Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance

by Primrose, Ella

  He sat there in stunned silence, listening to his father deliver his speech as if he were sentencing his son to death. Sam had never been so terrified before and he felt smaller then than he ever had in his life. He wanted to dismiss it all as a prank, wanted his father to crack a smile and tease him for sleep walking, to reassure him that it had all been a nightmare, but he saw the graveness in his father's eyes, and he still recalled the horror of his mother's cries ringing in his ears like a bell.

  It hadn't been a nightmare. It was all real, real as the blood and fur trapped under his finger nails, real as the mud which caked his hair and stained his skin. This was his truth now. This was his curse, or his destiny.

  “You’re going to be fine,” his father said firmly, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. “We’ll deal with this as a family, as we always have. But this changes things for your future.”

  Sam’s eyes went wide. He’d had to take in so much, completely rearrange his sense of self and reality. What more could be asked of him today? “What are you…what do you mean?”

  He decided he didn’t like the look in his father’s eyes. “You cannot go, Sam.”

  The boy’s heart nearly fell through his stomach. “What? No! No! I have to go! You can’t—”

  “We can’t risk it, Sam. I know this is painful, but you could be exposed. Your life could be in danger, and the lives of every other werewolf in the world.”

  His face twisted and he let out a pitiful cry. Normally he was calm, level headed, almost impassive. His family often remarked on how passive he could be. But this was a cut too deep. He couldn’t give up football. He couldn’t sacrifice his dreams, not when he was on the cusp of something great. His whole life was leading to this moment, to leaving Silver Falls and exploring the rest of the world. And he was good. He might even be great. How could he give up everything right when it was within reach?

  But on the other hand, could he really risk his life and the lives of others, just for the sake of his own ambition? Was he really so selfish? No, he wasn’t a selfish person. He was kind. He was thoughtful. He’d always thought he was, at least. But he always thought of himself as a footballer, too. He couldn’t conceive of a future without the very thing which gave his life purpose and meaning. He wasn’t selfish, but he wanted to live.

  “Trust me,” he said, practically begging his father, grasping the man’s hands with both of his. “I’m responsible. I’m smart.”

  His father half-nodded but otherwise seemed unwilling to budge.

  “Dad, please! I have to live with this for the rest of my life. You can’t take away the only thing I’ve ever wanted just because something bad might happen! Something bad might happen if I stay here for the rest of my life! I might get caught next month! Or, or, or…” He paused, catching his breath. “Someone else might get be caught. Another werewolf might expose everything. You can’t ask me to forget everything I love because someday something might happen. Dad, don’t you trust me?”

  His father listened, silently proud of how articulate his son was, even in the face of such a horrible burden. He smiled at last, reaching to wipe a smudge of mud from Sam’s cheek. “I have always trusted you, my boy. You’re wise beyond your years, and so constant, so responsible, so mature. Your mother and I have always been so proud to have a son with these qualities.”

  “I’m still me, aren’t I?” Sam asked, pleading with his eyes. “I’m still your son. This…condition, or whatever, doesn’t change my mind and it doesn’t change my heart.”

  “You are who you have always been. This changes nothing.” His father agreed.

  “Then let me go. Please. I can’t live if I can’t go.”

  “Sam—”

  “I’m not threatening, I’m not being rash—”

  “I know, son, I know. But you have to understand our fears.”

  Sam laughed sharply. “Nobody is more scared right now than me. Please. Don’t take this away from me. Please.”

  The two of them sat quietly in the car for a few minutes. The father drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, his boy watching him, breathing in shakily, neither saying a word. Until, “Okay. You can go, as long as you are careful.”

  Sam’s entire face lit up. “You mean it? I can still go?”

  “Yes,” his father said, turning the key to start the car again. “We’ll navigate this together. Now let’s get back to the house before your mother has a fit.”

