2. Chapter 2

I had to be careful with my big paws not to tread on the little girl’s slipper-clad feet, but I paced along close beside her, sniffing the ground when I needed to. She clung to my harness, her candy clutched to her chest with her other hand. We followed a circuitous route. I figured she’d been trick-or-treating up and down the blocks. A lot of other human scents overlay hers, so I couldn’t tell who, if anyone, she’d been with.

Surely her Daddy didn’t let her out alone? Kids’ ages were not my specialty, but she couldn’t be much older than Dylan. A male scent suffused her dress, slightly familiar in the back of my brain. Not someone I knew, but maybe someone I’d once met. I assumed that was Daddy, but I didn’t pick up a matching scent anywhere on the pavement.

A few times, we saw other groups of candy beggars in the distance. The girl didn’t seem to recognize anyone, and by now I was invested in getting her home safely.

Five blocks on, the girl suddenly said, “I know where we are! I’m not lost.” She tugged on my chest strap. “Come on, doggie.”

I’d meant to back away once she was safe, but I was reluctant to break her hold. Anyhow, I wanted to make sure there was someone home for her. She led me up a pair of front steps to the door of a small white house. Two pumpkins sat on the top step, one a classic grin, the other with a grid-like shape and a lump with eyes. “I did that one,” she said. “It’s a cat looking out the window. I want a cat, but I’m allergic.” She stabbed the doorbell beside the frame with a determined finger. I heard a deep chime inside.

The man who opened the door carried the “Daddy” scent, for sure. He also rang loud bells for me of a very not Daddy kind. Yes, someone I’d met. Halloween, a decade ago. He’d been young, hot, dressed as Clark Kent, dancing in the crowd, his shirt askew to show the Superman logo underneath. He’d looked the part, down to chiseled cheekbones, the nerdy glasses, and the fall of straight black hair across his forehead. He still looked the part— a bit more mature, maybe in his mid-thirties now, but still hot as hell.

He gasped. “Larissa! Get away from that dog!”

She didn’t let go of me. “He’s a nice dog. He brought me home.”

I did my happy dog impression with wagging tail and panting grin, and Clark-guy’s anxiety scent dropped a notch.

He asked less sharply, “What are you doing home by yourself? Where’s Miss Amy, and the rest?”

“I don’t know,” Larissa said. “They lost me. The doggy brought me home.”

“Oh, God.” The man paled. “Well, say goodbye to the dog and come on in, honey.”

The girl said, “Goodbye, doggie,” tried to step away from me, then came up short. “I can’t, Daddy. My dress is all tangled.” She tugged at where the floating scarf bits had snagged into a buckle of the harness.

“Crap.” Her father said, “I’ll get scissors. Just, um…” He hovered, clearly not wanting to leave her alone with a huge unknown canine on the doorstep.

“Don’t cut my dress. I want to come in,” she whined.

“You’re attached to the dog.”

“The dog can come in too, Daddy.”

“Its owner wouldn’t like that.” He peered into the dark past me. “Did you see its owner? Where are your people, dog?”

I wagged my tail but didn’t shake my head or whine and point or anything. I was a bit surprised he hadn’t figured out what I was. By now, most folks had seen enough video to recognize an improbably large wolf with a broad head as a werewolf. But I guess he was shaken by having his kid turn up alone, and if he hadn’t made the connection, then disappearing into the background remained an easy option. Just a big stray dog, here and gone. I could chew myself loose in seconds and run. No complications.

So I’m not sure what made me follow that kid through the door when Clark-guy ushered us inside— a tangle of a child’s gauzy fabric I didn’t want to damage, perhaps, surely not the almost-forgotten scent of a man I once met.

Clark left the door ajar and bent over us. “Maybe I can work you free.” He fiddled with the buckle of my chest strap, trying to unsnag the scarf. His face was right there, his scent in my nose, and I almost gave in to the temptation to lick him.

Then Larissa said, “The dog brought me home when I was lost. He sniffed the way back. I asked if he would help me and he said yes. And he made the bad boys run away.”

“He said…” The man met my eyes from inches away and I couldn’t resist. I winked at him and grinned. “Oh, God, it’s a werewolf! I mean, you’re a werewolf.” He grabbed Larissa and scrambled backward.

A scrap of fabric ripped and she wailed. “You tore my dress, Daddy. He’s a good doggy. He helped me.”

The guy landed on his ass, his kid in his lap. I could’ve trotted out the door and been gone, but I didn’t want to. Something in me rebelled, some fragment of the gay boy who could never be himself in fur, or the gay man who’d wanted this night of all nights to be different. The sight of Clark-guy’s parted lips and the smell of his sweat made me dizzy and stupid enough to give in to impulse. For once, I might spend a moment with a guy who knew I was both queer and wolf, and who wouldn’t hate either one.

