by Alex Kidwell
Redford looked like he was beginning to regret ever saying something, and Victor noticed that one of his hands had risen to rub nervously along the edge of a scar, the ones that traveled over his nose to the edge of his jaw. “Jed did say that I seemed calmer when I wasn’t tied up,” he ventured. “I just assumed that it was what happened. The thought of being free, well, I could hurt someone.”
“Not if you’ve got other wolves with you,” Anthony replied. “Not if you’re free. Why would you want to hurt people when you’ve got better things to do?”
“It’s the function of a pack.” Randall smiled at Redford softly. Knievel had been drinking water delicately from Randall’s glass. She now pranced across the table to rub her head under Jed’s chin and hop down to curl up between Jed and Redford. Jed looked stricken and guilty, hunched in on himself more than a little bit. He looked as small, at that moment, as Victor had ever seen him. “We care for each other. We run together. It’s what makes us safe, what makes us wolves. That support.”
Redford leaned against Jed’s side, wrapping an arm around Jed’s. “Jed’s my pack,” he said confidently. “He’s been helping me adjust. He makes me happy.”
“Pack wouldn’t tie you up,” Edwin protested, eyes narrowed. “And pack wouldn’t keep you in a cage. He’s not very good pack, is he, if he doesn’t even let you run.”
Redford just smiled a little. “I ask for it. It’s safer.”
With a hoarse little noise, looking pale and sick, Jed stood, disrupting Knievel and pushing his way out of the booth. Hands clenched at his sides, fingernails biting into his palms, he stalked away, slamming out of the doors and into the parking lot, leaving them all staring after him.
They had to pause as the waitress delivered their food, awkwardly silent about stopping a conversation that wouldn’t do to be overheard by regular humans. Knievel batted a piece of bacon from Jed’s plate down onto the booth seat in front of her, chirping happily. Edwin had ordered a mountain of food, which he eagerly dug into.
“I think I said something wrong.” Redford was staring miserably down at his food and then back up to look out the window, trying to keep his eye on Jed.
“I think he did.” Edwin shrugged, digging into a steak easily as big as his head, bloody rare and dripping from the fork. “Maybe he just realized how much he’s hurt you.”
“He has not hurt me,” Redford growled, anger rising suddenly to his eyes. “Jed is the best person I’ve ever met. He doesn’t want to tie me up on the moons. He’s the only reason that I’m not still caging myself in my basement.”
Edwin didn’t seem too concerned with Redford’s aggression. He just blithely kept eating his steak, wrinkling his nose at the vegetables that had come alongside it. Redford, upon seeing that his anger had no effect, promptly wilted, his shoulders hunching in embarrassment at his outburst. “He might be the best person, but he’s still just a person. Not a wolf. He doesn’t understand,” Edwin said.
With a sharp sigh, Randall shook his head. “God, Edwin. Shut up.”
“What?” Edwin glanced at Randall’s salad, rolling his eyes and promptly shoving half his steak onto Randall’s plate. “It’s true and you know it.”
“What I know is that Redford is not you,” Randall said. “Which means that he gets to decide what he wants to do on the moons. He’s coming from a different childhood than us. Not everyone had a family that tolerated them flashing their furry tails every ten minutes because they couldn’t be bothered to learn any form of control.” Randall’s anger wasn’t like Edwin’s or even Redford’s. It wasn’t sharp and sudden and flashing teeth. It was more quiet, more the way he pronounced every word with the hint of a bite. The way his eyes glinted dangerously as he threw himself, verbally, in between Redford and the sharp barbs Edwin was throwing.
“Guys,” Anthony cut in, his voice firm. “Enough. Now isn’t the place or the time.”
With that, Edwin and Randall fell silent. Victor poked at the scone that had been delivered to him. He didn’t particularly feel like risking a bite, because he just knew it would be ridiculously dry. He caught sight of Randall tugging Anthony’s plate closer to him, cutting up the steak, and though Anthony gave a grimace, he let it happen.
