Bloodlines

by Alex Kidwell

  “Well, that is certainly a complicated scent,” he managed.

  “Oh my God, Randall,” Anthony said, sounding scandalized. “Keep it behind closed doors.”

  The wolfish confidence disappeared from Randall’s face, and he was pulling back, eyes wide. “Oh, God,” he started, running his hands through his hair. “God, I’m so sorry. I just….” He winced. “That was unforgivably forward of me. I apologize, Victor. That, um, that won’t happen ever again.”

  Victor found himself absently rubbing over his scars, fingertips searching out both the too-smooth skin and the memory of the sensation of Randall’s lips. He almost wanted to tell Randall to not apologize. He certainly hadn’t minded.

  But with that sensation came the full knowledge of exactly how Randall felt about him. Victor had seen every inch of it, the depth and breadth of a wolf’s passion and the conviction of family. The want that wasn’t merely physical, wasn’t even touching on sexual. It was no casual interest. It was a bone-deep need for connection in everything, in running under a moon, in sleeping, sated and content, in a heap the next morning.

  And Victor’s feelings were the tortoise at the starting line, thinking of Randall as a nice friend to have. The responsibility of knowing Randall’s feelings was confusing, to say the least.

  “It’s quite all right,” he told Randall. “I was just startled by someone touching, er….” Victor trailed off, taking his hand away from his neck. He was surprised at the low, possessive growl Randall gave, seeing the scars again. Then again, it seemed Randall was surprised as well.

  The man briefly closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Yes, I noticed those. I should have been more careful. In fact, I shouldn’t have done that at all. It’s a wolf thing. A very intimate wolf thing and I was wrong to take that liberty. Your throat is….” Randall tried valiantly for a smile. He failed. “Not something I should be sniffing, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, I did recently see all of your memories. I think we’re past apologizing for things we can’t help,” Victor murmured. He felt guilty, knowing he didn’t respond to Randall’s feelings. He felt like he was letting the man down. But he knew that was irrational—Randall’s emotions were his own and didn’t affect Victor’s. The possibility for more was there, which Victor had witnessed with stunning clarity, but there were several paths for Randall that didn’t have him in them at all. Knowing the potential did not immediately imbue Victor with feelings or an obligation to return them, regardless of any crushes Randall might have.

  That didn’t stop the vague guilt from nagging at the back of his mind, though.

  “I can help this, though,” Randall told him with a slight, sad smile. With a low word to his brother, he switched seats with Edwin, going to sit in the row in front of Anthony. Edwin took his place beside Victor with a grin.

  “You really do smell like tea,” the wolf informed him.

  Victor gave a quiet laugh. “It’s good tea,” he clarified. “Not the weak dirtwater you Americans stock over here.” He glanced at Randall. He could guess why the man had moved.

  “I don’t drink tea.” Edwin flopped back on the seat, legs restlessly jittering. “Randall does, though. By the truckload. He drinks more since Egypt. I think he has nightmares, and he’s a dork who tries to will them away through books and green tea.”

  “Yes, I would expect anybody to have nightmares after that ordeal,” Victor murmured. “It wasn’t pleasant, by any means.”

  “He won’t talk about it.” Edwin was watching Randall, who’d curled up against the window to flip through a book. His fingers were a bit too rough on the pages, tension seeped into his shoulders. “Not to anyone. Anthony barely let him out of his sight for a month after, and Randall wore stupid looking turtlenecks for ages.”

  “You are aware that Anthony can hear you,” Anthony said dryly. “Randall can too.”

  Edwin looked over at his brothers, baffled. “I know,” he said, as if speaking to a very slow child. “But Victor doesn’t know, so I’m telling him.”

  Victor didn’t feel the need to tell Edwin that he did know. He’d seen the nightmares that Randall had, the way he hadn’t been able to sleep for a long time afterward.

  Randall said, very casually, “Edwin chewed all his pillows to shreds until he was fifteen and still sleeps with a stuffed bear named Sprinkles.” At Edwin’s indignant howl, Randall looked back, eyebrow rising. “Don’t make me tell them about the first time you saw a train.”

