Nick grinned briefly again and Alex couldn’t help but picture Tish’s gentle smile and its effect on Nick’s testosterone-driven group. Nick’s face closed down as he continued. “Peter’s relatively new to the weredom too.”
“And you?” Alex sipped from his mug, relishing the hot, bitter taste. “How’d you become a were?”
A rueful expression passed over Nick’s face. His hand closed over the dog tags hanging around his neck. “I was a fighter pilot in the Second World War. A few of us went over before the U.S. was officially part of it. I got shot down in ’40. There I was, on the ground, wounded and behind enemy lines, and I couldn’t say more than gesundheit in German. I was in a piss-load of trouble. A were came out of nowhere and attacked me. I thought he was going to kill me. For a long time, I wished that he had.” He shrugged, releasing the tags with a small clink of sound to pick up his mug again.
Alex nodded. He knew what Nick meant. Even if you willingly chose the Life, there was that moment of shock when you fully comprehended what you had given up.
A feral grin stole over Nick’s face. “Since I stuck out like a sore thumb, I hid in the forest and worked my way back across enemy territory. At night. Let me tell you, that first full moon was a fucking surprise. That’s when I realized I could never go home again. Not that I didn’t continue to contribute to the war effort. In my own way, of course.” He lifted his mug to his lips, continuing to smile. It wasn’t a very nice smile and it gave Alex a little frisson of sensation, recognition of the hunter in both of them.
Alex shared his grin. “And Peter?” he asked. He’d noticed that Nick had glossed over Peter’s introduction to the pack earlier.
“Ah, Peter.” Nick dragged Peter’s name out, obviously reminiscing as he stared down into his mug. He shifted restlessly, uncrossing his ankles, the toes of one foot curling and uncurling unconsciously against the tiled floor. “I ran across Peter when he was on a dig in Arizona. That’s one of his degrees, you know—archaeology. Well, he’d gotten separated from his group and was in trouble, when I came upon him in full moon.”
Nick hesitated. “It’s not like with you guys. Like I said last night, when the moon is high and the were is upon us, we don’t usually have the luxury of making rational decisions. The need to kill and eat is so strong…. Anyway, Peter had been hurt. He was dying, in fact. I could have finished him off, but I nipped him instead.”
“You what?” Alex was incredulous.
A dull-red flush crept up Nick’s neck to his cheekbones. “Well, he was obviously in some serious shit and yet he was being funny, and I just couldn’t help it. I nipped him and ran off. I was a wolf. It wasn’t like I could call nine-one-one.” He took a deep swig of coffee. “And then I found him the next morning and told him what a fucked-up thing I’d done to him.”
“What was his reaction?” Alex was oddly breathless, waiting for his answer. His mind flashed to Tate and he immediately shut down that train of thought.
“What else? He was pissed and horrified. Until he realized he would have died otherwise. Then he wanted to know what kinds of superpowers he’d have.” Nick shot a little glance in Alex’s direction, obviously gauging his reaction to the confession. There was something in Nick’s eyes that made Alex realize there was more to the story. His memory suddenly supplied him with the sight of Nick curled around Peter’s body, his black head resting in the crook of Peter’s flank.
He blinked for a moment as the realization sunk in. “You and Peter?” he asked at last. “But… I thought… isn’t that sort of verboten among the were?”
He’d always thought of Nick as the ultimate womanizer, but he realized that though Nick was frequently charming and flirtatious with the women they met, there had always been a kind of distance there as well. Alex had assumed it was because Nick was always conscious of being were, even when it only affected his life three days out of every month. If Tish and Duncan were an item….
Nick’s face darkened. “Verboten is a kind way of putting it. It’s considered an aberration worth killing over among the were.” Nick curled an upper lip, showing a sharp canine.
“But Duncan and Tish… they’re okay with it?”
Nick relaxed again and shrugged. “Yeah. Not sure why. You’d have to ask them. Not that you should, mind you.” His tone suggested the conversation was over.
A knock sounded at the back door. When Alex opened it, Tate was standing there, holding several canvas bags and a carryall.
