First Impressions

Sammy buried his face in his book and tried to ignore the impassioned sounds coming from the television. Liam had his face glued to the screen as the fantasy show he was watching went out of its way to earn its R-rating.

 

“Would you mind turning that down?” Sammy asked, though his words failed to penetrate Liam's concentration. He pulled his legs up and rested his book against them in a vain attempt to block out some of the noise. Sammy didn't think of himself as a prude. Sex was inescapable in human society, even for someone living in exile. But he'd only had the finer details explained to him relatively recently... by Night Sky.

 

More to the point, Night Sky had impressed on him the importance of a werewolf's first time. Werewolves developed a hormonal imprint on the first person they had intercourse with. On a biological level, their bodies perceived that person as their mate. It was possible to have sex with other partners afterwards, of course, but no one else would be as pleasurable or as satisfying as with their mate. For that reason, many werewolves chose to wait until marriage to have sex.

 

One awkward conversation later, Sammy had walked out of his bedroom preferring ignorance. And now, sex seemed to be everywhere. He would blush whenever he smelled it on his packmates. And society as a whole seemed hell-bent on constantly reminding him of what he was missing out on and even trying to make him feel ashamed for not experiencing it.

 

And Liam, somehow sensing his "enlightenment," had seen fit to share his own experiences with Sammy, detailing how he'd lost his virginity at fourteen while the family was visiting their allies in California, and how many partners he'd taken since then, both werewolf and human. In fact, Sammy was developing a sneaking suspicion that Odysseus and Night Sky had put him into Liam's room in an attempt to curb their son's activities. Which just made Liam's sleepovers in town both a relief and awkward for Sammy.

 

He picked a magazine off the floor and flung it at the TV. The fluttering visage of a woman in a skimpy superhero costume (ironically meant to be provocative) smacked against the screen, finally disrupting Liam's reverie. “Turn that down!” he snarled. Sammy had nothing against dwarves. His childhood best friend had been one. But he didn't need to see one getting it on with a pair of prostitutes.

 

So now here Sammy was, sitting in bed reading, trying not to notice that Liam was not-so-subtly rubbing his palm over his shorts, and Sammy wondered which of them was worse off. Was the occasional pleasure worth so much angst? Or was it wiser holding out and sparing himself the drama of constant chasing and game-playing? Quality, or quantity? For a werewolf, the two paths were mutually exclusive, and once he opened Pandora's box, there would be no closing it. 

 

Assuming he ever even had an opportunity. Sammy's gaze shifted off the pages of his books and to the palms of his hands. They had been rough and calloused even before he had become a ranch hand. And that seemed like all he would amount to. He was eighteen years old, and still struggling to complete his education so he could pass his SATs. He couldn't even imagine going out and getting a job somewhere after his last disastrous foray into human society. Odysseus and Night Sky made it clear there was no shame in staying in the "family business," and Sammy was thankful for a steady job, but it didn't exactly increase his odds of meeting women.

 

Sammy felt his cheek twitch and tried shifting his focus back on his farming book. There were just two sentences left in the chapter on proper feeding of cattle dogs, and after rereading them a dozen times, he finally managed to read and process the meaning of the words. He could finally move on to the next chapter, which was about... “Selecting the right mate for your breed.” He took a deep breath. From the forlorn fathoms of his mind floated a flaming profanity contextually fitting to the circumstance.

 

He slammed his book shut, stood up and began to strip out of his clothes. That, of course, got Liam's reaction, and he felt the eyes of his roommate sweeping over his body. With a growl, Sammy shifted into a form more suited for expending energy. “I'm goin' for a swim.”

 

“At nine at night?”

 

Sammy slammed the door behind him as an answer. As he stalked away from his room, his sensitive ears picked up Liam asking himself, “Geez, wonder what's eating him.”

 

***

​

Sammy hauled his sopping-wet body out of the lake an hour later, satisfied that he had sufficiently tired himself out for the night. Just for tonight, though. He was an eighteen-year-old male werewolf--a trifecta of libido. And it wasn't so much that Sammy was anti-sex. He just hated that his body taunted him with desires he was convinced he would never be able to sate. All of the women in Argo were either too old or too young for him.

