Howling for More

by Bailey Bradford

  “I didn’t know—” Bowen grunted. “Goddamn it, I didn’t know it was possible! I’ve never—you can’t think that I go around turning people into shifters! You—”

  “Don’t you fucking blame this on me!” Chiz shouted, and his temper got the better of him. He jumped on the bed and tackled Bowen, took him back down to the floor. “You motherfucking asshole! What did you do to me?”

  Chiz knew. He knew, but that wasn’t the point.

  Bowen winced and didn’t fight him. Chiz grew angrier, and slammed his fist against Bowen’s jaw. He wanted Bowen just as furious as he was, wanted a fight, not whatever the hell was happening between them.

  But Bowen merely grunted again and moved his jaw, testing the joint or working out the pain that he had to feel.

  “I trusted you,” Chiz snarled. “You…you…” He didn’t know what to say, because the stricken look on Bowen’s face was like a punch to the gut. It hurt him worse than Bowen’s fist would have. “Jesus,” Chiz rasped. “I can’t…” Then to his utter horror, he burst into tears.

  Seeking to save a little of his dignity, Chiz started to bolt, but Bowen’s arms came around him, one big hand cupping the back of Chiz’s head. Bowen held him, Chiz’s head to Bowen’s chest, held him and murmured his apologies over and over.

  “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know I could. I’ve never let anyone close to me because of…of what I am. Chiz, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Please, just listen to me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. No one—I’ve never lost control like that. Please, forgive me.”

  Chiz felt hot, wet drops landing on his head, and knew that he wasn’t the only one crying.

  That didn’t make him feel any better. For someone as strong as Bowen to break down—well, Bowen had to be sincere.

  Sincere or not, however, Chiz couldn’t just say okay to this. He needed time to think, because holy shitballs! He’d been turned into something…something possibly incredible.

  Chiz sniffled and pulled away from Bowen enough to swipe at his tear-streaked cheeks.

  Bowen loosened his hold, but seemed reluctant to let go of Chiz entirely.

  Chiz couldn’t look Bowen in the eyes yet. He needed to come to terms with what had happened, and he needed to be alone to do that.

  But he wondered if, instead of thinking of himself as being wronged somehow, he should be grateful for the gift he’d been given.

  Or is that Bowen’s influence? “I need to go home,” Chiz rasped. “Need to think.”

  “Chiz, please, I—”

  “This isn’t about you,” Chiz muttered. “Let me go.”

  Bowen did, and Chiz immediately regretted the loss of Bowen’s arms around him.

  “There are things you must be told about…about what you’ve become. What I did,” Bowen added. “I’ll leave you alone, I swear it. I’ll sleep in one of the guest rooms and I won’t cross the threshold to this one without your invitation. I won’t speak to you, won’t do anything at all except work and fix meals. You don’t have to eat with me. I’ll be out of the house from dawn until dusk, and in the kitchen for an hour after that. Then I’ll stay in the other room, and you won’t have to worry about running into me. Just, I don’t know if you’ll shift unexpectedly. I did, when I first reached my wolf. If that happened to you when you’re out in public, it could be very bad.”

  Chiz nodded. He still didn’t look at Bowen. As much as Chiz wanted to go home, Bowen’s argument against it was enough to get him to agree to remain at Bowen’s place.

  “Okay. I promise.” Bowen stood. “You have my word, Chiz. I won’t hurt you again, and I won’t approach you. If you want me, to talk or…or more, you can tell me. If not, I hope you’ll at least let me help you learn to control your shifting.”

  The only sensible thing Chiz could do was agree. He nodded again, and listened to Bowen’s footsteps as he left the room.

  Chapter Nine

  This has gotta be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Even stupider than mailing the damn sketch, maybe.

  Dare hunkered down behind a copse of trees close to the road before the turnoff to Bowen’s ranch. It didn’t take long to deliver local mail, and he knew that sketch would be landing in Bowen’s mailbox today.

  Dare hadn’t slept a wink since he’d sent the picture to Bowen. He’d spent most of the night calling himself all kinds of an idiot. He was stressing out, big-time, and he wasn’t going to have any peace until he took that sketch back. Before anyone else sees it.

