Among Wolves

by GA Hauser

  "Me? I'm not the one who gets on all fours and howls."

  Charlie sensed Roman tense up. "I can't take you two. I really can't." Charlie headed to his bedroom, dropping down on the bed and rubbing his face in agony. They had too much work to do. Tending the animals, making a living…working hard. They simply did not have time to deal with this again.

  He stared at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. If they just remain calm, things will be okay.

  ~

  Roman stood perfectly still.

  "Don't you look at me that way." Butch wagged his finger at Roman.

  Roman didn't flinch, feeling boiling heat from the roaring hearth fire.

  Butch glared at him in frustration. He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and said, "Tell Charlie I'm clearin' the snow. Anythin's better than this shit." He put his hat on his head and left the house, slamming the door behind him.

  Roman felt the walls shake from the act and closed his eyes. He could hear Butch shoveling the walkway, caught a scent of him still lingering. Roman headed to the kitchen and looked at the neat counter tops, the room tidied up after their meal. He opened the refrigerator. A white paper package was on a shelf. He knew by the sight and scent it was raw meat.

  His mouth began to water.

  Roman closed the refrigerator door, attempting to gain control. But it had been so long since this had happened, he craved it. Craved the power.

  With an effort he did not eat the meat, although he wanted to. Wanted to chew on that raw steak. Roman stood at the back door, looking out of the sheer curtain into the darkness. Snow still fell, silently, but the inches were adding up.

  He was hit with a memory. The ranch in Heber, the tiny hut on the far edge of the property…skulls, skins, feathers…jars of unknown liquids and candles. An inverted pentagram. Charlie had been locked in that hut by…something. A female spirit? A demon?

  As a wolf Charlie had clawed at the door, unable to calm down enough to change back to human form, going mad being trapped, caged. Roman remembered being a wolf, trying to get Charlie out of that hut. Charlie kept morphing inside the trap from wolf, to crow, to human, until he was so exhausted he couldn't move.

  Then, even worse than that…when Roman called his fellow ATF agent, Phil Dean, to come investigate…they found a dead body under the floorboards of the hut. A young street woman's corpse had been decomposing slowly in the icy temperatures.

  Roman rested his forehead on the cold window glass. He felt the moon even though it was not visible through the thick clouds. He peeked at his hands. His nails were glowing white. Roman stared at them in awe. He touched his face, his jaw and neck. A tingle rushed his spine. He was on the verge. With everything he had he battled it back. His teeth began to ache and his stomach twist.

  Just as he felt he was under control, something lunged at the back door. White fangs bared, a large wolf leapt at him, snapping its formidable jaws at him through it.

  Roman gasped and jumped back. "Charlie?" But this wolf was white. White as the snow it was surrounded by.

  "Butch!" Roman panicked for the young man out shoveling snow.

  "What?" Charlie bumped into Roman as Roman headed to the front door.

  "There's a wolf outside." Roman grabbed his jacket.

  "A wolf? No. Then why are you going out?"

  "Butch is out there!" Roman opened the front door and the icy gust and sleeting snow hit him instantly.

  Butch had shoveled a path from the house to the driveway. The light powdery snow was at least six inches deep and still coming down.

  Roman walked in the deep drifts to the back of the house, holding the collar up around his neck. He sniffed the air, but caught nothing with his acute senses.

  As he rounded the bend to the back of the ranch house, a man was standing at his back door. No coat. No barrier against the cold. All in black, his huge muscular arms exposed, he faced Roman. The stranger was holding a broadsword.

  Roman shook his head, thinking he was hallucinating. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Nothing was there.

  "Roman?" Charlie's voice came from behind him.

  Roman walked closer to the back door, looking at the snow. Nothing. No prints. No trace of either wolf or man.

  "What is it? Why are you out here? I don't see no wolf tracks. You sure?"

  "I'm not sure of anything anymore." Roman tried to look out in the distance, across their vast property. But it was pitch black and the snow was blinding.

  "Come inside. Butch is already indoors. This ain't no kind of night to be out for man nor beast."