  He broke down and cried on the drive home, exhausted, nervous, a wreck of every emotion after the long night and morning. But his dream was still alive. He could still play football and indulge his fantasy of perhaps being good enough to be a pro someday, when he’d win trophies and titles, and the world might know his name. He had so many questions, genuine concerns about himself and his true nature, and he had so much he needed to figure out. But his dream was alive. He’d kept his dream alive, bit into it, wouldn’t let it go.

  “It’s going to be difficult for you.” His father looked him over before they entered the house.

  Sam nodded, wiping his face on the sleeve of the bathrobe “I know. It will be fine. Trust me.”

  His father smiled then, and reached over to ruffle his son’s hair. “I do trust you.”

  And just like that, Sam's future was destroyed and rebuilt again.

  Chapter 8

  Confession

  Cassius had to spend an extra two weeks in Blanca in the hospital recuperating from surgery, but the doctors assured him he would make a full recovery, and with any luck he’d be fit to play by the end of the winter break. The happy news sent everyone waves of relief, even as though he found himself cursed to spend December stuck training by himself under medical supervision. He’d be alright, and that was what mattered.

  Of course, his sunny outlook faltered slightly once Sam sat him down for the tough werewolves-are-real-and-by-the-way-you’re-one-of-them-now talk. Sam had asked Drew for a ride over to Cassius’s place late one night so that they could talk in private. It was about a week before Christmas, only a few days before the next full moon. Cassius would then experience his first transformation then, and Sam was determined that he wouldn't be left alone for the ordeal. And it would be quite an ordeal.

  Drew had only briefly witnessed what Sam went through every month. Sam wanted to shield him from the horrific consequences of witnessing a complete full moon transformation, but what he had seen had messed with his head, his common sense.

  No words could quite encapsulate the visceral terror of witnessing a man's body bend, twist, stretch, shift into a massive hairy beast. Bones cracking, the inhumane cries of pain. Just thinking of the one time he'd seen a few tortured seconds of Sam's body morphing into an animal's made Drew feel sick inside. No one should have to go through that, especially not on their own. Sometimes he wished he was strong enough to help Sam through it each month, but he wasn't there. Not yet, anyway.

  Drew ultimately sat alone in his car and listened to the radio for almost two hours before Sam emerged and silently dropped into the passenger seat. He watched Sam expectantly, and when he said nothing, Drew finally made a prompting gesture with his hands. “Well?”

  Sam chewed on his lower lip, not in a nervous way, and not in the sexy way Drew liked either. He was more pensive than anything else. Unsure. He took in a deep breath before slowly turning his head to face his lover. “He took it okay. I think.”

  “You think?”

  “He’s in shock. It’s a lot to take in, you know. This is literally life altering information.” Sam’s eyes narrowed a bit. He wasn’t angry, but Cassius deserved a bit more patience and a great deal of sympathy. He was cursed now and he had to live with it. It was a lot to process. Sam had had an entire lifetime to come to terms with lycanthropy, and Drew had had nearly a full year to let it settle before he witnessed his transformation for the first time. Cassius deserved longer than an evening to take it all in.

  “I know.” Drew wasn’t unsympathetic, he just didn
’t enjoy the look of worry on Sam’s face. Sam had so much to cope with, so much weighing him down, and his affection for Cassius would only compound his anguish. Drew hated it, hated the very idea that Sam might suffer at all, let alone over something beyond his control like this. It ate him up inside. “Listen, we both know I’m shit at this, but—”

  “You’re not shit at this. This is just a shitty situation.”

  “Yeah, I know, but just listen. If there’s anything I can do for you, or for him, just…” Drew had taken hold of Sam’s hand, running his thumb over Sam’s knuckles. Sam finally stopped destroying his lip and managed a smile as he shifted in his seat.

  “Actually, there is something you can do.” He brought Drew’s hand to his mouth, kissed it delicately.

  “Yeah?” Drew grinned at him, wanting to be useful.

  “Yeah.” Sam took a second to breathe. “It’s Jonas.”

