’t following.
“In the pack. That I like dick.” Gus smiled. “They want me to alpha up.”
“I can see that. You could have a couple of babies and then do as you wanted.” It was the path of least resistance; that was for sure.
“I could. I’m just not good at doing what they want. Babies mean staying around.”
“True.” Not that he knew anything about that.
Gus nudged him. “Not that you care, huh?”
“Care about what? Babies?” He blinked. “Not my thing.”
“No, about what I do, Puss. I think this might be the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”
“It’s definitely the longest one without you hitting me.”
“Or vice versa.” Gus rolled an eye in his direction. “Are you really a dancer?”
He chuffed softly. “I’m a choreographer now. My… talents were beginning to show.” People had started asking questions, becoming suspicious, so he faked an injury and changed directions. People started noticing things. Like, oh, fuzzing out on the late performances. Unnatural flexibility. That sort of thing.
“Leaping kitty.” Gus seemed to think that was hilarious.
“Don’t make me bite you.” He snapped the air.
“Oh, I might like that.” One heavy brow went up and down again. “Cats have way more bacteria, though.”
“Uh-huh. Spiked penises too.” Not that he had one, but it was fun to tease.
Gus turned his head slowly and stared at Sam. “No shit?”
“Yeah. I mean, you guys have that… knot thing.”
Gus blinked, then laughed. “One more reason not to date girls.”
He let an eyebrow arch higher. “I would think that’s more challenging for a guy. I mean, maybe it’s like fisting, but….”
Now Gus was all but rolling, howling with it. “I’ve never fucked a guy furry, Puss.”
“Amateur.” He let himself grin, chuckle.
“Uh-huh. Cautious.”
Somehow cautious and Gus seemed mutually exclusive. It really wasn’t his place to say, though.