Melbourne Heat (8 page)

A large part of him wanted to leave. To go home, sit in the large, comfortable chair by his window and think hard. To sort it all out.

But it would be so easy to convince myself then that Charles is crazy. And… What if he isn’t? What if I dismiss him and throw away something that could be wonderful because it’s strange and outside what I consider normal?

Spencer balked at that. Yes, this was a completely crazy situation. But Charles wasn’t ranting madly. He didn’t wave his arms and throw out conspiracy theories, or have a gleam in his eye that said it was an elaborate and cruel con. He simply sat there, hair mussed and eyes dark. Charles was giving him time and space to sort this through, not forcing his opinion down Spencer’s throat, or bullying him into becoming a believer. He just waited.

“I’m going to need to think about this,” Spencer started. He drummed his fingers, nervous but knowing he had to ask. “I just… There’s this small part of me that still wonders if despite all evidence to the contrary, you might be crazy. This turning into a wolf thing. Can you control it?”

Charles grimaced and looked away.

“It’s…” Charles sighed then brought his gaze back.

Spencer was surprised at the level of pain and worry he saw in the depths of his partner’s brown eyes.

“If you think what I’ve just told you is a lot to take in, this will seem even more overwhelming,” Charles warned him. “It’s not a pretty sight and it’s not something I’d volunteer to show you. That said, I can understand why you want to see it. But, Spencer, you need to be sure. It’s not some freak show horror thing, but… It’s intense. You need to be sure.”

Spencer licked his lips. His heart beat faster and he questioned his own sanity. He’d never been an avid fan of werewolf or vampire literature, but popular culture was soaked with it, so he knew enough.

“But you can control yourself when you change, right?” he asked. “You’re not going to turn into some rabid beast and eat me alive. Are you?”

Charles chuckled, though it didn’t sound very happy.

Spencer moved closer on the couch and took his hand.

“I didn’t mean to be a prick about that,” he apologized. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to leave and end up convincing myself you’re crazy. I want to see so I can
know
and try to wrap my head around it. I’d hate to give you up, give this relationship we’re building up, all because I was a chickenshit and couldn’t man up and accept your reality.”

Charles squeezed his fingers and Spencer relaxed.

“My instincts are a lot harder to control when I’m a wolf,” Charles said. “But no, I won’t pounce and eat your flesh. I don’t lose my mind—my priorities and the way I look at the world simply change when I turn. And yes, I can do it at whim.”

Spencer was nervous. A part of him thought maybe he should tell Charles not to bother. He was so matter-of-fact about it and clearly willing to show Spencer, so in part that was proof enough. But Spencer was so used to dealing in fact. In numbers and columns, and there being only one right way that he couldn’t force the words out, letting Charles off the hook.

He swore to himself he’d not push Charles, but Spencer needed this one thing. If Spencer was going to open his eyes to a different world around him, then he needed to see, to
know
. It was a flaw in him, but the simple truth.

“I’m sorry to ask it,” Spencer finally said. “Forgive me for it, but I need to see you change. Knowing for sure will mean I can sort everything else we’ve discussed in my head and believe that, too. I can try and understand it then. To deal with it.”

“It’s okay,” Charles said.

Charles bent his head and Spencer eagerly tilted his chin up. They pressed their lips together and shared a kiss. Needing to prove he wasn’t trying to be an asshole, Spencer pushed Charles’ shoulder. He urged his partner to lean back, to relax. Spencer kissed Charles with passion. When Charles parted his mouth Spencer thrust his tongue inside, tangling them together.

Lifting his hands, Spencer threaded his fingers through Charles’ silky hair. Massaging his scalp, he used his thumbs to knead Charles’ neck. When Charles moaned, Spencer gasped to catch his breath, fire racing in his blood.

He peppered kisses across Charles’ cheek then licked a hot trail down Charles’ jaw. Nipping at his chin, Spencer chuckled at the naughty idea that crossed his mind. Feeling confident, he bent lower. Using his teeth gently, he took a small circle of skin down the base of Charles’ jaw. Sucking hard, he laved his tongue over the area and rolled the skin in his mouth.

