How to Howl at the Moon (27 page)

Howling at the Moon

IT WAS a fine, warm night
in June
when Tim and Lance pulled up to join the slew of cars at the picnic shelter in Foster Park. The park was halfway up Beacon Mountain, and Tim noticed on the way in that its entrance was purposefully unkempt. There were no hiking trails, benches, or trash cans in Foster Park, according to Lance. There was nothing that would appeal to outsiders. The large picnic shelter made of logs was tucked away in the back behind a cluster of trees.

Foster Park was where the pack had its Howl at the Moon night once a month during the full moon. Not, according to Lance, because the full moon had any particular power over them, but because it kept the nighttime woods from being dark as pitch.

Tim was bouncing with excitement as Lance grabbed the beer cooler from the back of his truck. Tim himself juggled a tray of crackers and his homemade pesto sauce—made with the first basil of the season—and Rennie’s leash.

“This is awesome!” he said, as he picked out people he knew milling about the open log shelter. There were more surrounding a roaring campfire nearby.

And it
was
awesome. It was fucking mind-blowing being at a party night for
shifters
. How cool was that? Also, Tim was happy to see some of the people he’d come to care about—Gus, Daisy, Fred Beagle from the post office, and, yes, even Lily. At least she wouldn’t be trampling over his plants tonight, and it was hard to pretend he didn’t secretly like her mothering. At least he didn’t mind it when she aimed it at his stomach or cabin rather than his plants or his love life.

But side-by-side with the awesomeness, there was a lingering apprehension and a pinprick of fear. This was the first time he was going to be around the pack when they were in their dog forms.

“You’re sure no one’s gonna shift in front of us mere mortals? I want to be mentally prepared.” Tim asked Lance, for probably the hundredth time, as they walked toward the campfire.

“Nope. We go into the woods to change.”

“Okay,” Tim said doubtfully. “I hope so, because I remember the sounds of those breaking bones. And
seeing
it…” he shuddered. “I’d rather not end up screaming like a little horror movie girl and embarrassing you.”

“Don’t scream,” Lance deadpanned. “That will make all the dogs attack you.”

Tim huffed and glanced at Lance sideways, trying to read his face. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

“Also, being licked to death is not a euphemism. Not here,” Lance intoned menacingly.

Tim snorted, though his heart tripped a little faster. “Good thing I skipped my prime rib body wash then and used the peanut butter. Dogs don’t like peanut butter, right?”

Lance dropped the cooler onto the grass, growled a laugh, and grabbed Tim around the waist.

“Pesto!” Tim gasped, as Lance leaned in and nuzzled him over the platter. He licked Tim’s neck. “Very rare and very precious pesto! And I was, um, kidding about the peanut butter.” Tim squirmed in ticklish pleasure.

“Yes, but what a brilliant idea,” Lance breathed against his ear. “I can think of all
sorts
of places to put peanut butter. Or the pesto, if you prefer.”

Tim laughed. The idea of his dick being covered in pesto was unexpectedly hilarious.
Wrong
, but still very funny.

“Oh, you two!” Lily pulled them apart like taffy and hugged Tim to her bosom.

“Pesto!” Tim said.

“I don’t get first hug?” Lance sounded insulted.

Lily hugged him too. “You’ve gotten my hugs all your life. Tim needs them more. Besides, he convinced you to come tonight for the first time in, what, five years? He deserves a hug just for that.”

Lance grunted in agreement.

“So who’s minding the store tonight?” Lily asked.

“Charlie’s at the station and Roman’s watching the road to the park. I’m sure it’ll be a quiet night, but they’ve both got Tim’s cell number just in case.”

“Where’s the food table?” Tim asked, brandishing the platter. He wanted to put the endangered pesto on a flat surface as soon as possible.

“In the picnic shelter, pup!” Lily said happily. Lance said she called everyone she considered young a ‘pup’. It didn’t seem to faze her that Tim had no dog in him. The endearment made Tim smile.