  He felt Charlie's hand on his arm. Roman kept staring at the snow for a sign. But there wasn't any. Had he imagined it all?

  ~

  Charlie walked around the house, hearing Roman behind him. When they made it to the front door, Charlie said, "Let me just look in on the horses. Will ya behave with Butch?"

  Roman gave Charlie a tired look and kicked the snow off his shoes, leaning with one hand on the front door frame of the house.

  Charlie walked the path Butch had cleared across the gravel driveway to the barn. He opened the door and turned on a single light, not the overhead fluorescents. The horses shifted and snorted. Their two goats chewed on the feed, calm, giving him their attention. The barn was heated, but only to keep the water from freezing. A few chickens were awake and scattered as he entered.

  One squawked as if he were a fox, flapping and making an escape in a trail of feathers.

  Charlie headed down the center of the barn, glancing into each stall at the dozen horses they kept for public trail riding. He walked close to his own horse, Spirit, and noticed the big brown horse did not greet him as usual, keeping back to the far end of the stall.

  "Not you now." Charlie reached for his pet.

  The horse snorted and showed the whites of its eyes.

  "It's me. You know it's me."

  The horse pressed its ears back in warning and did not look happy.

  Charlie was too tired for the effort. As long as the animals were comfortable, that was fine by him. He headed out of the barn and before he shut the light he noticed something near his pickup truck. Closing the barn door behind him, Charlie crept over to look. A shadow in the heavily falling snow seemed to elude him. "Roman?" He pursued it, wondering if someone was outside in the freezing weather.

  Once he'd made his way around to the front of the truck he could see two glowing amber eyes in the darkness, staring at him. "What the fuck?" Struggling to see through the blinding snow, and unable to stand the cold for much longer, Charlie thought about getting a flashlight and trying to see what it was, but he was too tired and if it was just a curious animal, it wouldn't do any harm.

  He knew the mountains had plenty of wildlife roaming free. So far none had been a nuisance. He rubbed his cold hands together and returned to the house, seeing the path Butch had cleared already coated in snow.

  Just before he entered his home, he looked back at the driveway. An image of a man, standing staring at him, all dressed in black, holding a large sword at his side, startled Charlie. He blinked and it was gone.

  "Lord have mercy. I must be tired." He kicked the snow from his boots and entered the house, taking off his cowboy hat and brushing off the white flakes that had landed on it, then he shut and locked the door.

  Once inside, Charlie peeked out of the curtain on the front window. Nothing could be seen but the whipping snow.

  "The horses okay?"

  Charlie took off his coat and hung it on the rack, seeing Butch sitting in the living room, watching television, a beer in his hand.

  "Yeah. They're fine. Where's Roman?"

  Butch tilted his head to the kitchen.

  Charlie tugged off his cowboy boots and walked in stocking feet to see Roman, staring out of the back door window. He leaned against his back, feeling Roman sigh as he did.

  "Everythin'll be all right." Charlie hugged him from behind.

  Roman didn't answer, but relaxed in Charlie's
arms.

  Chapter 3

  Once he and Charlie washed up for bed, Roman could hear the television still on in the living room. Butch stayed up late most nights, being a fan of late night talk shows and reality nonsense. Roman didn't have the patience for television. The news irritated him and the programs insulted his intelligence. Charlie didn't seem to care much for the TV either, other than the weather reports.

  Roman was the only one in the house with a computer, laptop, and smart phone. But he needed it to be connected at work as well as his family.

  Charlie shut off the nightstand lamp and relaxed beside Roman in bed with a loud sigh. In the dimness of their simple master bedroom, the walls bare and only a slatted blind on the window, Roman stared at Charlie's profile. The dark did not dim his sight. He could see every detail of their room clearly.

  Those wolf senses were kicking in full force.

  As if he knew Roman was staring at him, Charlie turned to towards him. When Roman met those glowing blue irises he stifled a gasp. "You too?"

  Charlie rolled over on his side, facing Roman. "Yes. Jus' lately. I didn't want to say nothin'."

