by JC Holly
As he finally bounded into the clearing, the door to the cabin opened and the other wolf trotted inside.
“Cabin” was perhaps the wrong word. While the building was indeed in the hills and constructed of wood, it was also five times the size of the average cabin. In its former life it had been a tourist center for a nearby lake and walking trail. Both had long ago fallen into disrepair, and the building itself had been due to be demolished before the alpha of Grant’s pack put in a substantial offer, on the understanding that the area would become private.
Grant followed his running partner through the open door and into a small waiting room. There was a door on each side, each leading into an area designed to let shifters switch forms without being overlooked—even to other shifters, the act of shifting was not a pleasant sight.
The man who had let him into the cabin, a new pack member named Theo, nodded to the left door, and Grant headed inside. Four doored stalls stood on the opposite side of the room, each large enough for a human or wolf-sized animal to fit inside and comfortably shift. Grant nudged a door open and moved inside, letting the door swing shut behind.
The change to human form was as painful as the change to a wolf. Neither body was designed to accommodate two forms, so changes had to be made to every part. Even after fifteen years of shifting, Grant still couldn’t help but yelp as his bones, muscles, and organs began to break, tear, and realign.
As always, he focused on something to try and distract himself. This time he thought about Tom, and whether he would call. He hoped he would, and that they would manage to arrange a date sooner rather than later. There was something about the man that drove Grant wild.
“You coming out, or what?”
Grant shook his head to clear his thoughts and stepped out of his stall to find his racing partner waiting for him, now shifted to her human form. She glanced down to his crotch and wiggled her eyebrows, then tossed him a brown robe to match her own.
“Shame to hide that away, but we don’t want to excite the pack,” she said with a wink.
“Grow up, June,” Grant said as he pulled the robe on.
“Never.” June laughed and headed out of the changing room. “You nearly had me on the run this time.”
“Yeah, right.”
She shrugged. “Okay, so you never stood a chance.”
Grant snorted. “That’s more like it.”
June was older by several decades, not that you could tell from the way she looked. Her flaming red hair didn’t show a single gray, and her porcelain features were as smooth as they had been when he’d first met her years ago. It was almost sickening.
The main hall was just that, a hall. It had originally been separated into several rooms, but once the pack owned it they converted it into one big room, apart from the entry area. Several groups of tables and chairs lay to the edges of the room, along with sofas and other more relaxed seating. A little bar had been fitted a few years ago, too, with a selection of booze, snacks, and raw meat.
The middle of the room was dominated by a large circular table, surrounded by high-backed chairs. There were enough seats for every member of the pack, and each chair was identical to the others, even the alpha’s.
The table was currently half-full, with a few other people by the bar. Grant nodded to a few people, and flashed Snow a wink. The man was lounging on a sofa near the back of the room, with a beer in hand. He was dressed normally, like most of the people in the room.
“I may have to start leaving clothes here,” Grant muttered, as he studied his robe.
“No, don’t do that,” June said. “I lose all chances to see you naked then.”
Grant smirked. “If I was straight I’d say something about tit for tat.”
June grinned and flashed him, giving him an instant of full frontal nudity. It was entirely lost on him, and he responded with rolled eyes.
“Like I said, if I was straight.”
She laughed and was about to reply when she, along with everyone else in the room, turned to the door for a moment. Grant turned, too, though he knew what had alerted everyone. Roger Creek, alpha of the pack, had just stepped in the front door.
Everyone moved to the table and took their seat, and Roger came into the hall soon after, an easy smile on his face.
“I’m glad to see everybody made it,” he said, as he took his seat. “Nice night for it, too,” he added, as he knocked the snow from his salt-and-pepper hair.
There was a time not too long ago that Grant had had a major crush on the man. It faded somewhat when he found out Roger was straight and married, but there were still moments when the man smiled like he was doing at that moment.
“I see some of you braved the snow on paw rather than foot,” the man said, nodding at Grant and a few others.
“You know me,” Grant said. “Any excuse.”
Roger grinned. “True enough. Anyway, on to business.”
For the next twenty minutes, the pack discussed minor news, like the weather holding up renovations on one of the other meeting places, and the possibility of a few new recruits coming from a nearby small pack that split up. Nobody said anything, but Grant knew everybody was waiting for the same things as him. The territory meeting Roger had been in with the alpha of The Creeks, and the rumors from The Brooks about a possible challenge to the leadership.
After some small talk about how long the winter would last, Roger finally broached the topics, and almost every member of the pack leaned in.
“The discussions are going well,” he said. “It turns out that an area that we both thought we owned is in fact owned by nobody. Apparently the person we hired to draw up the maps a while back made the mistake, so we’re trying to decide who gets it.”
“What’s the area?” June asked. “Because if it’s a decent restaurant I’m willing to fight to the death.”
Roger smirked and shook his head. “Nothing so fancy, I’m afraid. Just an old industrial area. There are several nice buildings up for sale there, though, and since only the owner would have the right to try and buy them, we’re taking the talks seriously.”