“I went around to the front door first, but no one heard me. I’ve come to check on my patient. Am I interrupting something?” He flicked his gaze up and down over Nick’s half-dressed state.
Nick and Alex exchanged a sharp glance.
“Um, he’s not here at the moment. The wolf, I mean. Or rather, the dog. The husky cross. Anyway, he left during the night.” Alex stumbled over his words.
Tate entered the kitchen briskly and set his bags down on the counter. He peeled off his coat and draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Alex couldn’t help but notice that Tate’s bright blue sweater flattered his coloring and conformed nicely to his body for a change. His jeans fit him like a glove as well; they looked new. He was wearing black army boots instead of the usual hikers. His hair looked wild and uncombed and Alex now knew how surprisingly soft it was to the touch. The hickey that he’d given Tate peeked out of the neck of his sweater alongside his collarbone, the sight of which provoked a sensation in Alex that he didn’t know how to define.
“Too bad,” Tate said, as he began pulling supplies out of the first bag. “I need to treat those open wounds and I brought some more pain medication. Flea stuff too.” He shot a sly glance in Nick’s direction before smoothly turning his gaze back to Alex again. “You don’t know of anyone else who might be able to use this stuff, do you?” He waited them out and then heaved a little sigh. “Come on, guys. It’s not like I don’t know it’s Peter lying upstairs in Alex’s bedroom right now.”
“That’s… that’s totally ridiculous. Come on, Tate. Think about what you’re saying!” Alex said. How he could have possibly made such a leap in logic was mind-boggling to Alex.
“Uh-huh,” Tate agreed matter-of-factly. He reached into the next bag and pulled out some small packages. “Here you go.” He handed one to Nick, who took it automatically. “You have to be careful with some of that over-the-counter flea-and-tick shit; I’ve seen some bad reactions. This stuff is generally safe. Dosing might be interesting though. You’re what, one forty, one fifty pounds as a wolf?”
“One thirty-seven,” Nick said bemusedly, straightening out of his lean as he examined the flea product. The package in his hand had a picture of a Saint Bernard on the front.
“Right, then. Use two tubes, right at the back of your neck.” He mimed putting it up at the nape of his neck, in the hairline. “I’d do it right before the full moon rises so it will be absorbed when you’re in wolf form. Duncan might take three tubes, though; he’s huge.”
He reached back into the bag and began pulling out more supplies. “Now, what about heartworm preventative? Do you guys have to worry about parvo? Rabies?”
“We don’t get the usual dog viruses,” Nick replied, a smile twitching at his lips. Alex watched in fascination as the years seemed to peel off Nick’s face and his expression lightened. He was amused, damn him. “But those ticks sure are a bugger.”
“Really? Across-the-board viral immunity? How very cool. I’d love to know about the physiology behind that. Well, okay, that stuff kills fleas and ticks for an entire month, so if you time it with the lunar cycles—”
“Excuse me,” Alex interrupted sharply. “Does anyone else here find this conversation completely surreal?”
“Alex’s right.” Nick shot an apologetic glance in Alex’s direction. He tossed the flea product on the counter and hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “This is serious stuff for us, Tate. A life-and-death kind of thing. For you too. We’re dangerous people to know.”
“Right, right. Villagers, flaming torches, and pitchforks. I’ve seen all the movies. Your secret’s safe with me, guys. I’m a vet. That’s got to be like some patient-client confidentiality thing, right?” Tate’s eyes were brimming with laughter, inviting the two of them to relax and roll with the situation, and something inside Alex wanted so very badly to do just that.
He wanted the pretense of normality. The realization made his next words sharp.
“This is not some little game where you get to act out your fantasy about playing around with werewolves,” Alex snapped. “What Nick’s trying to say is that one of them could easily kill you if you happened upon them at the wrong time.”
“I know,” Tate said quietly. “That’s why you warned me to stay indoors during the full moon and why you wanted to know the other day if I had any pets. I appreciate your concern, by the way. I didn’t understand it until last night, but I get it now.”
