by JC Holly
“Revelation.”
“It must be love,” he said as he zipped himself up. “I sure as hell don’t reveal so early. Not even for the Queen herself.”
Grant shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, but Snow could read him better than that and grinned wide.
“Congratulations, mate,” he said, as he leaned forward to slap Grant on the arm. “Soon as you’re done, bring him round to meet the pack.”
Grant laughed. “I doubt he’d be up to that for a while. Besides, I need to figure out how to tell him first.”
“Oh, well, that’s easy,” Snow said. “You walk in the door, drop your trousers, and say ‘I’m a shifter, accept it or never get a hold of this again’.”
Grant gave his friend a withering look. “I think not.”
“It’s always worked for me.”
“I find that hard to believe, Snow.”
The man grinned and scratched at the back of his neck. “All right, so not every time. You’d be surprised, though.”
As the men finished dressing, Snow suggested heading out for a drink, but Grant turned him down. If he was going to tell Tom, he might as well do it right away. There was no point dragging it out any further.
They exchanged a hug and a handshake, then climbed into their separate cars and pulled out of the lot, Snow toward a pub and Grant toward possibly the most difficult conversation of his life.
Chapter Fourteen
Tom pulled his car up outside his house and grinned as he spotted Grant leaning against his front door. The man looked distant, as if lost in thought, but his expression switched to a wide smile as soon as he spotted Tom.
“Hey,” Tom called, as he moved to the trunk of the car. “I headed out to grab a few things for dinner.”
Grant walked over and joined Tom by the rear of the car, and bent to take up the shopping bags.
“Allow me,” he said. “Can’t have you cooking and doing the donkey work.”
Tom thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, then congratulated himself for not turning beetroot after kissing a man in public. I’ve come a long way in such a short time.
He followed Grant to the door, mostly so he could stare at the man’s tight butt, then scooted past him to unlock and let them both inside. He’d set the heating to high before he’d run out, so the place was pleasantly toasty and quickly worked on taking the chill from Tom’s bones.
“Pretty damn cold out today,” he said as he and Grant began to unpack the groceries.
“Yeah, think there’s a big storm coming.”
“Really? I didn’t see anything on the news.”
Grant smiled. “I’ve got a nose for these things.”
Tom laughed. “Your supersenses again?”
Grant’s smile faltered for a moment. “We need to talk.”
“Uh, okay.” Tom’s stomach clenched and his mind began to whir with questions. “Let’s hit the couch.”
Grant led the way again, but this time Tom wasn’t admiring the view. What could be wrong? He should’ve known something was wrong the moment he saw Grant standing by the front door. Was this it? Was the relationship over?
Just thinking about it made Tom’s stomach ache. As far as he knew, they’d been getting on great. They had enough in common that they could talk the night away, but had enough differences in opinion that they wouldn’t find themselves bored further down the road. Despite Tom’s lack of experience with the sexual side of things, Grant had never had so much as a complaint about their time together between the sheets, either. Hell, the man couldn’t get enough, it seemed, and neither could Tom, now that he was used to it.
He took up a spot on the couch next to Grant, but giving the man a little space, and leaned back against the arm of the chair.
“So, what’s up?” Tom asked, fighting to control the tremor in the back of his throat.
“I, uh, I have something I need to tell you.” Grant glanced down at his hands. “About me.”
Does he have some sort of disease? Was his errand really a doctor’s appointment? A hundred more theories swirled around Tom’s head, and he fought them all back.
“Go on,” he said.
Grant stood and began to pace. “It’s nothing bad. Well, probably not. I don’t view it as bad, anyway. You might, but if I don’t tell you, you might come to resent me if it comes out later somehow.”
“Grant, you’re not making any sense.” Tom swallowed. “And you’re starting to worry me.”
Grant nodded and stopped pacing, then took in a deep breath. “What do you know about the supernatural?”
Now Tom was really confused. “The supernatural? You mean ghosts and things?”
“All of it. The real stuff, I mean.”
“Not a lot,” he admitted. “I’ve heard all sorts of rumors, and given the increase of stories in the last few years, I’m not stupid enough to discount them entirely.”
Grant seemed to approve of the answer, and sat in the armchair opposite. “What do you know about shapeshifters?”
“Please, Grant,” Tom said. “Just cut to the chase.”
The man silent for a long moment, his hands clenched on the arms of his chair like he was wrestling with a decision. “I’m a shapeshifter, Tom.”
“Very funny.”
But Grant wasn’t smiling, and Tom knew from experience that the guy couldn’t keep a straight face when he was joking around.
“I, uh…” Tom shook his head. “What?”
Grant looked down at his lap and sighed. “Like I said. I’m a shapeshifter, a human capable of turning into a w—”
“You’re kidding,” Tom said. “You have to be kidding.”
“I’m not.”
He met Grant’s gaze, and his stomach dropped. The man was deadly serious. He thought he was a werewolf. Or he is a werewolf. Tom couldn’t decide which was more worrying. Either the man he had come to love was delusional or a supernatural creature.
“You, you’re…” Tom fought against his instincts and held Grant’s gaze. “You’re telling me that you’re a shapeshifter.”
