2

“I was scared before you came.” She tilted her head. “I was scared of the dog a bit at first, but you were pretty and furry.”

I said, “Thank you.”

Kendrick was pressing his lips together. He asked me, “Do you need to head out?”

Do you want me to? But I wasn’t interested in walking the streets clad only in a rain poncho, even on Halloween. The cops would not be amused if someone called them to report a flasher. Shifting took energy, though, and I hadn’t had dinner yet, so going back to fur wasn’t an immediate option. “Can I borrow your phone? I’d like to let my party know where I am.” I winked at Larissa. “Little Dylan will be wondering where his saddle-wolf went.”

“Can I ride you sometime?” she asked. “I think it would be fun.”

“Maybe sometime,” I offered. “It’ll be up to your dad.”

Kendrick gave me a steady stare but held out his phone. “Here. I owe you more than a phone call.”

I texted Nick. ~This is Trent. Found a lost child and have seen her home. Go on without me and I’ll make it home on my own. Sorry to Dylan.

I wasn’t sure Nick would respond. These days, we all tended to shrug off texts that were not on Signal as spam. But after a moment, he came back with ~Got it, Fifth. Thanks for the heads up.

At that point, I should’ve handed back the phone, but I was a little lightheaded from shifting, or so I would swear on my dying breath. So I went to Kendrick’s contacts, put in my name, number, and a quick selfie, then passed the phone back. “I didn’t send myself your number. That’s your call.”

Kendrick looked at Larissa, watching us with a “grownups are weird” expression, then tapped the screen a couple of times. “I sent it.”

“Oh. Um, thank you.”

The pause that followed had weight and texture, the scent of Kendrick’s skin and the hitch of his breath, the soft shush of my feet on the hardwood floor as I took a step back out of temptation range.

Larissa said, “Can you be the wolf-dog again before you leave? Pu-leeease?” She folded her hands and did something that was probably meant to be batting her eyelashes but looked more like her eyelids were trying to breakdance.

“Oh, my God, Larissa.” Kendrick choked. “Who taught you to do that?”

“Emily. Her big sister said daddies fall for it all the time.”

I couldn’t help laughing but tried to ease any sting by saying, “I really wish I could, hon. But I need a bit of rest and some food before I can shift again.”

“You could have some of my candy.” She hurried to dig in the bag she’d dropped in the entry and brought back a wrapped candy bar. “Here. Wait. Can wolves have chocolate? Because dogs can’t.”

“Luckily, werewolves can. At least in human form.” I made a show of opening the treat and taking a bite. “Yum, that hits the spot.”

“It has peanut butter,” she said. “I don’t like peanut butter. You can have all of them.”

“I love peanut butter,” I told her, finishing the mini bar. “But one is enough. I haven’t had dinner and I wouldn’t want to spoil it.” I turned to Kendrick, who held out his hand for the wrapper. Our fingers brushed as I gave it to him. Might’ve been on purpose, although whose, I wasn’t sure. “I hope your dad can lend me a pair of pants to wear home.”

Kendrik raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t think any pants I own will fit your thighs and butt.” A hint of color flushed his high cheekbones at the admission he’d been looking, before we got me decent.

I grinned. I could’ve said he was no slouch in the butt department, but there was a child present. Anyway, his lean elegance against my bulk meant he was right about the relative size of our thighs. Probably waists too. Pants might be problematic.

Turning to his daughter, Kendrick said, “Why don’t you take your candy to the kitchen and spread it out on the table so we can look it over before you eat any?”

“All right, but if Mr. Trent becomes a wolf, I want to see him.” She scooped up the bag and trotted out.

Kendrik lowered his tone as she went out of sight. “Sorry. I wasn’t flirting.”

“I don’t mind flirting,” I told him at the same volume.

“Really? No wife and kids at home?”

“No. You? Spouse, I mean, because obviously you have Larissa.” The scents I’d picked up couldn’t rule out a significant other off on deployment.

His lips twisted ruefully. “Not for years. But werewolves all marry women, right? I thought I saw some documentary. That’s how you have kids.”

I winced at being the subject of a documentary, but perhaps it was good he knew something about my people. At least he’d know my identity was genetic, and he hadn’t asked if sucking my dick might’ve turned him into a werewolf. I explained, “Straight wolves marry human women. I’m gay, but among the packs that’s still… complicated.”