However, I couldn’t exactly have a conversation in fur, either. So I tilted my head like a question, pointed my paw in the direction I could smell a bathroom, and whined a couple of times.

Clark cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, sure, I guess.” I’d have been happier if he hadn’t also muttered, “I can’t exactly stop you,” but I’d take that as permission.

As I trotted through the entry and down the hall, I took a good sniff around. From the scents I could pick up, only Clark and Larissa lived in this house, their presences heavy in the air. Older traces of three human women and one man came to my nose, and beneath that a faint array of occasional visitors. If Clark had a partner, or Larissa another parent, they were either on extended absence or lived elsewhere.

I was relieved not to detect a dog or cat. Most animals were not fans of werewolves. I’d had to walk away from more than one hookup over the years when the guy had invited me home, only to be met by a snarling— or hiding and peeing— dog. I wanted a moment with Clark tonight, a connection, something. Not sex, with his kid around, but a chance to have someone know who I was in skin and fur. I was relieved that moment wouldn’t be ruined by “Don’t trust anyone your dog doesn’t like.”

The bathroom off the hallway turned out to be small, just a half bath with limited floor space. I ended up back in human form with my head under the toilet and my chest aching from where the tight saddle straps dug into my skin. I fumbled the buckles open and took a deep breath, relieved I hadn’t strangled myself. That was stupid. I wasn’t sure why I’d been so driven to talk to Larissa’s dad that I’d ignored the basic rules of safe shifting.

Except, now here I was, a six-foot-five naked stranger in Clark’s house with his kid. I had not fucking thought this through. There weren’t even full-sized towels in the half-bath, just hand-towels. I used two of them, front and back, holding the sides in place at my hips with both hands. Which meant turning the doorknob with my elbow and fucking hell, I hadn’t been this inept since high school.

When I reached the entry, the guy had closed the door down to a crack, but not latched it. Whether that was to facilitate my escape or his, I wasn’t sure. He stood on the tile five feet from the door, his shoulders tense and a frown on his face. Larissa was nowhere to be seen.

I said, “Look, I’m really sorry for barging in.”

His body language eased a little and he waved a hand. “You didn’t barge. Larissa basically dragged you over the threshold.”

“She’s awesome.” I glanced around. “Is she okay?”

“Sure. I sent her up to get out of the torn dress.”

“Sorry about that too. I wasn’t in control of all my buckles.”

“You were dressed up like a pony?”

“A Warg,” I corrected. “Or maybe a dire wolf. I’m not entirely sure what fandom young Dylan was cosplaying.”

That got me another fraction of relaxation. “Your kid?”

“A friend’s. Riding on a werewolf was apparently an ambition. The saddle was his mother’s work.”

“Nice of you to go along with that.”

“I like kids,” I said airily, even though that was only half true. I liked kids I knew, in small doses. I’d defend any of the pack pups to the death, but I didn’t always know what to do with them.

The guy looked me over. “Listen, can I lend you something better to wear? I guess when you change shapes you end up naked, but that doesn’t look comfortable.” He glanced at his closet. “A coat, maybe?”

“Not sure anything you have will fit me, but thanks.” Clark was close to six feet tall but slim, and I had several inches of shoulders on him.

“Hang on.” He turned away enough to rummage through the closet and came out with a package. “That should work.”

The black plastic rain poncho was hardly high-fashion wear, but it was one size fits even me. Just one problem. “I can’t hold the towels and put it on.”

Something flashed in the guy’s eyes and he dropped his gaze below my waist, murmuring, “What a shame.” Then he winced. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“Well, it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” I reminded him. “Although it was dark in that hallway.”

“I what?” His focus sharpened. “Do I know you?”

“I wouldn’t say know. We’ve met. Once.”

“Ooooh.” I saw recall hit him. My size was no doubt memorable. “Halloween. Must be what, ten years back?”

“Something like that. Hello, again, Clark Kent.”

“Call me Superman. Or, you know, Kendrick, which is my real name.”

“Hi, Kendrick.” I twitched the towels at my hips. “I don’t think it’s safe to shake hands. I’m Trent.”

“A werewolf.”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Was then, am now.”

Our eyes met. Back then, I hadn’t been able to tell if his were brown or a deep blue. Now I knew. Gorgeous blue.

I’d been wearing a mask that night. He hadn’t seen more than a fraction of my face. I hoped he liked what he was seeing now, even if I couldn’t come close to him in polished hotness. I was big and I was fit, and he probably remembered my dick was proportionate, but I basically had a face-type face. Younger-looking than my thirty-seven years, for what that was worth. All the bits in the right places, but my nose was wide, my chin rather determined, and my eyebrows thick.

And I was a werewolf.

