Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

T od’s party was in full swing when Charlie arrived.

An array of different species had spilled into the small front yard, and music boomed from speakers on the scrappy patch of lawn. Tod’s new place was in a street mostly inhabited by students and low-income earners by the look of the peeling paintwork and broken-down fences. It was close to the Wastelands, but she guessed that made it affordable. Besides, it was getting trendy nowadays to rent in the more edgy suburbs of Motham.

Craning her neck as she walked inside, she caught sight of Simone, sinewy and glamorous in a sequined dress that accentuated the shimmer of her scales. Charlie smiled when she saw a big brawny centaur at her friend’s side. Things were moving forward, finally.

She felt happy for Simone, but had to ignore her own small stab of envy.

A moment later, Tod was wending through the crowd, holding out a bottle of wine and a glass, which he filled and handed her. He looked handsome in a patterned shirt and snug black jeans, but the spark was definitely not there anymore.

“Hi Tod, happy birthday.” She smiled, handing him the present she’d bought this morning at the sales. A special high-beam torch for when he went caving, his hobby.

“Wow, thanks,” he said, unwrapping it. His expression suggested he read far more meaning into the gift than she’d intended. “This is fantastic.”

“Just thought it would be useful, you know, for caving.”

“I’ve got a trip planned into the mountains past Twill. This will do the job perfectly.”

His eyes panned down her body. “You look amazing. Love that dress—very retro.”

“Thank you, I made it myself. But hey, maybe I should mingle and let you get on with greeting your guests.”

Tod looked disappointed, but luckily another orc, one Charlie recognized from college days, tugged at his arm, and Charlie slipped away to get a drink.

She found Gina in the kitchen, draped over a goat girl with blue hair spiked around her pert little horns, piercings all around her ears, and one in her nose. She reminded Charlie of Taryn, part of the young hip crowd that were everywhere in Motham these days. They frequented all the trendiest pubs and clubs, and kept the concert scene pumping.

Taryn had been right. Looked like the time was ripe for the ruts to go mainstream.

As if on cue, Gina said, “Guess what? Quinn has agreed to partner up with me at the Winter Solstice Rut.”

“So you’re definitely going?”

“Bought my ticket online this morning. Why don’t you come, babe? Invite your sexy wolf boss.”

“As if!” Charlie scoffed.

“It’s not for another four weeks. You’ll have finished working for him by then, right? A quick bang to round it all off sounds good to me.”

Charlie rolled her eyes and sipped her wine.

“Go on, dare you to invite him.” Gina giggled.

“No, no, and no.” Charlie slugged a bigger mouthful of wine, just to wash away any thought of asking Max to go to the Solstice Rut with her. Gods, imagine his face. He’d be absolutely horrified.

Still, as the evening wore on and everybody around her seemed to be making out, Charlie felt woefully like a spare vulva at an orgy.

There was only one guy she wanted to make out with, and he wasn’t here.

Still, it didn’t stop her dancing on her own. She loved dancing, always had. She was swaying to the beat, eyes closed, when she felt a big presence next to her. Her stomach dropped when she opened her eyes and saw Tod looming over her, his gaze a little leery, and his breath sweet from bourbon and coke.

“Hey beautiful, can’t have you dancing all alone.” Already his arm was around her waist.

Charlie couldn’t think of a reason to say no without seeming churlish. Besides, it was Tod. She’d dated him for months. He was a nice guy.

The room was packed with other gyrating bodies, and as she swayed with him, she felt his groin pressing against hers, a big hand slipping to her ass and grasping it. The message was getting clearer by the moment. And it wasn’t what she wanted. Charlie shifted away from him, but his arms tightened around her.

“Why don’t we give things another go?” Tod rasped in her ear.

Charlie’s feet ground to a halt. “What?” She arched back, her brows pleating.

“You and me. Let’s start over. You know I never wanted to split in the first place.”

“Yes, I know, but…”

“But… but…” He popped his eyes at her. “You came tonight. Doesn’t that mean…”

“It means I like you Tod, I really do, but…”

“But what?”

“As a friend.”

“Great. Slap a guy down on his birthday, why don’t you?” He held her at arm’s length, big green fingers digging into her upper arms, staring at her out of sulky red eyes.

Oh dear, he’d definitely had one too many drinks.

“That’s not my intention, Tod.” She wasn’t going to feel bad because he was clearly half cut.

Tod’s expression darkened. “You’re hot for the wolf you’re working for, aren’t you?”

Charlie’s jaw went slack. Gods, did she have a sign on her forehead broadcasting the fact? Everyone seemed to be noticing lately.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she huffed.