  Anthony barked out a laugh. “Yeah, Edwin, we’ve got plenty of embarrassing stories about you. Don’t get too smart.”

  Grumbling, Edwin sprawled back down in his seat with righteous indignation. After a while, lulled by the motion of the van, Edwin’s agitated fidgeting calmed and he wound up sleeping, pressed up against Victor’s side. The first time Edwin had flopped over, Victor had given Anthony a helpless look, but Anthony had just grinned at him. Knievel had paced over and appropriated Edwin’s lap as her bed, the both of them happily pressed into the warmth of Victor.

  Victor wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about all of this, but he didn’t want to disturb their rest, so he stayed as still as he could, even when his arm started to get pins and needles. He spent the rest of the drive watching the passing scenery, seeing the light grow dimmer and dimmer. By the time they arrived at the edge of the forest, Victor calculated that they had perhaps half an hour left, at best.

  Though Victor was not the one sizing up the woods to see if it was adequate for running, he couldn’t help but think of it that way, taking note of how densely the trees were packed, that the ground was mostly made up of dead leaves and pine needles. It wouldn’t be pleasant for a human to run through, but he imagined it would be a very different story for a wolf. The sun all but vanished as they wound their way deeper into the forest, and Edwin woke up with a jolt, swaying away from Victor’s shoulder. Sleeping at an angle like that, his neck should have been killing him. Instead, Edwin was grinning, his hands going to his shirt.

  “Ed, wait until the van’s stopped at least,” Anthony sighed, though he was sitting rigidly in anticipation too, his eyes glinting yellow in the darkened interior of the van.

  Victor wondered if he should be scared, being in a relatively small vehicle with four wolves that were getting antsy. He wasn’t, though. He wasn’t even wary, which surprised him somewhat.

  The moment Jed found a turnoff, Edwin was out of the van, clothes falling into a puddle behind him. Victor caught a glimpse of tanned skin and long legs before fur flashed in between the trees. A long, joyous howl lifted to the sky as Jed switched off the van and the headlights dimmed, halving the light that shone out into the woods.

  Anthony was next, bounding out of the van. He grinned at them as he shed his shirt. “Have a good night, guys,” he said to Victor and Jed. “We’ll find you in the morning.” Then he too was stripping the rest of his clothes off, smoothly shifting and sprinting away on all fours, chasing Edwin with gleeful barks.

  Jed was carefully helping Redford take off the dog tags, the bracelet he wore. “I’ll be right here,” Jed murmured, kissing his forehead. Knievel seemed to join her owner’s mood, chirping as she rubbed against Redford’s arm. “Hell, go blow off some steam, and then I’ll race you and the little fur ball, okay?”

  “Okay,” Redford replied, but he looked nervous. He kept darting glances at Randall, seemingly embarrassed. “I, um. I’m going to go find a tree or something so nobody has to watch.” He took Jed’s hand, a silent plea for Jed to come with him.

  “Well, let’s find you a tree, then.” Jed smiled softly, kissing him, concern in his expression as they started toward the tree line. Edwin came barreling out of the woods, tackling Jed and licking his face before bounding happily around Redford’s legs. Apparently he was ready for that run now.

  Victor stepped out of the van, taking a deep breath of the night air. He wished he could block his ears, because he’d heard Redford shift before, and it wa
sn’t pleasant. “You might want to concentrate on your book,” he said to Randall. “The sounds you’re about to hear are… well, somewhat horrifying.”

  Randall looked up with a frown. “Because he’s not full Cano?” He put the book aside, coming to stand next to Victor, eyes sharp as he looked through the deepening dusk. “I can’t imagine going through the shift like that.”

  Victor had anticipated that there might be a few more minutes to wait, but apparently the wolf in Redford had decided to come out early. It started with the sickening snaps of cracking bone, echoing around the forest, closely followed by the distinct sound of someone trying not to scream. Anthony had come back, a dark shape of fur hovering at the edge of the road. Edwin was curled up next to Redford, little rumbles of encouragement coming from him as he nudged his nose against the other wolf. Jed was on the other side of Redford, arms wrapped around him, the two of them holding Redford close as he changed.