He headed for the shelter, cruelly leaving Lance to wrangle Lily and Renfield.

In the shelter, Tim placed his platter next to an array of other goodies and took the foil off the top.

“Hey, Tim.” Bill McGurver smiled at him and extended a hand. “I was just scoping out the menu. Word to the wise: get in the front of the line. This crew will demolish every morsel on here in ten minutes flat.”

“Good to know.”

“What’s that? Pesto?” Bill leaned forward to peer at the platter. Tim had arranged some crudités and crackers Lily had brought him around the bowl of green stuff.

“Yes. The veggies are store bought. Mine aren’t ready yet. But the pesto was made with my own basil. Want to try?”

Bill looked intrigued, so Tim scooped some pesto onto a cracker and handed it to him. Bill took a bite and his eyes grew big.

“Oh, wow. That’s amazing. I’ve never been a big fan of pesto, but you just converted me. You really grew the basil yourself?”

Tim shrugged, but he was pleased at the reaction. “Basil’s easy. It doesn’t have any serious pest or disease issues. And it’s best really fresh like this. I picked it this afternoon.”

“Oh, man! If you decide you want to sell this stuff, I’ll be first in line.” Bill snuck another cracker and dipped it.

Tim considered it. “Next weekend will be my first time at the Mad Creek farmer’s market. I’ll have basil there, and I could do recipe cards?”

“Great! I’ll be there. Jane would love this, and I’ve been doing more cooking since the baby arrived. Hey, I wanted to say… I’m really happy for you and Lance.
Really
happy.”

Bill looked very sincere, and Tim found himself doing an ‘aw shucks’ thing with the toe of his Converse. He made himself stop. “Thanks.”

“Lance ha
s needed someone in his life for a long time. But he’s always been so serious and work-driven. I guess it’s in his collie nature to feel he has to be on guard all the time.”

“I know, right? It so is!” It was a relief to be able to talk to someone like Bill McGurver, someone who knew Lance and also knew what Lance was under the surface. “You don’t—you don’t think it’s wrong for me to distract him from that, do you?” Tim had wondered. He wanted Lance to be with him as much as possible, and to be focused on them when he was. But he realized Lance was important to the town, and sometimes he worried he was being horribly selfish.

“Not even a little bit.” Bill smiled. “He’s a better man for it already. Lance could always be… a little intense.”

Tim snorted.

“In fact, that night I found him at your place, ‘hit by your car’, I was honestly worried he’d crossed the line into full-blown crazy cop territory.”

“You could say that. But looking back, it is pretty funny. I mean, that you knew who he was that night and I had no clue.”

Bill smirked. “Did you give him that bath I suggested?”

“Ooh, yeah!” Tim grinned, remembering it vividly. He should probably feel like an idiot, but the idea of uber-serious Lance being put through a shampooing was pretty
hysetrical
. “You
want to hear how it went?”

“Every. Last. Detail.”

Tim left Bill laughing so hard he had to just wave to say good-bye, tears streaming down his cheeks. Still chuckling, Tim joined Lance and Lily by the campfire. By some magic signal, the group headed for the food tables in the shelter. And, yes, Bill had been right. The food was sucked up like sand in a tornado. Fortunately, Tim was at the front of the line with Lance and Lily. By the time the meal was over, he’d gotten three more requests for his pesto recipe and promises to visit him at the farmer’s market for the basil.

Not long after dinner, Tim noticed people slip away, usually with big smiles and a sense of excitement. Lily left first, Renfield padding along after her. Gus went next, practically skipping his way into the woods. Clearly, he couldn’t wait to be a dog again. Janine, looking very sleek in black pants and a sweater, left with more casual grace but no less of a gleam in her eye. Lance’s brothers and their wives escaped, leaving their kids in the nominal care of Mrs. Beagle, but actually just running around with shrieks and giggles.

