by Watts, Mia
“Yeah?” Duncan answered.
“I found them. I’m flying ahead to where we stored our clothes. I’ll bring yours back for you.”
“Swell,” Duncan grunted. He pushed his head out as far as it would go, trying to gain some leverage as his stumpy front feet strained to drag his ass up the incline. He gasped. “Where was he taken?”
“No man’s land.”
Duncan stopped, turned his head to the side to eye Gibbs who ruffled his feathers rather like he’d just gotten a chill. Duncan sighed. “Leave it to Charlie to get caught and caged in the DNR prison ward.”
Gibbs chuckled uneasily. “I saw Ben put a radio collar on him. If he hadn’t bitten him, we’d be helping Charlie with that collar right now.”
“Think Ben will hold him?”
“He went from a radio collar to a back room. I couldn’t see into it from my perch outside the window, but it looked like a holding cell.”
Duncan snorted. He made another long attempt to push up the hill, until he leveled out. “It would serve him right if the dude stuck a bunch of probes up his ass. He won’t hop right for a week.” He chuckled more deeply as the thought bloomed in his mind to full on testing, and other things Duncan would like to see up Charlie’s ass. Like Duncan’s cock. “Yeah, I’d like to see that. Cheeky bastard deserves a little humility.”
Gibbs flapped his wings. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Take a rest. It can’t be easy dragging your house around on your back.”
“It’s not like I have an entertainment center in here, Gibbs!”
Gibbs had already flown off.
Gibbs pushed out his talons and caught the tree branch easily. He settled his wings against his body, and carefully looked around. All the way around. His feathers lifted lightly and the great tufted horns on his crown tickled as wind touched them.
Staring watchfully, the terrain zoomed in and out of focus. Individual leaves, glossy and green on one side, flipped and twisted on newly budding branches. There weren’t many places to conceal himself this time of year. Spring was just beginning. Soon the branches would be full of hiding places.
He’d questioned the wisdom of holding the annual race in the spring when predators were on the lookout for a long awaited meal. Charlie had insisted. Then in a way only Charlie could harass, he’d riled Duncan up beyond good sense into agreeing. Charlie had the gift of gab. He was hard to resist, yet harder to reason with. In fact, most of the trouble the three of them got into involved Charlie screwing up in some way. Looked like today would be no different.
The woods remained quiet, still. Gibbs opened his wings and coasted to the ground, near the duffle bag hidden between a boulder and scrub brush. It was a dangerous place for a bird to be, despite the precautions he’d taken. Predators were very good at predation. Gibbs began the shift immediately.
His skin itched as feathers were reabsorbed, accompanied by the ache of his beak turning to softer tissue. Gibbs likened that to running into a wall nose first. The sinus pain alone was enough to completely numb the discomfort in the rest of his body, as bone filled, and muscles rearranged.
Curled into a fetal position, Gibbs took several deep breaths. He gave his body time to accept the new form, to feel itself out, before he moved. Once he’d done that, he dressed with aching care to the twitching spasms in his arms and legs. He wondered vaguely if Duncan and Charlie ached in the same places, then decided to ask them some day. For now, he just wanted his clothes and his glasses.
Minutes later, he finished tying his running shoes, and heaved the duffle over one wide shoulder. Gibbs jogged toward the pond. It took double the fly-time, but then, human legs weren’t exactly economical transportation.
“It’s about time,” Duncan snapped.
Gibbs dropped the bag. “Hey, it’s not so easy to switch from flying to running.”
Duncan looked at him balefully. “Really? I wouldn’t know how difficult shape shifting is. I sure hope I can understand it when you explain it to me one day.”
Gibbs pushed his glasses up his nose, and didn’t bother to comment. He sat down cross-legged and waited for Duncan to rehumanize.
Duncan tucked all his extremities inside his shell. His eyes closed and he teetered on some unseen protrusion against his belly. Gibbs actually liked this part. A lot. Duncan, naked and vulnerable, was a sight to see.