  Dare bit his bottom lip as he waited. His mail-stalking plan had flaws, he knew that. He just didn’t see an alternative. He’d seen the old Jeep driven by Maisy, the mail lady, heading out of town and knew the rural deliveries were beginning. Dare had driven past her first delivery route and parked his car at the abandoned Shanks place.

  Then he’d jogged through the brush and sparsely treed couple of acres he’d had to cross to get closer to Bowen’s ranch.

  Then he’d had to wait. Dare hated waiting. He wished he’d brought his sketchpad or phone, something to occupy himself with, but he hadn’t even turned his stupid cell phone on that day because he really wanted to avoid his family.

  Specifically, his mama.

  So he watched the movements of the leaves and branches, and found himself inspired by nature when he’d usually just been inspired by hot men.

  He itched to draw what he was seeing, and after a while, he studied the pill bugs and other little critters scrambling in the dirt.

  When he heard the Jeep rumble by, Dare’s adrenaline spiked and he pressed a hand to his chest, over his hammering heart. He was nervous, but he had to get that sketch back. Dare was utterly paranoid that Bowen would somehow know he’d sent it.

  Once the Jeep came back by, Dare waited another minute, then he got to his feet.

  And nearly fell over as the hellish feel of a thousand needles prickled his ankles. He’d sat for too long, and he grimaced through the unpleasant feeling until it passed.

  He hoped Bowen was busy working somewhere on his ranch. Dare was betting on him doing…rancher stuff, whatever that may be. He doubted Bowen sat around waiting on the mail to be delivered.

  Dare began to make his way toward Bowen’s mailbox through the foliage. What sucked was that the closer he got to Bowen’s ranch, the less coverage Dare had, until finally, about a hundred yards from the mailbox, all hiding spots were gone. It was just him, the grass and the great, open outdoors.

  And the mailbox, which he could see was open, and the envelope he’d mailed the sketch in was sticking out a few inches.

  Dare stayed behind the last tree he had for shelter as he looked all around. The hair on his nape prickled, but he didn’t see anyone around. The wind shifted and the scent of cow shit made his eyes water. Dare pinched his nose shut and vowed to eat less beef, or maybe never eat it again. Anything that could produce such a foul odor had to be unhealthy to eat.

  He eased around the tree, keeping his back pressed to it, trying to be the tree, or some Zen shit that would make him invisible. Dare wasn’t even sure what Zen was, but he’d heard of it once and liked the way the word sounded.

  A twig snapped under his shoe and Dare almost pissed himself. He was so not made to steal shit.

  He peered around the tree, shot a quick glance toward the direction of Bowen’s house and saw no one.

  The envelope was his for the taking. Well, in a way, it was his, though okay, he had given it to Bowen, but he hadn’t really given it to him yet and Dare figured taking it back wasn’t wrong. It’d be like returning a gift he hadn’t given someone yet.

  That rationalization didn’t quite gel for him but Dare shrugged that off. He was just going to save himself some potential embarrassment on the off-chance that Bowen would figure out he’d drawn the images on that paper in that envelope.

  Come on. Just do it! On the count of one, two, three— Dare’s feet refused to cooperate. He groaned internally and tried again.

/>   He burst out from the coverage the tree supplied, and ran to the mailbox. Dare was panicking but he couldn’t stop now. He reached the mailbox, grabbed the edge of the manilla envelope—

  And dumped all the mail on the ground. The breeze sent a piece of it tumbling over the grass.

  “Shit,” he muttered as he tried to scoop up the fallen mail while stomping on the runaway piece.

  Dare lost his balance and fell on his ass. “Ungh.” The piece of mail he’d been standing on was carried a few feet away.

  Dare shoved the handful of mail he had—along with the envelope—into his shirt, glad he’d tucked it in. He scrambled on hands and knees to get the renegade piece of mail, and could have wept with relief when he got a hold of it.

  His relief was short-lived, however. He started to stand up and heard footsteps a second before someone slammed into his side.

  “I don’t think so, motherfucker!” Bowen growled as he hit Dare’s head, a punch that really rang his bell.

  Dare didn’t see stars when his vision dimmed. He saw bars—prison bars—while a laughing voice inside his head that sounded a lot like his mama’s told him he’d been busted committing a federal offense.

