Hunter's Moon - Part Four

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CHAPTER SIX: HUNTER'S MOON - PART FOUR

Sitting and staring off at the boats along the horizon, Russ sighed as Garrett approached, his footsteps breaking the quiet tranquility on the end of the empty dock. He’d known this conversation was coming — known it even as he’d made his way here last night — but that didn’t mean he felt ready for it. 

So he wordlessly waited while Garrett settled down onto the weathered wood next to him. “So what’s your plan?”

Russ scoffed. Plan? Hell if he knew.

“I assume you don’t intend to move back in.”

Russ snorted harder. He’d had to come out to the shore just to clear his head of all the voices and noises of the main house and the never-ending parade of werewolves, humans, and God-knew-who else running around the estate. All of whom wanted to know what had happened and what he was thinking and feeling, all while trying to forever feed and coddle him. Russ shook his head. He couldn’t stay here. Not and keep his sanity.

But he didn’t exactly have many other options.

“Are you just never going to go home again then?”

Russ pursed his lips, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Not terribly respectful behavior toward his alpha, he knew, but it was a ridiculous question. Of course he knew that he’d have to go back. Eventually. 

But the idea of going back — of seeing Dawn again… With a wretched grunt, he stared sightlessly at the waves. It frustrated him to admit it, but he didn’t know how to do that — go to her, be with her — while he both ached to see her again, with every fiber of his being, even as he agonized over it.

Garrett dangled his legs over the edge of the dock idly. “I like her, by the way.” He leaned back on his arms. “She’s tougher than you’d think and she understands community. Good traits in a pack member.” He breathed deep. “Good traits in a mate.” He nodded, supremely satisfied. “You could have done much worse.”

This time Russ did roll his eyes. Well, wasn’t it just ducky to have Garrett’s approval, but it was never a question of whether Russ could do worse; it was that Dawn deserved better. “How is she?” Russ wanted to bite the words back as soon as he’d said them. He shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t know.

“Alone.”

Russ flinched. Yeah. Shit.

Garrett sighed. “You can’t do that; you know. She’s your mate now; you can’t just walk out on her like that. She deserves more from you. Better from you.”

Russ bit back a snarl. He knew that. He did. But what if he couldn’t be better? What if all he could do was fail her, over and over again? “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Russ glared at Garrett when his alpha burst out into laughter. “You think anyone does? Everyone is just trying to struggle their way through. But the point of being in a relationship is to have someone to share that struggle with.” He gave Russ a pointed look. “You have to learn how to talk to her. To let her know what’s going on with you, because it affects her now too. You affect her, the same as she does you.”

But it wasn’t the same. “I scare her.”

“And she scares you.”

Russ stiffened and shot Garrett an indignant look, only to have Garrett snort good-naturedly. “Hey, you were the one who ran last night, not her.” He nodded, annoyingly impressed. “Like I said, she’s tougher than you think.” Garrett sighed and turned to face Russ more fully. “It’s good that you’re scared. It means she matters. You’ve spent years now pushing everyone away. Keeping us all at arm’s length.” He smiled at Russ sympathetically. “But you can’t do that with her, can you? And that’s terrifying.”

Yes. It was. “It’s different with her.” More so than it’d ever been with anyone, even before he’d changed. Russ had been in love before. He’d wanted plenty of women before. But he felt like he fucking needed her. “I don’t know if I like it.”

Garrett chuckled again, making Russ grumble irritatedly. Ignoring his moodiness, Garrett patted Russ’s back comfortingly. “There’s only one way to find out. You should go to her. Talk. Work things out.”

Russ huffed. Easier said than done. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Well, then you probably shouldn’t have left her alone in the middle of the night.”

Russ hissed as if he’d been hit. “It’d seemed like the better — the safer — option at the time.”

“For whom?”

Russ looked at Garrett questioningly. “You’ve been warning me for weeks now that my control isn’t what it should be. Last night…” He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the memories. “I was on the edge. I can’t do that with her.” He couldn’t be that with her. 

“Why not?”

What did he mean? Russ narrowed his gaze at Garrett as if he’d lost his mind. “What if I actually hurt her? Not just her feelings, but truly injure her?” He’d never forgive himself.

“Would you really do that?”

Russ felt a growl, dark and unbidden, rumble through him. Not on purpose, obviously; he couldn’t imagine ever intentionally hurting Dawn. Though, until last night, he hadn’t imagined actually punching anyone either. But the rage he’d felt in that moment had felt so much bigger than himself. How could he ever hope to control something like that?

Garrett nodded, as if he could read Russ’s thoughts. “You know, I talked to the cops on the scene and to Dawn’s neighbors. They all said Dawn threw herself between you and Mr. Jones. Multiple times. Pulled and pushed you back, without ever getting so much as a scratch.” He tilted his head, curious. “Why do you think that is?”

Russ paused at that thought. Last night was a blur of anger and violence, of fear and anxiety that hungered for aggression. He honestly didn’t remember all that much, especially the parts where he’d felt the beast take over. But he did have vague memories of Dawn’s palms pressing against his chest. Of her voice in his ear. And of his body instinctively reacting to that. Of fisting claws so they wouldn’t scratch her. Of backing off, so she wouldn’t get hurt in a scuffle. Had he really done that?

“You can control yourself, Russ, if you want to. If you need to.” Garrett’s voice was so sure, with just a trace of warning laced through it. “As your mate, Dawn will…” He gave a rueful sigh. “She’ll likely make that both harder and easier, as you’re starting to see. You’ll need to be more careful around her but, as you’ve also seen, you can be.”