“Yeah, you are. You were all over him that day I saw you at The Right Bite. All gooey-eyed and salivating. Acting like his shit didn’t stink. But you know what, Charlie? It does. Because he’s a wolf. And if you hang around with him, sooner or later you are going to get bitten.”

“I’m an adult, Tod, I can look after myself.”

“Yeah, well, don’t come running back to me when the guy uses you up and spits you out, ’cos I’ll be long gone.”

Charlie leaned back, her eyes sparking with anger. “I don’t need you to save me, Tod,” she said. “And I don’t expect you to wait for me, because I’m not coming back.” Pulling away, she went to grab her coat.

What was it with guys and their macho act?

The belief that somehow, even six months after a relationship ended, they still had a right to you. To own you.

Gah.

She’d known she no longer felt romantic toward Tod, but right now she didn’t even like him, and she wished she’d never come.

Without even looking for her friends, Charlie called up a Muber and went to wait outside, shivering in the shadows. Tracking the vehicle on the app on her phone, it seemed to be getting closer.

Looking back, she saw Tod, clearly more wasted than ever, staggering around with a group of other guys playing some kind of drinking game with a long tube of beer.

Tod had always gotten weird when he drank too much. She guessed that was another reason she’d stopped dating him.

Honestly, she’d feel safer getting right away from here.

Charlie hurried down the path and along the street, checking her phone for the Muber’s location. And then—oh no , seriously ?—the little blinking light on her app turned and went in the other direction.

Damn .

They were so unreliable. Only the hover cabs could be counted on, but they were three times more expensive; she simply couldn’t afford one.

She kept stabbing at the app to try and locate a nearby car, and kept walking.

At a crossroads, she hesitated, trying to get her bearings. The street to her left should take her back to the main part of Motham, she thought. She turned and headed down it, but instead of being surrounded by residential dwellings, she seemed to be walking into an industrial area. Large warehouses, dark and forbidding, towered behind barbed-wire fences. A huge dog threw itself at a fence barking wildly, giving her the fright of her life. Its chain pulled tight, and it whined.

Charlie walked faster, hugging her coat tight around her, her icy breath coiling into the dim light from the occasional streetlamp. She hurried through an underpass covered in graffiti, and out the other side, where things looked even more desolate. Had she stumbled into the Wastelands? Or worse, onto the edge of The Tip, the lands where hungry ferals eked out a meager existence in the city’s rubbish, fueled by drugs and stolen goods.

Fear rode up her throat. But all she could think to do was keep walking.

Charlie pulled her collar tight around her ears, squared her shoulders, and strode toward what she hoped were the lights of the city.

Max stood on the corner of Pack Street and took a deep breath.

There had been an early tradition in Motham to name streets according to which species had settled there.

Labyrinth Lane was where minotaurs had set up their original homes, not so far from here.

Faun Hill was a steep craggy part of town on the edge of Motham Hill, where goat shifters had built little dwellings in the cliff.

Some streets had more generic names that indicated which species might hang out there.

Fly By Night Boulevard had been a hangout for dragons and gargoyles. Even some moth folk and fae set up home here, and they’d all lived in relative harmony. The buildings were turreted with large, flat roof areas to allow for take-off and landing.

As a historian, he enjoyed tracing the streets’ architectural roots back to their origins. But not so much Pack Street. It had too many memories.

Now he disembarked from the hover cab, thanked the driver, a neatly uniformed crow shifter, and, squaring his shoulders, made his way up to the gates that read:

Hunt Wreckers and Car Dealership

So now they’d branched into selling used cars, had they?

His lips curled with slight distaste as he viewed the smashed-up vehicles, some squashed into squares and piled in mangled towers, others lined up ready for the crusher, tattered and torn like offerings to some metal-eating god.

Behind the yard he could see the low dwellings that ran in a rectangle around an open dusty area, with a large bonfire burning in the middle of it.

The Hunt Saturday night barbecue.

Urgh, he remembered them all too well.

This was where the pack gathered after a six-day working week, to drink beer and tear apart a wild boar—or, if they got lucky, a sheep that they’d catch on one of their monthly forays into the forests just outside Motham. They’d done it for years when it was considered illegal poaching, sometimes getting shot at by humans, but as Max understood it, they could get a permit to hunt in the hills north of the city these days.

Yeah, he guessed times were changing… And then of course, there were the damn ruts. He winced, remembering Charlie working out he was part of the Hunt pack this morning. Embarrassing to say the least.

Max straightened his spine and marched through the gates, circumnavigating the twisted car wrecks and moving toward the crowd that had gathered in the flickering light of the fire.

A big pig carcass turned slowly on a spit and Max found his mouth watering. It did smell fucking amazing. But it had been a long time since he’d torn meat off an animal with just his hands.

He hoped they at least had napkins.

