Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance

by Primrose, Ella

“He’s really angry with me,” Cassius exhaled, glancing across the airport terminal to where Sam and Drew sat, talking and joking with some of the others. “I’m worried. Very worried.”

  “Listen, there’s nothing he can say to you that changes any of this,” Adrian said, taking another swig of water and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s done is done, and there’s nothing we can do about it, Cass. Sam can be angry all he likes, but it’s a wasted emotion. It’s better to look ahead instead of looking back all the time.”

  Adrian was right, Cassius agreed. So, he simply sighed and slowly nodded, and once it was time to board the plane, he obediently took the empty aisle seat next to Sam. A few rows back, Drew and Adrian ended up together; Cassius noted this with a grim sense of foreboding, a feeling which only intensified as he registered the displeasure on Sam’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” Cassius mouthed, buckling his seatbelt over his lap. “I didn’t think, I—”

  “No, you didn’t,” Sam answered sharply, his eyes narrowing at his friend. Cassius almost shivered, the look was so cold. He knew Sam was mad at him, but this was on a whole other level. “And that’s just the problem. You do these things and you don’t even care about the consequences.”

  “Sam—” Cassius wanted to whimper, but he kept it together enough to choke out Sam’s name.

  “This could be catastrophic, for all of us, and you’re not even worried about it. You’re just worried about getting your dick wet.”

  “What? No! That’s not true and it’s not fair!”

  “Isn’t it?”

  How dare Sam question the legitimacy of what he and Adrian had decided to do together? What right did he have to undermine their love? And moreover, Cassius had just as much a stake in keeping their secret. He was a werewolf too, it wasn’t like he was just some random person with no vested interest in not being found out.

  They were in this together, all of them. It wasn’t just Sam against the world, with Drew along as his sidekick. Cassius was part of this bullshit saga, for better or for worse, and Sam had no right to make any demands of silence.

  “I just hope it was the right decision.” said Sam.

  Cassius opened his mouth to speak, to agree but just then the flight attendants began to explain the emergency procedures. So instead he turned to Sam and spoke to him in the lowest, firmest voice he could manage, tone aching with finality. “What’s done is done, Sam. I get it, I’m sorry, you’re worried about everything. But it’s too late. He and I are in this together, forever.”

  Sam’s eyes fluttered and he started to speak, but it was too late. Cassius had already unfastened his seatbelt and stalked down the aisle toward the back of the plane. Sam was stunned, his sense of disbelief only leveling off when Drew dropped into the seat beside him.

  “Everything better now?” Drew said glancing down the aisle to the seat he’d just vacated.

  “Yeah, as good as they’ll ever be.” Sam frowned, unable to even look back himself.

  “It’s gonna be alright.”

  Sam didn’t answer. He only nodded vaguely, then pushed up the armrest between them before closing his eyes to sleep during the flight.

  * * *

  Carson had every intention of avoiding Ian on the flight. He would find someone else to sit with until he could find the right words to tell Ian what had happened. And of course, he wasn’t bursting at the seams to spill the beans about Garry. It was all shaping up to be an eventful and exciting voyage.

  Or it was until he got on board and found the seat beside Fabian had already been claimed. And every other seat was occupied except for the only single empty seat next to Ian.

  “Move, Tyrone,” Carson barked, holding up the boarding process. He sounded like a petulant child, but he really didn’t care. “I’m sitting there.”

  Tyrone slowly turned to look at him, his expression wholly unmoved. “There are plenty of other seats.”

  “No, there isn’t. I want to sit with Fabian.”

  Behind them, toward the front of the plane, someone yelled in frustration, “Carson! Move your ass!”

  “I’m already settled,” Tyrone said calmly.

  Beside him, Fabian gave a helpless shrug. “We can switch around later.”

  “But—” Carson was on the verge of doing something stupid in his frustration when, from the last row, there came a voice of reason, breaking through the blinding fog of chaos. “Come sit with me.”