Today, with Ben thrust upon his mind, he tried to see the similarities in Duncan’s naked body and his. In the light, they looked nothing alike. In the dark? Well, Gibbs had a hard time understanding how Ben had confused them, and why he’d immediately assumed it was Duncan who’d caught him and not Gibbs when Gibbs had surprised him in the woods.
Duncan had never mentioned getting together with the man, but Ben had seemed absolutely sure in his assertion that Duncan would catch him alone. And there’d been nothing in the year since to suggest Duncan wanted to catch Ben alone. So why had Ben thought he was Duncan?
On the nights when Gibbs flew to Ben’s cabin, and sat with him on the porch, Ben had taken to confiding in him. The most Ben had expressed was his confusion about Duncan never coming around. It made him think that there was something between them. And yet, there wasn’t. What was the missing piece?
Duncan’s rounded back trembled with the force of change. Brown and green shell faded to flesh tone. Hard geometrical patterns became the bulges and valleys of firm muscle and smooth bone on a finely sculpted back, expanding outward from the central spine.
He unfolded his arms, supporting his human weight, from where his hands had curled under him. His curved fingers opened and tented in the skeletal leaves and dark, mineral rich soil. The slip of a tail reabsorbed, and kept reabsorbing until the firm lines of perfectly rounded buttocks split down the middle and long thickly muscled thighs pushed into length. Claws stretched to pale, high arched feet.
Through it all, Duncan kept his mouth clamped shut, air hissing through gritted teeth and flared nostrils. He always kept the sounds of his pain to a minimum, which only seemed to make him look stronger and more virile. Not that he needed help looking virile.
When it was over, he hung his head, catching his breath, much the way Gibbs had. Only when Gibbs transformed, he didn’t look nearly as impressive. There was something about the tortoise shifter physique that made for a very toned man. Gibbs reasoned that it was all the heavy hauling and awkward motor skills of moving on dry land. You had to be strong to maintain locomotion when you weren’t designed to carry your full body weight for long periods of time.
Along those lines, he was fairly certain it was the reason Charlie liked challenging him to a race every year. Of the three of them, Duncan was the strongest in human form. This race offered Charlie the chance to even the score.
Gibbs eyed Duncan’s body critically. Besides being about the same height and overall size, Gibbs was pretty sure that they could be told apart in the dark. Gibbs wasn’t weak. He had his own fit form, but his body arranged strength differently. Duncan had a wide, tight chest. Gibbs had broad sculpted shoulders.
But then, it wasn’t exactly like Gibbs and Duncan regularly interacted with Ben. Ben was DNR. It would be playing with fate to constantly hang around him and not expect to get tagged.
“How do you feel?” Gibbs asked, drawing the bag around in front of him toward Duncan’s head.
“Like my shell just got ripped off and every bone in my body cracked into tiny pieces. Oh wait, that did happen.”
Duncan lifted his head, his bright green eyes pinning Gibbs with a sardonic look and the twisted smile of a patient, all-knowing tortoise. His light brown hair fell over his eyes, instead of its usual pushed back state of trim tidiness.
That was another thing Ben should have noticed. Duncan used gel in his hair, Gibbs didn’t. That night, Ben had mentioned the softness.
Gibbs sighed at himself. He’d been doing well, flying in for late night visits with Ben. Until now, Ben the DNR officer hadn’t crossed paths with the others in shifted form.
Okay, except for Gibbs’ off-duty visits.
Gibbs dug through the duffel for the two-liter bottle of tap water and a towel. Duncan didn’t like dirt, which Gibbs always found amusing because he seemed so happy to slide through it in his other form.
“Thanks,” Duncan said, swiping the bottle from Gibbs outstretched hand.
He stood, getting his balance as he rose. Then holding the bottle over his head, he drizzled it on himself, rinsing the dirt that had stuck to him in the transformation.
Gibbs heard himself sigh happily, and held out a towel.
“Are you enjoying the view?” Duncan teased. He tossed the empty bottle into the bag and took the towel.
Gibbs didn’t bother to answer. Instead he stood up, brushing off his pants, and taking Duncan’s clothes out of the duffel. The sooner they got to Charlie, the better. He looked back in the direction he’d flown. If they ran, they’d get there in half an hour.