I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t even out, but he must’ve caught some hint in my voice, because he said, “I’m sorry. I’m gold-star gay too, if that helps.”

“I figured at least bi, given last time.” My dick hitting his tonsils had been a pretty big clue. I wanted to ask why he’d looked so sour about a boyfriend or husband, but it was really none of my business. “Larissa’s super cute,” I noted. “Is it my imagination, or does she look a lot like you?”

He glanced away before replying, “Yeah, she’s mine.” Then turning back, he offered in a determinedly bright tone, “Hey, we have leftovers from dinner. You said you need to eat. Want some beef stew?”

My wolf practically sat up and begged. “If you don’t mind me sitting at your table in just this poncho, that would be awesome. You had me at leftovers, and I’d kill for beef stew.” I hurried to add, “Metaphorically, of course.”

That made him smile. “Of course. Come on, then.”

Kendrick shut the front door and led the way back to a tidy, open kitchen. Larissa had her candy arrayed on a round table and stood in front of the piles, busy dividing up the loot into groups. When we came in, she looked up and smiled. “I got lots and lots, and the bad boys didn’t get any of it. See, Daddy?”

“Good job, hon.” Kendrick murmured aside to me, “I want to hear all about those boys later,” as he headed to the fridge.

I gave him a tiny nod and leaned against the counter, across the table from Larissa. “What are the candy groups?” I asked her.

“This one’s my favorites.” She pointed to a small pile of chocolate bars. “These other ones are good and these are okay. These are Frankie’s favorites so I’ll bring them to school on Monday and she’ll bring me Hershey’s ’cause she doesn’t like those. And these are the icky peanut butter. You can have them.” She slid a small heap my way.

Kendrick said from where he was putting a bowl in the microwave, “Now remember, hon, let me look at all the wrappers before you eat anything.”

“Yes, Daddy.” She pulled out a chair, sat in front of her loot, and folded her hands on the table.

When the microwave dinged, Kendrick lifted out the hot stew, grabbed a knife and fork, and pointed at another chair with his elbow. “Have a seat, Trent, and I’ll bring this over.”

With the scent of hot beef and veggies rising in the air, I wasn’t about to argue. I sat myself down across from Larissa, careful to keep my poncho decent. When he’d placed the bowl in front of me, I picked up the fork and dug in. As I got some wonderful calories inside my belly, Kendrick pulled over a chair next to Larissa and went through the candy, passing most of it back to her, but fishing out a couple with torn wrappers. “Okay, the rest looks good.”

“What will you eat first?” I asked her. “Your favorite, or your least favorite and save the best ones?”

“One favorite,” she said. “And then I start with the okay stuff and good stuff. I save the best ones for last.”

“I used to be like that, too.” I peered down into my almost-empty bowl. “Still am, I guess. All the potato is gone and all the green beans, and I have two bites of beef and one carrot left, my favorites.”

“I was the opposite,” Kendrick said. “Grew up with four brothers, and if you didn’t grab the best one first, someone else did.”

“Only child,” I told him. Most wolves were, of course. With the difficulty pack wives had holding onto pregnancies, or conceiving in the first place, every child was a miracle and rarely had siblings.

“Lucky.” He grinned at me, and it took me a moment to evade where my thoughts had gone and remember why.

“Lucky sometimes. On the other hand, when Mom’s good bowl somehow got hit by a baseball, there was no one else to blame it on.”

“I’m an only kid too.” Larissa licked the candy bar she held like it was a lollypop. “I told Daddy I want a sister or a puppy, but he said not now.” She turned to Kendrick. “Can I take the candy to my room? I promise I won’t eat it all at once.”

“Okay. ’Cause it won’t be me who’s sorry if you break that promise.”

“Yeah. Tummy ache. I know.” She put some of her loot back in the bag, scooped up her “best ones” pile against her chest, and hurried out, leaving the rejected stuff behind.

“You let her have candy in her room?” I murmured. “My dad would’ve tanned my butt for asking.”

Kendrick shrugged. “The worst she can do is give herself an upset stomach or not want to eat real food for a few days and feel kind of icky. Natural consequences. As a single parent, I have to choose my battles.”

“You can tell me to mind my own business, but why are you a single parent? Guy like you, adorable kid, I’d expect men would be lining up to put a ring on that if you wanted.”