  Carson looked back, his eyes meeting Ian’s, a pang of guilt shooting through him as he briskly forced his way down the aisle. Of course, he’d sit with Ian, of course he would. It was best to just get it done and over with. But he’d feel bad about it, for every single second of it, because as excited as he was to be near Ian, he felt the dread of breaking Ian’s heart just as intensely. There was nothing Carson wouldn’t do for Ian, one of his very best friends in the entire world. But this mess with Garry, well…

  “Smile,” Ian said as Carson sat down beside him. Across the aisle, Simon sat engrossed in a novel, pointedly ignoring the rest of the men as they sorted themselves out. “There’s no sense in worrying over things you can’t change.”

  “It’s hard to smile when you feel completely lousy,” Carson grumbled.

  “I’d rather you sit with me but I’ll go sit with Tyrone later. If that’s what you want. How’s that?”

  Carson knew what Ian was trying to do. He wanted to fix it, to undo the drama and make it right.

  Carson opened his mouth, his voice caught in his throat for only a second but his thoughts raced and, looking Ian directly in his eyes, he spilled the beans right then and there before the plane could even take off from the runaway. Before the wheels could lift into the air and the butterflies in his stomach would settle and he’d think twice about being twenty-thousand miles in the sky. He told him everything.

  Ian didn’t say anything for a moment. Not until he slipped his fingers into Carson’s hand and interlaced them around his. “Last night I was with Fabian, watching over Adrian.” Carson felt like more of a fool than ever. “But the point is…do you want to be with him? With Garry?”

  “With Garry? He’s my best friend. I wish it had never happened I—”

  “I know things happen. Shitty things in life happen. I wish it was me you were with last night.” There was greed in Ian’s eyes, some dark fluttering emotion which scared Carson.

  “I’m sorry, Ian.”

  “Don’t be sorry. We haven’t even really begun to have a relationship. But I hope we can. I just think the worst thing you have to deal with right now is Garry and your friendship.”

  And he had already. He’d patched things up with him at the airport bar, when Garry had asked if they could ‘do it’ again.

  “No.” he’d replied over a glass of whiskey. It was something to help with the hangover, even if he hated the taste of alcohol by then. He’d sworn to never touch it ever, but he knew it would only last until another night out on the town with friends, and peer pressure. “No Garry. Not ever. I value our friendship more than a one night stand. I wish it had never happened because I’m afraid of this—of losing you as a friend, one of my best friends.”

  Garry could only shake his head in reply and smile, “I figured as much. But it was nice while it lasted.” He took a swig of his beer. If there was anyone who hadn’t been torn up drunk the night before and could remember everything, it was Garry. At least he had really enjoyed their night together, even if it was just a one time deal. “By the way, no matter what, I am still your friend so don’t push me away just because I wanted something more from this. I mean, who can blame me? Last night was much needed. Friends being there for friends. And if in the future—”

  “Okay. Okay.” Carson put his hand up to stop him. “You’re taking this pretty well—too well. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “Hey, who knows what the future may hold.”

  Carson snapped out of his thoughts when Ian brushed his ch
eek with his thumb. Something wet had streaked his cheek. He hadn’t realized he’d almost started to cry.

  “Don’t be so sad. You were drunk. But drunk or not, you get one free pass. But just only this once and only because we haven’t even really started to see where this thing with us is going.”

  “Does this mean you get one too? A pass, I mean.”

  “If I really fuck up….” he shook his head, “I can only hope you’ll forgive me. But—”

  “You don’t ever fuck up, Ian.” Carson laughed. His voice strained, he sniffled and cleared his throat.

  “I know.” Ian smirked. “I know.”

  Carson had known Ian long enough to know that he thrived when things got messy.

  Slowly though, Carson smiled, to mask the urge to frown if nothing else. “You’re the best.”

  Ian’s grin was cheeky. He pulled down the window blind and for the first time in a long time, he looked completely relaxed. “Tell me that again after we win the championship.”