It was the full moon tonight. Victor had never been around wolves on the full moon, but the effect was beginning to be obvious. They were getting jittery; it was the only word for it. Randall, who was normally rather mellow, as far as Victor had observed, had a tense line remaining in his shoulders after he’d snapped at Edwin.
“Just stop pretending you don’t want red meat on full moons,” Edwin was sighing at Randall, nudging the half a steak he’d given his brother closer.
“Fine,” Randall snapped. But then, with just as much bite but with a very faint smile touching his lips, “Thank you.”
Edwin’s eyes went to Redford’s plate, and he carefully sawed off a large chunk of the third steak that was piled high on his platter and deposited it onto the other man’s. “You can go running with us.” He shrugged, a peace offering of sorts. “See if you like it.”
Redford was still watching out the window for Jed, but he turned back around at Edwin’s comment. “Maybe,” he said reluctantly. “I still can’t control myself very well. Not like you guys.”
“So half werewolves, half wolves, are more like pups who chase their own tails and trip over their own paws, barking at everything that comes close?” Anthony smirked. “Don’t worry. I’ve raised two of those.” He cut amused looks at Randall and Edwin. “One of them is still a bit like that.”
Edwin tipped a wide smirk around his mouthful of meat. “Just because I’m totally going to outrace you tonight, old man,” he teased.
“Please. You haven’t come close to winning a race since Anthony took a nap halfway through your first moon out,” Randall snorted. Under the table, his foot gently kicked Victor’s, a quiet moment of inclusion.
To be honest, Victor was feeling rather out of place with all of this wolf talk, but he was content to sit back and listen. As someone who had long studied the supernatural, it was quite interesting to hear how actual wolves lived and acted. He smiled back at Randall. “Just out of interest, how do you three react to full moons?” he inquired politely. “I’ve read a lot of conflicting reports.”
“Well, probably because they asked conflicting wolves,” Randall laughed quietly, and Edwin grinned, nudging Anthony as he easily reached over to refill Anthony’s coffee mug from the pot the waitress had left behind. “It’s as different as the individual. We all feel the moon, though. Wolves tend to get more aggressive, more….”
“Wolfish,” Anthony supplied with a quiet chuckle.
“Yes,” Randall agreed. “Though that means differing things to each wolf. The one rule is that we all have to change. It’s in our instincts, it’s our blood, and we can’t deny the pull of the moon. We do get to choose when we do so, however. I, uh, I’m not one for running, really. I tend to change later in the night, run a bit, and then sleep. Edwin and Anthony are much more interested in spending the night chasing rabbits.” It was said fondly, though Victor noticed the hunch of Randall’s shoulders, the familiar expression of one out of place. Yes, it would be hard, Victor thought, to grow up in a culture that embraced things you yourself weren’t so inclined to participate in.
“You can choose how late you change?” Redford had obviously never heard of that before. “I didn’t know wolves could do that.”
“Yeah,” Edwin said with a shrug. He was now looking over the dessert menu, having finished all of his meat and the large portion Randall hadn’t eaten. “We’re not werewolves.”
Seeing that Redford was clearly confused by this, Randall explained gently, “Werewolves are the result of a bad combination of wolf and human blood. The sides aren’t joined well. So you were human most of the time, but the wolf instincts won out on the full moons. Now, though, you are much more Cano than not, which means you are wolf. All the time. The form you take doe
sn’t change your instincts or how you see the world. Your mind remains the same whether you’re two legs or four.”
“Yeah, but your nose is better on four,” Edwin grunted. “Too bad, cause this place smells great now. I bet I’d be able to tell what everyone’s eaten for, like, a year.”
“This is fascinating,” Victor enthused. He dearly wished he had his notepad so he could write all of this down. Perhaps he’d ask Randall to repeat everything later.
Redford looked like he wanted to say more, and Victor could guess what it might be about. He’d seen the result of Redford’s change, in Cairo, where the man seemed to have little control over what his wolf side did. But Redford obviously changed his mind about speaking about it, giving the Lewises a small smile instead. “Thank you. It’s… nice to talk to people who can give me information.”