  “Jonas?” Drew’s face fell.

  The man nodded. “He’s been a wreck, he feels completely guilty about losing Cass that night and he won’t stop moping and worrying, and he’s been calling Cass all the time and it’s just a mess. Someone has to do something, Drew.”

  He studied Sam’s face for a long moment, not really sure what he was looking for besides some reassurance. Dealing with Jonas when he was in a mood could be a trying task, but Cassius and Sam certainly had enough on their plates. If this was the slack he had to pick up, so be it.

  So he nodded and he sighed. “Okay. Leave it to me, babe.”

  Sam rewarded Drew with his most serene smile, relief washing over him. “You’re the best.”

  “Yeah, I know. And don’t you ever forget it.”

  “Never in a million years,” Sam whispered as he leaned in to kiss Drew’s nose.

  As Sam pulled away, they held each other’s gaze for a poignant moment, neither one uttering a word for the longest time, neither breaking the connection between them until the intensity became too much to bare. Drew looked away first, closing his eyes before turning the ignition and driving them out into the cool winter night. This ordeal wasn't over, not even close, and for some reason it felt like it was just the beginning.

  * * *

  The attention had been nice for a while, especially after enduring the pain of surgery and the initial weeks of recovery. But he didn’t like the spotlight all the time. Cassius was a footballer because he loved to play football and was good at it. He wasn’t in it for the tabloids or the attention. He played out of love for the game, and because he knew nothing else in life.

  Of course, everything he knew about life and the world had been thrown under a bus when Sam appeared in his living room to tell him that he had become a werewolf.

  How is one supposed to handle that anyway? It’s not like it’s an everyday, common sort of conversation which one just has with their best friend. Not in the real world, at least. Because it’s freaking preposterous.

  But Sam had worn him down, convinced him that it was all real. He wasn’t sure what Sam had said to get it to sink in, but Cassius recalled sitting back in his sofa and feeling consumed with fear, and he remembered Sam putting both of his hands on his shoulders to steady him, calm him.

  “I’ll be here with you, Cass.” Sam spoke with such conviction that Cassius had no other choice but to nod. “I’ll come over early and we’ll do it together. I’ll show you what I do. That way you won’t be alone.”

  If he were the crying type, Cassius would have broken down and sobbed like a little baby right then. Instead he took in a ragged breath and leaned against Sam, head resting on his friend’s shoulder. Sam tilted his head to look down at him, expression a mix of sympathy and strength.

  That’s when it hit him. That’s when it really sank in that everything Sam had said was true. It wasn’t the words which made it. It was the look in Sam’s eyes. Golden brown, like honey, or amber. In a flash, it all came back—the wolf which had saved him that night had eyes the same warm shade of brown. The wolf had been Sam.

  He felt himself go numb. “You never told me. How come?”

  Sam tensed up, shifting in his seat. “It’s not something you can just go around telling people. I…I haven’t…” He trailed off, at a loss for words.

  “No one else knows that you’re…?” Cassius asked, opening his eyes, not sure if he believed it enough to even say the word out loud.

  Sam bit the inside of his cheek, hesitating. Cassius watched him expectantly. “Drew. Drew knows.”

  Cassius’s face faltered a little. He hadn’t expected that answer. Not that it was completely shocking or something, but still. He puzzled this over, the gears turning in his head until suddenly a light bulb switched on. His eyes lit up. Sam’s cheeks went pink.

  “Are you serious?” Cassius whined, eyes wide as saucers. “You and him? Really, Sam! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “We haven’t told anyone.” His voice was soft. Cassius felt like an intruder, but Sam had been his friend for so long. He could be trusted with secrets. He really could.

  “What else haven’t you told me?” Cassius tried not to sound hurt, without much success. Between the whole ‘surprise you’re now a werewolf’ thing and this revelation about Sam and Drew, he suspected that Sam didn’t trust him with anything. If he kept the big stuff from him, chances were, he kept a lot of smaller secrets too. And after years and years of friendship, didn’t they trust each other? Cassius certainly trusted Sam.

