How to Howl at the Moon (23 page)

Lance jerked as if trying to head out into the night, but he didn’t get more than a single step before he went rigid again. With another whine, he turned and ran back into the house. A moment later, Tim jumped when the bathroom door slam
med
shut.

*                          *                         *

Lance stared at the bathroom mirror and struggled against his dog nature, which was doing things to his body that had never happened before.

Lance
was in pain and so was his dog. His dog thought Tim meant it. He was being cast aside, shut out in the cold. And his dog was refusing to go, refusing to leave his mate’s side. Lance knew all of that, but he was still shocked as hell that his dog would come out against Lance’s conscious will. He’d shifted that one time in his sleep, and that was bad enough, but he
was fully conscious now.

He braced his palms against the sink’s counter, breathing hard, trying to get a grip. He heard the back of his shirt rip and had an unbearable urge to fall to all fours.

No!

It wasn’t so much that he wanted to hide this. In the back of his mind, he’d always thought he would eventually have to tell Tim the truth, show him. But not like this. Not while Tim was angry. Not without first
explaining,
preparing Tim. This would be like screaming “Watch out for the falling rocks!” after your friend was already flattened.

Except he wouldn’t even be able to warn Tim then, would he? Because, oh yeah, he’d be a dog.

Tim pounded on the door. “Lance? What’s going on? Should I call someone?” He sounded scared.

Lance didn’t want Tim to be scared
when he learned about the dog
. This was happening all wrong.
He looked into the eyes in the mirror and saw Chance’s eyes. Tim thought they looked the same, but they really didn’t. Chance’s eyes were guileless and loving. Lance felt his heart growing in his chest, bursting through the human barriers and scars Lance carried. Chance’s heart had none of that.

Maybe his dog did know best. Maybe he’d been right long ago, that Lance Beaufort would only fuck things up, had no idea what to say or do. Chance had been the one who’d bonded with Tim in the first place. Maybe he should give himself over to pure instinct once again and trust Chance.

The bones in his shoulders and spine suddenly popped loudly as they broke, moved, shifted in a rush. It was as if his body had only been holding back waiting for that slight turn in Lance’s will. He opened his belt with hands already growing hairy, his thumb shrinking. He had to get out of these clothes before undressing himself became impossible.

“Lance!” Tim shouted, afraid. He must have heard the popping bones.

Don’t be afraid, Love. God damn it.

Lance struggled to find his words, even as he tore off his clothes. One last shot at this.
“I’m…
I am Chance
. I b-b-became Chance to s-s-see what you were…. AR!” his fingers popped in agonizing fury, drawing in, his nails growing thick and long. He panted, struggling to finish, his voice a growl. “Didn’t mean… harm, only see… Chance… fell in love with you.
I fell in love with you
—oooooOOOOOO!”

And his words were gone.

*                          *                         *

I fell in love with you.

Tim couldn’t believe what he’d heard.
I am Chance. I fell in love with you.
H
is brain couldn’t even scoff at the words, or get purchase on its well-hewn skepticism, because there were those other sounds.

The sounds of bones breaking. Growls. A pained whine.

Lance. Holy hell, Lance is Chance. He’s changing right now. He’s in pain.

There was the sound of panting, a dog’s stressed panting, and a quick series of those cracks.

“L-lance?”

Tim was in shock. His heart pounded, and his hands were damp. He put a hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t dare open it.

This was insane. But the craziest part was… it wasn’t that crazy.
Was it?
There were too many strange things that fell into place, like a rain of thudding frogs out of a clear blue sky. The way Chance had been so intelligent, the way he’d resisted playing doggy games at first, refused dog food. The way he’d tried to hold himself aloof, wouldn’t sleep in Tim’s bed those first few weeks and had vanished every morning.
Of course he did. Lance works during the day.

Then there were Chance’s blue eyes, eyes exactly the same color as Lance’s eyes, and those of everyone in his family. That thick, dark hair. Dear God, the birthmark on his ear
just where Chance had a spot.
The tuft of white on his black chest hair. His strange, starey intensity.
And Lily! For the first time, her initial visit, her weird interest in him, and in hearing about Chance, made sense.

And Chance had disappeared for good the night Tim had spent time with Lance at the party. Lance had been so sympathetic about Chance’s disappearance, and Lily so angry about it. Lance had brought him a puppy, almost appearing guilty about Chance being gone.

Dear lord, this can’t be real.
But the denial sounded fake even in his own head. He’d known Chance was special, hadn’t he? Because he
was
. And Lance was special too, wasn’t he? Tim thought about the earnest promises Lance had made in the car and at the restaurant, the way he didn’t seem to have the filters or the shallow interest in sex normal guys had. Part of Tim was screaming,
Of course he’s Chance! It makes so much
sense
.

Tim listened hard, wanting more
physical
evidence
that he wasn’t crazy
. There was silence from the bathroom. Then a whimpered cry of pain, a soft thud on the floor. Oh, God.

“Stop.” He put his forehead on the door, shaky all over. “You don’t have to do this.
Please
. If it hurts you. Please stop.”