 

Theoretically, he could go into town and find a human to date, but... how was that even done? How does one build a relationship when they have to hide a major aspect of who they are? And how can one trust another enough not to understandably freak out when the time came to reveal not only that they've been lying about who they are, but that they turn into a big, hairy monster with lots of teeth? Madison once said he should go to a furry convention to meet someone, but he was pretty sure she had been joking, and at this point too much time had passed for him to ask for clarification without making it awkward.

 

The whole situation just felt so hopeless, even more so than Sammy was used to, perversely enough. It was easier to resist death than a lifetime of loneliness. Perhaps it was because the mind could not truly fathom the end of its own existence, while it was pretty easy to imagine a life of more of the same.

 

Sammy had moped halfway back home when a strange scent caught his nose, just as an unfamiliar howl rang through the woods. Sammy froze, then lifted his nose in the air to analyze the unfamiliar smell. Werewolf. Female? Frightened! He dropped to all fours and diverted his course to track the scent. He soon bypassed the House and found himself cutting through the winding trail that led to their territory's front gate. As her scent grew stronger, Sammy picked up his pace, spurred on by curiosity. What was a strange woman doing out here in the middle of the night?

​

He halted at the fenceline, to the sight of wolfside Odysseus side by side with Night Sky humanside, talking to a young woman grovelling on the ground in front of a parked car. Sammy hesitated. Was this a private matter? But if he stayed hidden, it might look like he was snooping. The sensible thing would be to turn back and wait at the house for the alphas to return, and ask about it then. But Sammy didn't want to leave.

 

He crept out from his cover, head low and ears flat. Night Sky spared him a glance, but didn't shoo him away, so he continued his approach until he was respectfully behind the alphas. The woman's eyes flitted towards Sammy, and she shrunk back a bit more. She was dressed in shorts and an A-top, and judging by the scant fur on her upper arms, thighs, and feet, she was a bitten like Patience. A werewolf turned by bite couldn't grow a full coat like a born werewolf could. Instead, their fur concentrated around their faces, down their shoulders, on their forearms and sometimes their calves, and, mercifully, between their legs. What fur she had was a muddy, goldish color, with pale gray eyes piercing through her face.

 

"Yes, we know of them," Odysseus was saying. "Marley's gang is not recognized as an official pack in the Order's registry. They're more of a band of rogues that no one else will have. My father banished Marley and his father from Argo many years ago. When he accumulated enough followers, he saw fit to settle them down a few towns away from us. They take perverse pleasure in being a thorn in our sides. They're a nuisance, but thus far they haven't yet done anything worth taking judicious action against."

 

"I'm not asking for 'judicious action,'" the young woman stated. "I'm asking for asylum."

 

"Yes, and we'll grant it," Odysseus said. "On a probationary status, of course."

 

Night Sky bent down and offered the young woman her hand. "Well, Miss Neagle, welcome to Argo."

 

***

 

Her name was Clara Neagle, and it was the first thing that popped into Sammy's head when he woke up the next morning. Odysseus had sent him to scout the front of their property for anyone who might have followed her, but Sammy suspected that it had been a tactic simply to give her space while the alphas escorted her to the pack house and gave her a room to sleep in.

 

Still, he woke up eager to get to know her. She had an air of sadness and mystery to her. And, well, he knew what that was like. Perhaps they were kindred spirits. All he knew about her so far was that she had been mistreated by someone in Marley's would-be pack, and that's why she had come to them.

 

Sammy had heard Odysseus and Hatchet discussing them once. They weren't happy with the situation. So the story went, Edward Marley had tried to seduce Odysseus's mother. Odysseus' father had banished him and his then-teenage son Patrick. And Patrick Marley, rather than blaming his father, had nursed a grudge against Argo. The rogues liked to push the envelope, getting away with anything and everything they could just shy of bringing the Order down on them. A couple of them were wanted by the police for property damage in some small town in Florida, but Marley had helped them break out and convinced them to ride up north with him on stolen motorcycles. Once, the pack had smelled their scents on the wind at the border of their territory, and it had made some of the more hotheaded members fighting mad. Sammy had kept well out of everyone's ways that day. 

 

He leapt out of bed and made it in record time, though at the sacrifice of its usual neatness. Sammy had no idea how his interactions with this girl would go, but he was eager to find out.