“Yes.”
“You’re saying you’re not human?”
“Yes. No.” Grant chewed his lip. “That’s debatable. I view myself as a human with extra abilities, but some shifters would say that they’re no longer—”
“This is bullshit,” Tom snapped, louder than he’d intended.
He stood and headed toward the kitchen. Grant called to him, but Tom shut him out, instead focusing on the groceries that had to be put away. Groceries were normal, they made sense. There was nothing fucking supernatural about them. He jumped as Grant put a hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry,” Grant said, as he stepped back. “I know this is a lot to take in.”
“No,” Tom said, louder than he’d intended to. “No, Grant. Finding out your girlfriend is sleeping around is a lot to take in. Realizing you’re bisexual, or gay, or whatever the hell I am, is a lot. This…” He gestured at Grant with a tin. “This is too fucking much!”
He turned back to the counter and slapped his hands onto the wood surface as he took a deep breath. This couldn’t be happening, he told himself. It was a dream, or a really shitty joke at his expense. After all he’d gone through lately, maybe he’d just finally snapped. That’d explain him swearing at Grant, he thought with a pang of guilt.
“Maybe I should go,” Grant said from behind. “You need time.”
“Maybe you should.”
Tom hadn’t realized he’d said the words until Grant had left, the front door closing behind him with a soft click. Tom hung his head and forced in another deep breath, then finished putting away the groceries. As soon as he was finished he collapsed into a chair and stared at the door he’d just told Grant to leave through.
It took a long time before his mind allowed him to form thoughts again, and when it did a dozen questions assaulted him. Was Grant really something other than human? What did that mean? Was he stronger? Faster? Tom had seen for himself
how impressive the man’s endurance was back at the cabin. He’d cleared literally tons of snow with no complaint, and even when he took breaks he’d seemed like he didn’t really need them.
On top of that there were the times when his hearing or sense of smell had seemed prodigious. Not to mention his performance in the bedroom.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered as he stood.
Was he really considering the idea that the man he had fallen for was a shapeshifter? Perhaps he thought he was, but that sort of thing didn’t exist, surely.
Tom stood and moved back to the lounge, then changed his mind and headed upstairs. He couldn’t think straight. Had he really slept with a supernatural creature? In the bed he was now sitting on?
He jumped up again and jogged down the stairs, grabbing his jacket on the way. He needed to think, and he needed to do it somewhere where there weren’t a hundred reminders of Grant.
“Think about what, though?” he asked his reflection as he pulled on his coat.
Was he considering stopping seeing Grant? The question hurt far more than any of the others that ricocheted around his head. He needed to know more about what was going on, and since he’d stupidly got rid of Grant, he’d have to find another avenue of inquiry.
With a sigh he threw off his jacket and moved back to the couch, then opened his laptop and launched an internet search.
* * * *
Grant drove home, but didn’t go inside. Instead he parked his car and started walking. He didn’t know where he was going, but he needed to burn off some stress, and since he wasn’t in the mood to shift that left walking or finding someone to punch.
The snow soaked through his jeans as he walked, making them rub uncomfortably against his skin, but he pushed it from his mind. There were far more important things to think about. Had he just destroyed a relationship? He’d tried to make the “talk” calm and reasoned, but Tom had had a harder time with it than Grant had expected.
He could hardly blame the guy, of course, but that didn’t make being told to leave hurt any less. He’d hoped they would have a rational, relaxed conversation, and end it with a hug. Instead he was trudging along a street in a foul mood with snow up to his calves.
The next corner brought yet more sidewalk, as did the next five. The turn after that led him to a cafe he’d spent more than a few quiet afternoons in. His first thought was to continue on past, but he caught a scent coming from the cafe that he literally couldn’t ignore. The alpha of his pack, Roger Creek, was sitting inside.
Grant’s years as a shifter had taught him much about pack politics, and while it wasn’t necessary to acknowledge the presence of someone who outranked you, Grant had always considered it pretty damn rude not to. It beat soggy legs and wet feet, too. After a glance up and down the street, he jogged across the road and headed into the cafe.
Creek sat at the back of the small room, a table to himself, and smiled the moment Grant entered.
“Grant! Come and have a coffee.”
Grant returned the smile, though it was a damn sight harder than usual, and joined his alpha at the table.
“So,” Creek said, still smiling. “Why do you look so damn miserable?”
“I guess I didn’t hide it as well as I thought.”
“Not at all, no.” Creek waved to the barista and ordered a coffee for Grant, then turned back to face him. “Man trouble?”
“Very much so. We just had the talk.”
Creek nodded solemnly, then glanced across the room before patting Grant on the hand.
“Hardest conversation you’ll ever have. Beats death, unexpected pregnancy, unemployment, moving out of the country.” The older man shrugged. “But it has to be done. I assume he took it badly.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Grant rubbed at his damp hair. “He kicked me out before he formed a decision.”
“Ah. Then you need to get back in there as soon as possible.”
Grant raised an eyebrow. “I was thinking I’d let him think first.”
