Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance

by Primrose, Ella

  He knew this wolf, knew its heart, knew its soul. There might be something cold and animalistic in those eyes, but he’d spent so much of the last year staring into them that he couldn’t help but feel as though he knew everything about him. He might be an animal, but inside was the man Drew loved. Underneath the lean, hungry, treacherous monster was Sam, and while it was tough to fight instinct, Drew understood that Sam was fighting very hard to suppress his wild need to kill. He’d protected Cassius, come to his rescue, fought off another predator, and his presence then prevented the other predator from returning to finish them off.

  As the ambulance arrived nearby, Drew made sure to return the favor.

  “Go!” He commanded, shooing the wolf off with a hand. The wolf made no motion to leave, lips curved as he growled. “Go! Now! Before they find you! You have to go, Sam!” The paramedics were close by. They could hear them, but could not see them in the fog. The wolf looked in the direction of their voices, then back to Drew. “I’ll meet you in the hotel, Sam! Just go! Please!”

  “Hello? Emergency services here! Where are you?”

  Drew called out to them, “Over here! We’re over here!” And when he looked back, the wolf had gone.

  * * *

  Drew sat in the waiting room, face pale as a ghost’s, as members of the team staff arrived in short order to collect him and console him and discuss what the hell had just happened to Michaels. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, though. He just wanted to go back to the hotel, strip out of his bloodstained clothes, and talk to Sam. That was too much to ask for though, with all the people buzzing around, asking him increasingly stupid questions.

  “So, you’re saying he was just wandering around the streets alone and got attacked by some stray dog which bit him bad enough that he needs surgery to patch him up again?” One of the team staffers asked skeptically. “And of all the people, he just happened to call you and you went out looking for him? It’s really convenient that you happened to find him, isn’t it? I mean, what are the odds of that happening?”

  Drew looked up at the staffer with eyes that could kill and he was on his feet before he could tell himself to calm down. “Excuse me? What exactly are you implying? Do you have any fucking idea what I’ve seen tonight? Huh? I saw my friend bleeding out on the goddamn pavement, half-eaten by a wild fucking dog! Do you know what that looks like? Huh? Blood everywhere, just fucking everyw—”

  “Hey, hey, easy.” Drew startled when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned quickly to see it belonged to a concerned looking Ian. Beside him stood an unamused Perry staring down the staffer, who was holding his hands up and retreating. The other staff members seemed to take that as their cue to disperse as the two captains gathered around Drew.

  “Are you alright?” Perry asked, eyes narrowed at the staff as they left.

  Drew nodded, lowering his eyes. He wasn’t alright, not really, but he was so exhausted, he couldn’t explain everything to them now even if he wanted to. “You guys didn’t have to come.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ian said and gave Drew’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “You’ve had a rough night. We figured you could use some company.”

  He looked between them, then down at his bloody shirt. ‘A rough night’ was basically the understatement of the century. Still, he had a reputation to uphold, so he gave a slight shrug. “I could use a strong drink is what I could use. And a shower. Look at me!”

  “You look like shit.” Perry said, unflinching and deadpan as he ever was. “Come on. We’re not doing Michaels any good by sitting around here. He’s in the best place he can possibly be right now.”

  “Yeah. And we’ve all got to fly out today. It’s almost 5 am. You can still get a few hours of sleep before it’s time to check out of the hotel.” Ian cocked a brow, imploring Drew unwittingly. “And besides, Sam’s probably worried to death about you.”

  The man perked up at Ian’s words. Wherever he was, he was certain that whatever shred of human cognition which was present within Sam, was out of his mind with fear and concern, not just for Drew but for Cassius too. Sam and Cassius had been friends for years, since they were teenagers, and while Drew didn't quite understand the extent of Sam's capacity for human emotion and connection and memory while transformed, he knew Sam would be completely beside himself once he fully realized what had happened that night.

  He had to be there when Sam got back. He couldn't let him face the trauma alone.