The slow smile he gave Alex made a coil of heat curl in his abdomen. Fear for Tate made him continue brutally with his next sentence. “You can’t count on the fact that they know you to protect you. They would kill you without hesitation. They would tear the flesh from your body while you were still screaming and crack your bones to suck the marrow out.”
“We’d regret it in the morning, though,” Nick said mildly, earning a wicked grin from Tate.
“You’re not helping.” Alex pointed a finger at him, punctuating each word with a poke in the air in his direction. What the fuck was wrong with him? He realized it in a sudden flash of intuition: Nick wanted the normalcy too.
“How’d you guess?” Nick asked Tate quietly, amusement dying down again.
“Alex called you by name last night. And then there’s the fact that wolves aren’t exactly common around here.” Tate’s smile held just a hint of a smirk. “Let’s not forget that Alex called Peter ‘Shaggy’ for my benefit and you guys have the Mystery Machine sitting in the driveway. Or the piles of clothes abandoned in the driveway last night.” He faced Alex. “Have you seen the car that’s been detailed to look like the Love Bug driving around town? Every time I see it, I want to shout ‘Herbie!’ out my car window.”
“Can we stay on topic?” Alex asked. “You mean to tell me you leapt to the conclusion that I was harboring werewolves in my house based on that?”
“Hey, you were the one who said I was smart and clever,” Tate said.
There was movement on the back porch, and the door opened as Tish and Duncan came into the kitchen. Tish looked flushed and happy; Duncan had bits of leaves in his hair.
“What’s wrong?” Tish said immediately, her gaze flashing back and forth from Nick to Alex, taking in Tate’s unexpected presence as well.
Nick’s face became interestingly blank. “Peter got hurt last night. Tate was kind enough to come and treat him.”
There was a little silence as Duncan and Tish took in the implications of that, as well as the tension within the room. They took their cue from Nick and relaxed slightly at whatever it was they saw there.
“Got hurt?” Duncan raised an eyebrow. “How?”
It was a good question, Alex thought. He had a hard time envisioning even a cougar taking on a werewolf, but then again, if Peter was relatively new to weredom, maybe he’d been taken completely by surprise. But so close to the house? It seemed unlikely. Besides, he thought that in were form, Peter should have been nearly invulnerable.
“Something big and nasty,” Tate said cheerfully. “My guess is a mountain lion. Just Peter’s bad luck he stumbled on it unawares.”
“Is he going to be all right?” Tish asked. Her voice, warm and smooth like hot chocolate at all times, was quiet with concern.
Everyone looked at Tate.
“I think so,” he said at last, no trace of humor in his voice. Instead, he sounded thoughtful and reassuring. Alex had a sudden image of Tate in a white coat, discussing possible outcomes with a worried client, and it was oddly comforting.
“He received some severe lacerations but it was a single swipe designed to knock him off his feet, not to kill him. It could have easily disemboweled him,” he admitted with a shrug. “I think it was meant more as a deterrent than an actual threat to his life. As such, our biggest concern is infection, but you guys seem pretty tough.” He flashed one of his brilliant smiles. “I don’t think we should move him for a while though.”
“We’ll all stay here then,” Duncan announced.
Great. Just fucking great. Where the hell was everyone going to sleep? Peter had taken over his bed; he presumed now that Nick would join him. What about the others? Would they all dog-pile into his bed like a litter of puppies? What about himself? He had no intention of spending another night on the couch. There’s always the coffin. The thought had even more appeal than usual. It would serve them all right.
“We can make ourselves useful,” Nick drawled. His glance at Alex was rueful and amused all at the same time, and Alex seriously wanted to punch him.
“Yes.” Tish was decisive. “There’s a lot we can do here to help with the remodeling. Alex, we’re at your disposal.”
“Speaking of my patient, I should go and check on him. How’s he doing this morning?” Tate asked Nick.
He shrugged. “He’s in a lot of pain and he seems a little feverish to me. Complaining a lot, so he can’t be too bad. Doesn’t remember much, though.”