Russ blinked and stared at his hands — so frighteningly capable of violence, but also maybe restraint — letting Garrett’s words mull about his mind.

“She’ll be good for you,” Garrett said with an easy certainty Russ desperately wanted to trust but couldn’t. “You’ve been running from yourself for too long, Russel. But you can’t outrun this. You’re going to have to learn what the rest of us have.”

“Which is?” Russ grunted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That it takes incredible strength to face your own darkness and deal with it,” Garrett said, studying him in a way that made Russ deeply uncomfortable, “to not just shove it off to the side and deny it until it becomes too big to ignore. Until it becomes not just your problem, but a problem for everyone else around you.”

Facing his own darkness, huh? That sounded awful to Russ. That kind of deep, inward reflection seemed viscerally unpleasant and to be avoided at all costs.

Garrett laughed again. “Yeah, you’re going to hate it. It’s scary and hard and, more often than not, takes more than yourself to do it and do it well.”

Russ scowled and shifted his shoulders irritably, not liking the sound of any of this.

But Garrett just clapped his back again. “You need community, Russ, you need connections. People who will throw up a mirror and let you see yourself clearer. People who will help you carry the parts of yourself that feel too heavy at times. People who will just sit with you while you struggle to sort through it all. And people who will let you know when you’re slipping into darkness and dangers that you may not see coming. Those are the people who will help you become — and stay — the man you want to be.” With a smile, Garrett stood and dusted himself off before reaching a hand down to Russ. “Luckily, you have us. We’ve been waiting for you.”

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Dear Unsolicitated Emailer/Commenter:

(Sorry, I’m watching Dear White People and the form is in my head) 

Why are you messaging me about how I’m not as attractive as I think I am?

One, exactly how attractive do I think I am? And how do you know this? Honestly, I don’t know. Growing up in a culture that both idolizes tall, thin, white girls while also fetishizing the fuck out of exotic girls of color it’s been a really confusing struggle to place myself anywhere on the conventional attractiveness scale. The best I’ve come up with is that there are people who find me attractive, people who don’t, and the vast majority of people don’t give a damn. 

And, oddly enough, I’m more or less in that last category. 

I recognize and acknowledge the right for people to find me unattractive. I’m grateful and flattered by the people who do find me attractive—ya know, most of the time, when it’s done respectfully with me, as a human being, in mind. But, really, in the great, grand scheme of things, I. Don’t. Care.

Yes, I post sexy pictures of myself. I’m, most days, comfortable and happy in my own skin. I find the expression of fashion—of clothes and costume and performance—to be a fascinating one, that allows me to literally embody the things that I care about. And, yes, I like the idea of having some say in how I’m presented in this world, where I don’t have to pretend to be—or even pretend to want to be—the pretty, little, white girl or where I can be more than someone’s exotic conquest. I like that, in the photos I put up, I get to be who and what I want to be.

I’m sorry, if that offends you. I’m sorry that being subjected to a darker, heavier, or whatever-er person in whatever state of dress they chose to clothe themselves in upsets you so. But, I promise, the internet is a wide, wide place; it’s not hard to get distracted by something you find shinier. Go find yours and leave me alone.

Two, be very careful about using this metric to measure the worth of a person. It lies to you. I've said it before, because I believe it, there is value in costumes. How we choose to present ourselves to the world, for better or worse, determines how we are perceived by that world. But that doesn't make it right and it certainly doesn't make it true. And, even the most revealing outfit—often the most revealing, look-here-and-not-here ones—only tells you so much and has the possibility of concealing much more.

Besides, if this is the only metric you use, willfully ignoring the rest of a person, good luck finding anyone who wants to be measured that way. None of us are exclusively what we look like; everyone has depths and I've yet to meet a person who enjoys having their surface valued over everything else they have to offer. 

And, even if you found someone who was okay with it, it's likely they'll judge you the same way. Are you okay with that? If you're not okay with it, what right do you have to ask things of others you wouldn't ask of yourself? And, if you are, that makes me sad for you because, even as someone who has looked fairly the same for the past two-and-a-half decades, I know that looks fade and time and age comes for us all. I hope when it comes for you, you're ready. 

Three, in what way is this a valid argument to use when debating anything but my looks? Don’t like my opinions on sex, on kink, on feminism, on diversity, on geekdom, on writing, on whatever? Fine. You do not have to. And, please, I’m a girl who very much likes debate; come talk to me about it. Debate with me. Stand up for what you believe in and see how it stacks up next to opposition. I truly believe that this is how we, as a species, best learn from each other. 

But the minute you start an argument, end an argument, or otherwise in any way invoke my looks on a topic whose merit is in no way related to those looks, understand that, in my eyes, you have just lost your argument. Because doing so is the mark of a person with no reason or conviction behind their beliefs. And I have nothing to learn from you and you are, in this moment, incapable of and unwilling to learning from me. Come back when you have something of value to add.

Because I really have no idea what you got out of your message and I know that I got absolutely nothing from it.

You know, besides a good rant at your expense.

 

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Opening Bid - Part Three

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CHAPTER THREE: OPENING BID - PART THREE

She shouldn’t. It was a bad idea. She was going to end things with him. 

Any minute now. 

So she really shouldn’t touch him.

