Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (Big Bad Wolf)

by Charlie Adhara

  Cooper exhaled. “Right.” He nodded at Park, not sure why he felt a little nervous. “You heard her. Get your pants off.”

  Park hesitated. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather the other way? After what you said about being—” he glanced at Reggie, who turned away to futz with the towels “—very hungry.”

  Cooper rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll be able to resist taking a bite out of you for a little bit. Come on. It’s time I show you what these hands can really do.”

  Chapter Seven

  In the past, investigations had led Cooper down claustrophobic crevasses to hell, deep into the grim waters of a marina, trekking across the snowy tundra and stumbling over more bodies than he cared to remember. If the worst this case required him to do was to ask covert questions while rubbing warm oil into Park’s bare skin, he thought that was only fair. In fact, he felt owed.

  In front of him, Park was lying facedown on the massage table with a towel draped over his ass. His skin glistened and there was a faint smell of almonds in the room.

  “So how long have you been working here?” Cooper asked, pushing his thumbs in expanding, concentric circles under Park’s shoulder blade, like Reggie had demonstrated.

  “Almost four months now,” she said softly, and readjusted his hands a little.

  “It’s a much smaller staff than we expected,” Cooper said. “Is it always just the five of you?”

  “We make it work,” she said, sidestepping yet another question. She’d been very reluctant to talk the whole lesson, constantly redirecting to point out specific muscle groupings that were “under strain after walking upright all day” or encouraging them to talk among themselves and forget she was there, which seemed impossible and bizarre.

  “Here. Watch this.” She kneaded the heels of her hands up Park’s lower back on either side of his spine. Cooper noticed they were unexpectedly large for a person of her height. Strong looking. A masseuse’s hands, maybe. Was that a thing? “Now you.”

  Cooper imitated the movement and felt Park shiver a little beneath him. He searched for a different approach. “What’s all this news about a missing logger?”

  Reggie jerked in place, quickly turning to grab more oil. “Monty’s just trying to cause trouble,” she said. “If I know Lee, he’s probably passed out in his car somewhere.”

  “You know him?”

  Reggie blushed faintly, but it was there. “No, I—I mean, a little. We’d run into each other in town, sometimes.”

  “Hmm. The ranger who was here said he got into a fight with the grounds guy. Is that the same guy who made you the shadow light?”

  “That was just a ridiculous misunderstanding,” she said. “Kreuger thought... It doesn’t matter. He was wrong. Some people just look for any excuse to fight and say it’s because they were looking out for you. But I’ve been looking out for myself for a long time.” She shook her head as if annoyed for speaking. “Let’s work on your adjustments now.” Reggie asked Park to turn over. “When was the last time you shifted?”

  Cooper was surprised by the question, but Park just maneuvered casually to his back, keeping the towel in place and said, “Last night.”

  “Any sticky spots you want to work on today?”

  “No,” Park said quickly. There had been some change in the air from relaxed and gentle to tense, anticipatory. Almost like both she and Park were steeling themselves for something.

  “Have you ever done this before?” she asked Cooper.

  “Done what? A ma-massage?” he stuttered, confused.

  Reggie gave him an odd look: part pity, part disbelief. Park too was looking at him with something reluctant in his gaze. “We don’t need to do this part,” he said.

  “No,” Cooper protested, quickly. “I want to learn.”

  Park bit his lip but nodded at Reggie. “Watch me first and then you can do his other half,” she said, and took hold of Park’s fingers, squeezing them a couple of times before gripping his wrist while her other hand rubbed up his arm to lay flat against his chest.

  Cooper was expecting her to gently stretch the muscle or something when suddenly she yanked on his arm, twisting it at the same time. If it made a sound, Cooper couldn’t hear over the sound of his own surprised yell. Park’s arm was pretty obviously dislocated and...backward. Then Reggie shook it, like shaking dust out of a rug, and it clacked back into place.

  After a while Cooper realized he’d been staring silently for too long and looked up to see Park and Reggie watching him cautiously.