  Carson laughed, loud enough to make Simon frown from across the aisle, and for the moment, everything seemed to be okay.

  Chapter 31

  Free

  It felt like Sam had been gone for ages. It hadn’t really been that very long that he had been away from the town of Rockfort, just a season spent refining his skills, with routine visits back home to see his family and visit with his friends. It was the typical life of a young football player, but he was grateful to be back with his team and he was eager to prove that his selection hadn’t been a mistake. A lot was on the line for Sam, but he maintained his cool demeanor as both his new and old teammates welcomed him fully into the fold.

  But with the anxiety came the comfort of the familiar. He’d never been fully able to relax before, living in a state of constant vigilance that someone might learn the truth about him. It was a secret he’d struggled with for his entire life and the burden of keeping it wore down on him sometimes, but he had no other alternative. No one could ever learn the truth about his lycanthropy. It was too dangerous to let anyone know, it could expose the entire community to violence and persecution.

  Centuries of history supported these fears, and yet…And yet Sam longed to confide in someone, to share this most intimate and natural part of himself with another person. He knew he wasn’t the first werewolf to crave that connection with another, but it didn’t make those feelings any easier to combat. If anything, knowing that all the other werewolves who’d ever lived had struggled with their nature and suppressed this aspect of themselves in order to pass amongst humans made him all the more desperate to reveal himself. He longed to break free. He longed to find someone who would be his friend no matter what. Was that too much to ask for? Was that really so dangerous?

  Of course it was. His father reminded him of this as he had drove him to training on his first morning back.

  “This is very important, Sam,” his father said as he pulled into a parking space.

  Sam wasn’t a child anymore. He was twenty years old. He’d survived this long without revealing himself. Sure, he longed for companionship which would extend beyond his family unit, but he was smarter than that. “I know. It will be fine. Trust me.”

  His father smiled then, “I do trust you. Now go out there and give them hell, my boy.”

  He took a moment to fluff his hair into place before exiting the car and beginning the next phase of his life. There was a lot to look forward to, and truthfully, he was a lot more nervous than he’d care to admit. Hopefully though, he could channel some of that anxiety toward impressing his new teammates.

  Besides, the more he stayed focused on training and the sport, the less time and energy he’d have to think about his curse. And the less time he spent thinking about his curse, the better he’d be on the field. It was just that simple. He tossed his training bag over his shoulder and waved his father goodbye, entering the facility, holding his breath in excitement.

  To say he was welcomed with open arms was a bit of an understatement. The whole locker room seemed to gravitate toward him as he entered. He stood there, stiff, hoping his shyness wouldn’t be mistaken for discomfort or standoffishness, chewing on his lower lip as he waved. Teammates, both familiar and new clamored toward him enthusiastically. His nervousness slowly dissipated as he did his best to memorize names and faces and acquaint himself with the ins and outs of the facility. He’d spent his teenaged years at Rockfort, but being on the team now meant he had to memorize the place all over again.

  And being on the team meant he had his own locker now. He found it easily enough and set about making himself at home, glancing around as he changed for practice. The whole room was abuzz, everyone chatting and laughing, a jovial mood about the place. Sam regarded his teammates with wonder and awe, masked somewhat by the unruly hair in his eyes. He could get used to these people. He could befriend them. He was sure of it.

  He’d just knelt down to tighten the laces of his boots when someone approached him, stopping right in front of him, standing there, like he was just waiting to be acknowledged. Sam didn’t look up just yet, tying his boot with hair obscuring his face for several pointed seconds before he slowly raised his eyes, looking at him from the feet on up. His heart stopped beating for a good ten seconds then. His mouth went dry in an instant. It was the exact moment when Sam fell in love.