But her hand was already reaching up to the large wing curling around her. She let her fingers barely brush against the bony edge of his wings, feeling the fragile strength of their frame. Her breath caught as his wings flexed beneath her touch, the fluid movement letting her fingers flow over the delicately thin yet resiliently taut skin. Her eyes traced every vein and vessel, made so clear as sunlight shone through the veil of flesh in a beautiful, living tapestry. Her mind marveled. She was touching something wondrous. Something, not that long ago, people would have sworn couldn’t be real. Yet, here it was.

Here he was.

Harri looked up into Azel’s heated gaze as he shifted to face her, his wings folding over them, like a shield against the rest of the world. She inhaled sharply as he leaned in close, their breath — made sweet and sultry from the hazelnut coffee — swirling between them and fogging her whole world.

Lord, she was in trouble, wasn’t she?

She snatched back her hand. “We should head out.” The words weren’t much more than a whisper, unsure and unsteady.

“Is that really what you want?” She could hear her own desires reflected back at her, heavy and hot, in his heady voice.

Biting her lip, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“As you wish.” He stepped away, his wings pulling back to simply shield them from the wind again. “Why don’t we discuss the details of our contract while we walk?”

She nodded again, her shoulders relaxing a bit more. She let out her breath as her vision cleared. Details. Yes, figuring out the exact parameters of their agreement sounded good. Sounded smart. 

As they walked, they batted back and forth terms and conditions. No, they did not have to meet up every day. But, yes, they should meet up at least four times a week.  When it came to touch, they would both ask for consent first, every time. Yes, both of them. Whatever Azel said, it made Harri feel better knowing that he could say no to her. It made his yes feel more real. Made hers feel so too. She didn’t want to ever wonder if he was just doing things for her because she wanted it, even if he didn’t. She knew all too well what that felt like and didn’t wish that on anyone.

By the time they walked back up to her apartment, she felt much more at ease, much more in control again. Felt like this contract — this deal — could actually work. He’d be helping her with Nate; she’d be helping Azel until he got a new job. This was a good thing for both of them. For Nate too, in the end. They would be helping Nate move on. What was a month of playing pretend in the face of that? 

Harri opened her door, even as they both lingered in the hallway. “So I think this was a pretty successful first date, wouldn’t you say?”

The smile he flashed her warmed her belly. “I’d say we definitely made good progress today. If you’d like, we could go inside, maybe order some lunch and officially draw up the contract.”

She felt herself stiffen as her hand tightened on the doorknob behind her.

His head tilted cautiously. “Or… I can take it home tonight and bring it tomorrow. We can sign it over dinner, if that works better for you. You can pick the restaurant.”

She looked up at him gratefully. She knew she was being a little irrational.  It wasn’t as if she was afraid of having Azel in her apartment. He’d been in it this morning and it’d been perfectly fine. It wasn’t him she worried about, not really.

It was just… after having let Nate in — after finding it so hard to keep Nate out — having another person in her space, her home, felt wrong. This place was hers; she wouldn’t let anyone in again until and unless she wanted to.

“Okay,” he said, nodding knowingly. He studied her, his gaze feeling like a stroke as it traced the curve of her face, the trail of her neck, the sweep of her shoulders, and along the length of her arm. “You know, I never did get to hold your hand today.” He smiled up at her again. “Guess I’ll have something to look forward to tomorrow.”

After bidding each other goodbye, she watched him walk down the hallway and out of sight, her thoughts lingering on the promise of tomorrow. Feeling foolish, she shut the door behind her and leaned against the hardwood, her mind and heart ridiculously racing. She shook her head, willing herself to calm down. She had no reason to be reacting like this. He might sound like he was flirting, but he wasn’t serious. He was playing a part. Doing a job. Fulfilling his end of their deal. She needed to remember that. None of this was real. 

And she didn’t want it to be real. Real meant repercussions. Real meant dealing with all those messy relationship things — emotions and expectations — that she didn’t want to.

No, this was better. Cleaner.

She jumped at a loud knock on her door. She frowned. Had Azel come back? Had he forgotten something?

Holding her breath, she opened the door a crack. Only to see Nate fuming in the hallway. “Who the hell was that?”

Instantly irritated, she rolled her eyes. “It’s none of your business, Nate.” She moved to shut her door again, only to have him shove the door open more.

“What do you think you’re doing, Harri?” Nate shook his head, disbelieving, disapproving. “A demon. You went on a date with a demon!” He took a step closer.

Refusing to move an inch, to let him into her apartment again, she stiffened her spine and glared into his face. “Go home, Nate.”

For a moment, he looked like he was going to shout, his whole body seeming to surge and seeth as if readying for a full-blown fight with her in the middle of her doorway. 

But, just as quickly, all that anger vanished, suddenly shoved and stuffed behind that nice guy exterior she no longer trusted. He gave her doorframe a weak yet meaningful kick with his foot. “Look, I know you’re mad at me.” He shrugged helplessly. “I honestly have no idea why or what I did. But, if you’d just tell me,” he looked up at her, frowning, as he said, “I’ll do whatever you need me to to fix it.” He reached out to touch a strand of her hair as he smiled at her ruefully. “You don’t need to date a demon to get my attention. You already have it.”

But she didn’t want it. She leaned back, out of his reach. “Go home, Nate,” she told him, her voice hard and unyielding, before shutting the door behind her.