 

Of course, he could hear the murmur of pack members downstairs, talking just low enough amongst each other so their exact words couldn't be deciphered from up here. It sounded like half the pack was down there, which was no big surprise, really. No doubt word of the new member had gotten out before the sun had even risen. Werewolves were worse gossips than old ladies.

 

He hovered at his door, staring at Clara's for any clue, however slight, that he might be welcome. He recalled her reaction to seeing him, and the last thing he wanted was a repeat of what happened with Reilly. No, he knew he would have to keep his distance for a while and wait for an opening, even though he really, really wanted to meet her now.

 

He heard the squeak of the door knob, and momentarily panicked, wondering how he should play this. He almost retreated back into his room when Elizabeth emerged through the doorway. She glanced his way and smiled. "Hey, bro," she said, quietly.

 

"Hey, sis. Uh, whatcha doin' in there?" he asked at the same volume.

 

"Checking up on our new houseguest. Aunt Night Sky asked me to introduce myself and give her a medical once-over."

 

He looked over her shoulder, to the door beyond. "How is she?" he asked.

​

Elizabeth took his hand and started leading him away, towards the stairs. "Exhausted. She didn't tell me everything, but it's obvious she came out of a bad situation. It took a lot of courage for her to finally pack a bag and run away."

 

A sympathetic whine crawled up his throat. "Think she'll spend the whole day in there?" he asked, sparing another glance back before they started to descend.

 

"I have no idea, I only just met her." Halfway down the stairs, she stopped, and turned to face him. "Bro, I know what you're thinking, and let me give you some advice. Cool your jets."

​

Sammy straightened out, and tried to play dumb. "Huh?"

 

Elizabeth reached up, and tapped on his chest. "I get it. You're lonely. There's not enough people here your age, and you're hoping for a chance to make a new friend. Just be patient."

 

She looked around. "Now, what was I doing? Oh, right, going to bed, derp. Just got home from another night shift." She took a couple steps back up the stairs so she could plant a kiss on his cheek before climbing up the rest of the way to disappear into her room.

 

***

 

Sammy would be the first to admit he could be paranoid, but he could have sworn the alphas' eyes had been boring on him when he went into the kitchen, so he sandwiched his sausages between his French toast and took them to go, scarfing down his breakfast on his way to the barn before he buried his head in chores. Those only lasted him so long, however, but Odysseus called him over and handed him the keys to Hatchet's van with the instructions to pick him up from the airport. The odds were, Odysseus just wanted Sammy away from the house for a little while, and honestly Sammy couldn't blame him. Even if it meant navigating that lumbering monstrosity that everyone in the pack referred to as 'the Beast' for two hours to get it to the airport.

 

"You didn't scratch my van, did you?" was the first question out of Hatchet's mouth when he emerged out of the terminal. His only luggage was a single old-fashioned leather suitcase that was older than Sammy.

 

Sammy shoved his hands into his pocket, pulled out the keys and tossed them his mentor's way. "Even if I did, how would you be able to tell?"

 

Hatchet caught the keys mid-air without even diverting his stare from Sammy for a second. "Not many men have the balls to give me lip like that," he said, then strode past Sammy with the air of a man who'd had the last word.

 

It was a long trek to the far end of the airport's parking lot, but Hatchet never parked any closer. "Are you too tired to drive home?" Sammy asked.

 

Hatchet just growled and got behind the wheel. Sammy just muttered a little prayer under his breath before climbing in the passenger seat. Soon they were on the road, and the usual blanket of quiet settled over them. Normally, Sammy didn't mind how little Hatchet spoke to him. The man rarely spoke to anybody, it was just his way. And if he didn't like Sammy, then he wouldn't tolerate him in his presence. On the other hand, Sammy had some questions.

 

"So... how did things go with your daughter?" he asked over the singing of Fred Astaire.

 

The van's engine revved as Hatchet momentarily increased pressure on the pedal. "What do you know about that?"

 

"Uh, Odysseus told me you were goin' to Germany on pack business and that the alpha was your daughter," Sammy said in a small voice.

 

"Nothing else?"

 

"Nothin' else. I just figured it was werewolf politics stuff."

 

"Argo doesn't have alliances with other packs," Hatchet corrected. "Only reason we're so chummy with California is because they split off from Argo and there's still enough family relations between the two that the officials who keep track of these things consider them a sub-pack, though you don't tell them that to their faces. But aside from that, Argo maintains a neutral stance whenever pack feuds happen. And believe me, they do happen."