Kendrick snapped, “Well, I don’t want some random husband. I can raise Larissa just fine.” He sighed and eased his sharp tone. “Sorry, sore spot. Fact is, I was married. We planned the surrogacy together. Brad wanted a kid to continue his legacy. A Bradford Wrightman the Fourth, you know? He was peeved when I suggested we should mix sperm. But we might’ve had twins, or more. That seemed fair?” The rise of his tone made the words more question than statement.

I said, “Absolutely.”

“Yeah, so first, we found out we were having one girl. And then, well, it was clear she was mine. Brad and the surrogate were both blonds, and he requested DNA tests and yep, mine. I told him he could father the next kid, and I’d be great with that, but he was grumpy. And then Larissa had colic.” Kendrick shook his head. “Simple little word, but it meant hour after hour of walking the floor while she screamed and cried, with maybe two hours of sleep at a time for weeks on end. Brad took to sleeping at a hotel so he could be fresh. Well, he was a pilot. If he was tired, people might die. I’d taken baby leave. And eventually…”

“He left?” I murmured.

“Yeah. She was three months old with no end in sight for the colic. He bailed. He said she was mine anyway. The one blessing is that she has zero memories of him. Can’t miss what you never had.”

“What a douche. You’re better off.”

“No doubt. Was a rough couple of months afterward, though.”

“I bet.” The urge to make things better for Kendrick surprised me. I wasn’t a caretaker type, but I didn’t like the furrow in his brow. “You did great, though. She’s an awesome kid. Gutsy too. Those boys were a lot bigger than her, but she wasn’t going to let them have her Hershey bars.”

He winced. “That’s not totally reassuring. I’d prefer smart over gutsy. I don’t want her to get beat up for something meaningless like candy.”

“Never on my watch.” My wolf might’ve added a little growl in there.

Kendrick blinked at me. “Um, wow. I keep forgetting you’re a werewolf. You don’t seem like one.”

“What should a werewolf seem like?”

“Scary? Wild? I don’t know.” He shrugged, but his body language had gone tense and wary. “There was all that violence when werewolves first appeared—”

“First came out ,” I corrected, because I figured the phrase would resonate with Kendrick. “Violence directed against us. We’ve been here all along, for centuries. You just didn’t see us hiding in our furry closets.”

That was perhaps a self-serving association to make. Other than recent political violence, wolves had never been victims the way a lot of queer people had. We’d had a tendency to make our enemies disappear, not the reverse. But we were at risk now. I’d use what tools I could to make humans think well of us, and not just because I wanted Kendrick to like me. A little werewolf boy had been kidnapped amid all the violence, and the safety of kids like Dylan was top of my list.

“Sure. Of course, I see the parallel.” Kendrick hesitated, as if not sure he should say more, but then forged on. “You understand my concerns, right? About you being here. The documentary said there’s no way for a werewolf to, like, turn a human into a wolf. Is that true?”

“No more than you can make a straight man gay.” I tried to lighten the mood by sweeping my gaze up and down him. “Although if he hangs around you… let’s say orientation may sometimes be a work in progress, but werewolf DNA isn’t. Wolves are born, not made.”

He snorted at the implied compliment, but it did ease his posture some. “Are there still people gunning for werewolves? The documentary said some creep even put out bounties a decade ago, paying people to shoot werewolves.”

I had to fight to keep any hint of the angry wolf out of my voice. “Yeah. More than one, actually, and more recently than ten years, too. It’s not just lone bigots. Every year, we fight efforts in state capitols to reduce our rights or deny our safety as wolves.”

“Fuck. That does have nasty echoes, right?” He reached out as if to touch my arm, and although he aborted the gesture, his expression was kind. “Have you ever been in danger?”

“Not me personally.” Not from humans, anyway. “We still keep our younger boys out of the public eye. Like, some of their classmates know they’re from wolf families, but the dads are discreet. Since we were shoving a giant werewolf under people’s noses tonight, we didn’t trick-or-treat in our own neighborhood, so no one would recognize the child riding the werewolf. People are getting used to us, but there are jerks everywhere and occasionally they’re dangerous.”

“People suck.” He folded his arms across his middle, a painful distance in his eyes, and I wondered what he was remembering. But he shrugged the moment off to give me a smile. “If you hadn’t showed up in wolf form, I’d assume you were human like me, just another gay man. You seem like some guy I might meet at Pride, buying a rainbow bumper sticker that says, ‘Let me make something perfectly queer.’ Is that unusual for a werewolf?”

“Werewolves are all kinds of people. Although that bumper sticker wouldn’t go over well with some of my pack.”