  I don’t want to do that, Cooper thought. I don’t. I just don’t.

  He gently took hold of Park’s other fingers and squeezed them, once, twice. His other hand rubbed up his arm to rest against his chest, just as he’d seen Reggie do. Took a deep breath. Then another.

  Park’s other hand came down gently on his wrist just before he pulled. “I think that’s enough for today. Do you mind if we stop here, Reggie?” he asked without looking away from Cooper.

  “Of course,” she said quickly. “The room is yours for the rest of the hour. Just let me know if you need anything.”

  She bustled out of the room. Cooper barely saw her go. He was staring at his own shaking hand still pressed flat against Park’s chest.

  “I can do this,” he said after Reggie had left the room.

  “I know,” Park said simply. “And I’ll probably ask you to sometime. But not today. Not here, like this.” He let go of Cooper’s wrist. “Just kiss me for a moment,” he requested.

  Cooper bent over and pressed their lips together gently. Then not so gently when Park immediately parted their lips and demanded more. He smelled like the perfumed oils that were both pleasant and irritating because they disrupted his normal scent, and Cooper brushed his hand firmly down his slick chest. He felt him surge upward, kissing him harder, more insistently.

  He didn’t understand why Park wasn’t touching him until he realized that while both their hands were covered in oil, only Cooper was wearing clothes and Park was conscientiously not ruining them.

  Cooper smiled against Park’s mouth—big, considerate dope—and then pulled away, enjoying the small whimper of protest Park made before sighing and relaxing back onto the massage table.

  “Now who’s hungry?” Cooper asked teasingly.

  “Starving,” Park said. “For you, I’m always starving.”

  Cooper ran his hand down Park’s torso and over the towel that was doing a poor job of keeping him decent. He squeezed the growing bulge there and rubbed gently.

  For the second time, Park caught his wrist. “But you promised me we’d eat and then see how you’re feeling first.”

  Cooper opened his mouth.

  “Real food and not whatever obscene pun you’re about to make.”

  “I didn’t realize I was that predictable,” Cooper pouted. “I don’t know how good it can be for our relationship if I can’t surprise you anymore.”

  Park barked laughter. “Cooper, there hasn’t been a single day you’ve haven’t shocked and amazed since the time you started sniffing me, a complete stranger, in the metro. Let’s not worry about becoming boring quite yet.”

  * * *

  Lunch was a typically overwhelming affair. Wolves needed to eat a lot to support their shifts, and a buffet supposed to feed nine wolf couples and five staff members was like something out of a medieval feast. Never had the word heaping been so appropriate. The tables sagged with plates of shrimp and grits, barbecue beans, fresh salads, and fried green tomatoes.

  Looking at it all made Cooper’s mouth water, even if his fragile gut couldn’t happily digest many of the options. He gamely loaded up on salad and beans, snuck some hot sauce, and nicked shrimp off Park’s plate. Nearly every one of the guests came up to Cooper to ask how he was feeling after his misadventure yesterday, which was embarrassing but kind and see
med genuine. Only Jimmy didn’t approach him, but often Cooper would sense being watched and catch him looking quickly away.

  Joining Cooper and Park at their table were the two older Black women who had arrived late yesterday, whom Cooper eventually learned were named Yvette and Angela. They had met in school almost forty years ago, had settled down nearby to be closer to Yvette’s large family/pack, and were doing the three-day version of this retreat “more as an excuse to get some alone time than anything else.” Would anyone here just admit they’d come for relationship help? It seemed not.

  Angela was a historian and had heard Andrew was a literature professor, so the three of them immediately got deeply involved in conversation about wolf folklore and how while it differed around the world, some curious themes reappeared again and again. They even talked about the painting Park had pointed out in the lobby yesterday. Apparently Angela and Yvette had recognized the legend being depicted there, too. Something about a little blue wolf who lost his tail to a mountain monster. Or maybe the mountain was the monster? Or maybe the little blue wolf had gotten eaten in the end? Honestly Cooper was having a hard time parsing out the specifics from their rapid, lively discussion.