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Hunter's Moon - Part Three

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CHAPTER SIX: HUNTER'S MOON - PART THREE

Garrett frowned as well. “Leon was a troubled man, always had been. From childhood, he had problems controlling the wolf inside him. We all tried to help him, but…” With a profound sadness, Garrett stared into the distance as if looking back into the past. “In the end, without the ability to connect with his wolf, it hadn’t taken much for the mindless, frankly untethered beast inside him to overtake him.” Garrett met her gaze with deep pain clear in his eyes. “Most werewolves find ways to live with and embrace our wolf half. The two sides meld and grow with each other, forming the whole of the person. But Leon was truly living with a monster inside him.”

Dawn set down her now almost empty plate, surprised by how much she’d eaten while listening to his story. It was so strange to see him like this. Garrett was a large man, both physically tall and strong as well as having a commanding presence that lent him an even more powerful aura. But, sitting at Russ’s table with his head bent in regret, he seemed dimmed somehow. Vulnerable in a way she doubted he allowed many to see. It humbled her, even as it unsettled her. He must really need her to know — to understand — this, if he was willing to let her see him like this.

Garrett shook his head. “In a different time, Leon would have been put down. For his own safety as well as everyone else’s.” Garrett looked away. “But I’d hoped, given all we’d learned and with all the modern tools available to us, that we could help him. Unfortunately, we all learned exactly how wrong I was in the worst possible way. With no one suffering for that mistake worse than Russ.”

Dawn worried her lip. “Russ talks about his werewolf side like it’s a curse.” Like it wasn’t a part of him, but rather a disease invading him. “Was that why he lost control?” Was his wolf trying to overtake him?

Garrett paused thoughtfully. “Russ is not like Leon, but he’s only had a few short years to learn what the rest of us have spent a lifetime mastering.” He studied Dawn. “And I think you make it harder for him.”

Her eyes widened. “I do? How?”

Garrett sighed. “How much did Russ tell you about being a werewolf’s mate?”

Pursing her lips, she sighed. “Not all that much. Just that I’m part of the pack now. So, if I need help, you all will be there for me and, if you need me, I’ll be there for you.”

Garrett nodded. “That is true, but that’s less about your role as a mate than it is about pack dynamics. Certainly important, but you’ve already proven yourself willing and able to aid the pack, with or without a mating status.”

“Thank you.” It was easy to help the children. As their teacher, it’d felt natural and intuitive. She very much doubted the rest would be so simple. “So what does being his mate mean? He’d said we’re essentially married, for all intents and purposes.” But was that just legalities or did it mean something more?

Dawn thought about her own parents’ marriage and that of some of her older siblings. There was such a bond of love and partnership present. And, while she hadn’t thought all that much about who she’d marry and how and when — always figuring that all that would figure itself out in the future — she’d hoped that, when it did happen, she would find her own loving partner as well.

“In the eyes of both werewolf and human law, you two are mated. Married, if that word feels more comfortable to you. Elise and the others have expedited the paperwork already, for obvious reasons. We’ll need you both to sign off on those before we submit them officially. Once that’s gone through, you’ll enjoy all the lawful benefits any other recognized married couple in this country would, plus some others specific to the werewolf community.”

“Like protection against incarceration if someone attacks us?”

Garrett grimaced. “Strictly speaking, we’re skating a delicate legal line with that defense. Frankly, we’re lucky that Mr. Jones didn’t hire a lawyer, much less one well-versed in magical law, and that the district attorney and our pack have a good relationship.”

“Or it could have turned out differently?” Dawn didn’t like the sound of that.

“You two are not yet mated, legally or otherwise. Though, if you ask any pack member, they’ll swear there’s been talk of it at least since the day you had him speak to your class.”

“Talk?” Her gaze narrowed. “By whom?” Since then? She’d barely known her own feelings then. Hell, she was hardly sure of them now. How could anyone else possibly know enough to talk?

Garrett gave her a knowing smile. “We’re a small community with acute senses. And you two are…” he let out a soft laugh, “less subtle than you think you are.”

Dawn blushed and sipped her tea, tucking her tail primly. “So because we aren’t official, we’re less protected, right?”

“Well, yes, but that’s only the beginning of your problems.”

Dawn set down her cup. “What do you mean?”

Garrett pushed his now empty plate away too. “Much like human marriages, there are the legal aspects of it, but mating is, by nature, more than that.” He rolled his shoulders awkwardly. “More so than human unions, when werewolves mate…” He pursed his lips, searching for the right words. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the myths and legends of mating.”

Dawn tilted her head one way and then the other. “It’s like soulmates, right?”

Garrett let out a bark of laughter. “I don’t know if I believe in something as spiritual as a soul, much less the overly sentimental idea that there’s a singular match made and meant just for each one.” He shook his head and shrugged. “But I know there are people and beings we’re drawn to, whose scents and sounds and touch reach inside us and change us forever. And, maybe because werewolves are so attuned to our senses, we feel that more strongly. Are drawn by that so fiercely.”

“And I’m that for Russ?” Dawn didn’t know how to feel about that. Was Russ that for her? She really didn’t know. She liked him, for sure. Was attracted to him and cared for him. But was that the same as the kind of connection Garrett was talking about?

Studying Dawn, he nodded. “Yes, I think you are. I think you have been from the moment he met you. I’ve known Russ for the last handful of years. I’ve seen him claw himself back from the worst, darkest point of his life. He is a man of great fortitude and control.” He sighed and looked at her for a long moment. “But something in him changed these past few months. I think you struck something inside him and he is… changed.”

And not for the better. Dawn could hear the unsaid words between them. “I make him lose control.” She made him weak. “And that’s dangerous, isn’t it?” Frowning, she stiffened her spine, instantly offended for him. “You think he’d hurt me?” She may have only known Russ for few months, not years, but she knew he would never hurt her.