He hovered in the shadows, wishing he’d brought a case of beer instead of a fine Avella Hills wine. And then one of the guys raised his head and his nostrils flared.

He strode over, dragging Max into a bear hug and smacking him hard on the back.

“You made it, cuz. Let’s take a look at you.” Max found himself held at arm’s length by two huge hairy arms. “You’ve put some meat on your bones since your mom’s funeral.”

“It was a difficult twelve months leading up to her death, no doubt I forgot to eat at times.”

“I get that. Still pale, though. You need to get out in the elements a bit more, mate. Get some wind and sun on your face. Not good for you, all that sitting at a desk.”

Max shrugged and Benjy started to walk him toward the group seated in a semicircle around the fire. “Anyhow, come and say hi to the rest of the pack. You probably won’t recognize most of them. All grown up now, your cousins are. Janny, come and say hi to Max.”

Janine, a plump, pretty woman with a snub nose and shaggy dark hair tied into a loose ponytail, came rushing over and gave him a great big kiss on both cheeks, then a brief nose bump, wolf-style.

Max blinked; he hadn’t done that in a while.

“Hey gorgeous, look at you! Though you look like you’re dressed to go to a fancy restaurant. You’ve clearly forgotten what a Hunt get-together is like.” She laughed boisterously, then called to her husband, “Bring out one of those furs for the lad, Benjy, he’ll freeze in those clothes.”

Max made polite noises of refusal. And no, he hadn’t forgotten what a Hunt get-together was like. He remembered all too well being a kid cowering on the edges of their raucous parties.

Benjy threw a thick fur over his shoulders, then introduced him to the other cousins. Max didn’t recognize any of them—he hadn’t seen them since he was ten years old. They were all grown up now, and most of them far bigger and brawnier than him.

He'd just taken a seat by the fire when Janine came back with her arm around a pretty girl with light gold eyes, her dark hair streaked with blonde. She had tattoos and piercings everywhere. She barely looked eighteen.

“This is our girl, Taryn. She’s at Motham College studying graphic design.”

“Didn’t get her artistic talent from us, did she luv?” Benjy grinned at his wife. “Must be from your mom,” he directed at Max.

“Taryn’s just built our website,” Janine said proudly.

“For the car yard?” Max asked.

Benjy guffawed. “Naw, wouldn’t catch Taryn lowering herself to that.”

“For the Solstice Ruts,” Taryn answered with a challenging smile.

Max swallowed hard. “Right.”

“This year’s winter rut is going to be big; we’re getting lots of take-up. Have you seen anything about it?”

“Oh, er, yes, something caught my eye,” Max said, wishing the conversation would end.

“Oh, fantastic, where?” Taryn asked.

“Oh, you know—I think I spotted a poster, somewhere.”

Taryn’s smile widened.

“The ruts are what are making us coin these days,” Benjy added. “Only so much you can get out of wreckage and selling used cars.”

“Would you like to take a look at the website?” Taryn asked.

Max really wouldn’t, but there was no way to refuse without seeming churlish. “Sure.”

“I’ll go get my laptop.” With the enthusiasm of a gen Z, she dashed off. The mention of her laptop made him think of Charlie and their banter this morning, and for some reason a warm glow bracketed his heart.

Quickly he switched his thoughts away from Charlie. Maybe being around pack was doing strange things to his psyche.

In seconds, Taryn was back. She sat down next to him, swiping her bleached hair behind one heavily pierced ear and flicking through screens with long fingers, covered in big silver rings.

“Here,” she said. “This is the home page. I designed the banner—it’s the same as on the posters and fliers.”

Max couldn’t help but be grudgingly impressed.

His eyes roamed over the information. “Lots of options,” he got out in a slightly strangled voice.

Taryn shrugged. “A simple primal chase doesn’t cut it anymore.”

Max read on, feeling tight in the throat as she scrolled down the page.

Book a one-on-one chase, or a multi-partner chase.

All sexual orientations catered for.

Let us know your kinks and we can incorporate them.

Thankfully, Janine handed him a plate of food, so he could tear his gaze away.

“We do still cater for the romantics. For mate bonds,” she said, looking at him with a soft glint in her eye. He felt heat creeping up his neck.

“But anyway—enough of the ruts, tell us all about your research,” Benjy said.

Max dived with relief into a description of his book.

“Great title,” Benjy replied, his eyes already glazing over.

Max dropped the subject and tried to take a measured bite of meat. It was aromatic and delicious. He tore off a bigger piece and chewed, the juices running down his chin. Glanced around for napkins.

Nope. No napkins. Damn it.