  Dawn was still a couple of hours away, but he had enough time to get back to the hotel and get changed and ready to see Sam when he crept back in. They’d have a lot to talk about as soon as Sam returned to their room.

  “Okay. Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

  And with the help of the two captains, Drew returned to his hotel room, showered, changed, and crawled under the comforter to await Sam’s arrival. Ian and Perry would handle everything else.

  Chapter 6

  Sam Returns

  Sam made quite a ruckus as he returned to the hotel room, banging on the door to get Drew’s attention. Post-transformation he was entirely naked, save for a towel he’d managed to nick from a poolside lounge chair on his way in. Never one to be fully at ease with his own nudity, he held the towel tight around his waist, knocking again as he waited for a response.

  Drew went to the door immediately, black circles under his eyes, face pale from lack of sleep and an abundance of worry. He stepped aside to let Sam in. Sam halted just inside the door and stood there and watched him, unsure what he should say or do, if anything at all.

  As tired and terrified as Drew looked, Sam fared even worse, except his state was exacerbated by having spent the night out of control and in the form of an animal. He’d had very little control of his actions or senses, and very little in the way of actual concrete memories of the night. He could only recall Cassius, the black wolf…and so much blood. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. He didn’t even know if Cassius was dead or alive, not even by Drew’s expression. He wanted to ask, wanted to comfort Drew and be comforted by him, wanted to somehow wake up from this nightmare and be free of his curse, but there was no way and nothing he could say or do to make anything any better.

  So instead he just stared at Drew, imploring him to do something, not just let him drown there in fear. Luckily enough, Drew seemed to pick up on his subconscious pleas and reacted first.

  “Fuck, Sam!” His voice was rough, ragged, pleading. Sam felt like he’d been kicked in the chest.

  “I’m sorry. I tried to stop it, I—” He swallowed hard, unable to move. “Is Cass…is he alright?”

  Drew didn’t say anything at first, fixing Sam with a stony gaze. Gone was the heat which normally seemed to radiate from his eyes. In its place was something cold, harsh, forcibly uncaring. Sam almost shivered from the lack of warmth. “He’s in the hospital. They’re performing surgery right now.”

  “But he’s alive? He’s going to survive?” There was no mistaking the utter desperation in Sam’s voice.

  “He’s going to survive, yes.”

  At the pronouncement, Sam finally took a few steps toward Drew, unsure of himself. He paused, inches from Drew, then rushed him, throwing his arms around his neck, pressing their bodies close together, not caring how the stolen towel fell forgotten on the floor.

  Emotion and instinct took over and without thinking, he buried his nose in the crook of Drew’s neck, not kissing him, not biting him, just breathing him in. Drew reacted in kind, though a bit slower on the uptake, arms wrapping around Sam protectively, one stroking down his back while the other petted and tangled in his shaggy hair. Sam still smelled of blood. He smelled of saliva and sweat and animals. He smelled as though he’d been to hell and back, not like a man but like a beast.

  Drew didn’t care though. His lover was back and safe, and Cassius would be safe, too. In a few weeks’ time, it would be like this was all a bad dream. He kissed the top of Sam’s head to emphasize that to himself. />
  After a time spent standing there, holding each other with such intensity, Sam drew in a long breath and spoke. “He’s going to be cursed now.”

  Drew pulled back slightly, eyes going wide. “What do you mean he’s going to be cursed?”

  Sam licked his lips, real fear present in his eyes. “He’s been turned, Drew. You can’t survive a werewolf attack and—”

  “A werewolf attack?” His eyes narrowed. Had Sam been behind the attack all along? Drew had all but banished the possibility from his thoughts. He didn't want to even entertain the idea, wanted to trust that his lover would never hurt anyone. And yet, the doubt wedged its way in. “Sam…”

  “It wasn’t me! You know I didn’t do this!” Sam said, eyes narrowing at his lover. “But I’m hardly the only werewolf at Silver Falls.”