I held my breath, wondering how he would react. He’d sucked me off, swallowed like he loved being there on his knees, but of the risks he’d known he was taking, he probably hadn’t imagined non-human cum. My spunk wouldn’t have done anything to him that the fully human version didn’t. Was safer, actually, since we didn’t get most human diseases. But fears weren’t rational. Will he freak out?

Kendrick’s sculpted lips parted, but before he could say anything more, we heard a door slam overhead. His eyes widened and he swept a glance down my bare legs, then shook out the poncho.

“Quick,” he muttered. “Bend down here.”

I did as I was told and he wrestled the black tent over my head, pulling the waterproof fabric into place around me. The combined scents of new plastic and Kendrick’s skin made me dizzy. His hand brushed my thigh, and I had to fight not to react. Between his tugging and my shimmying, we got me decently covered and I found the armhole slits, letting the towels fall to my feet, as Larissa clattered down the stairs.

Two steps from the bottom, she froze. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of your dad’s,” I told her.

“You have bare feet.”

“Um, yeah.” I decided to just barrel ahead. “My name is Trent.”

“Where’s the dog?”

“He had to go out for a bit.”

“He was good. He scared the bad boys.”

Kendrick scowled. “What bad boys?”

“A couple of young teens,” I told him. “Maybe thirteen, fourteen. They were harassing her for her candy. Smelled like booze.”

“They ran away,” she said with satisfaction.

Kendrick pulled out his phone and tapped a contact. “Hey, Amy, do you know where Larissa is?”

I could hear a woman’s voice on the other end. “She went with Connie when we split up. Why?”

“She just showed up alone on my doorstep.”

“Oh my God, what happened? Is Connie okay?”

“I’m going to call her next.” Kendrick cut the call and rang a different number.

“Hey, what’s up?” a woman’s softer voice asked.

“Do you know where Larissa is?”

“She went with Amy when the little ones decided their feet hurt. Have you called her?”

Kendrick ran a hand down his face. “As a matter of fact, yes. She said Larissa went with you.”

“No, she—” The woman broke off. “Is Larissa missing? God, Kendrick—”

He stopped her. “It’s okay, now. She showed up back at home, alone. I’m not happy that neither of you knew she was gone.”

“I’m so sorry. Oh, my God, I have no idea how that happened.”

“We’ll talk later.” Kendrick ended the call, rubbing a hand over his lips and chin.

“Are you mad at Miss Connie?” Larissa asked in a small voice.

Kendrick reached toward her. “Come here, sweetheart.” When she descended the last two steps and ran to him, he hugged her hard. “I’m not mad. I was just scared. What happened? Why weren’t you with the group?”

“I was looking at some pumpkins. Fancy ones, with skeletons and all. I went around the back because they were fancy on that side too. Miss Connie and Miss Amy were talking a lot and the kids were there, but then when I came back around there was nobody. They were all gone.” Her small chin quivered. “I didn’t know where they went. I tried to follow them but I got lost.”

He hugged her again, looking up at me over her shoulder, an echo of fear lingering in his eyes. “I’m so glad you came home safe, baby.”

“The dog helped. He sniffed the way.” Larissa wriggled loose and put a hand on her father’s arm. “Can we have a dog? I’m not allergic to dogs.”

Kendrick straightened with a nod my way. “I’m very grateful to you, Trent. How did you figure out where she lived?”

“Like she said, we followed her trail home. She was very brave.”

Larissa frowned at me. “Who are you? Do you know what the dog did? Is it your dog? How did you know about the bad boys?”

I hadn’t expected her to make the connection, but I didn’t know much about kids and when they got wise to things. I didn’t want to lie, so I said, “I was that dog. I’m a werewolf, and that was the other me.”

“You’re not a dog!” But she tilted her head. “I saw a video about werewolves. Those men were wearing underwear and they turned into wolves. Are you wearing underwear?”

I wish. Kendrick’s snort of laughter didn’t help my composure.

When Rick Brown arranged for wolves to be filmed shifting, for promo purposes, he had the guys wear loose boxers, to avoid nudity issues on camera. There were ten years of those promo videos floating around. Sadly, tonight, I was freeballing it under a plastic poncho while a hot guy laughed at me. I hedged. “Shifting forms in clothes gets me all tangled up.”

“Ooh, like when the furry wolves ended up in the underwear. One of them ripped his pants off and ate them.”

I doubted that. A stomach full of fabric was no one’s choice, although I could imagine “ripped them off” could be true. But I said, “Yeah, like that.”

“Can you be a dog again? I liked the dog better.”

“Larissa!” Kendrick scolded. “Mr. Trent saved you from being lost tonight. Be nice.”

“I was being nice. I like his fur.”

I intercepted with, “Fur is fun. And running fast and smelling things well as a wolf is fun. I was glad to help you tonight.”