Duncan took the clothes from him. Gibbs didn’t watch him dress. His mind was already on the task ahead and how to convince Ben to let Charlie go.
“Let’s go save Charlie’s hide,” Duncan said, breaking the silence.
Chapter Four
Charlie scrambled to the back of the cage. Ben carefully set it down on a veterinarian’s bench. Charlie knew it was a vet table, because he had a cat. There was irony in a hare being a cat owner. Brought the idea of hairballs new meaning, and there was the whole one-upmanship thing. Although, thinking about it now, it did kind of suck when he shifted into his hare alter ego with Midnight around.
But at the moment, he cursed his Attention Deficit Disorder for distracting him from the important stuff. Namely, Ben reaching for the cage latch.
“Let’s get this collar calibrated now that we don’t have a predator checking you out,” Ben suggested.
Bad suggestion. A collar seriously fucked things up for him—oh, say, in shifting back.
Charlie hunched in the corner and growled.
Yeah, that’s right, bitches, hares bark too!
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe. The owl isn’t going to snack on you here. I’m just going to put my hand in and—Ouch!” Ben yanked his hand away, shaking it urgently.
Score!
“Shit. I can’t believe you bit me again.”
Ben closed the cage, and ran to the sink. He scrubbed repeatedly, before drying off the wounds and bandaging his thumb. Ben turned, leaning his hips back against the sink countertop, as he contemplated Charlie.
Charlie dropped his ears. He cocked his head, watching Ben with one wide eye. His nose twitched in overdrive and despite the fact that he had an itch by his neck, Charlie refused to scratch it, to do anything which would distract himself from his current threat. The six foot, one inch threat with floppy dark blond hair, and large brown puppy dog eyes, currently sporting a chagrined smile.
“I knew better than that.” Ben sighed and dropped his head forward, as though disgusted with himself. “Fuckin’ paperwork,” he muttered. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten to calibrate your collar.”
Resignedly, Ben pulled open a drawer and riffled through the papers inside. He withdrew one, searched for another, and took out two more. Ben bent over the counter with a pen and began scribbling information down.
Even in hare form, Ben could appreciate a fine ass. The DNR uniform khakis pulled tight across his butt.
Great ass. Almost as great as Duncan’s.
Ben looked over his shoulder. “You don’t have rabies, do you? Because the shots are hell.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead then returned to the documents. “I have to keep you for observation a while. I was going to let you go, until you bit me,” he muttered.
Charlie liked the fact that Ben talked to animals. He had no way of knowing that Charlie understood him, but the soothing tone and gentle movements were very calming. Except, what Charlie needed now wasn’t calm, it was whoop-ass and mad escape skills.
That unique feeling of dread he got when he’d not only fucked up, but fucked up so badly to have made the problem worse, flipped his stomach uncomfortably. If he’d known biting meant imprisonment, he’d have resisted. But how the hell was he supposed to know that? All he’d wanted was for Ben to release him. Biting being the incentive to letting go. Evidently, Ben wasn’t up on animal lingo.
How long is a while?
He was dying to ask out loud, but he suspected that wouldn’t have the desired effect of releasing him. More likely, it would keep him cage bound. It’s why none of them used their words. Charlie may have been trapped, but he wasn’t stupid.
The hairs raised on the nape of his neck. How long did they need to hold him to check for rabies that he most certainly didn’t have? And holy hell, how was he going to shift with a tight collar around his neck, not to mention a wire cage? Charlie thought he could wrangle that latch pretty easily, but that was the only thing he could do without fingers.
As though he’d asked the question aloud, Ben answered. “I’ll have to hold you for the next ten days to make sure you’re clear. You probably are anyway,” he smiled at Charlie as though to offer reassurance. “Most rabbits, and hares in your case, don’t carry it. Sorry buddy. Looks like you’re a guest of the Michigan State Department of Natural Resources for a while.”