  "I'm nervous, Charlie." Roman crushed the pillow under his head. "What about my work? Driving to Reno…Last thing I need is to change into a fucking wolf on duty."

  "Yer boys remember that shit from two years ago?"

  "Phil Dean does, of course. He used to be on the same ATF team as me until I moved to Nevada and he stayed on in Utah. And Nick Hoffman, my supervisor here. He knows."

  "I remember them boys." Charlie nodded. "Ya better tell Nick."

  "I don't want to. He'll force me to take time off or go for more testing. And I have no idea how to fix this."

  Charlie appeared to concentrate, then said, "Ophelia?"

  A shiver washed over Roman's spine at the name. "The red witch."

  "Yes. That just came to me. I haven't thought of that name since we changed."

  Roman felt his arms tingle and a brush of icy air rush over him. He tugged the heavy quilt higher on his naked shoulder. "Charlie, how are we supposed to find her? Find anyone or anything associated with that cult?"

  "Yer the agent. You tell me." Charlie caressed Roman's cheek.

  "We keep files, but that's a dead case. It's not like they were firearms dealers or violent criminals. There's no activity. No reason to have kept up intel or surveillance. And the local homicide unit turned the death of that transient girl into a cold case. No one knows how she died."

  Charlie's stare was intense.

  At the sensual glare, Roman felt his groin tingle.

  Slowly, Charlie leaned closer, cupping Roman's head from behind. When their lips met, it was like an electrical charge had washed through Roman. He moaned in pure pleasure and pinned Charlie to the bed. Running his hands along Charlie's arms to his wrists, Roman held him down, grinding his cock against Charlie's as they both grew wild with excitement.

  The scent of Charlie's skin, his aftershave, the musky soap they used, filled Roman's senses. Deeply inhaling the tantalizing smells, he opened his teeth wider and sucked Charlie's tongue into his mouth.

  Charlie whimpered under him and spread his legs, submissive to Roman's power.

  "God! I love you!" Roman panted between kisses, grinding against Charlie's body, rubbing their stiff cocks together.

  "Roman…Jesus…you are so fuckin' amazing!" Charlie hooked his ankles behind Roman's back and they dry humped each other in a frenzy of movement.

  Roman closed his eyes and arched his back, squeezing Charlie's wrists and feeling as if he could come just from the hot friction.

  "God! Oh, God!" Charlie planted his feet back on the bed and thrust his hips under Roman, fast and hard.

  Roman pressed down and ground his jaw at the intensity. "Fuck! Fuck!" Roman was on the edge of a climax.

  Charlie broke the grip of Roman's hands, grabbed his jaw and drew Roman to his mouth. As they kissed, blowing out air from their nostrils like wild beasts, Roman came, feeling the skin between them slick with sweat and cum.

  ~

  Butch pointed the remote control at the television, shutting it. It was late and he finally felt tired enough to sleep, having nodded off on the sofa. As soon as the sound was quieted on the TV set, he heard the men having sex in their bedroom. Butch tossed the remote control down on the coffee table, made sure the fire was contained in the hearth and began shutting lights.

  Washing up in a bathroom in the hall, Butch got ready for bed.

  He then walked towards his private bedroom and stood outside the master bedroom's door.

  "…oh, God…you amazing bastard…"

  Butch leaned closer to the door at hearing Roman's voice.

  Occasionally they let him in on the sex. But he had never screwed either, nor had oral sex with them. They let him watch. Or, they watched him jerk himself off.

  As their gasping became audible, so did something else. Snarls. Growls.

  Butch blinked and pressed his ear to the door. What had sounded like human whimpers of passion had morphed into canine rumblings. Hoping Charlie was not at the mercy of Roman in wolf form, Butch swung open the door.

  He gasped to see two wolves on the bed, one all black, the other tan, biting playfully at each other. The big black wolf had the tan one pinned under him and they were pawing and nipping at each other while they made tiny sounds of joy.

  "Shit!" Butch quickly closed the door when both wolves looked his way. His heart pounding, Butch made sure the door was shut tight and caught his breath at the shock. His legs shaking, he made it to his own bedroom and shut the door, locking it.