“Ouch. Not gay-friendly?”

“You might say that.” Absently, I unwrapped a peanut butter candy bar. We weren’t allowed to breathe a word of just how vicious homophobia in the packs had been before the big reveal, although pictures of Simon Conley, the first out gay wolf, with a rifle target superimposed on his head, were still easy to find online. I didn’t want to undo the wolf-empathy I’d asked for, but I did add, “Some of my pack are older guys and slow to change their ways. Like some humans.”

Kendrick nodded slowly. “My grandpa’s never met Larissa.”

That echoed painfully in my chest, because my grandfather would’ve buried me in a deep hole if he’d known, but I kept my tone gentle. “His loss.”

“Do they give you any trouble? Your, um, older packmates, I mean?”

I shrugged a shoulder because some certainly would, if they knew. We had no out gay wolves in our pack and personally, I figured I was the only closeted one. I’d kept an eye out, watching for averted looks or aroused scents, but if I had company in my closet, they were even better at playing straight than me. I stuffed the candy bar into my mouth and unwrapped another.

Kendrick eyed me with something soft in his expression. “If you ever wanted to hang out with a bunch of queer guys— I mean, maybe you already do, but if you don’t, I have a group of friends who meet a couple of times a month. It’s kind of turned into the queer parenting group lately because three of us have kids, but a couple of the guys are still single. You’d be welcome.”

I couldn’t fathom what that was like, just sitting around with other gay men, shooting the breeze or whatever with sex off the table. I assumed a gay parenting group wasn’t a euphemism for a gang bang. Some kind of ache welled up in my gut, because I’d never been open around a group of men like me. Never dared. “Thanks. ’Preciate it.”

Kendrick set his hand on mine, where I was fiddling with the empty wrapper. “I’ll text you the info for the next meeting, if you like.”

What I liked was the touch of his hand on mine, and his scent in my nose. I liked that he was focused on me, all his attention on my face, and even though he knew I was a werewolf I didn’t smell an ounce of fear in him now. I said, “Sure.” Suddenly I needed to get out of there. I slid my hand out from under his and pushed to my feet. “Thanks for the meal. I can probably shift now and get out of your hair.”

“You don’t have to run if you need more time. I might have a bag of cookies.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “I bet you’re a great dad. But no, I’m good.”

“I hadn’t realized you werewolves couldn’t just shift when you wanted to. I mean, the documentary said you didn’t need a full moon, so I figured it was just your choice.”

“Up to a point. It takes energy.” Of course, hiding werewolf vulnerabilities was also a thing, so I added, “Some wolves, Alphas especially, can go back and forth a bunch of times at will. But I’d shifted to wolf before we came out tonight, then back to skin here. Two shifts close together are enough that I like to refuel after. But I’m good to go now.”

“Will you find your friends? Or just run home? Do you live nearby?”

“Not super near.” Alpha had picked a neighborhood a solid twenty-minute drive away.

“I could give you a lift home, if I bring Larissa.”

I was torn, aching for the chance to sit next to a guy I liked and shoot the breeze, driving down the road with his kid in the back like this was all fucking normal. And yet, I didn’t dare trust this moment— not Kendrick’s discretion about where I lived, or my own confused feelings. “I’ll be fine. Running is what wolves do. I won’t mind a chance to stretch my legs.” And maybe run off some of the weird emotions that’d surfaced in the last hour.

“You’ll eat again when you get home if you need to? And maybe message me that you got back safe? You should have my number, and if the text didn’t go through to your phone, your friend has it.”

I planned to go in by my dog door with the hidden lock, scarf down a bunch of food, and sack out in fur until morning, definitely not shift again so soon. I didn’t want to say so, though. “I love that you care, but I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine, I promise. I run for hours at a time a lot of nights.” Because I have nothing better to do. I didn’t want to examine that thought either.

“So that’s what keeps you so fit, huh?” Kendrick’s smile went a little wicked as he flicked a glance toward my thick thighs exposed below the poncho.

Being wolf does that, although running is part of the package. I had no objection to being admired, though. “You look good yourself.”

“I have a treadmill in the basement, but too few hours in a day to work out like I should.” He sighed. “I’m not as hot as I was that Halloween night ten years back.”

“Hah.” I gave him the same appreciative look he’d given me. “I have absolutely no complaints about a Clark Kent in his prime. And I might’ve learned a trick or two since then, to make being older a bonus. Not that we didn’t do damned well that night.”