  Sam frowned at him. He liked Cassius, considered him one of his oldest friends, but he didn’t exactly appreciate the intrusion into his privacy. He didn’t owe Cassius an explanation of his relationship, and he was under no obligation to explain his lycanthropy to anyone. That said, Cassius was owed a little sympathy. The situation sucked, beyond compare. He’d need time to process and grieve and come to terms with the monumental changes it would mean for his life. And Sam couldn’t be mad at him for that.

  “Can we talk about my sex life some other time?” He said at last, pleading with his eyes. Cassius nodded and settled back into the cushions. Sam turned to him, eyes cold, mouth set into a thin line. “Look, it’s really important that you keep this quiet, Cass. If anyone was to find out that we’re werewolves it could ruin everything. Not just our careers, but maybe even our lives, and the lives of every other werewolf. You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  Cassius swallowed hard. It still hurt to do so, but the reflex was instinctive. His eyes met Sam’s and he understood the gravity of the request. Telling could mean life or death. Telling wasn’t an option. “All right. I promise. This is just between you and me.”

  Sam’s lips twitched into a small smile and he leaned in to embrace his friend. Cassius accepted the hug, completely enveloping Sam with his large arms. The sight might have been comical had either of them been in any mood to joke around.

  “I’ll come by early. We can eat first and then we’ll…” Sam paused, standing up to leave.

  “Yeah.” Cassius said, watching him go.

  “I’ll see you then.” Sam nodded as he let himself out.

  “Yeah.” Cassius said to the closed door, overcome by something raw and aching inside of him. Maybe he was the crying type after all, because as soon as he heard the car peel away outside, he let himself break down.

  * * *

  For as well as Cassius had taken the news and seemed to be dealing with the fallout of the attack, the rest of the country was generally out of sorts. The media fell into a frenzy, parked outside the stadium waiting to snap photographs of trainers, players, family members, anyone who might provide a comment on the incident. And who could blame them? It wasn’t every day that a famous footballer was attacked by a ferocious wild dog while walking through a major metropolitan tourist destination.

  News reports flooded the airwaves on the strange and unusual happenings which had occurred in Blanca over the years, with the travel industry and local government insisting this was an isolated incident, not indicative of an ongoin
g trend of dog attacks.

  Once Cassius’s recovery was assured, the incident became the subject of late night comedy routines and the punchline for playground jokes, and aside from a few noticeable scars across his throat, there was very little in the way of a reminder of the dog attack. His return to Rockfort in mid-February was met with great fanfare, a hero’s welcome. All the papers had a photo the next day of Cassius smiling, embracing his teammates, with headlines welcoming him back. The rest of the country had moved on to other pressing news by then.

  By the following summer, Cassius Michaels’ wild night in Blanca was more or less forgotten, and quite frankly, he was glad to keep it that way.

  Chapter 9

  One Year Later

  The atmosphere at in the hotel dining room was one of utter excitement. Anticipation was high—they’d gone two and a half years without a loss and were eager to keep the momentum going ahead of the championship, and most of them were still riding the high from their win the year before. With some new blood having joined in recent months, the energy levels seemed to skyrocket along with the collective optimism that they were the best team in the world and could do absolutely no wrong.

  After a brief training session, they’d shipped off. There hadn’t been a lot of time to visit and catch up before boarding the plane, and with most of them still exhausted from the end of the season, they opted as a team to sleep rather than socialize on the flight in. After dropping off their luggage upstairs, they were summoned for a group meal.

  The dining hall featured a centralized serving area surrounded by half a dozen round tables for the players and staff. As expected, the tables split along club lines, generally speaking. The coaching staff sat by themselves and left well enough alone. And as for everyone else? Well, they distributed themselves with whomever they were most friendly with or they sat at the 'catch-all’ tables, open and welcome to any and everyone.