  The man was gorgeous,. He was the most beautiful man Sam had ever seen, with eyes so intense and dark that he thought it might actually be possible to become lost in them forever. It was clichéd and stupid and completely crazy, but Sam was pretty sure it might really be true. And it wasn’t just the guy’s eyes which captured his attention, it was his entire face. He’d never seen anyone scowl quite so magnificently before, not even in movies or on TV.

  This man had perfected the art of the sexy glare and he was leveling it right at Sam, building up his hopes and breaking his heart all in that one smoldering gaze.

  Sam recognized him immediately. There was no mistaking Drew Marshall. He knew all about him. He was phenomenal. He was amazing. And Sam was going to be playing with him, so long as he didn’t completely blow his chances through sheer incompetence.

  Sam’s lips twitched slightly, into something of a smile. He hoped that’s what it was at least. A smile was better than a scowl. He didn’t want to scowl at Drew, even though it’s exactly what Drew was doing to him.

  “Hi,” he said at last, breaking the several seconds of silence crackling between them.

  Drew’s haughty expression remained the same. “You’re Sam, right? Samuel Clifton?”

  Sam nodded, what was only a half smile fading away, and with it his short lived hopes and momentary fantasies of friendship or more. “Yes. And you’re Drew Marshall.”

  “I know who I am,” he said, cracking a grin. Sam couldn’t help but notice the sharp points of his canines, the wolfish glint in his eyes as they stared at each other. If he didn’t know any better (and he knew, for sure) he might think that Drew was the werewolf and he was the potential prey. It unnerved him more than he’d ever been unnerved in his entire life.

  He swallowed hard, not daring to break Drew’s gaze. After a moment spent trying to decide whether or not Drew meant for his smile to be warm or intimidating, the predatory look in his eyes softened just slightly, fading into a confident smirk. “Welcome back. I’m looking forward to seeing you on the field. They say you’re like a magician out there.”

  Did they say that about him, really? Sam knew people talked about him, he knew that he was talented and skillful and that he was capable of fantastic things. If he lacked confidence in himself, he’d never have achieved anything on the field. But it still felt strange to know that his reputation preceded him, and it felt even stranger to know that someone on Drew’s level not only knew his name, but could actually recall that information. Sam had just assumed he’d have to work his way up to get attention from the starters and the top scorers.

  “There’s nothing magical abo
ut me,” Sam said, pushing his bangs out of his eyes, still staring at Drew intently. The irony of his words wasn’t lost on him. Though lycanthropy wasn’t technically a magical condition, most humans who encountered werewolves and lived to tell the tale seemed to associate the condition with elements of black magic.

  Sam had no idea if magic existed at all, really. He’d never believed in it before. He’d never seen any reason to think it was real. But he’d never been in love before, and his mother had once told him, that love was the only kind of magic which still existed in the world. Maybe she was right about it. She was usually right about most things.

  “I’ll decide that for myself, yeah?” Drew answered, finally looking away. He was so handsome, Sam had to remind himself that he needed to breathe, and also not choke on his own tongue. It was at that moment when he realized what was happening to him.

  Not only had he never questioned the existence of magic, but he’d also never questioned his own desires or really experienced first-hand, lust. Sure, he’d noticed other attractive people in the world. He’d seen lots of men in various states of undress for most of his life. And he’d seen girls before too. He’d never actually taken one out, but he’d seen pictures, and he had friends who liked to brag about their conquests to him, because he was too polite to tell them to knock it off. But he’d never felt that stirring inside of himself. He’d said all of ten words to this man and he already felt like he was going to go out of his mind. In the span of a minute he’d come to understand what it felt like and why these emotions were equated to magic.

  It was crazy. It was unreal. And if he was being honest, he never wanted it to end.

  Sam stood there quietly, nodding slowly as Drew gave a casual salute and sauntered away. The rest of the locker room was alive all around him, alive with the excitement of the new season looming and the budding chemistry of a new line-up. Grown men laughing loudly, thrilled that they got paid to play football for a living, living their lives around something as silly and beautiful as the game.