Tate pushed another bag along the counter in Nick’s direction. “Bet some bacon and eggs would cheer him up. Plenty for everyone. Why don’t you guys start breakfast while I go upstairs and see about Peter?”
Duncan was examining the flea products on the counter. “These for us?” he asked Tate.
“Yes.” Tate smiled at Duncan as he sorted through the remaining bags, making sure he had everything he wanted to take with him upstairs.
“Cool,” Duncan said with a flash of white teeth. Alex realized he was smiling at Tate, and he was astonished.
“I’ll go with you to check on Peter,” Tish volunteered, her raised eyebrow at Nick suggesting that she wanted to know the rest of the story as soon as possible.
“Nah, I’d better go with him,” Nick said with a sigh. “You know how Peter gets. He might be shy at the thought of Tate seeing him naked without fur.” He shared a small smile with Tish. “You mind?” He indicated the food.
“Not at all.” She laughed. “Probably just as well. Your idea of cooking is to let the smoke detector tell you when it’s done.”
Tate picked up the carryall and then paused, sniffing the air. He wrinkled his nose and then turned his head toward Duncan. “Did you roll in something, Duncan?” he asked, his voice slightly accusatory.
Alex noticed for the first time the brownish stains along Duncan’s neck and shoulder. He snatched up the hand soap by the sink and threw it in Duncan’s direction. Duncan caught it neatly.
“That’s it!” Alex exclaimed, pointing at Duncan. “You! Out. There’s a hose outside by the flowerbeds. You wash yourself out there before you come back into my house. I don’t care if the water is ice cold!”
He turned in time to catch Tate wiping the expression of amusement off his face.
“This is not funny,” he snapped at Tate.
“No, no, not at all,” Tate agreed. “You just sound like someone yelling at their very bad Labrador.”
Nick took Tate by the arm and started to lead him away before Alex could do him any bodily harm.
Tate called back over his shoulder. “Duncan! My car is loaded with coolers of meat. You should probably bring it in. Maybe put some of it in the freezer?”
This time there was no mistaking Duncan’s grin. “Cool,” he said.
Nick halted, releasing Tate’s arm as everyone stared at him.
“Why do you have meat in your car?” Alex asked.
“Well,” Tate said slowly. “These guys can hunt tonight, but Peter can’t. I’m assuming that you turn every night while the moon is really full, right?” Tate add
ressed the others. “What is that? Like, two, three days?”
Tish spoke up when it was clear that no one else would. “We refer to it as ‘changing’. Three nights. Rising full, completely full, beginning wane.”
“Well, there you go.” Tate was matter-of-fact. He turned to Alex. “I figured you’d need to feed everyone during the day and especially Peter at night. I brought a whole cow. Do you think that’s enough?”
Nick gave a sudden bark of laughter. “Why do you have a cow in your car?”
“I’m a vet.” Tate’s grin was mischievous. “It’s called the barter system, dude.”
IN THE end, Alex couldn’t help but follow Nick and Tate upstairs.
“I have a lot of questions,” Tate admitted, as Nick placed his hand on the doorknob to Alex’s bedroom. “Not just idle curiosity, though,” he hastened to add. “It will help me decide how best to treat Peter.”
“Right,” Nick agreed, though he didn’t look happy about it. Alex suspected the very idea of discussing weredom with an outsider made him uncomfortable. “I’ll do my best to give you what you need.”
“I know,” Tate said with a warm smile, giving Nick a little squeeze on his arm. Alex felt an unaccountable rush of jealously and found himself caught in the act of glaring at Nick when Tate suddenly turned and winked at him.
How could one person waltz through his defenses so easily? Alex had no idea.
They entered the bedroom to find Peter, eyes red-rimmed and face flushed, lying on his back on Alex’s bed. He had the covers thrown back off his upper body; he looked damp and feverish. Angry lines of inflammation traced the places where Tate had sutured him the night before. The wounds he’d had to leave open were puckered around the edges.
“Hey, Peter,” Tate said easily, as thought there was nothing odd about the whole situation. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Crying for the Moon Page 9