  He made a good point there. Thinking back to when he’d first learned that werewolves were actual beings, and not just fairy tale creations meant to scare the shit out of small children, Sam had explained to him that Silver Falls was the ancestral home of the lycanthropes. It made sense that the island would have more than one werewolf prowling around it. And it had been a full moon that night.

  “Do you know who did this?”

  Sam shook his head. “There are a lot of us, Drew. I don't personally know every werewolf on the planet.”

  “The doctors said it was a dog bite.”

  “The doctors wouldn’t know any better. Not unless they’re werewolves themselves.” Sam stepped away from his lover and entered the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and winced. He looked far worse for wear than usual, even after a night spent on the prowl. No, scratch that, he looked like shit. Frowning, he turned to look over his shoulder at Drew. “He has a month before he’ll experience his first transformation. I’ve got to tell him, Drew. I’ll have to out myself.”

  Drew folded his arms over his chest and stepped over the discarded towel to get to Sam. He knew what turmoil it must be to have to share such a personal and horrific secret. Lycanthropy was a part of Sam’s DNA, part of his soul even. It had taken him years to feel safe enough to confide his curse to Drew, and they’d been sleeping together and all but confessed their undying love for each other…maybe not in so many words, but the sentiment was felt and understood by them both.

  There were emotions involved, real, actual, intense emotions, and Sam still worried that Drew might reject him. Oh, sure, it had taken a great deal of convincing that Sam wasn’t pulling his chain or completely delusional, but after seeing the transformation take place right in front of him, he finally accepted that werewolves were an actual thing and that his lover really was one.

  That is to say, he already trusted Sam completely and he’d had quite a time of wrapping his head around the concept. What was Cassius Michaels going to do? How would he take the news that not only were werewolves real, but his buddy since his teenage years was a werewolf, and, by the way, he was one now, too? Not to mention the potential dangers associated with the revelation. Sam’s inner turmoil was not lost on his boyfriend, not for one second. He reached for Sam and ran a steady hand along his bare shoulder.

  “You want me with you? You know, for moral support?”

  He was touched by the offer, he really was, but there were some things a man had to do on his own. Revealing himself as a werewolf to his friend who was now also a werewolf was one of them. Sam shook his head. “I need to break the news of his curse to him alone. But thanks.”

  Drew nodded, forcing himself to smile. “No problem, puppy.” Sam’s eyes lit up a little, a hint of fondness breaking through the somber expression clouding his features. “You should shower though. You smell like a wet dog.”

  Sam lunged forward and pecked Drew on the cheek. The numerous problems posed still weren’t solved, Cassius was still injured, he still felt exposed. But he could appreciate Drew’s attempts to distract him, at least for the moment. It reassured him, the way Drew seemed able to read the situation and respond in just the way he needed. “That’s what you get for dating a werewolf.”

  “Like I had a choice.” Drew muttered, ruffling Sam’s hair. “I’m not even a dog person, you know.”

  “Liar,” Sam said, a quick retort. He turned his back on him and went to the shower. “You are completely in love with me.”

  “And that has nothing to do with the fact that you smell.” He began to leave the room, then looked to Sam, warmth returning to his expression. None of this would be easy, and truth be told he was worried for Sam and Cassius. But he wouldn't interfere, not unless Sam asked him to. The world of lycanthropy was still a foreign one, one he could never fully understand. He could only love who he loved and do what he could to protect Sam as a man. “I’m going back to sleep. We’ll figure this all out. It’s gonna be okay. I swear it is.”

  Sam looked back at Drew then and pulled a faint smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was the best he could manage for the moment. “I know. I know.”

  Chapter 7

  fourteen years ago

  Sam’s father came from a long line of werewolves, on both his maternal and paternal sides, though none had been born in the family for three generations until Sam was born. The recessive condition didn’t always present itself in every generation, and the last werewolf in the family had been his paternal great-grandmother.