  Chapter Ten

  Consciousness was not all it was cracked up to be. Dare came to with an angry Bowen straddling his chest, slapping Dare’s cheek.

  “Wake up, you bastard, you aren’t sleeping through this!” Bowen had a piece of familiar paper in his other hand.

  Even stunned though he was, Dare knew what that paper was. Unfortunately for him, he remembered everything that had just happened.

  Bowen stopped slapping his cheek and instead gripped Dare by the chin and shook his head. “You’ve been spying on us? What kind of filthy pervert are you? You need to be in prison—isn’t that your family tradition?”

  “Please,” Dare croaked, too scared to worry about anything except landing his ass in the very place he wanted to avoid.

  “You were watching us!” Bowen shouted. Then he blinked and looked at the sketch. He was silent a moment before he grunted. “Huh. It’s a damned good drawing. Not that that excuses what you did.”

  “What’d he do?”

  Dare knew that voice. He whimpered and closed his eyes as he sensed Chiz approaching.

  “It couldn’t have been as bad as what you did. Did you kill him?” Chiz shrieked a second later.

  Dare’s eyes snapped open before he could think about it. Then his mouth went dry and he could hardly breath, because Chiz was naked and gorgeous and perfect, just like Dare remembered him. Just like Dare had drawn him.

  “I didn’t mean to—” Bowen huffed. “Chiz, I told you, I promise I didn’t mean to.”

  What had Bowen done to Chiz? Dare felt less sorry for himself as anger began percolating in his brain. With Bowen distracted, Dare didn’t have much trouble bucking him off.

  Bowen went toppling to the right and Dare rolled to the left. He scrambled to get to his feet.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he looked at Chiz. “What did he— Umph!”

  God, Bowen must have been part bull or something, the way he slammed into Dare and knocked him down again.

  Dare barely had time to break his fall, sort of, if one could call slapping a hand to the ground to keep from introducing his face to the dirt any such thing. The rest of Dare hit the ground hard.

  “What is the fucking problem?” Chiz yelled. “Cut it out!”

  “You were fine with knocking him around at your place,” Bowen said between panted breaths. “He showed up here uninvited just like he did there.”

  Chiz cocked one brow at Bowen. “You really want to go there?”

  Bowen turned as white as a piece of sketch paper. “I told you, I’m sorry. I can’t undo it, or I would. I didn’t know it would happen. It never has with anyone else.”

  Dare sat up and held his hands in front of himself, out and in what he hoped was a please don’t tackle me again gesture. He wondered if the condom had broken or something equally as terrifying, because whatever had happened between Chiz and Bowen sure hadn’t been good. Or consensual. Dare’s stomach roiled and he had to force back bile.

  “Whatever,” Chiz snapped. He frowned at Dare. “You look like you’re gonna puke. Did he break something when he hit you?”

  Dare shook his head. “No, but…” He darted a quick glance Bowen’s way. “Did he—”

  Chiz slashed a hand through the air as Bowen cursed up a blue streak. “No,” Chiz said clearly, “I can guarantee you that whatever you’ve got going on in your head, it’s not what Bowen did.” Then Chiz sighed and seemed to slump all over. He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just a mess, and—” He looked at Dare. “Why are you here?”

  “Because he’s been spying on us!” Bowen declared, waving the now-crumpled sketch at Chiz. “He saw us when we were—”

  “I didn’t see anything,” Dare protested. “Except in my imagination! I’m not a pervert!” Wait. Did fantasizing about watching Bowen and Chiz fuck make him a pervert? Maybe not. But mailing Bowen the sketch? Dare had to accept that maybe he was a pervert. “Um.”

  Chiz held out his hand, then gasped when he looked at the sketch Bowen handed him. “This is…this is us, and you—you,” Chiz snarled at Bowen, “promised that no one was around to see us!”

  “I wasn’t here!” Dare said louder, because if he repeated it enough, maybe they’d believe him.

  “Then how the fuck did you know we did this?” Bowen asked. “And what’s in the back of the truck bed with us?”

