by Alex Kidwell
Anthony peered at him. “Something tells me that he wasn’t the one to make that decision. You’d be reacting a lot differently if he had.”
Randall shrugged, trying to appear disinterested. “He’ll be happier this way.”
Anthony looked just about as confused as Victor had been. “Do we need to talk about this? Or….” He frowned in even deeper bafflement. “I don’t understand. He was perfect for you!”
Jaw tightening, Randall shrugged Anthony’s arm away, then pushed himself off the bed. Desperate for something to do with his hands, he grabbed one of their bags and started to pack what few belongings they’d brought with them. He took a moment to mourn his books, back at their home. There was no time to go back and get them. Maybe someday. “He is an adrenaline junkie, looking for something dangerous. Which I am most definitely not.”
“Victor? An adrenaline junkie?” Anthony stared at him. “That guy probably just drinks an extra cup of tea to get a thrill.”
“Or dates a vampire,” Randall said, words coming short and brittle as he jammed clothes into the duffel bag. “Or chases after a pack of wolves. Or looks into an immortal’s eyes. Or sleeps with a goddamn wolf.”
Anthony didn’t look surprised at the mention of Randall and Victor sleeping together. He did, however, sigh very faintly. “I still think you’re perfect for each other. But it’s your decision. I just wish you had an opportunity to work things out.” He paused, a gleam in his eye. “What if we didn’t—”
“No,” Randall said bluntly. Even if there’d been hope, Randall wasn’t about to stay simply for himself.
Anthony frowned. “Is there any way I could talk you into letting Victor come along?”
Teeth gritted, Randall finished fishing Edwin’s socks out from all the random corners where he seemed to toss them. “Victor is a grown man. He can certainly do whatever he wishes. But I doubt he will have any reason to come with us. He has a job, Anthony. A life.” One-night stands to continue. “It’s not like he’s my mate. I’ll get over it.”
“Okay.” Anthony didn’t sound thrilled to let the point go, but he did it nonetheless. “I’m so sorry, Randall. I wish things had worked out better.” He sounded about as miserable as if he’d been the one in Randall’s situation. Anthony had always been too empathetic for his own good, especially when it came to his brothers. “You need anything, you know you can just talk to me?”
“I am perfectly fine, Anthony.” Randall zipped up the bag and tossed it toward the door. “And we’re packed. So how about we go round up Edwin and find some dinner?”
“Perfectly fine my ass,” Anthony grumbled under his breath. He leaned over the mattress and slid something off the nightstand. “Just one thing more to pack. I think there’s room in my bag.”
It was the book. The one Victor had given him. A tight ache settled into Randall’s chest as he reached out to take it, lightly running his fingers along the cover. “No, it’s all right,” he whispered, voice wavering. “I, uh. I’ll take care of it.”
Gently, carefully, he slid it into his own messenger bag. He tucked it away next to all those possibilities he’d extinguished, all those hopes he’d let grow only to watch them wither away. For a little while at least, his Beatrice had been a very nice dream.
It was time to wake up now.
Chapter 16
Jed
THREE WEEKS later, and they’d finally finished setting up the new camp. There were tents for shelter, outhouses far enough away to not make the wolves gag, and a tarp-covered space for the kitchens. It wasn’t pretty, but it kept the rain off while cooking, and that had turned out to be goddamn crucial. All in all, everyone had a place to eat, sleep, and shit, so that had to count for something.
Whatever the fuck Jed had thought about how hard planning a goddamn vacation was, getting a couple hundred furry-assed wolves packed up and moved cross-country? Yeah, that was some serious shit. Fuck knew how Jed had managed to get enough trucks there with a day’s notice, but once the hunters had found the camp, they’d had days, not weeks, to get their asses in gear.
And the travel had been the fun part. Actually setting up camp had been a fucking nightmare.
It’d rained for a week straight, turning their carefully picked clearing into mud soup. Setting up any kind of semipermanent structures had turned into a dirty, dangerous job. More than one person had gotten injured by shit sliding where it wasn’t supposed to, falling when no one could catch it, and plain bad luck. When the sun had finally broken through, Jed had thought he’d never seen anything better.