I met his eyes and heat arced between us. I had a vivid sense-memory of his mouth on me, the feel of his silky black hair under my hands, and the hot, harsh rasp of my breathing behind the mask I’d worn. From the widening of Kendrick’s eyes, I figured he was remembering the same thing. For a moment, lust rose like a tide inside me and I reached toward him, but then a thump overhead reminded me of where we were. I dropped my hand. “Not the time, I guess.”

“No. Sadly.”

“I should shift and head home.”

Kendrick caught his lower lip between his teeth but nodded a few times. “I guess. Well, you know where to find me. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Thanks. Um, you too.” What a ridiculous thing to say. But amid the mix of disappointment and desire, I couldn’t come up with a better goodbye line. I gave him a little wave that was equally ridiculous and headed down the hall in my plastic poncho.

Once the bathroom door was shut, I stripped and folded the poncho as neatly as I could, setting it on the back of the toilet tank. I sat on the floor, keeping my head toward the door this time. Shifting was definitely harder than the first time, despite having eaten. The golden shift energy suffusing the universe outside slipped through my mental grasp, eluding my efforts to pull its power into my core. My body resisted, wanting to snooze. I felt like a guy shoving a boulder uphill. We’ll go for a run , I told my wolf. Four paws, nose, good smells, night air.

I like the man smells here , my wolf grumped. Sleep. But eventually, I tugged and pulled the shift to me, embraced the force of transformation, and fell into my change. Bones warped, muscles realigned. Shifting hurt much the way my whole body throbbed after a vicious workout— aches and strains, clicks and pangs in my joints. The world blurred, sound came and went. I lost myself inside my head as my wolf-self rushed through me at last.

When I staggered up on four paws, I was thirsty. The toilet was right there, but I was still human enough not to stick my head in the bowl. I panted and stretched, then eyed the tangle of saddle and straps in the corner.

Fuck it, Halloween’s almost over. I left the heap of leather lying there and gripped the door handle in my teeth, letting myself out.

Kendrick’s eyes widened as I came into the kitchen. “Wow, I’d forgotten how big you are. Um. Do you understand me?”

I nodded my head.

“So you’re still, like, human in there?”

Another nod. I stood on my hind legs, taking the risk of freaking him out, to grab the dry-erase marker off the board on the fridge between my teeth and laboriously write, “Bye.”

When I dropped back onto all fours and turned, he grinned, although his heart rate still sounded fast. “Okay. I guess I’ll hear from you when I hear from you.”

I yipped back in answer.

Overhead, Larissa yelled, “Doggie!” and a moment later she came charging down the stairs. “It’s the dog-wolf!”

Kendrick intercepted her as she would’ve dashed up to me, snagging her with an arm around her waist. “Let’s not startle him, right?”

His caution was fair enough, though wasted on me. I lay on my belly, crept forward, and licked Larissa’s ankle. She giggled and patted my head. “Good dog-wolf.”

The worried look on Kendrick’s face almost made me laugh, as he asked, “Uh, Trent, are you okay with being petted?”

I wagged my tail hard and nodded, but then backed up, rose to my four paws, and went to the door, scratching at it once. I needed some space from this family home and this hot man and his cute kid and affection I shouldn’t keep and didn’t deserve.

“Oh, yeah, let me get that.” Kendrick set Larissa aside and came to flip the lock and turn the door handle for me.

“I don’t want the dog-wolf to go yet,” Larissa whined.

“That’s Mr. Trent in there,” Kendrick said. “He needs to go home, and it’s just about your bedtime.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Goodbye, Mr. Trent the dog-wolf.”

I sat up on my haunches to wave a paw at her, then nudged the door wide and slipped outside. As I leaped down the steps, I heard Kendrick call, “Bye, Trent. Text me.”

A cool October breeze ruffled my fur. Full dark had fallen and streetlights shone patches of bright amid deep shadows, but my wolf eyes had no trouble picking out the bushes and fences, driveways and landscaping as I ran. I stuck to the side yards and the dark places, staying low, moving smoothly but fast, so no one would be tempted to check out the loose “dog.” Home was at least forty minutes’ run away, and I’d need every bit of that time to settle back into Trent, pack Fifth and loner, from the strange version of myself that had lounged at a gay man’s table in a plastic poncho and revealed more truth in one hour than I had in all the years before.