 

"Oh." While Sammy appreciated the lesson, the conversation was derailing from the question he wanted to ask. And if Hatchet hadn't gone on official business, then it was all personal matters, and Sammy knew better than to delve into Hatchet's personal matters. "So, if you have a daughter, I assume that means you had a wife, yeah?"

 

Hatchet grunted. "That's the way it was done in those days."

 

"So... you know a thing or two about women, right?"

 

"Hah!" he shouted loudly enough to make Sammy jump. Thankfully, he was buckled in tight.

 

"What makes you ask that, cub?" he said next.

 

"Well, uh... there's a new girl in the pack."

 

"What?"

 

"She showed up last night. Asked for protection from Marley."

 

Hatchet smacked the top of the steering wheel and swore. "This could be trouble. Marley doesn't have enough wolves to take us on, but he's a damn fool and there's no telling what he'll do. How bad is he gonna want this girl back?"

 

Sammy shrugged. "I dunno. I saw the girl when she came to the border, but by that point she'd already explained things to Odysseus and Night Sky. I told you everything I know."

 

"Well, no doubt Nick will fill me in when we get home," Hatchet said. The van started picking up speed.

 

They'd gone off on another tangent again, but Sammy didn't know how to get it back on track, or even if it was worth it. So he rode in silence, until Hatchet spoke again. "This girl. I'm assuming you think she's cute."

 

"I think she's the only girl my age in the pack," Sammy answered. "I don't wanna get my hopes up until I actually meet her."

​

"Smart," Hatchet said, which made Sammy perk up a little bit. Hatchet was not a man who doled out compliments lightly. "Listen. Just because I was married, doesn't mean I knew what I was doing. Everyone was having kids after World War II. It was just the thing to do, and I was horny. By the time I found out she only wanted me for the social status of being married to a Chosen, it was too late. I didn't know a damn thing about women back then, and I sure as hell don't know a damn thing about them now, and things are a lot more complex now than they were back then. You want advice about women, Nick's the ladies' man. Or, hell, ask Liam. We all know what he gets up to at school."

​

"Yeah, we do," Sammy muttered in agreement. "At least you don't hafta share a room with him."

 

***

 

Upon arrival, Hatchet and Odysseus went straight into the barn to discuss the situation in private and no doubt plan tactics should Marley make a move against the pack. Sammy barely had time to get a snack from the kitchen before Night Sky appeared to push truck keys in his hand. He might have been bothered by their lack of trust in him to give the new girl some space, if he didn't have the same lack of trust in himself. His curiosity was in overdrive. Her scent was all over the house now. In the time he'd been gone, she had probably had a similar introduction and orientation that he had gotten when he'd first arrived. Well, that was one thing they had in common already...

 

Thanks to Hatchet's mix tape, he had been stuck with notes from "The Entertainer" looping in his brain, so he sang along with Jethro Tull's "Heavy Horses" album on the drive into town to purge it. He was two-thirds of the way through it by the time he arrived at the Davids' small house, just as Patience was pulling up herself.

 

"Sam-Sam!" Jenny called out as soon as she was released from her car seat, jumping down and running over to him as fast as her two-year-old legs could carry her. Sammy laughed as he scooped her into her arms.

 

"Hi, cutie-pie! Hey, Roxy."

 

Patience smiled at him. "Hey, Samson. Thanks for coming to pick Jenny up."

 

"Oh, it's my pleasure," he said, then sniffed the air. "Let's see, meat lover's, and... I didn't know Fenton liked pineapple on his pizza."

 

Patience's face grew beet-red. "Actually, that's mine. I got Fenton cheese, and I asked for pineapple on my meat lover's. Cravings." She rubbed her hands over her massive distended belly, currently growing a brother for Jenny within.

 

"Geez," Sammy said. "I can just imagine the look on Antonio's face when you ordered that."

 

"Right?" Patience laughed.

 

Jenny piped up. "Anty said he only made it cuz mommy's pregnant!"

 

They two adults laughed before Patience retrieved the two large pizza boxes from her car and unlocked the front door and admitted them. "Go get your sleepover bag. And just one stuffed animal," she told Jenny.

 

As the little girl scampered to her room, Sammy felt his focus drift to the cardboard boxes smelling wonderfully of meat and grease and cheese and yes, even fruit.