Garrett held out a halting hand. “He couldn’t hurt you if he tried.”

With an indignant huff, she nodded. That was right; Russ wouldn’t. “Then what are you saying?”

Garrett pointedly looked her up and down. “We’re werewolves; you’re not. He could still hurt you without trying.” He shook his head. “And that could kill him.”

Dawn felt herself pale. “What do you mean?”

Garrett sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “Being a werewolf — especially one living in the human world — means living a life of complete control. It’s living with sensory overload. It’s learning when and how to control your strength, your speed, your power. It is a constant battle to never be too much in a world that is filled with those and things not built to withstand you.” 

Dawn looked away and furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of his words. “So,” she said, biting her lip, “you’re saying, since I’m a hind, he’s too much for me?” That he could hurt her without meaning to because she was just so frail. So small. Weak. Dawn frowned, the weight of that undeniable realization absolutely crushing. She couldn’t argue with Garrett, much as she might want to. Russ, as a werewolf, was barely leashed power and carefully controlled strength and, as a hind, Dawn was shaky-kneed anxiety and twisted fetlocks. Stuck with her, he’d spend his life — use every ounce of that power and strength — to protect her, from the world, and from himself. Dawn felt exhausted just at the thought. Who was she to ask that of him? “You’re saying that I’m not enough for him.”

Garrett’s lips thinned as he stared at her sympathetically. “I’m saying that no one is.”

Dawn’s frown deepened as she looked at him questioningly. 

He swirled the now lukewarm tea in his mug as he looked out the window. “I don’t know how you were raised. How hinds — and your family in particular — adjusted to the shifting world.” He shrugged. “Even before the amnesty, werewolves realized early on that the modern human world was moving in directions we weren’t willing to. In ways we couldn’t, because of who and what we are.” 

Dawn tilted her head. She’d never really thought about that before. The ways her life might have been different. Before the amnesty agreement. Before humanity had taken over the world. Before her people — like his, like so many others — had gone into hiding, only to later be forced back out into the open. And all the ways that must have changed and shaped them all.

Was her family’s farm, that had once been her grandfather’s and his father’s before him and his mother’s before him and so on, their way of coping in a world that no longer felt quite like home? Had her family built a haven for themselves to preserve and protect a way of life untouched by the moving on of the modern world?

“Werewolves are pack creatures in a world that demands and all but deifies independence and utter self-reliance, practically to the point of isolation. Where leaning on others, where asking for help,” he turned to look at her pointedly, “where admitting that you — alone — are not and will never be enough, is considered a weakness or a personal failing.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to truly belong anywhere or with anyone with that mentality. In a pack,” Garrett continued, “everyone has a role, a place and a part within the group that is all their own. But no one role, no one person — not even the alpha or a mate — is ever more important than the whole. The pack exists to make every member better and every member exists to make the pack better.” 

Dawn nodded, not entirely sure she understood. But, again, it sounded a lot like being part of a family.

Garrett sighed, looking guilty again. “When Russ had turned, I’d brought him into the pack, so we could help him. So we could do and be that for him.” Frowning, he shook his head. “But, not having grown up with that, Russ had a hard time adjusting.”

Dawn’s heart ached, thinking of him struggling like that. “Hard time how?”

Garrett absently took a sip of his tea, wrinkling his nose as soon as the now cool liquid touched his tongue. He got up, clearing their dishes before grabbing the kettle to refresh his and Dawn’s mugs. She smiled at him gratefully, reminded again of her father and how he unconsciously and reflexively cared for others. Taking his seat again, Garret held his mug tightly. “Like many boys in this country, Russ was taught that, if he had a problem, it was his responsibility to deal with it. Alone. So, when it came to adapting to his new life, to his new role within it, Russ resisted our help at almost every turn. Unwilling or unable to lean on us, he kept turning inward, sure he could — should — find the solution there. He is still stuck in the mentality that his problems are his own and to acknowledge them, much less burden someone else with them, is a sign of weakness. So, instead of becoming part of the pack, instead of integrating it and his werewolf side into his identity, Russ dealt with his change by denying those parts of himself, by shoving down the parts of himself that are too hard to deal with.” Garrett cringed. “Which isn’t ideal.”

“Why?” Even though Dawn didn’t like the idea of Russ having to deal with all that alone, if that was how he wanted to handle it… Well, he was the one going through it, wasn’t he? What worked best for him should be his choice, in the end, shouldn’t it?

“Werewolves are pack creatures, by nature and by necessity. We have too much power — that often feels too aggressive, overwhelming, and violent — to be the most powerful thing in our lives. We need to belong to something larger than ourselves. Something that grounds and connects us. That’s why pack is important; it gives werewolves a release, a way to channel all that strength, that speed, that power — and all the complicated emotions wrapped up within it— toward a greater good.” Garret frowned. “But Russ doesn’t see himself as part of that. He keeps himself isolated, contained, and that isn’t healthy for a human — for a werewolf… it’s that much more dangerous.”

Dawn bit her lip and nodded, letting Garrett’s words sink in. Let them add to and fill out the picture she had of Russ. She looked around this apartment and the lonely life he must live in it. She swallowed hard as the image of Russ — shocked and stricken — before he left her last night flashed in her head. Along with the way he’d flinched away from her touch, as if he couldn’t trust it. Or, maybe, couldn’t trust himself. “You’re afraid he’ll hurt me, even as he’s struggling not to.” 