He scooped the juices off his mouth and licked his fingers, reminding himself to go wash his hands after.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. They reminisced about old times and talked about the changes happening in Motham City. About their Gran now being in residential care, and how things had changed in the pack’s dynamics since his grandpa died. How Benjy, as head of the pack, had relaxed a lot of the old rules, and had big plans to renovate the pack’s living quarters, mainly with coin from the ruts.

When Max left a while later, Benjy walked him to the gate.

“Mate, tell me to back off if I’m getting too personal, but have you attended a rut anywhere?”

“There’s no such things as ruts in Selig.” He avoided saying that he wouldn’t go to one even if there were.

“So you’re a rut virgin?”

“If you’re asking me if I’ve ever chased a sexual partner like a predator, no I have not. That is not how I operate.” Max raked a big hand through hair, and then, unable to contain himself, burst out, “Gods Benjy, I’d have hoped all this macho alpha shit might have died out by now.”

“Hey, hey, back up the truck.” Benjy’s eyes flared. “No one is talking about predatory behavior here. That’s a thing of the far distant past. We insist on mutual consent. Respect for the ritual of the rut. There’s a lot of pleasure to be had from chasing a willing partner. For all involved. The rut is part of what it means to be wolf. You can’t escape it.”

Max felt himself bristling, “On the contrary, I can. In fact, I have.”

Benjy barked a laugh. “Still holding onto your sigma male identity like a cloak, thinking you’re superior to us alphas, eh?”

Max remained silent, stinging at the criticism.

“Max, even if you balk at the idea of the rut, sooner or later it will catch up with you. How are you going to find a mate, have cubs, if you don’t rut?”

“Maybe I don’t want a mate. Or cubs.”

“Be a shame not to pass on your genes, that huge intellect.”

“I like my own company. Sigmas don’t need pack…” He stopped, realizing how ungrateful that must sound after his pack’s hospitality. Clearly Benjy agreed, because he grunted, “Yeah, well, guess that’s an excuse for never coming to visit.”

Max winced. “Gods, I didn’t mean… Benjy, no. I’ve loved being here tonight. I truly appreciate pack… but I’m not a pack animal, I don’t need… Look at me—” He held his arms out wide. “There’s clearly not an alpha bone in my body.”

Benjy’s eyes slowly panned up and down, taking in Max’s cashmere scarf, tweed jacket, his beautifully cut linen slacks, right down to his patent leather shoes.

He smiled ruefully. “Sure, your alpha doesn’t immediately jump out.” He hesitated. “Your mom never mentioned anything… about who sired you?”

“She told me that she was rutted mercilessly that night. By more than one wolf. You can see why I am not an avid supporter of the ruts.”

Benjy’s brows flew up. “She said that, did she? Why am I not surprised? Angelika would make it look that way.” He huffed out a big breath. “There’s always another side to every story.”

Max found himself suddenly disoriented, like the earth had shifted on its axis. “Is there something I should know, Benjy?”

Benjy shook his head, his big shoulders slumping. “Gah, promised Janine I wouldn’t discuss your mom. Now’s not the time. If you want to talk more, you have my number.”

Max blinked. “Right. Sure. I—thanks, Benjy, and for tonight. I—I really did enjoy it.”

“Surprised by that, are you?”

Max couldn’t help a grimace. “I have some rather vivid memories of when you used to dunk my hair in engine oil.”

“Yeah, okay, agreed, I was a bully. But your fucking hair was always so clean. It smelled of fucking apples. You’ve done good though, Cuz. We’re all pretty proud of you here.”

“So you, er, tell folks in Motham, that you’re related to me?”

“We don’t broadcast it. We’ll leave that to you, when you overcome your embarrassment of pack.” His lips curled in a sardonic smile and Max felt a dull color suffusing his cheeks. “Call me when you’re ready. We’ll have that chat.”

And with another smack on the back, Benjy turned and strode away.

Max stood rocking on his heels, watching his cousin’s bulky silhouette return to the fire, to the laughter, the camaraderie of pack. And it suddenly hit him like a punch to the gut, what it meant to have pack around you.

To have family who had each other’s back.

Brushing the thought aside, Max heaved in a breath and glanced up. Even through the hazy rim of pollution, the moon was full, he realized with a jolt.

Could this have something to do with the irresistible attraction he felt toward Charlie? Full moon madness?

But what if… all these fantasies he’d had from the moment she stepped into his life. What if it was more than his wolf making a bloody nuisance of itself?

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Benjy’s strange comment about his mom had rattled him. He was not superstitious about the full moon. And he wasn’t ever going to fall in love. He’d known that for a long time.

He shook himself. Made his way toward the hover cab he’d called, seeing its taillights blinking as it descended. Soon he’d be back in his civilized house in the best part of Motham. He’d work for a while to calm his jangled nerves.

But maybe he’d wait up until Charlie got back.

He’d sleep better knowing she’d made it home safely.