Redford had helped him set up a training program for any of the wolves who wanted to learn how to fight. They had regular patrols and what was shaping up to be a pretty decent militia, even if half of them didn’t want anything to do with guns. The Gray Lady had named Jed an honorary pack member, which as far as Jed could tell meant he had a lifetime membership at the gym, and nobody tried to sniff his ass anymore when he went out walking the perimeter of the camp.
The new camp was set in a valley between two steep mountains, trees crawling over every surface except for the one decently large clearing Jed had found on the map. It had everything they needed: a water source from a nearby lake instead of the river they were used to, and thickly wooded areas at the north and south of them with more than enough territory for hunting.
It hadn’t been easy. They were low on food, the hunting parties were still learning the lay of the land, and it’d be weeks before any of the newly planted crops were able to be harvested. Instead of nice cabins, there were tents and plywood buildings. The kids had school around one of the campfires, and the adults got their meals at the communal space, a tarp thrown over several tall posts to make some kind of half-assed shelter. But everyone had survived the trip, and, in three weeks, they’d seen no sign of the hunters.
In short, Jed was putting this one in the win column.
Shotgun slung over one shoulder, Jed tramped back from the woods. He’d been doing an inspection of the sentry points and was pretty pleased with the design Redford had instituted. They’d taken their cue from deer hunting blinds, set high up in trees and camouflaged, practically invisible to anyone below. They were watching all possible entry points, and Jed was determined that when he and Redford went back home, the wolves wouldn’t have one damn excuse for being taken by surprise. Effective, and also hilarious to hear wolves bitch about how they didn’t belong in trees. Jed had taken to calling them Fur Pigeons.
Knievel was trotting next to him, tail in the air, chirping happily at the wolves they passed. When they spotted Redford across the way, the cat took off like a streak of fur, only to stop short and begin aggressively grooming herself just shy of Redford, like she didn’t even notice him. Jed had no such illusions of aloofness. With a grin, he covered the distance between them in a few long strides and grabbed Redford for a long kiss. “Hey, babe,” he murmured, wrapping one arm around Redford. “I missed you.”
“Jed, you’ve been gone two hours,” Redford pointed out practically. But he was smiling, and that was what counted.
“A very long two hours,” Jed insisted, eyes wide with pretend earnestness. “The longest. I practically wasted away.”
“Of missing me, or of hunger?” At Redford’s question, Jed braced himself. In the past few weeks, Redford had gotten it into his head that Jed didn’t eat enough, and three times a day Redford now appeared, seemingly out of nowhere sometimes, just to shove a meal at Jed. “Because you skipped lunch.”
“I was working!” Jed protested. “It was very important.”
“So is food.” Redford frowned at him, taking Jed by the arm and leading him to one of the campfires. There was no big bonfire in this new place, but a series of smaller ones that would be less visible from a distance. Redford leaned down and picked up a tray just in time to save it from Knievel’s paws. “One of the hunting parties had some good luck today, so there’s plenty for everyone.”
Settling down onto a bench, J
ed’s first priority was serving a good chunk of the unidentified meat on his plate to Knievel. She immediately dragged it a short distance away, gnawing on it, tail swishing contentedly. Jed then tugged Redford down to sit on his lap, ignoring the rest of the meal for a moment in favor of kissing Redford’s shoulder. “So, how did the training session go? Anything interesting happen while I was chasing Fur Pigeons up trees?”
Redford snorted. “They had a fifteen minute long discussion, trying to come up with a good name for themselves to avoid letting you have the honor. Some of them aren’t happy with the idea of using anything but their teeth, but they’re getting there. I just keep emphasizing that it’s good to be prepared in any form.”
“And they have an excellent teacher,” Jed informed him. Absently, he took a bite of the food, raising his eyebrows. “This isn’t half bad. What’d we catch this time?”
“Mule deer, they said.” Redford leaned back against Jed then, getting comfortable. “They all looked really happy about it. They also said they saw mountain lions, but they wouldn’t eat them.”