There was no sound except for the almost-not-there panting for a long moment as Tim strained to hear. Then came the sound of something shifting about. There was a scratch on the door, a dog’s scratch. A soft, eager bark.

Chance’s bark.

Tim closed his eyes against
his
now blurry vision. His stomach swam, his knees buckled, and something hot filled up his heart. Only the door held him up. There was another soft scratch on the other side. Filled with terror and longing and hope and dread, Tim turned the knob and opened it.

Lance’s clothes were strewn about the bathroom floor. The tiny window in the shower was still closed. And sitting on the floor, looking healthy but wary, was Chance—big, beautiful Chance with his thick black fur and blue eyes. Those eyes watched him and waited. Intelligent. Loving. Sad. Resigned.

Tim wiped at his own eyes. “This is utterly fucking insane, you know that?” he said, in a very wet voice.

Chance barked once.
Agreed.

Tim fell to his knees and held out his arms, and Chance was there.

A Merry Chase

“WHY CAN’T I have
you
like this
and
have Chance at the same time?” Tim complained.

They were lying on the couch together, the way Tim had done with Chance. But Lance had shifted back and they were both human now, legs entwined and Lance back in the clothes he’d worn earlier.

“Um… because it doesn’t work like that? Just like you can’t be in here lazing on the sofa with me and in the kitchen
making popcorn
at the same time. More’s the pity.”
Lance had grown very fond of the popcorn.

Tim huffed. “I don’t see why not. There’s already enough pixie dust in this whole deal to float an armada.”

Lance inwardly rolled his eyes. “Well, I can’t be both at once.”

“Because I miss Chance. You have the best fur in the entire world. But I want you like this too.”

“Life sucks,” Lance said seriously. But honestly, he meant just the opposite. Life was
wonderful
. Inside he was bubbling with so much joy he felt like
he
could float right now. Pixie dust indeed.

He’d never really believed Tim could accept the truth. Sure, there were other quickened in the community that had bonded with, and married, humans, and those humans had accepted the secret and kept it. But Lance’d had little hope Tim would, not after the monumental mess he’d made of things.

“There are certain advantages to me being in this form, though.” Lance rolled to pin Tim
down and buried his nose in his neck, deeply inhaling his rich, earthy scent. Heaven.

Tim wriggled as if Lance’s stubble tickled, but he didn’t pull away. He wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck and wriggled so he was on his back
on the sofa
and Lance was more fully over him. He held Lance’s neck with those long, strong fingers of his as Lance nuzzled and licked his neck.

Suddenly, he pushed Lance away, his face curious. “Does it hurt when you do that? When you change? It sounded like it hurt.”

Lanced sighed. “Yes. But you sort of… black out for the worst of it, like you fade out and fade back in.”

“That sounds scary.” Tim frowned.

“It is at first. Honestly, I don’t change form often. Didn’t for years once I started working. But most of the pack get together once a month for a ‘howl at the moon’ night where they change and run together or play. Most quickened believe it keeps them young.”

“Quickened? Is that what you call it? How does it work exactly? I mean, can all dogs do it? Is this like a global dog conspiracy?”

Lance understood Tim had a thousand questions. He just wished they could go over them later. Because right then the scare of almost losing Tim had him needy for touch and scent. He was dying to bury his nose everywhere, to reassure himself Tim was there and was his. He wanted touch, not talk. But Lance forced himself to give a real answer.

“No, very
few dogs can change. Honestly, we don’t know the science behind it. There’s a guy, Jason, who grew up in Mad Creek and got a PhD in genetics. He’s off working in some lab somewhere trying to figure it out. What we do know is that a dog, an ordinary dog, can become quickened. We call that ‘getting the spark’. It happens when a dog forms a very close bond with a specific human. Eventually, over a long period of time, that bond can trigger something in the dog that enables them to change form, to sort of… evolve to the next level.”

Tim shifted as if getting more comfortable, his face intent. “Go on.”

“Once that’s happened, that dog’s descendants
are usually
born quickened. My family has been in this area for three generations. Originally there was a human family, the Moffers, that
owned a lot of this land and grew sheep.”

“I’ve seen the name around town.”

“Yeah, they’re still here. Anyway, they also raised sheep dogs, border collies. And the family and the dogs became very codependent and tight. Generations of dogs and men completely bonded, living side by side 24/7. My great-great-grandfather was the first of the collies to become quickened, and two of his brothers did too. I was born this way. My mother and father were also born already quickened.”

Tim narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He smiled. “This is the coolest fucking thing in the world. Are there werewolves too? Vampires?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Well, no vampires that I’m aware of. As for werewolves, that’s a myth. Wolves are wild. They don’t need or want to be anything except what they are. As far as I know, dogs are the only animal that can get the spark. I think it has to do with dogs being bred for thousands of years to be attuned to humans, living with them. But as I said, we don’t really understand the science. I just try to deal with the reality.”

“Reality!” Tim laughed sharply, as if that was the funniest thing.

Lance kissed him to shut him up. It was just getting loose and heated when Tim giggled into the kiss and broke it off.