Letting go with a pop, he then surveyed the small mark. Not quite satisfied, he repeated the gesture until a bruise began to form.

“There now,” he said, feeling proud. Spencer lifted his gaze and met Charles’. “Now we have matching hickeys. We’ve officially regressed back to high school.”

Charles threw his head back and laughed.

Spencer felt pleased with himself. The uncertainty and tension in the air had been broken. Once again he could feel the intimate connection between them. There were still definitely going to be rocky patches ahead, but they’d weathered this first one well in his mind.

Large, warm hands cupped his jaw. Spencer smiled as Charles drew his face close and kissed him almost chastely.

“I’m glad you wanted to do that,” Charles said. “And I appreciate you bringing some levity to the situation. I’m not sure I could be as gracious should our positions have been reversed.”

Spencer shrugged, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Charles stood up and closed the few curtains that remained open, giving the room complete privacy from the outside. He stripped in a quick, economical fashion. Spencer drank in the sight of his naked body, heated memories from the night before flashing across his mind.

“Don’t be scared, okay?” Charles said. “I’m betting the sight will be full-on the first time you witness it, but that’s just ’cos it’s new. Everything is scary the first time, but gets easier after that. I promise.”

Nervous, Spencer couldn’t tell why he wanted to stand to witness this. Maybe it seemed lazy to be sitting when Charles exposed himself like this, he didn’t know. But Spencer got to his feet and tried to not fidget.

Charles took a deep breath and held Spencer’s gaze. Spencer was focusing so hard it took him a moment to realize nothing was happening immediately. When he thought he saw the air shimmer, he blinked, convinced he was giving himself eye strain. It was gone before he could make up his mind. Charles’ body contorted and he grimaced.

The sound of bones popping shattered the air. Spencer gasped and instinctively took a step back, almost tripping over the damn couch.

Charles hunched over and it looked like his back rippled. The bones in his spine moved in a manner Spencer knew wasn’t natural. All of a sudden he wanted to rush over to Charles, to cry out to stop. He didn’t need to see this after all, he’d witnessed enough.

It looked painful.

Charles didn’t cry out, though he did grunt once. Limbs elongated and fur sprang from his body as if a seam in his skin had split open. On all fours now, Charles shuddered.

Spencer couldn’t breathe. Bones crunched together and he had no doubt that the air shimmered as if heat was being expelled from Charles’ body, as if the change caused some chemical reaction to release warmth.

It had taken less than a minute, but where Charles the man had stood there was now an enormous wolf. His pelt was a mixture of black and brown, his eyes beady black. Spencer gaped, his mind at first refusing to believe what he’d just seen. He trembled, astounded.

Charles just stood there, sniffing the air. He shook his body and ruffled his fur. Head cocked to the side, he then took a single step forward.

Spencer swallowed hard. An insane little voice inside his head babbled, wanted to hold out a hand and say, “Nice wolfie,” much like he’d been trained to approach a strange dog.

It wasn’t hard to quash that impulse. Teasing might have its place, but it wasn’t here.

Spencer squatted down on his haunches, so his face was level with the wolf.

“I have no idea what to say right now,” he admitted, figuring honesty was his best course. “Do you even understand what I’m saying? I’m guessing you recognize me, that whole scent thing again. Damn, Charles, this is one fucked up situation.”

The wolf padded over to him. Spencer’s legs wobbled, but he held his position, refusing to back down. If Charles could show him something this private, he could be man enough to stand up to him.

The wolf sniffed his hair then his neck. Charles darted his pink wolf tongue out and licked over the mark on Spencer’s skin.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, not even sure what he meant anymore.

He reached out and rubbed the sleek fur. It was bristly but far softer than he’d thought. Stroking down the wolf’s neck was calming, comforting in a strange way.

Spencer had officially reached his limit of strange for the evening.

He forced his mind to stop thinking and just breathed. Wrapping his arms around the wolf’s neck, he then buried his face in its fur. Spencer took slow, even breaths and tried to calm his racing heart.

After a minute or so he pulled back. Spencer still felt overwhelmed, but he was no longer scared of Charles regardless of his form.

So that was progress, right?