Garrett nodded, looking sadly pleased with her again. “We all do. We all hurt and get hurt, often by the people we care about most. That’s part of life, part of living with other people.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “What I’m afraid of is that, when he does, he won’t have the tools to deal with it.” Giving Dawn a sympathetic look, Garrett grimaced. “I know you didn’t ask for this, but you’re Russ’s mate now. Joined to and with him for better or worse and for the rest of your lives. Having a mate who doesn’t know how to not be alone, who doesn’t know how to truly be with another person… it’s a lot to put on a partner, a lot for one person to deal with.” He narrowed his gaze on her, holding her gaze so seriously. “So I want to remind you that, werewolf or not, you’re pack now too. And you should never feel like you have to do this alone.”

Even long after her new alpha left, Dawn sat on Russ’s couch, surrounded by the warm scent of his sheets, mulling over Garrett’s words.

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Opening Bid - Part Two

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CHAPTER THREE: OPENING BID - PART TWO

Azel held the apartment building’s door open for Harri, watching her walk out into the snow bright day. She was nervous. He could see it in the tension gripping her shoulders and in the way she clutched her cardboard travel mug tightly with both hands.

Not to humble brag, but it wasn’t a reaction he was used to getting. Even without using any demonic intervention, humans were naturally drawn to creatures like him. Sure, there were those who desperately shied away from him, out of defiant willpower or fear of falling. 

But she wanted this. Wanted him. Not only could he feel it, her palatable attraction pulling at him like a magnet, but she’d willingly agreed to his deal. They were actively creating a contract. So why was she so skittish? Why did her desire to run seem to rival the ones beckoning — begging — him nearer?

He’d have to figure that out. After all, that was part of his job now, right? To find ways to lure her closer. To at least make it look like they were in love.

Speaking of which. Azel snuck a glance up at the set of windows next to Harri’s, smiling as he spotted the slight, unnaturally peeking part in the curtains. Yeah, he’d known the ex — Nate — was watching, both now and in the hallway, could feel the man’s jealousy burn the closer Azel got to Harri.

Good.

Grinning, Azel stretched out his wings, letting their impressive span spread to block the wind as they encircled him and Harri. “You look cold.”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head as he snorted at her shivering. “Really, I am. I just need to get used to it.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.” He would never understand why people said they were fine when they really weren’t. It truly was the most useless word. Fine. Whenever said, it hardly ever actually meant fine. But he supposed that wasn’t really his problem. It gave him the excuse to wrap his wings around her, blocking them from the ex’s view, letting the man stew in thoughts of what they might be doing.

Harri looked around herself at the thin, leathery bat-like wings surrounding her with wary fascination. “You’re the one without a coat,” she pointed out, frowning. “Aren’t you cold? I’d think winter would be harder for you.”

He chuckled as he watched those curtains swiftly shut, before looking out at the glittering, freshly fallen snow covering the ground. “Hell isn’t all fire and brimstone, you know.” He took a sip of his coffee. “There are plenty of places that are barren, tempestuous, or even frigid.” He shrugged, his chest puffing out smugly as he thought about the nosy man stewing behind his curtains. “Demons are built to be able to survive in all kinds of unlivable conditions, so I don’t ever really get cold or warm. I can feel the weather, obviously; it just doesn’t really affect me one way or another.”

She frowned. “So then why did you have a coat on before? In the restaurant.”

He shifted his shoulders slightly, causing his wings to twitch a bit. “How’s your coffee? Did I get your order right?”

Harri looked down at the steaming cup still held in her hands as if she’d forgotten it. She took a quick sip before taking another slower, more savoring one. The steam fogged up her glasses, hiding the delicious delight in her eyes. “Yes, you did; it’s great. Thanks.” She took one more sip before peeking up at him with a wince. “Was it rude of me to ask? I’m sorry.”

With a wry smile, he shook his head. “You’re fine.” He sighed and pursed his lips, feeling his fangs prick the inside of his mouth. “My wings make people uncomfortable and I can’t really hide them.” He shrugged. “But I can make them… a little less visible.” A little less in everyone’s face. He had a closet full of oversized coats for every season and hats to cover his horns. Having been in the human world this long, he’d found there were plenty of times and places where it just made his life easier to be… less. Less out in the open. Less demonic. Less himself.

He arched an eyebrow at Harri’s subtle glances over her shoulder at his wings. He could feel her curiosity almost like a caress. She wanted to touch them, to touch him, but he knew she’d never ask. She was too shy, too reserved, too polite. He wondered what it would take to make her a little less so. To let herself be a little more brave. “You can touch them, if you want.”

She pursed her lips together tightly and gripped her cup with both hands. “I don’t—” She shut her eyes. “I mean, I didn’t mean—” She shook her head. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He wanted to let out a laugh. As an incubus, he’d literally been created to fulfill people’s most unspoken desires. He was a being of lust and temptation, whose mere existence stirred the most profane longing inside a person; he’d never met anyone — not a nervous virgin or crusading priest — so reluctant to touch him before. And to be so on his behalf, worried more for his comfort than their consequences or conquests… Yeah, that was a new one. He felt the seductive curve of his lips soften as he stared at her. “I wouldn’t have offered, if I wasn’t okay with it.”

Her gaze flickered down, her lashes shielding her eyes, as she worried her lip in a way he knew meant, at some point in her life, Harri had. He frowned, knowing people — especially women — often offered parts of themselves to others less because they truly wanted to than because they knew it would please their partners. That kind of pressure could make the intimate act of coming together feel terribly isolating. 