 

And it did not escape Patience's notice. Either that, or she knew just where a werewolf's priorities lay. "Help yourself to a slice of the cheese, it's more than Fenton can eat anyway."

 

Sammy reverently lifted the lid of the grease-stained box and tore a large slice free, moaning as he chewed the first bite. Just because Antonio owned the only pizzeria in Cedar City, did not mean he half-assed his pies. Truth be told, Sammy wouldn't have minded trying the pineapple-meat-lover's-abomination. When one was homeless, one learned not to be a picky eater, and Sammy had shoved weirder food into his mouth over the years. This moment, however, with a mouth full of crust baked to have just the perfect amount of crunch to it, tomato sauce that was simultaneously sweet and spicy, and stretchy, greasy, sharp cheese, more than made up for all the gross stuff he had eaten in the past.

 

"So I heard there's a new girl at the House."

 

Sammy swallowed his bite. "How'd you hear about that so fast?"

 

Patience folded her arms, but it looked like she was only resting them on top of her stomach. "The Twilight Bark. How do you think? Ruth has been asking all the women in the pack for spare clothes. The whole pack knows by now, and I've got a bag with a couple shirts and pants for you to take back with you. Oh, and some toiletries that are just gathering dust right now with me in my current condition. Ruth also told me to ask you to swing by Madeline's for her donations."

 

"I can do that, sure," he said, before shoving more pizza into his mouth.

 

Jenny emerged with her bright pink suitcase, clutching her plushie wolf. Picking one out from her menagerie had been a Serious Decision.

 

After Sammy finished his snack and wiped his fingers, the three went back out so Sammy could install the car seat into the truck and load Jenny up. "You enjoy your night with Fenton. And tell 'im I said hi," Sammy said.

 

"Thanks, Samson," Patience said, then showered her daughter in kisses. "You be good for your aunts and uncles, okay?"

 

"Okay, Mommy," Jenny agreed.

 

Patience turned towards Sammy. "And you. Take care of my baby girl," she ordered, stretching her arms out to offer a hug.

 

Sammy gladly accepted, curling himself around her bulging figure as carefully as he could. She nuzzled her face into his chest, and he planted a kiss on the top of her head, drawing some feeling of comfort from her scent.

 

"Hey, Roxy?" Sammy whispered. "At what point did you tell Fenton about... y'know?"

 

She pulled away from his hug, her face radiating slightly. "Well. Uhm. I kinda... sprung it on him the first full moon after our wedding."

 

Sammy's jaw dropped. "What!?"

 

"I know, I know," she said, raising her palms up. "It wasn't fair to him to lie like that. But I was in a very bad place in those days and I had no idea what I was doing. I gave him a gun and half expected him to have to kill me when I went wolfside." She looked embarrassed. "Fortunately, my wolf half saw Fenton as her mate, and when I came to the next morning, Fenton had the stupidest grin on his face-"

 

"Okay, I get the picture!" Sammy said, shaking his head. He gave Patience a screwed-up face. But he didn't judge. He knew what it was like to be a lone wolf without any guidance, and he had made too many mistakes himself to judge. 

 

He pointed at the truck. "I should get goin'."

 

"Yeah."

​

And once they were on the road, Jenny turned to Sammy. "Can I ride on your back after dinner?" she asked.

 

"Sure, kid. Just no pulling on my braid this time, okay?"

 

***

 

Clara Neagle was at the dinner table with everyone else, though she was seated between Elizabeth and Jenny, strategically placed a few seats down and opposite from Sammy. And it was a full table tonight. Roy had joined them, as had a few other members of the pack, as curious as Sammy was, albeit for more general reasons. Even Odysseus' elderly uncle and his wife showed up, which meant Odysseus would be in a bad mood. They treated Night Sky with begrudging respect now, but their attitudes had made Odysseus force them to move out to town when he had become alpha. Night Sky, on the other hand, pranced around the house regally, passively reminding the two old racists that she was in charge here, and they were not.

 

No doubt everyone had questions for Clara. Of course, after the food hit the table and Odysseus led them in grace, the only words spoken were requests to pass the plates and condiments around. Even if they were sitting around a table and eating human-style, well, they were still werewolves, and ate with all the enthusiasm that implied. Though it was still an enjoyable meal; Night Sky had cooked the London Broil just enough to accent the warm pink meat inside with just enough dark crunchy bits outside. And of course, the mashed potatoes were more than just a vehicle for the meat's juices, thanks to the roasted garlic and parmesan she'd mixed in liberally.