  When it was all said and done, Victor was just glad it was over. Redford was flopped on the ground, panting softly, but he happily nosed at Jed’s head, recovering quickly. He was more cautious about Edwin, but he looked fairly content to just accept that another wolf was there.

  “When do you usually turn?” Victor asked Randall, curious. “I know you said you do it later, but is there a set time?”

  Randall watched as Edwin nudged Jed toward the woods, butting against Redford, encouraging them both to take off running. “I don’t like to be ruled by a lunar object.” He shrugged. “I turn when I want to.” There was an implied or when I can’t put it off any longer that Victor recognized, the steel of control that was tempered by the knowledge that control could only go so far. But unlike David, Randall didn’t seem to hate the wolf instincts. It was merely preference. “Am I bothering you?” Randall looked over to him. “I can go elsewhere.”

  Getting back into his seat, Victor dug out his own book. “Not at all,” he said. “Consider me relieved, actually. I’m not entirely sure about spending the night in a van, in dark woods, by myself all night.” He gave a wry smile. Not that Randall would be there all night, but it was nice to have some company.

  “Oh, you won’t be alone,” Randall assured him. “Jed won’t last twenty minutes with my brothers. I’m actually surprised he isn’t back yet, or Edwin isn’t here to tell us all about the human that passed out in the woods.”

  Victor snorted. He was surprised at that too. Though Jed was incredibly fit—he had to be, for his job—keeping up with excited wolves did sound exhausting. “He’s doing better than I would,” Victor admitted.

  “Have you ever gone running?” Randall asked. His eyes weren’t yellow, not yet, but there was something intense about them that seemed to cut straight through Victor, even without being able to meet them fully, like Randall was the one who could read souls and futures.

  “I’m a professor that reads books all day, and my idea of fun is doing the crossword,” Victor said dryly. “The only times I’ve ever run was when something was chasing me.”

  Huffing out a laugh, Randall pushed away from where he’d been leaning against the van. He paced a little, movements languid, graceful. “It’s like nothing else,” he mused. “Not even just the running, but the experience of being out there. The ground under your feet, the breeze against your skin, like the whole night is just rushing through you. Like you’re captured by it, pulled in and enmeshed in every beat and throb of it.”

  It did sound nice. But it also made Victor think idly about the similarities between wolves and vampires. Both of them had something that meant the world to them, something that they needed, otherwise they’d go crazy. He had to wonder if his own breed of half blood had something like that, and he just hadn’t discovered it yet.

  “It sounds very freeing,” he replied.

  Randall stretched, arms up to the sky, before collapsing down on himself and going back to leaning against the side of the van. “That’s the point,” he agreed. Then, whole body pricking to attention, he murmured, “Here comes Jed.”

  Sure enough, there was the muffled noise of cursing and someone crashing through the underbrush toward them. Jed came into view, red-faced, and stumbled to a halt, hands on his thighs, puffing out huge, shuddering breaths. “Oh, fuck me,” he managed between gasps for air. “I think I have a hernia. Can you die from a running fucking hernia?”

  “I’m not sure that you can get hernias from running,” Victor pointed out calmly, looking up from his book, shadows cast out onto the grass from the sour yellow glow of the van’s overhead light. “I thought you’d last longer. You do always boast about your stamina.”

  “Blow me” was Jed’s eloquent answer as he flopped down onto the grass, spread eagle, looking worn out. “Oh, God, I think I’m dying.”

  Victor rubbed a hand over his mouth to smother a laugh. He retrieved a water bottle from his bag and stepped out of the van to stand over Jed, holding the water out for him. Redford came running out of the undergrowth, nosing at Jed and pinning him down with ninety-five pounds of contented wolf.

  Groaning a little, Jed did manage a smile, genuine behind the fact he was still heaving in air. His fingers tangled in Redford’s fur, rubbing behind his ear. “See?” Jed muttered, head falling back onto the ground. “Told you I could keep up.”

  Edwin was next, racing out of the woods and piling on top of the two of them. His tail was wagging frantically, and he happily licked everyone he could reach before he took off again, howling loudly. There was a howl in the distance in reply, likely from Anthony. At the sound of it, Victor could see Randall starting to look longingly at where Edwin had run off to, his knuckles white as he gripped his book.