He swallowed hard and shot her a sympathetic glance. “Just to reiterate, I will never touch you or do anything to you — or ask anything of you — that you don’t ask for first.” He shrugged. “But, for me, as long as it pleases you, there is nothing — no act or touch — I won’t welcome.” His kind literally fed off the pain and pleasure, the lack and overwhelming release, of others.

“Nothing?” She narrowed her gaze skeptically. “So if it pleased me to stab you, you’d be okay with that?”

Arching an eyebrow, he gave her a teasing look. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

Her eyes widened in horrified shock. “Seriously?”

He chuckled at her reaction. “Most people who make demonic deals with those like me are people who have desires they don’t think they can share with other people. Mostly because of shame or fear.” He lifted a nonchalant shoulder. “But, sometimes, some people want things… best shared with those better equipped to survive them.”

She frowned at him worriedly. “And you enjoyed it?” 

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I… enjoyed their enjoyment.” He laughed when she made an unsure, noncommittal sound. She was kind to worry for him, but it was beyond unnecessary. He was what he was, and the complexities of that was something he didn’t think he could adequately explain and he was sure she — as a fragile human mortal — would never really understand. So, instead he chuckled and tilted his head. “So not planning to stab me then?”

She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t think I’d enjoy that at all.”

No, he was sure she wasn’t the type to. “But you’d enjoy touching my wings.” It wasn’t a question.

She bit her lip and looked behind her shoulder again with more open longing. As if she’d somehow become much more comfortable with her own smaller, simpler desires, after having heard the larger demands others had made. He’d never been one to judge people’s desires, always figuring that one wanted what they wanted, and better to explore that with him — who got as much if not more out of the deal — than with some unsuspecting person. And, if it helped Harri accept her own wants more, that was fine with him. 

She shrugged, still so adorably unsure. “I’d like to, if you’d like it.”

He nodded. “I’d like it.” Probably more than he should. Yes, there was an internal, infernal part of him that salivated at the prospect of both momentarily fulfilling while eternally fueling her temptation. After all, few knew better than he did that wanting one thing often led to wanting another and another and another in an endlessly craving cycle. 

But he also felt his body tingle at the promise of her skin on his. He imagined her tentative hand shyly stroking him, her fingertips warm against his chilled wings. He could picture the fascination that would flood her eyes. Could practically hear the delight that would rasp her voice. He could feel his own unwise want well up inside him, making him feel bolder than he ought to be. “I’d like it a lot.”

And why shouldn’t he? He was a demon, after all. Pleasure was a perk of his job, and shouldn’t everyone be so lucky to love what they do for a living? “So what do you say, Harri? I want you to touch me;” he leaned in, closing his wings around them, as he whispered in her ear, “what do you want?”

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Hunter's Moon - Part Two

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CHAPTER SIX: HUNTER'S MOON - PART TWO

Russ jerked his shoulder out of Harold’s touch. “Dawn didn’t ask for this.” They’d dragged her into this. He’d dragged her into this. She didn’t deserve that.

Harold shrugged. “She could have denied it.”

Russ shook his head. “And leave me to rot in that cell?” He sighed. “She’d never do that.” She was too sweet, too kind.

“Maybe she would never,” Willem pointed out as he reached out to grab the pot of coffee and fill his and Harold’s cup, “but she could have. She chose not to, right?” He held out the pot to Russ.

Russ scoffed as he watched Willem pour the dark, rich brew into the mug in his hand. “Some choice.” While he certainly didn’t relish the idea of being stuck in that silver-plated cell for the rest of his life, he hated that, in order to free himself, he’d effectively trapped her for the rest of hers. He took a sip, letting the hot, bitter taste burn on his tongue. “What we asked of her wasn’t fair.”

“You’re right. It’s not fair.” Willem took his own long sip. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He’d leave her alone. It was the only thing Russ could do for her. Hanging his head, he stared into the steaming cup as if he could divine answers there. “I’ll do whatever she wants.” 

“And what’s that?” Harold asked. When Russ looked up at the soft-spoken man curiously, Harold shrugged. “Have you asked her?”

Russ looked away and scowled. He couldn’t ask. Couldn’t bear to hear — to know — the answer. “I don’t need to.”

Willem snorted. “You’re worried about taking her choices away from her, but you won’t talk to her about what choices she wants to take.”

Russ glared at the other werewolf. “She’s afraid of me.” And who could blame her? She’d finally seen what he was, had come face to face with the violence inside him. She should be scared, had every right and reason to be. He sighed. They really should have left after the Billy Parson incident; then Dawn wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this.

Harold frowned. “I’m a gay yeti with anxiety;” he said in a sardonic tone, “I know a little about being afraid.” He sighed and pursed his lips. “It’s not fair that werewolves can smell other people’s fear — can sense it without even trying — but not understand it.” He shook his head, his shaggy hair fluttering about his face. “Believe me, it’s almost always more complicated than you think it is.”

Russ’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Meaning,” Willem said with an understanding sigh, “you should talk to her about it.” He scratched the back of his head, chagrined. “We’re white, male predators, man; we’re never gonna fully understand what it’s like to be her. The things she has to deal with every day. What it takes to just walk through this world that, for the most part, stays out of our way. She’s scared? Yeah, after what she’s been through; who wouldn’t be? Of you? Maybe. But you’re not going to change that by avoiding her.”

Russ sighed and sipped his coffee, hating how much sense these two were making. This mess had happened; there was no changing that now. What was the point in wishing it away?