Panic stopped his ever-twitching nose. Ten days? I can’t stay locked up for ten fucking days. The full moon, the Hare’s Moon, was tomorrow. If he’d been human, he’d have paled. It was never good to get caught. To get caught over the full moon was disastrous. He’d be trapped in his shifted form forever, unable to become human again. How ironic, then, that this month was the month of the Hare’s Moon. A sick twist of fate, or foreshadowing?
Charlie leapt within the tight confines of the cage. He banged the grated top, walloped the sides, scooting the cage precariously closer and closer to the edge.
“Hey! Hey, settle down.” Ben darted across the room, slapping a hand on the top before the whole metal deathtrap crashed to the floor.
The noise clattered in Charlie’s ears, along with the shouts, and the bright vet lights. They conspired to confuse him. He didn’t expect the sudden sharp stick and following warm numbness. Charlie blinked, dumbly, as Ben withdrew his hand holding a syringe from the open cage door. Charlie willed his limbs to move, but they didn’t.
I’m fucked.
Ben shook his head at himself, completely annoyed that he’d slipped up so badly. He was grinding his teeth, as he filed the bite report, when he saw Duncan Mallory and Gibson Oliphant walking through the DNR parking lot.
Ben’s jaw tightened at the sight of Duncan’s slight smile. A smile that might be construed as smug. Especially if Duncan had something on you, like the fact that you’re gay and couldn’t keep your lips to yourself.
Or the fact that you’d confessed to wanting him, had jacked him off in the dark after he’d sucked you off beautifully, then never called again.
Ben was still beating himself up about that one. He didn’t often go into town, but the Spring Festival had seemed like a prime time to meet people and kill some of the loneliness he had, working alone in the middle of Michigan wilderness. Drinking the punch had been his second mistake. Ben didn’t drink much of it, just enough to give him the liquid courage to do something he’d never have dreamed of doing.
Kissing Duncan.
But Duncan had been right there. And what had Ben done? He’d dragged Duncan into a kiss. He’d regretted it almost instantly, and had continued regretting it until Duncan had caught him alone in the woods.
That kiss had been different. That kiss had been engaged and interested, his hands everywhere and his mouth—God, his mouth sucking down Ben’s cock. He wanted a replay of that night, had imagined it so many times as he jacked off, alone in his cabin.
Duncan had been nothing but friendly since. And that was the problem. Nothing else but friendly.
Ben tried to regain some composure, but his hand shook in filling out the paperwork. So far as he knew, Dun
can hadn’t told anyone. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t.
“We’re closing,” Ben said when the men entered his small office.
“Not yet, you aren’t,” Duncan countered. “You have a—” Duncan exchanged looks with Gibbs, who stood stonily. Duncan’s full lips twisted into a smile. “A pet of mine.”
“Pretty sure I don’t. I only have one animal on the premises right now, and he’s an exotic.”
“You brought him in tonight. He’s a hare…about so big,” Gibbs said, holding his hands about a foot apart. “Long ears, big feet.”
Ben folded his arms across his chest. “A pet?” he said hearing the disbelief in his own voice.
“Yep,” Duncan confirmed.
“Forgetting for a moment that owning an exotic pet is illegal in Michigan, I have to keep him for testing. He bit me,” Ben told him.
“Even a hare will bite if you touch it inappropriately,” Duncan teased.
“I didn’t—never mind. What are you doing with a pet hare?” Ben asked, letting the jibe fall.
Duncan shrugged. “He grows on ya.”
“I was wondering what a hare was doing this far north. It’s the reason I collared him. Still, he bit me. I have to hold him for ten days. When I’m done, I have to release him into the wild. Remember that illegal exotic pet thing?”
Duncan tensed.
Gibbs glanced anxiously toward the clinic door. “You can’t do that! We need him at home. To…” Gibbs seemed to search for an excuse. “Hop and sniff things.”
Duncan swung his head around to look dolefully at Gibbs.
Ben smirked. “Transparent excuses aside, he wasn’t wearing a collar and unless you can produce a rabies vaccination certificate, and proof that you are legally permitted to own him, he’s staying here.”
Gibbs spread his hands wide, half shrugging as his nose crinkled adorably. “Can we at least see him?”