  “I’m telling you, it’s yet another example of how the species is socialized from birth to reject self-determinism,” Angela had insisted. “We can’t escape it. We don’t try to.”

  “Oh, now look what you’ve started,” Yvette said to Park, who was shaking his head.

  “That’s absolutely fascinating. I’ve always looked at little blue as a cautionary tale of out-group homogeneity,” he said.

  Angela raised an eyebrow. “Wolves with caveats about self-categorization? What clown college did you say you teach at again?”

  They all burst out laughing. Cooper smiled along, gamely. He tried to keep up, but they began referencing so many stories he’d never heard of that more and more he found himself zoning out and watching Park’s face instead, soaking up the genuine excitement and interest there. How happy he seemed. A good deal of Park’s adult life between being a feared enforcer of his family pack and then being conscripted into the Trust, had been spent teaching university. Compared to everything else, it must have been a wonderfully peaceful time, grading season and all.

  Cooper wondered if he missed it. If working as an agent of the Trust lit him up inside the way conversations like this so obviously did. Getting to actually help wolves and investigate crimes while operating outside the inherently problematic system that was the BSI—and even the FBI—was a dream come true for Cooper. Not to mention getting to continue working with the best partner he’d ever had. But had Park joined him in this as just another way to make Cooper happy? To be close enough to protect and support him even while on the job?

  Also joining them at their table was Mutya and her quiet, bespectacled human partner, Christopher. Possibly out of wolf-human couple solidarity, or possibly because she wanted to follow up on her impromptu patient.

  “Are you sure you’ve had no symptoms? Fever? Dizziness? Nausea?” she asked him.

  “A little during the night. But I feel fine now,” Cooper said, and felt Park kick him lightly under the table. “Umm, maybe a little...emotional, but that’s not related...right?”

  “Sounds natural to me. I mean, you might want to talk to Claymont or Joyce about it, but you went through quite a scare. How often do any of us get into serious physical trouble like that?”

  Every four months or so, Cooper thought. “True. Thanks again for looking after me. Um, sorry if I was a bit brusque yesterday. I was pretty embarrassed.” Not really accurate, but as close as Cooper felt he could get without sounding unbalanced.

  Mutya flapped her hand dismissively. “I didn’t notice. Really, they should have a medical doctor on site. Any one of us might have fallen in your position and not been so lucky. It has nothing to do with being human. Unfortunately, they can’t even afford to keep permanent staff as it is. I heard in town there’s new faces working here every few months.”

  “What makes you think the staff leaves because of money problems?” Cooper asked, glancing around the room. Like everywhere he’d seen, it was impeccably decorated with overlarge, handcrafted wooden furniture, colorful rugs and more of the same style paintings he’d seen in the lobby. If they were being forced to skimp on money somewhere, it certainly wasn’t on décor or food. “Looks pretty fancy to me.”

  Mutya gave him a look. “Fancier than they can afford. They’ve already sold about two-thirds of the original property, and there’s a rumor in town they’re under tons of pressure to sell even that.”

  “Pressure from Montclaire Mill?” Cooper asked, recalling the scene yesterday when they’d arrived.

  Mutya shrugged. “Apparently from the way she talks about it in town, it’s already a done deal. Christopher and I almost canceled, but...well. It’s not like couples like us have many options. I’m sure you and Andrew have faced the same.”

  “Mmm,” Cooper agreed vaguely. He looked to the back of the room where Paul Claymont sat eating with Dr. Joyce and Reggie. He had yet to see Vanessa Claymont since yesterday and hadn’t gotten the chance to thank her for saving him. “Why get into this here at all? If it’s such a financial pit?”

  Mutya shrugged. “They love love?” she suggested faux-innocently. “Or it’s the unprecedented access to the inner minds, secrets and sex tapes of all the highly influential wolves that pass through here.” She caught sight of Cooper’s horrified expression and burst into laughter. “I’m joking.”