Besides, how much would have been fixed if he’d never met Dawn, really? His heart ached at that thought, even as his mind recoiled at the idea of leaving her unprotected. She’d have been all alone to deal with Tucker. With the kids in her class. And, while he was sure she’d have been fine — she was one of the most capable people he’d met, effortlessly enchanting every person she met — he couldn’t bring himself to regret being there for her, hopefully helping her however he could. Even with how messy everything had gotten, he couldn’t wish away every moment — every smile and laugh and touch — he’d shared with her. No matter how selfish it made him feel.

Harold sighed and set down his mug. “Willem’s right, you know. You’re punishing yourself for all the things you think you’ve done wrong, but how much does that actually help her?” As Willem wrapped an arm around his partner’s waist, Harold leaned into his mate’s side. “Talk to her. See if you can find ways, together, to make things right.”

***

Dawn stood in the kitchen and watched Garrett make himself at home in Russ’s apartment, digging through his cabinets and fridge like they were his own. Garrett grabbed a pan and the kettle. “How about some eggs and toast and some ginger tea to help settle your stomach?”

Dawn just shrugged, watching him fuss with the mugs and electric kettle. She was less concerned about food than she was about answers. “You said you know where Russ is.”

Garrett paused slightly before turning on the stove. “I do.”

She bit her lip. “Is he all right?” He’d left without saying where he was going or when he’d be back. She didn’t even know if, like her, he had anywhere else to go.

Garrett cracked eggs into the sizzling pan. “He’s at my house, surrounded by the pack; he’ll be fine.”

That should have made her feel better, but it didn’t. “We fought, before he left.” Frowning, she folded her hands in front of herself awkwardly. “I think I made him mad.”

Garrett scrambled the eggs in the pan with ease and grace. “I very much doubt it’s you that he’s angry with.”

Dawn frowned. “If not me, then who?”

Garrett sighed and flipped his eggs. “Mr. Jones, certainly. The police, without a doubt. Me, I’m sure.” He looked up at her before plating the eggs. “But, most of all, I would assume he’s angry with himself.”

“For what?”

Garrett placed the bread in the pan and fried it, instead of using the toaster. “For losing control and letting that loss hurt you.” 

Dawn shook her head. “He didn’t hurt me; he saved me.”

“From what I heard,” Garrett said, plating up their food and pouring them both tea, “you saved yourself. Mr. Jones had already let you go by the time Russ broke down the door.”

“Only because Russ had distracted him by pounding on the door.” Before that, Dawn had been frozen in terror. After the contractors had left, Tucker wouldn’t leave. Then they’d been arguing, yelling, and he’d just grabbed her. Wouldn’t let her go. She’d been all alone with him. She didn’t want to know what would have happened, if Russ hadn’t come when he had. Knowing he’d been there, just outside her door, had given her the strength and bravery — not to mention the time and opportunity — to push Tucker away and slap him. 

She could still feel the possessive crush of Tucker’s hands and mouth on her body. It made her sick. She shut her eyes, trying to will the memory away.

Garrett pushed her steaming mug closer on the table as he took a seat across from her. “Sip the tea; it really does help soothe your stomach.”

Standing next to the table, she gripped the mug in both hands, letting its warmth seep into her skin, and pulled it close. The sweet, spicy scent filled her senses and somehow eased something tight inside her. She took a sip. “Mmm, I’ve never had ginger tea before. It’s good.”

Garrett nodded as he drank his own. “Yes, Russ introduced me to it as well. He grows and candies his own ginger.”

She swirled her cup and saw three slices of ginger at the bottom. He grew this? Of course, he did. And, of course, it did make her feel better. If just because it made her think of him. “Russ does so much, doesn’t he?” He was an impressive man. You wouldn’t think it by looking at him, seeming like such a loner, but he was gentle and kind and took care of the people and things around him. He was always helping others; who helped him? 

She sighed and thought about their situation. “Okay, he’s upset that he lost control.” She could understand that; she didn’t like feeling out of control either. “What can I do to help him?”

Garrett grinned, looking genuinely pleased. He pushed her plate closer. “First things first, eat. If he comes back and sees you looking sick or weak, he’ll worry and feel worse.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded and picked up her plate from the table, beginning to eat. She didn’t really know how she’d thought alphas ought to act. Every time they’d met before, Garrett had always seemed rather imposing and intimidating, like the CEO of a company or a head of state. Which she supposed, in a way, he was.

But, at the moment, he felt more like the head of a family, reminding her of her father or Gerry, mother-henning those in their care. Garrett waited until she’d eaten a few bites before nodding, satisfied. “Next, there are some things you should know about mating a werewolf. Things I very much doubt Russ fully understands.”

With a forkful of eggs halfway to her mouth, she wrinkled her brow. “Why is that? Why doesn’t he know these things?”

Garrett stabbed some eggs on his plate. “As you know, there are two ways to make a werewolf: you can be born as one, like the kids in your class, or you can be turned.” He frowned. “Even before the amnesty agreement, turnings were rare. It’s a brutal process that brings a human close to death, before they’re brought back as a werewolf. It can only happen on a full moon and, even then, most people die before their first transformation.” Wincing, he set down his fork. “There have been times in our history when we’ve practiced it more often — during times of war or persecution, when it’d felt like a matter of survival — but, certainly in the modern era, it’s unthinkable to inflict that on another person when we have other means.”

“But Russ was turned.” She frowned. Brutal. Close to death. Unthinkable. She shivered imagining Russ going through something like that.

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