  Those who recalled her in her youth remembered her as a spirited woman, sharp and witty, the life and soul of every party. She loved dancing, and more than that she loved to sing and would entertain visitors at her home with love songs she’d composed on the spot. And she loved to play with the children in the neighborhood. She climbed the tallest trees, ran around with the boys, wrestled with dogs, and so on.

  When she finally married and had children, her home was one of laughter and joy, a gathering spot for the neighborhood children. Relatives recalled stories of how she’d chase the kids around in the yard, playing with them, always smiling. And she’d teach the children songs, making up a song for every child she met. She lit up the world, they said. She was a sun and the rest of the island orbited around her.

  Sam always felt a connection to this woman he never met, even before he knew of his condition or of their shared recessive bond. It was the stories told of her, the anecdotes of a playful, vibrant woman who adored the spotlight and beyond that adored making people smile which appealed to him.

  When he felt his confidence lacked in any area, he sometimes thought of her, of what it must have been like to have the world eat out of her hand, to have everyone she met fall under her spell. She had a strength, a self-assuredness which he sometimes felt he lacked. She said what she liked and took what she wanted, and sometimes those qualities were entirely enviable. He liked to remind himself, when he needed to, that she was a part of him. Her spirit lived in his body now. Whatever confidence he lacked he could draw from her.

  Those feelings came to a head the first time he transformed. He was fourteen, an awkward age for any boy, and it was on the eve of his departure for a trial with the team. He was under a great deal of pressure, from his parents, from himself, anxious and on edge, and then it had happened.

  He’d been fast asleep in his bed, probably dreaming about football when he bolted straight up, gasping for air, chest constricting. He thought he was having a heart attack. Perhaps he was. Either way, the pain was immeasurable, but it was just the beginning. He looked at his hands, noticed to his horror that they could barely be called hands anymore. They were mangled, twisted claws, hooked and sharp and changing right before his eyes like something from a nightmare. Under the covers, his feet and legs were changing too.

  Bones cracked as they expanded. Muscles seemed to rip apart, contorting unnaturally. All at once, every hair on his body pushed through his skin. He must have shouted, must have screamed or cried, the agony was so great, because a moment later he saw his mother standing in the doorway, hand to her mouth as she shrieked. He didn't recognize his voice thoug
h. The only sound he heard was the hideous scream of an animal. He caught a flash of motion behind his mother, registered it as his father, and then his vision and memories faded, along with any sense of himself until morning.

  He came to in a garden several blocks from his house, covered in dirt and sweat and rain water, collapsed on the ground beside a dead rodent which appeared to have been partly eaten by some sort of predator. Sam recoiled in horror, then scrambled to find something to hide behind before he noticed his father’s car sitting across the way.

  In the early dawn hours, he had no real chance of being spotted, but he was still frightened and embarrassed as he sprinted to his father waiting in the car. He climbed into the car and his father immediately offered him a bathrobe to wrap himself in. Neither spoke as they pulled away, driving past their house and out of the neighborhood toward a secluded area. Sam’s heart was pounding. He’d never been so scared or confused in his entire life.

  “Dad?” He asked finally, clutching the shoulder strap of the seatbelt, holding onto it like a lifeline.

  “Sam,” his father answered, putting the car into park near a palm grove. He turned to look at his son and Sam felt himself start to crumble under his father’s scrutiny.

  “What happened? What’s wrong with me?”

  The older man kept a strong, stony face as he explained everything. Lycanthropy. Werewolves. There were thousands around the globe, bred or bitten, and Sam was one of them. His great-grandmother had been one, as well as two of her siblings and her father before her.

  None of her children or grandchildren had developed the condition, but it was known to lie dormant in families for generations. Sam’s father recalled hearing of one family who had none born for one hundred years before a descendant finally presented. The family secret was kept close, only passed on to certain relations in case the curse made an appearance. Otherwise, it was decided that it was best for all if it was kept quiet.