“Okay, look.” Jed was back. Victor was somewhat amazed that he’d missed the stomping. His short hair was standing up all at ends, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and he had a slightly green around the gills look. “I didn’t know. And I know that’s no damn excuse, and I know that I’m shit at this, but I love him, okay? So just tell me what I need to do to make it better.”
Edwin blinked at him. “Have some steak?” He glanced down at his plate. “Oh, wait. I ate that. And Knievel ate your bacon. Um. Sorry. Dessert?”
“Jed,” Redford started, right back to looking concerned. He reached out to take Jed’s hand. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Red.” Jed looked genuinely distressed, though he did collapse back into the booth, lowering his voice slightly in deference to all the perfectly normal humans who were trying to have their dinner. “Jesus.” A beat and he frowned. “Wait. Who ate my bacon?”
“Knievel,” Edwin told him mildly, nudging Randall’s half-eaten salad toward Jed. “You can have the rest of Randall’s dinner.”
“I was eating that,” Randall sighed.
“I don’t want salad,” Jed said at the same time, pulling a face.
“I’m going to order pie.” Edwin was perfectly happy to have moved on from the argument, studying the menu. “A whole one.”
Jed sighed, slumped half down in the booth. “How come this was a big-ass deal ten minutes ago and now we’re talking about pie?” he muttered.
“Full moon mood swings,” Victor informed him with a slightly amused look. “They get overly aggressive, I’m told.”
“Well, this is going to be a treat.” Jed snorted quietly. “Four growly furbutts at once.” But he wasn’t over the earlier conversation. That was obvious from the way he kept glancing at Redford, from the guilty slant to his lips.
“Do I get overly aggressive?” Redford frowned in worry. “I didn’t even think about it.”
Jed took Redford’s hand and rested their joined fingers on his stomach. “You get all bitey and possessive.” A quick leer crossed his face, missing some of its usual bluster. “I like it. A lot.”
“Please do refrain from talking about your sex life at the table,” Victor muttered. “I’m debating ordering dessert, and I’d like to keep my appetite.” Still, he was glad to see that Jed didn’t look quite so upset anymore, and Redford was happily leaning against him.
He did hear Jed whisper “Sorry” to Redford, carding fingers through Redford’s hair. Which was more than a little shocking. Victor wasn’t aware that word was in Jed’s vocabulary.
They ordered dessert and strayed away from the topic of what wolves should and shouldn’t do. Instead, the conversation fragmented, with Victor talking to Anthony about his work—an auto mechanic—Edwin too busy with his pie to talk, and Randall getting up to take a walk around the outside of the diner. Victor watched him for a moment, noticing that he seemed to be more jittery than previously. Perhaps, with time until the full moon growing shorter, Randall was feeling its effects more.
The waitresses didn’t look all that happy with the mess they had left behind, but Victor made sure to tip generously, which considerably brightened their expressions. Jed was uncharacteristically quiet as they marched back to the van with Knievel bundled up in his arms. Randall joined them, his face smooth and calm even while his fingers played restlessly with the cuffs of his sweater. “We can’t stay in a motel tonight,” he informed Jed. “Well, the wolves can’t. There’s no reason at all why you and Victor can’t find someplace with a bed. But we’ll need to figure out a good place to stop where my brothers and Redford can go running.”
“Someplace without a lot of people.” Jed nodded, considering. He gave a quick glance at Randall and reached into the van for his maps. “What, you don’t run?”
Randall shrugged. “Eventually. What about fields? We’re bound to hit some farm country if we keep going. Ant? What are you thinking?”
As Jed opened one of the maps, Anthony stood at Jed’s side, looking at it carefully. He pointed to a circle on the paper. “Is this the halfway point?” At Jed’s nod, Anthony gave a quiet hum of contemplation and tapped a green area a few miles away. “There. It’s a nice big forest and it’s got road access. We can drive into the middle of it, and if you and Victor need a bed, you can drive back to the hotel.”
“That’s up to Victor,” Jed said shortly, rolling the maps up. Victor just shrugged at him—he’d decide if he wanted a hotel room when the time came. “I might just be human,” Jed continued, fixing Edwin with a challenging look. The wolf had the good grace to squirm a bit, embarrassed. “But I meant what I said. I’m with Redford on the moons. Always.”