“That’s ’cause they know cats are superior. Isn’t that right, ’Nievel?” Knievel, for her part, had rolled over and was now vigorously attempting to catch her own foot, which was kicking hyperactively, seemingly independently of her body. Jed paused. “Okay, maybe not.”
Redford laughed lowly. “Hey, you haven’t seen the hunting party get bored and chase their own tails.”
It was simple out here. Sure, hard to get to, and Jed was desperately missing television and a really good beer, takeout food or going down to the gym for a game of basketball. But there was something kind of nice about eating food that people he knew had gone out to hunt hours ago. That his whole day was Redford and training and watching the stars at night. Jed would be happy to go home, but he’d admit, part of him wouldn’t mind staying.
There was a thump next to him, and Jed didn’t even need to look over to know it was Edwin. The kid was ridiculously easy to spot when he wasn’t trying to be stealthy. He approached everything like it was some game he was thrilled to be playing. Edwin was also pretty decent at the whole sentry thing that Jed had been working on with the wolves. He had a good nose and wasn’t afraid to follow it.
He also refused to use a gun. Oh, he’d tried. He’d even approached Jed asking to be taught. But after an hour shooting makeshift targets, Edwin had handed Jed the pistol and declared it too noisy before running off to do whatever the fuck he did during the day. Chase butterflies or wash his clothes with talking birds or whatever. Jed would give him this, though—Edwin was goddamn lethal in wolf form.
“Do you like the deer?” Edwin asked, flashing them both a grin. “I got to take it down. It was awesome. We tracked this herd for miles. Normally only the older wolves actually do the kill, out of respect for the animal, but this time they let me and then we gave honor to it and I got to say the blessing and it was awesome.” He was practically wiggling in excitement. “Redford, you should come next time!”
“I’m not really much of a hunter,” Redford mumbled, embarrassed. “I’d prefer to do the cooking. I’m much better at that.”
And there was another thing that was going well—Redford hadn’t had an “episode” for the last three weeks. He hadn’t been overcome by the instincts or lost himself. A few times he’d looked like he’d come close, but every time he’d forced himself to breathe slowly and beat back the yellow in his eyes. He’d also become more comfortable around every aspect of the pack. He still wasn’t running around on all fours at the drop of a hat, but he seemed a bit more willing to participate in some of the pack dynamics, and Jed was trying his damnedest to be supportive.
“You could come anyway,” Edwin assured him. “Randall isn’t that great either, but he came last time. I think he just wanted to be helpful.”
Or get out of the camp, Jed figured. Jed wasn’t exactly Oprah, and God knew he really didn’t care, but even a blind eunuch could have figured out that Randall and Victor had gone through some kind of pissing match. Which, oddly enough, hadn’t stopped Victor from coming with the pack.
Yeah, Jed didn’t get that either. A week after they’d arrived, Victor had come huffing and puffing into camp. He’d driven the damn rattletrap van as close as he could and hidden it in the woods only to make the hour-long ascent up to the camp. Hell, Jed was just impressed he hadn’t passed out or died. Victor didn’t strike him as the hiking type.
But since Victor had arrived, Randall hadn’t said two words to him. Which was probably weird, but honestly, at least now Jed only had to deal with one nerd at a time. Victor had thrown himself into helping set up the school and was, at that moment, surrounded by a bunch of kids, half of them in wolf form, teaching them the history of their people around the campfire. It had been funnier when Victor had looked terrified of anyone younger than twenty-five. Now he was actually smiling—if a bit awkwardly—at the kids. Weird.
“Randall isn’t that great at what?” Randall had appeared, pausing to give Knievel a scratch just in front of her tail. “My ears are burning.”
“Hunting,” Edwin replied, flopping down on the ground to stick his nose in Knievel’s face. The cat touched her nose to his and then rubbed her cheek against his jaw. “Red was just saying he wasn’t good enough to go with the party next time, but you went!”
“Yes, well, it was educational to be sure,” Randall replied dryly, taking a careful seat next to them. “I think I’ll stick to helping out here in the future.”