  “Randall,” Victor murmured. “You should go.”

  Randall glanced between Victor and Jed, hesitating. “I feel bad leaving you. Both of you,” he hastened to add. “No offense, but it’s dark and you don’t have my eyes.”

  “I also have no doubt that you three will smell any potential danger long before it even comes close to us,” Victor said. “Go, have fun. We’ll be quite fine.” It was, surprisingly, almost painful watching Randall deny his urge to change. It seemed wrong to have a wolf hold back like that.

  After what seemed like a long few moments, Randall finally nodded. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as he gave in. “Fine. But I’ll be in earshot.” He flashed a smile, wolfish and eager. “And I can run faster than you’d think. You’ll be fine.”

  Randall stripped off his sweater, folding it neatly on the seat of the van. His shoes were next, followed by his jeans, until it was just Randall standing naked under the full flush of the moon.

  Victor knew he shouldn’t stare. It was completely rude of him to stare. He had the feeling that if this were happening at any other time, Randall would be stammering and blushing, embarrassed. But now, with the shift approaching, he was standing straight and tall, confident, his eyes slowly changing to yellow.

  And he was startlingly well built. Victor hadn’t anticipated that a body like that would be hidden under the sweaters and shyness. The muscular definition on the man was something that Victor felt he could quite happily spend a very long time visibly appreciating. He was all lean limbs and smooth skin, and oh God, Victor should really stop staring.

  Randall shifted, skin becoming fur, body elongating, until instead of a man there was a wolf. In contrast to Edwin’s dark-gold fur, Anthony’s deep brown, and Redford’s dappled red, Randall was more mottled, cream-colored muzzle fading into tan. Randall circled Victor’s legs, lightly nudging him with his muzzle.

  Victor had very briefly had contact with Redford in his wolf form, once, back when they’d been taking some of the kidnapped victims to the hospital. But he was still hesitant about reaching down to gently place his hand on Randall’s head, his fingertips bumping against his ears. It seemed wrong to just put his hands all over a creature so free.

  Randall pushed into Victor’s touch, chuffing softly. Apparently he didn’t mind gettin
g his ears scratched, so Victor kept it up, careful in his touch. He was well aware that Randall was not like, say, Knievel—Randall wasn’t going to bite his hands if he touched him in a way Randall didn’t like—and he was still cautious, though Victor was relaxing into it somewhat. Wolf fur was a lot coarser than he’d imagined.

  A soft, contented rumble came from Randall, and he rolled over, showing his stomach. There was amusement in Randall’s expression. If a wolf could be said to smile, he was now. Victor frowned down at him. “Are you all right?” Why was Randall rolling around on his back?

  Randall’s tail stopped wagging. With a sigh, he got back onto his feet, shaking off his coat. Redford was making a low huffing noise in the background like he was laughing at Victor, and Jed was laughing too. “What?” Victor gave Jed a questioning look. “I’m missing something incredibly obvious, aren’t I?”

  “Goddamn, princess,” Jed said with a grin. He was sprawled on the ground with Redford, rubbing under his chin happily. Knievel was stalking Redford’s gently waving tail through the grass. “You never had a dog, did you?”

  Victor shrugged. “I’ve never particularly had the time to care for one. I can’t even keep plants alive. Why?”

  “For someone who’s supposed to be so smart, you’re kind of missing the point,” Jed commented. The man looked awfully smug. “You never heard of a pack animal showing their stomach before? He’s submitting. Giving you his throat. I think it’s kind of a big deal.”

  Randall had moved away from him and was sitting now, back to Victor, staring out into the woods. He lifted his head, howling, listening for his brothers’ response.

  Victor promptly felt rather stupid. He took a tentative step closer to Randall, lowering his voice. “Er, my apologies. I’m afraid I’m not well versed in wolf body language.”

  Randall looked back over his shoulder to regard Victor for a moment. The moon was pouring down onto him, silver light making his eyes shine, making him look like so much more. He got up, shaking himself off, and stalked over to Victor. He pressed his head against Victor’s stomach, pushing him back toward the van. When Victor’s knees hit the edge of the van floor and he sat, Randall put his paws on Victor’s legs, half standing so they were nose to nose.