“I really need to think,” Spencer said. “I’m not scared, or going to turn away from this, from us. But I need to get my head on straight. Call me tomorrow, okay? I’m a rotten cook, but you’re welcome to come over to my place for dinner. Or we can go out somewhere, whatever you like. I just need to breathe and sort this out for myself. Okay?”

Charles huffed out a breath, which Spencer took to be an assent. The wolf licked a rough stroke over his face, following the line of his cheekbone, then paced back a few steps.

Spencer stood. He stroked a palm down the line of Charles’ back, really enjoying the smooth fur, then forced himself to step back.

“Call me,” he repeated. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Charles.”

Spencer collected his bag and left the house, making sure the door locked behind him. He set out into the evening, glad for the long walk ahead of him. He needed the exercise and space to think.

Chapter Six

It had taken two hours of fluffing about, but Spencer was finally absorbed in the report he was writing. When his mobile phone rang, his instinct was to ignore it. After only a slight pause, he continued his calculations, until he recalled that he was waiting on a call from Charles.

All of his distractions, which had taken considerable effort to mentally shelve this morning, came crashing back. He pushed his seat back and lifted his hips. Digging into his pocket, he pulled his phone out and answered it before it could switch to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Spencer,” Charles replied. “How are you this morning?”

“Good. Better,” Spencer said. He took a breath and mentally shook himself. “Thank you for giving me last night. I’m sorry if I didn’t handle it as well as you’d have liked.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sorry we were both put in that position. I’d have never sprung all that on you on our second date, not by choice,” Charles said. “Though I must be honest, it’s nice to have it all out there. As long as you’re still willing to continue, of course.”

Spencer remained silent for a moment. He
was
willing, but last night he’d come up with a whole slew of questions he wished he’d thought to ask. But if he had to boil down all of his thoughts, concerns and questions, the answer was yes, he definitely wanted to continue the relationship. It still might crash and burn, but he’d always regret it if he gave up without trying.

“I definitely want to still see you,” Spencer said. “And believe me, I have a ton of questions. I don’t want to bombard you with them, though, not here while I’m at work and I assume you are, too?”

“Yeah, David’s on a different job and Geoff’s just ducked out for a smoke, so I only have a few minutes,” Charles explained.

Spencer nodded. He expected the conversation would be better in person, anyway, not over the phone when they could both be interrupted at a moment’s notice.

“The only stipulation I really have is I’d like to go slow.” Spencer scrunched his nose, the words not sounding as right aloud as they had earlier in his head. “I mean, just at a normal, regular pace, like we would have naturally if we hadn’t jumped in the deep end last night. I want to enjoy each step of us coming together, learning about each other. We only get to do these things once.”

“I think I can understand that,” Charles said.

Spencer could hear something in Charles’ tone, though.

“I don’t want to ignore last night,” Spencer hastened to add. “Or pretend it didn’t happen. It did. And I can get my head around it. I’m just saying I don’t want to rush.”

“No hiding, and no lies,” Charles said firmly. “I think that would be best. We let the pace dictate itself, but if you have worries, or if I want to clarify something, we’re upfront and honest. That’s what I’d like.”

“That’s good,” Spencer said. “I agree with that.”

“So what, exactly, does ‘rotten cook’ mean?” Charles asked.

For a moment Spencer drew a blank. “What?”

“Last night,” Charles continued when Spencer remained silent. “You said you were a rotten cook. How bad is that, or were you just being modest?”

“Oh!” Spencer followed now. “I can cook a semi-decent lasagna and most of the time my roast lamb dinners are quite edible. Outside of that, though, I’m a sardines on toast kind of guy. Or a zap it in the microwave cook. There’s so many good, cheap places in the city to get food I’ve never really had the need to learn how to cook more than a couple of meals properly.”

“I’ll enjoy trying your roast lamb one night,” Charles said. “But for tonight how about we go out again? There’s a great restaurant up on Lygon Street that does the best steaks you’ll have ever tasted. I’ll text you the time and details. How’s that sound?”

“Good,” Spencer said. “Hey, look. I care about you. It’s been pretty intense and I don’t want to slam on the brakes. I’d like to see where it leads.”