“Do we need more property?” one of the younger members asked, then blushed when Roger turned to regard him. “I mean, we have a lot, right?”
“We do,” the alpha agreed. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world if we didn’t get the rights, but we can always use more places. Property is where the money is, after all.”
Apparently Roger had nothing to say about the rumors, or nothing he wanted to say out loud, so he ended the meeting after planning when the next one would be. After that, the pack dispersed, some heading straight home to sleep, or to appointments, but most staying in the hall for a while.
Grant had nothing important to do, so he decided to hang around for a while and catch up with the people he hadn’t spoken to in a while. He did, however, head to the phone first to call his answer machine to check for messages.
The machine told him he had a new message, and he hit the key to play it.
“Hey Grant, it’s Tom,” the message began, making Grant grin. “I was wondering if, uh, if you wanted to grab something to eat tomorrow? There’s a Chinese restaurant I’ve heard is good, if you’re interested.”
Grant scribbled down the number that Tom left, then called it right back. Tom answered, and was surprised to find it was Grant, and even more surprised to find that Grant was free and eager to meet the next night. They set a time, and Tom told him his address, which Grant again noted down, before hanging up.
He resisted the urge to dance, but couldn’t hide the grin on his face. He also couldn’t hide the fact that he’d just arranged a date, since everyone around him had the hearing of a wolf. Most didn’t let on that they had heard, as was the polite thing to do in shifter circles. June, however, wasn’t polite.
“So, what’s he like?” she called from halfway across the room, where she sat on a sofa with Snow and another member. “He hung?”
Grant gritted his
jaw and tried to fix her with a glare, but he was in too good a mood to pull it off.
Chapter Six
Tom sank into his office chair, coffee in hand, and rolled his aching neck. Technically he hadn’t needed to head into work for another week, but they called asking if he could come in for a few hours to help with a problem, and he’d decided it was more practical than sitting home and obsessing about the upcoming date.
Despite the number of things he needed to get done, though, he found himself once again staring at the picture frame beside his monitor.
It had been the first thing he’d seen when he’d come in an hour earlier, though it hadn’t been empty then. Instead it had held a picture of him and his ex on their first year’s anniversary. He’d pulled the photo out immediately and tossed it into the trash, but now he was confronted with a square of dark wood with nothing inside it.
Would there come a time when he’d put Grant’s photograph in there? Or perhaps one of both of them? The thought gnawed at his stomach. It would mean telling his workmates, either directly or indirectly, that he was gay. No, bisexual. That was it. After all, he’d spent all his adult life in relationships with women.
Either way, it meant attracting attention to himself, for he’d surely be the talk of the watercooler for a while, and he hated attention.
He picked up the frame, brushing a thumb over the wood while he thought, then sighed and tossed it into a drawer. He’d have to get through the first date before he considered anything as big as a photo.
“I heard it was a bad break-up,” someone said from behind.
Tom jumped, then swiveled in his chair to find a workmate he couldn’t remember the name of standing by the entrance to his cubicle, a steaming coffee cup in her hand, her elbow resting on the low dividing wall.
“It was,” Tom said, nodding once.
There was no point denying it if it was already spreading around the office. The woman—Sue? Sharon? Something with an s—shook her head and commiserated, telling him about a similar event in her own love life. Tom smiled and frowned in the right places, but he wasn’t really listening. What was it with people wanting to share the misery? He’d have preferred a joke, or a silly anecdote. He reminded himself that she was only trying to be nice, though, and tried to be sincere when he thanked her.
“You should get back on the horse as soon as possible,” she said, smiling.
“I will. In fact somebody asked me out recently.”
“Perfect!” She sipped at her coffee. “I mean, as long as she’s your type.”
“I, uh, I think so, yeah.” Though it’s not a she.
When Miss S left, Tom turned back to his work, but not before noticing the time in the corner of his screen. He had three hours left to work, maybe less if he worked harder, and then he was out of there. A few hours after that and he’d be on a date. With a man.
With sweating palms he turned his attention back to his work.
* * * *
Grant pulled up outside Tom’s house fifteen minutes before seven. He was always early when he could help it, as he hated it when other people were late.
He hopped out of his car and glanced around the neighborhood. He’d not been in this area for a few years, and it had certainly come a long way in that time. Where there had been run-down shops and boarded up houses there was now an attractive row of brownstones, set back from the well-maintained road.
Judging from a quick scent of the air, nothing was out of the ordinary, other than a neighbor with a cannabis plant on their windowsill. Grant hadn’t expected anything, really, but years of habit had him scenting every new area, just to be sure.
Tom’s house was in the middle of the row. Narrow planters were affixed to the lowest windows on either side of the door, too, though thanks to the time of the year they lay empty other than for a layer of snow.
After straightening his shirt in the reflection of the glass in the front door, he rang the bell and watched through the small window as Tom came down the stairs, his shirt unfastened and his feet bare. He opened the door and flicked his eyes left and right, glancing up and down the street, then smiled and stood aside.