  Taking a minute to recover, Butch had seen this before. In Heber. Oh, yes. He remembered that insanity. At first it was just Roman changing into a big black wolf…or a crow. Then of course after Roman bit Charlie, they both changed.

  Now? After two years of peace and quiet its back?

  Butch opened his closet and removed a leather case from it. He rested it on the foot of his bed and unsnapped it, taking out a twelve gauge shotgun. He loaded it with three rounds and cocked it, filling the chamber.

  He caught his own reflection in a mirror over a low dresser in front of his bed. A man was standing behind him, all in black, his muscular arms showing from his sleeveless black shirt, and in his hands was a large sword.

  Butch spun around, aimed the gun and put his finger on the trigger.

  No one was there.

  He looked over the gun site at his blank beige wall and the oak headboard of his bed. Confused, Butch spun around, scanning his small bedroom; his unmade bed, the pile of clothing on the chair, a few pairs of shoes on the floor by the closet…

  Butch looked into the mirror again but only spotted his own face, pale from fright, and his jaw rough, in need of a shave. He blinked, connected to his brown eyes for a moment, and tried to calm down. He was just tired. Right?

  At the sound of two human voices in the next room, Butch blew out a breath of relief and propped the shotgun beside his bed, sitting down on the mattress to recuperate and think.

  He rubbed his scruffy jaw and seriously thought about heading to Vernon and Connie's ranch. Not only did they always need help and a horse wrangler, but…it was away from these two.

  The infatuation he had with the masculine ATF agent and the handsome cowboy had waned. He thought when they moved in together the love…and sex…would be share, three-ways. But Butch felt as if he was the outsider.

  And now? That the wolf-business was back? He was not only on the outside, he was in danger.

  He picked up the phone on his nightstand and then checked the time. It was late. Connie and Vernon would be asleep. He set the cordless phone back in its cradle and stared at the door. Just to be able to sleep safely, Butch stood, nudged all the clothing from the chair to the floor, and wedged the chair against the door handle. He began undressing, looking at the door, his gun, and then the window of his room. Before he crawled under the blankets, he peeked outside. The wind w
as blowing the light snow sideways, and the walkway he had cleared was coated. He glanced up at the sky and through a break in the dark clouds he spotted the perfect face of the full moon.

  Butch sighed loudly and lay down, tugging the heavy quilt over his shoulder and under his chin. He felt his spine tingle and turned around to see the door. Nothing was there. Thinking he was being paranoid, and even when Charlie and Roman were wolves, they never killed anyone, or anything, Butch closed his eyes and tried to rest.

  And standing at the foot of his bed was a tall man, dressed in black….watching him.

  ~

  Charlie fixed the blankets on the bed since when they turned into wolves they threw the covers off and bit the pillows, tossing them on the floor. Roman dropped down on the mattress heavily and groaned, as if he were exhausted.

  Once Charlie had straightened the bed, he lay beside Roman and met his eyes.

  "We are so screwed," Roman said.

  "I know."

  "I'll have to take a leave from work."

  "Yeah. I reckon I'll have to hire the part-time help for full time to give Butch a hand. Spirit wouldn't let me near him."

  "Fuck."

  "Okay. Look, we figured it out once, we'll do it again." Charlie caressed Roman's hair. "You were goin' to take time off for the holiday anyhow."

  "True." Roman cuddled close to Charlie.

  Charlie held him tight, kissing his hair. "It'll be okay. Don't you worry."

  Roman did worry. What choice did he have?

  He closed his eyes and listened to the beat of Charlie's heart, the comfort of his hand caressing his hair, neck, and shoulder. Before Roman had fallen under the spell of slumber, he sensed something. Sitting up abruptly, he looked at the foot of their bed.

  "What?" Charlie became alarmed and sat up as well.

  A man had been standing at the foot of his bed a second ago. That same man he had seen outside. Roman wanted to ask Charlie if he had seen him, but instead, he lay back down, assuming if Charlie had, he'd have said so.

  "Roman?"