Before long, there were only a dozen full-blooded humans sitting around the campfire. Them and Lance, who was still at Tim’s side.

Tim nudged him. “Aren’t you going to go play?”

Lance shrugged. “I’d rather keep an eye on things. Make sure everyone’s safe. And stay with you.”

Tim felt the spur of a challenge. He quirked an eyebrow. “You mean… I’ll have to find some other canine to have fun with? Hmm. Maybe Janine would like to play ball.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at Tim, unamused.

By then, dogs were appearing back into the clearing. Tim could hardly believe, looking at them, that they were all shifters, people he’d
met
. Like Lance, they looked like actual dogs, dogs of all shapes and sizes, purebreds and mutts. But there was something special about all of them, a kind of glow, and elevated aura that surrounded them. And the overall mood was joyous. Inwardly, Tim relaxed in places he hadn’t known he was worried. This was more than okay. This
was fucking magical. And also weirdly normal at the same time. He felt like the luckiest person on earth.

Lance’s brothers and their mates came trotting out of the trees, and they played with their delighted kids in the grass beyond the campfire. Tim knew Lance’s brothers on sight—all of them black collies with blue eyes. None of them were as special as Lance
or as handsome
. Then again, Tim was a little bit biased.

“Welp! I’m going to go run in the woods,” he said decisively, standing up. “Don’t worry about me. Stay here by the fire and relax. I probably won’t trip over tree roots and break my neck. Or fall into a wasp’s nest and get stung. Or find some furry companion to hug and pet. Out there in the dark.”

Tim took off at a trot, barely suppressing his laughter. He heard Lance growl warningly behind him and knew he’d won.

Tim passed blurred shapes in the woods as he ran, crashing through the trees in the giddy joy of being chased. He heard distant happy barks and the still
creepy,
but no longer as ominous
, sound
of bones snapping in the dark.

The woods were dim, but the light of the full moon was bright enough for him to make out the path he was on. He was getting worried about how far he’d gone when he sensed a presence running up behind him. He turned to see Chance. His black fur was lost in the shadows but glints of moonlight struck through it like strands of silver and those brilliant blue eyes shone bright. His tongue was out and he looked like he was grinning.

Tim laughed out loud and kept running. Lance passed him so he could lead the way. They went several miles down a trail, winding farther away from the sounds of the group and heading up a steep path. Chance pulled ahead, and Tim lost sight of him. He continued up the trail anyway, calling Lance’s name. The damn route must have been built by a mountain goat, because even Tim’s long legs had to stretch to scramble up the final ascent.

When he pulled himself up into the open, he was on an outcropping at the top of a hill. There was a view of mountains on all sides and the valley below was dimly illuminated by the moon and stars, deep black shadows soft among the silvery blue. It was quiet except for the sound of someone breathing very hard. Tim turned to see Lance, human and naked, crouched a
few feet away.

Tim drew in an involuntarily gasp. Lance looked wild like this—his bunched muscles sheened with sweat and dirt, his hair mussed, and something in the set of his mouth and eyes still very much animal.

Tim shuddered with a wave of lust. “Hey,” he whispered.

Lance said nothing. He seemed to h
ave one foot in the other world
and no interest in leaving it. There was something dark and compelling in that. Especially when Lance moved closer, still crouched, and began nosing at Tim, trailing his mouth up one leg, smelling deeply, and then on up his side, slowly rising to his feet to follow the line of Tim’s body.

Lance
didn’t
reach for Tim’s clothes, but he was erect and the scent of his desire was tangible in the air.
It was t
hrilling. Tim unzipped his jacket and tossed it, then pulled his T-shirt over his head while Lance continued to lick and nuzzle him, under his arm, then in the curve of his neck, a low growl in his throat all the while.

“Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” Tim muttered while doing his best to unzip and discard his pants and underwear. He only just managed not to send them sailing over the side of the cliff and gave a hysterical little giggle at the idea of walking back into camp naked from the waist down.