“Good.” Redford beamed at Jed, pulling him close. “We’ve never been in the forest before. You could come running with me.”
Anthony chuckled as he got into the van. “Yeah, Jed. You should try to keep up, might work some of that dessert off of you.”
“Hardy-har,” Jed grumped, but he flicked a look back at Anthony that wasn’t entirely sour. “I’m not the one that ate their body weight in steak and fucking pecan pie.”
Edwin grinned, lopsided and unashamed. “I’m young,” he said, patting his flat stomach. “And tonight I’m going to run until I can’t move. Just you try and keep up, human.”
“You’re a brat, kid,” Jed said, getting the van underway. “So I’m going to beat you with twice the usual amount of gloating.”
Victor settled into his seat with a sigh as they started driving again. The almost tangible tension in the air from the wolves was thicker now, shown in the way that Randall needed to have something to do with his hands where before he’d been perfectly content to sit still. It was in the way that Edwin decided to put his head out the window and howl, much to Anthony’s despair. Anthony had started being hypervigilant, his gaze flicking to absolutely everything that moved. Knievel, Victor noticed, was glaring at all of them, perched up front like she didn’t even want to be near so many canines.
It looked like he was going to be sleeping in the van tonight. If Jed was going to go out with them, then Victor could hardly drive back to the hotel on his own—he’d feel terrible, leaving them out there, even if they could take care of themselves.
Redford, for his part, had shuffled closer to Jed until he was practically draped over the man’s side, though thankfully he didn’t look to be interfering with Jed’s ability to drive. Jed had wrapped his arm around Redford, playing fingers through his hair, eyes focused on the road ahead. They looked relaxed at first glance, but a closer look revealed lines of tension around Redford’s eyes, a longing stare out the window. Perhaps the close confines of the van were getting to him.
“You smell really good,” Randall said, looking at Victor, immediately looking embarrassed. “God, sorry. I just…. You do, and my mental filter is… lacking right now.”
Victor blinked at him. He was suddenly tempted to take a surreptitious sniff of himself, just to see what Randall was talking about. But his nose was as human as it got. “Thank you? I’m pleased that I’m not offensive, at least.”
Randall grimaced in apology. “I usually spen
d the full moons hiding with a book. I just blurt things out. It’s rather embarrassing.” He paused and then gave Victor another sideways glance. “And you are definitely not offensive. Believe me.”
Aside from the jitters, aside from the lack of mental filter, Randall looked different too. Victor couldn’t quite pin down what it was at first. It was something about the way his eyes seemed darker, his stare more intense and a lot less hesitant than usual. The way his shoulders were straighter, his movements more fluid and graceful. He seemed ill fitting in his sweater and glasses right now, like they were a mask, a very literal sheep’s clothing.
It was, Victor realized, rather ridiculously attractive.
“What do I smell like?” Victor couldn’t help but ask. He recalled what Redford had said on the subject, tea and scales, and he found himself curious if Randall would have the same answer.
There was a beat where Randall seemed embarrassed, uncertain, color blooming on his cheeks again. But there was a heated look in his eyes, a sharp, hungry gaze as he leaned forward. One hand rested on Victor’s shoulder as Randall nudged in under his ear, taking a long, slow breath.
“Parchment,” Randall murmured, the warmth of his breath stirring along Victor’s neck, his lips just barely brushing against that scar that David had left behind. “And tea. But under that there’s oranges and spice and something like scales, dry in the sun. You smell like the earth under trees after a rain. It’s rather addictive, to be honest.”
Victor had barely heard what Randall said, too distracted by the feeling of what Randall was doing. For a moment, all he could think about was David. About the first time David had bitten him—reluctant to do so at first but finally giving in, fangs sinking into Victor’s throat with a pain that was much more like pleasure. At that very first moment, Victor had gotten addicted.
But now it was nothing but the gentle pressure of Randall’s lips touching against a scar left by a person who wasn’t in Victor’s life anymore. The murmur of Randall’s voice was a low rumble, pushing the memories away and replacing them with the present.