Anthony was incredibly involved in getting everyone settled and helping the sentries train. Edwin was a hunter and learning how to fight. Randall, though… well, there wasn’t much call for the bookish type out here. He didn’t seem to have a place to fit in. Normally Jed would tell him to go do the school thing, but since he very much did not want to know what was going on there, he decided to keep his damn mouth shut.
Redford shifted on Jed’s lap, casting a glance at the still half-full tray and then a frown at Jed with a silent reminder for him to keep eating. “Maybe I’ll try going out with the hunting party tomorrow,” he said, phrasing it more like a question.
Obligingly popping another bite of the meat in his mouth, Jed nodded. “That sounds awesome. I’m going to do a few training exercises I think, see if the Fur Pigeons can spot me sneaking into camp. Going hunting sounds like way more fun than crawling in the dirt for four hours.”
“It probably is.” Redford smiled. “Oh, and Anthony was looking for you earlier. He said he wanted to talk to you, but I don’t know why. I think he’s with Cedric at the moment.”
Nodding, taking one last bite, Jed kissed Redford’s cheek and regretfully dislodged him from his lap. “Duty calls. Want to come with?”
“I promised I’d help clean up after cooking.” Redford didn’t look too happy at the prospect—he’d always hated doing dishes, and Jed had never managed to get the hang of it. Between them, they were just grateful to have a dishwasher in their apartment back home. “I’ll see you after?”
Kissing him, ignoring the exaggerated gagging sounds Edwin was teasing them with, Jed smiled. “I think that’s a plan. Our tent. Tonight. I have plans.” Plans involving driving Redford so out of his mind with pleasure he forgot to try to be quiet so no one would hear them. Tents had thin walls; that wasn’t Jed’s problem.
“It’s the full moon tonight,” Randall pointed out. He’d brought out a book, the same book he’d been carrying around since they’d arrived at the new camp, and was half absorbed in the well-worn pages. “I think you might need to take a rain check. I’ve never been around this many wolves during one before, but I kind of think it’s going to be a little more intense than usual.”
Redford stared at Randall, worry pinching the edges of his expression. “Intense how?”
“Remember the summer solstice when everyone started howling?” Randall glanced up, arching an eyebrow at Redford. “That was probably not even close.”
Redford had gone br
ight red. “I can’t imagine,” he said faintly, darting a worried, but also fond, look at Jed. “The summer solstice was already, um, crazy.”
Jed just grinned widely back. “Oh man, I am clearing my schedule tomorrow for sure.” Forget his plans. “’Cause I think I’m not going to be able to walk once you get back.” Goddamn, that was a happy prospect. Redford would go out and do his running thing and then come back all naked and blissed out and fuck Jed into the ground. That was definitely the new plan of action.
Snorting quietly, Randall returned to his book. “I need to find earplugs.”
“I’m just going to sleep in the woods tomorrow,” Edwin decided. “You guys are loud.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault you aren’t getting laid,” Jed informed both of them smugly. “My boyfriend is hot as hell, and I refuse to restrain myself.” With that, Jed tugged Redford in for a slow kiss, biting his lip lightly before he headed off to find Anthony.
He found him in the new medical center, which was actually just a single room plywood hut that Cedric had claimed as his own. Anthony was seated with an IV in his arm, staring out the window while Cedric made notes and fussed over a stack of books on the desk. Plopping down on one of those rolling stools, Jed grinned at Anthony, sliding his way across the floor. “What’s going on, fur butt?”
It sucked, that Anthony was sick. More than sucked. A guy like that, full of life, he shouldn’t have to worry about medicine and getting weaker. But crying about it wasn’t going to do a damn thing.
“Hi, Jed.” Anthony sounded tired but pleased to see him. “Have you got a free minute?”
“Well, I did have a pedicure scheduled,” Jed drawled, spinning idly in half circles on the stool. “But hey, I can get my french tips later.”
At least Anthony laughed at his jokes, unlike some people. Jed wasn’t going to name and shame, but, well, Victor. “Okay, I won’t beat around the bush, then. Cedric says it’s too early to tell if his treatment is going to do anything. I wanted to ask you for something.”