“I’m not quite ready,” Tom said, his cheeks already starting to color. “Uh, as you can see.”
“Everything looks good from where I’m standing,” Grant said with a grin.
And it did. The man wasn’t built, or toned, but he was still perfectly formed. Not an ounce of fat troubled his stomach, leaving a smooth patch of flesh that Grant just wanted to reach out and touch.
“Well, uh…” Tom swallowed. “I’ll just be a minute. Make yourself at home.”
Grant let the man hurry up the stairs, then turned to the door just to his side. The lounge was small but cozy, with a big sofa taking up a large part of the available floor-space. Judging by the marks in the carpet, it had recently been moved closer to the TV. Grant smirked and took up a seat.
He’d noticed Tom’s glance outside when he’d opened the door, and was trying not to let it get to him. Tom was very new to dating men, so it made sense he’d be a bit nervous about who was watching. Still, he could’ve been a little more subtle about it.
Grant was laid back about most things, though, and he certainly wasn’t about to let it ruin a potentially good night. Maybe he’d mention it later on, and let Tom know that there were better ways to do things.
“At least he didn’t arrange to meet me there,” he muttered to himself.
After five minutes Tom thumped back down the stairs and came into the lounge. He still looked nervous, but less so. He scrubbed up well, too. With his hair styled and his clothes on, he looked almost as good as he had on the end of Grant’s cock.
Grant stood and moved close, kissing the man lightly on the cheek, if only to see how red he could make him.
“Ready?”
Tom cleared his throat softly. “Sure.”
“It’s okay to be a little stressed,” Grant said, putting his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “This is your first date with a guy, after all. I’d be stressed too.” He winked. “At least you know we’re sexually compatible. That has to help.”
Tom cracked a smile in return, then shook his head and chuckled. “I swear, I’m not normally so…wussy.”
“Tell you what. I’ll be extra manly till you’re back to normal. Deal?”
He grinned. “Deal.”
They decided to take Grant’s car, and Tom gave directions as they drove. Again, he cast furtive glances as they moved through his neighborhood, but Grant let it slide once more. He knew the man wasn’t doing it intentionally to irritate, after all. Hell, Grant wasn’t sure that Tom had a single negative or manipulative urge in his body. He seemed every inch the “nice guy.”
It made a change. Grant’s last few relationships had been with loud and outgoing guys, and as much fun as that had been, none of the guys had lasted that long, even by human standards. Maybe a quieter, more thoughtful guy was exactly what the doctor ordered.
The Chinese restaurant was new, but was already hopping for search an early hour.
“I knew I should have got reservations,” Tom muttered, as they stepped in through the black double doors. “We might have to wait for a table.”
Grant shrugged. “No big deal.”
A myriad of smells assailed his nose as they waited in the short line that waited to be sorted by the maître d’. Most scents were of food and people he didn’t know, but a slow smile crept over his face as he recognized a tingling in the back of his brain. He hadn’t paid much attention to the maître d’ until that moment, and only just realized that the man was not only a shifter, but was one of the newest recruits to the Creek pack.
As they approached, Grant held out his hand. “Cary, right? Saw you last night at the meet.”
The man frowned for a moment, then beamed and shook the offered hand as he placed the face. “June’s friend, right? Sorry, it’s been a busy night. Didn’t recognize you right away.”
Grant s
miled and shrugged. “Don’t suppose there are any free tables?” He leaned in and muttered, “Trying to show my date a good night.”
Cary glanced down at his reservations, then nodded. “Sure thing. This way.”
Grant turned to Tom, who was trying not to make eye contact with the people who were waiting for tables, and nodded after Cary.
“He’s a new member of this club I’m a member of,” Grant explained as they walked. “Pretty exclusive, and we try and help each other out when we can.”
Tom nodded. “So you’ll help him out if he needs something in return?”
“Sure.”
They were led to a small table located in the rear corner of the restaurant. It was out of the glare of the bright lights, and allowed a view of all the doors in the place, including the kitchen. In other words, it was ideal shifter seating, other than the closer proximity to the scents of the cooking food.
Grant pulled out a chair, then gestured for Tom to sit, then took up his own chair.
“Thanks, man,” Grant said to Cary. “If you need a favor, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.”
Cary chewed his lip. “You’re in graphic design, right?”
“Yup.”
“My boss is looking for some advertising and promo stuff.”
Grant smiled. “Say no more. I’ll leave you my number before we go, and you can tell him to give me a call. I’ll do him a good deal.”
Cary thanked him and headed back to his post, leaving Grant with a slightly bemused Tom.
“Graphic artist?”
Grant nodded. “For a few years now. Before that I was a landscape gardener.”
“So you like to create, then,” Tom said, as he once again glanced around furtively.
“I do. And you can stop doing that,” Grant said, softly.
Tom colored, obviously realizing what Grant was referring to. “Sorry. I was doing it earlier, too, wasn’t I?”
“It’s okay,” Grant said. “I know you’re nervous as hell. It’s just that you’re making me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”