Creek shook his head. “That used to work just fine, but in a world where a thousand facts and twice as many myths can be found with a few taps of a keyboard, you need to be there to keep things straight.”
The barista appeared with Grant’s drink, but Creek took it instead, dumping the contents into his own cup, then shooing Grant away with a hand.
“I mean now, Jamison.”
Grant chewed his lip, then stood. “You’re right. Thanks, boss.”
The alpha smiled. “I like seeing my people happy, and Tom makes you happy. Don’t mess this up.”
Grant nodded and headed back to the sidewalk, this time with a specific destination in mind.
Chapter Fifteen
Tom sat back from the laptop and blew out a long breath. His searches for “werewolf” and “shapeshifter” had delivered myths, rumors, far too much fan fiction, and almost no actual facts. Every time he thought he’d found something solid, another website disputed it and went in a completely different direction.
“Shouldn’t have kicked him out,” he said, as he stood.
If there was one person he could trust lately, it was Grant. He’d have told Tom everything he wanted to know. Hell, it was in his best interest to, if he wanted the relationship to go anywhere.
Tom headed back to the kitchen and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee to replace the stone-cold one he’d absentmindedly left on the counter. As the machine began to work its magic, he turned and once again stared at the door Grant had left through.
I’m a moron. I panicked and made him go away when I should have just taken five minutes to calm down. He’d told himself the same thing a thousand times in the last hour. What had he been thinking? Grant had come to him with something huge, and Tom had shooed him off like he was a dog he’d caught sniffing around his garden.
And it was something huge, Tom now realized. The idea that Grant had been imagining the whole thing lasted as long as it had taken Tom’s heart rate to slow. Grant was a shapeshifter, and he’d entrusted that information to Tom, a man he’d known for a relatively short amount of time. Who knew how many times he’d done it in the past, only to have the other man run a mile or worse?
“And I did exactly what he’d feared,” Tom muttered.
So frayed were his nerves that the knock at the door nearly gave him a heart attack. He jumped in surprise and threw an arm out, managing to knock a coffee cup to the hardwood floor, where it smashed into a hundred jagged pieces. He glanced at the mess, then at the door, and made a choice, leaving the cleaning for later. After all, Grant was back.
As soon as he reached the door, though, he realized he was wrong. There were two people visible in the frosted glass, and the low voice he heard was certainly not Grant’s. It was too late to walk away and pretend they weren’t there, though. If he could see them, they could see him. With a gritted jaw, he pulled the door open.
As soon as the door began to move, Chris pushed his way in, knocking Tom backward as his ex and her boyfriend moved into the house and closed the door behind them. Tom regained his balance and folded his arms across his chest.
“What the hell do you want this time?” he asked, trying his best to look intimidating.
Chris looked him over, from head to toe, then sneered. “I hear you’re a homo now.”
Tom felt heat rush to his cheeks, despite his fighting against it. “What do you want?”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard,” Chris repeated, as he walked about the room. “He here now?”
“He’s out.”
Perhaps he was imagining it, but Tom could have sworn a look of relief flashed across the man’s face.
“Good,” Chris said, nodding.
“We’re here to discuss the house,” Sarah said, her arms folded as tight as Tom’s.
“W–we’ve already had that talk.” Tom tried to keep his voice steady, but with Chris in the room and Grant nowhere to be seen, it was a lot harder. “It’s my house, not yours.�
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“I contributed to the payments,” she replied. “I’ve talked to a lawyer about it.”
“You contributed nothing. Not once. You expected me to work and pay for everything, then come home and cook and clean.”
“Oh, so I should’ve been the little housewife, should I?” She sneered. “I had a life too, you know.”
Tom couldn’t help but glance at Chris. “So I found out.”
Chris didn’t like that, apparently, and moved closer. “Fuck you.”
“I believe that’s Sarah’s job.”
He didn’t know where the words had come from, but he instantly wished he hadn’t said them. A smart mouth was all well and good when relaxed on a sofa, but not when facing off against a large and angry man.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” Chris snarled.
“Or what? You’ll try and hit me again?”
It was no good. As much as Tom’s brain tried to tell him to simmer down, the rest of his body was starting to heat up at the indignity of the scene. The girlfriend he’d loved, who unapologetically cheated on him, was trying to extort money from him using her brain-dead boyfriend to intimidate meek little Tom. Only meek little Tom had had enough.
“Listen to me, both of you,” he said, his voice low. “This is over with. Done. You’re not getting a penny from me without a lawyer, and if you’d really seen one you’d know you don’t have a leg to stand on.” He opened the door wide. “Now get out before I call the police.”
Chris walked to the door and kicked it shut, the wall almost rocking in its frame. “We’re not going anywhere. You’re going to give us what we want, or I’m going to get angry, and your little boyfriend isn’t here to help you this time.”
The first indication that the man had thrown a punch was a shriek from Sarah, telling Chris to stop. A second later Tom felt a pain in his lower ribs, and realized the man had hit him.
Something snapped. At that moment, a moment when normally he’d apologize, and bow and scrape to try and get out of the situation, Tom’s brain finally agreed with his body and said no more.