  “That would be pretty fucked up,” he said weakly. “To violate their—their—” He waved his hand to fill in the blank. He might not know much about therapy, but he sure as hell thought it’d put a crimp in the process if you were afraid your therapist was selling your secrets. Could something like that really be happening here? Suddenly every potted plant in Dr. Joyce’s office looked suspect. All those decorative urns in the spa dressing room. His head spun at the possibility.

  “Well, if that was their plan, they’re going to be pretty disappointed with me. I have no fancy-pants connections to spill dark secrets about. Do you?” She laughed, and after a second, so did Cooper.

  “Do a lot of influential wolves pass through the retreat?” he asked.

  Mutya sipped her coffee and looked at him slyly. “If our own session’s visiting celebrity is anything to go by, I’d say so.”

  Cooper’s throat went dry. “What do you mean?” he mumbled tightly, not looking at Park.

  “Oh, they got in last night for dinner. I forgot you and Andrew went straight back to your cabin after—well, after. Did you know opting out of rafting was an option? They could have been a lot more clear about that,” she muttered darkly.

  “Who got here?” Cooper asked with some impatience. He no longer thought she was going to name the Shepherd, but his arms still tingled with anxiety.

  Mutya nodded behind Cooper. “Just walked in. By the buffet table.”

  As casually as possible, he shifted in his seat and turned around. He didn’t know what he expected a celebrity wolf to look like. Someone in an all-white zoot suit? A blood-red ball gown?

  The two newcomers looked so bland Cooper wasn’t surprised he hadn’t noticed them earlier. Just two more guys in jeans and T-shirts. One was Latino with wavy, chin-length hair dyed white-blond and at odds with his dark, neatly trimmed beard. The other was white, purple-haired and had big, fashionable gold-wire glasses. Both were in their late twenties or so, fairly short and though casually dressed, it was obvious a good deal of thought and money had gone into each piece.

  Around the room, Cooper noticed a few other guests also checking out the two young men, their expressions a range between trepidation and pleasure. At the staff table, Joyce and Reggie were having a hushed, intense sort of conversation while Paul had disappeared entirely. Strange, considering how he’d tripped over himself to greet t
he last “celebrity” wolf who’d showed up.

  “Who are they?” Cooper murmured.

  “Daniel De Luca is the purple-haired one and second in command to his sister. That’s his mate, Victor Terradas.”

  “Am I supposed to know who his sister is?”

  Mutya chuckled. “Maybe not. But I bet you most people in this room do. Celia De Luca runs the pack with the largest territory around here.”

  Oh, Cooper mouthed. “So they’re a big deal?”

  “Well, they’re not a legendary empire like the Parks or the Nguyen pack, but it’s the closest we get in the Carolinas.”

  Cooper had visibly flinched at the casual name drop and tried to cover by grabbing his coffee. Across the table, Park had obviously heard his name. He looked over at them, distracted from discussing werewolf ghost stories, but Angela beat him to it.

  “Well, well. Look who’s here,” she said, taking in De Luca and Terradas. “Aren’t they a bit young for something like this?”

  “Never too young to work on love and kindness,” her partner Yvette disagreed, nudging Angela’s shoulder.

  Cooper only watched them peripherally. His focus was on Park, who had finally caught on to who they were talking about. As soon as he’d seen De Luca, his eyelids had fluttered. Just a tiny bit, but that was enough for Cooper to read. Alarm. Dismay. Frustration.

  Park slipped out of his seat, giving Cooper a curt head shake and some kind of complicated hand signal. “Excuse me. Wonderful speaking to you, Angela. I’ll see you again in the group session, I hope.”

  “Speaking of scary stories,” Angela joked, winking at Yvette. The table laughed and Terradas glanced over at the sound, but Park was already halfway across the room and quickly out the door.

  “I’m also going to...” Cooper stood, but not quickly enough, it seemed. Even as he backed away from the table, his way was blocked by the approaching celebrity couple.

  “Yvette,” Daniel De Luca said. “What a nice surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone from our neighborhood.”