  Dare couldn’t possibly die of embarrassment, could he? Because, as hot as he was, and as hard as his heart was pounding, he thought he might just keel over. Maybe he had a previously undiagnosed heart issue. He was going to die right there on Bowen’s ranch and when people died, their bodies did gross things. Well, at least Dare wouldn’t be there for that mortifying part of it all.

  “You know, it kinda looks like a shape, like…like maybe a person, but the lines aren’t clear enough,” Bowen was saying. “He got your expression perfect. Every last line of your body—”

  “Yours too,” Chiz interrupted. “Even your ass has just the right amount of fuzz.” He turned his attention to Dare. “Hey, don’t pass out on us. Breathe, man. In, count to three, out, count to three. Come on, do it.”

  Dare’s vision was getting spotting and it wasn’t until he gasped that he realized he hadn’t been breathing.

  “That’s it,” Chiz encouraged, taking a step toward him. “Just keep doing that. Except, add some exhalations after you inhale, bud.”

  “Why are you being nice to him?” Bowen asked. “You weren’t before.”

  “Because he looks like he’s going to keel over,” Chiz replied, coming closer still. “Plus I’m a sucker for people with flair. Look at that sketch, Bowen. Dare here has got talent in spades, don’t you think?”

  “You think I have talent?” Dare squeaked out while Bowen took the sketch and perused it again.

  “This is pretty damned amazing,” Bowen agreed. “But he was watching us—”

  Dare flung his hands up and groaned. “No. I. Wasn’t! I just sorta saw y’all in my head, and I wanted to be there, too, so I added—” He snapped his mouth shut, teeth clacking audibly.

  Chiz stopped walking and smirked. “You wanted to fuck with us, literally, not in the shit way, so you drew yourself in the pic?”

  Dare closed his eyes. Please, God, just let me die right now. Please. I don’t care if I go to hell.

  “Chiz, the more important thing is that he was watching us!” Bowen argued.

  Dare groaned and just flopped back on the ground. “I did not! I can’t make you believe me, but I saw it, like a fantasy, you know? Because I saw you both before, and y’all were so fucking hot.” He gulped but decided to forge his way onward. “So I used you both for, you know, spank bank material, then I saw you both, and I wanted to…” He opened one eye and found himself drawn to look at Bowen this time. “I mea
n, why wouldn’t I want to be with you? Either of you?” He gulped. “Or both of you?”

  “That doesn’t mean you should spy on us,” Bowen began, and Dare let out a garbled shout of frustration.

  “I didn’t see you fucking for real! And I’m sorry I ever mailed you the fucking sketch!”

  “Sure—”

  “Bowen,” Chiz snapped. “How can you not even consider the possibility that Dare might be telling the truth, considering all that, you know…all that happened?”

  Dare might not know much, but one thing he was sure of—something weird as all get-out had happened between Bowen and Chiz.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chiz bit his tongue to keep from saying anything more. Instead, he ignored Bowen and Dare, and studied the drawing. It was really good—almost realistic-good. Chiz held the paper up a little farther away and examined it from that angle. “Damn, Dare. You drew this?” Not only was it a true work of art, but it was erotic as hell.

  “I’m sorry,” Dare muttered. “I just—I shouldn’t have. It was stupid.”

  “Jesus,” Bowen grumbled, but he didn’t say anything else.

  Chiz lowered his arm, still staring at the images Dare had captured. “So is that you watching us?”

  “Oh God,” Dare whimpered. “I’m so—”

  “We get it,” Bowen cut in. “You’re sorry for spying on us.”

  “I didn’t spy on you!” Dare shouted, coming to his feet then stumbling.

  Chiz would have reached for him, but Bowen actually did the decent thing and grabbed Dare’s shoulder to steady him.

  “I didn’t see you doing that,” Dare protested strenuously. “I mean, I saw it in my head, and…and yeah, okay. I wanted to be there, too, so I…I did the lines but I didn’t put me in there, not really, because I mean you two were doing it and I wasn’t invited, it was just a fantasy.” Dare’s eyes went wide and he slapped a hand over his mouth so hard that Chiz was afraid he’d busted his lips.

  “A fantasy?” Bowen asked, his voice gruff. He watched Dare steadily.

  Chiz went hot all over, and his dick, horny thing that it was, began to harden. “You want to watch us fuck?”