 

Suddenly, Clara put down her fork and knife with just enough clatter to draw attention to herself. He had been keeping the corner of his eye on her during the meal; she was putting food in her mouth hesitantly, like, a frightened animal, but once it was in she chewed with vigor, clearly savoring a good meal. Still, she was only halfway through her first course while most people at the table were on seconds, or in Sammy's case, thirds.

 

"I'm sorry," she spoke up. "I just can't get over how... normal this all seems. You guys are like... a real family." Did Sammy detect a note of awe in her voice?

 

"You mean like... horror story normal?" Liam piped up. "Yep, any minute now, we're all going to pull a Twilight Zone twist and turn into, like, werewolves or somethin'!"

 

The whole table went silent. Sammy shot Liam his best withering gaze, but then Hatchet snickered, and Clara's face twitched before a smile burst forth.

 

She pointed her fork at Liam. "Smartass," she said, then went back to eating, this time with almost as much gusto as everyone else.

 

Jenny pointed an accusatory finger at Clara. "Aunty Ruth! New girl said a no-no word! No dessert for her!"

 

***

 

On nights when Jenny slept over, Sammy was tasked with tiring her out before bed, which freed him of his usual chore of helping Liam and Elizabeth with the dishes. Fortunately for them, Night Sky had conscripted Clara to wash his portion. So by the time Sammy returned to the House, a half-asleep Jenny nestled safely in his massive werewolf arms, and handed her off to Night Sky to change and bed her, he found a semi-relaxed Clara sitting in the dining room, nursing a mug of tea. Sammy hesitated at the door, but, well, he had his heart set on some chocolate milk.

 

"Uhm..." he said at the door, making a polite show of trying not to startle her, though no doubt she had heard and smelled him as soon as he had come back inside. "Hope you don't mind me stayin' wolfisde, I left my pants upstairs."

​

She turned her head towards him and cast only a cursory glance over his massive figure. "I've been a werewolf long enough to get used to the whole nudity thing," she said, wrapping both hands around her mug.

 

He almost asked her how long she had been a werewolf, but bit his tongue and just nodded before making his way past her and into the kitchen, his claws clack-clacking on the linoleum floor. He pulled out a glass, chocolate syrup, and almond milk. Like most born werewolves, he had a very slight lactose intolerance. Not as bad as, say, Elizabeth's, but just enough to add to the list he kept in his head of things to be self-conscious about. That slice of pizza had been one roll of the dice, and he wasn't going to press his luck again. The recent rise in popularity of milk substitutes had been a huge boon to their kind. He stirred his drink together and topped it with a straw. A werewolf drinking from a straw looked silly, but lapping dog-style from a glass was somehow even less dignified.

 

He returned to the dining room. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked, trying not to let his heart increase its throbbing.

 

She shrugged. "It's your home more than mine."

 

"It could be your home too," he said as he pulled up a chair and eased into it, wincing as it protested under his weight. "What do you think of the place so far?"

 

"This place?" She glanced up, taking in the wood and stone walls, and the framed photos of the moon's surface, hung by Odysseus' father in the 70s in a fit of irony. "It's... nice. And so are the people too, as far as I can tell. Well, already better than my last 'pack.'" She didn't have to make the finger gestures--the quotation marks were audible.

 

Once again, he bit back the questions before they made it past his throat. Sammy looked at her, really looked at her. Her dirty blonde hair was cut short in a pixie style, and she had a round face and dimpled cheeks, but somehow her youthful features always seemed to be cast in shadow. He recognized Patience's scent on the pink shirt and jeans she wore.

 

"Hey," he finally said. "I know... I mean, uh... hmm." He felt his face flush, but he tried again. "I'm no good with words, but lemme try one more time. I don't know what you've been through, but I've been where you're at right now. A couple years ago, Argo took me in. Before comin' here, I was a prisoner in a lab and humans used to cut me open just to watch how I healed. When I got here, I was scared witless, I had no idea how to act. But the people here are patient, and loving. They helped me heal, and whatever damage you got... we can help you heal too."

 

He tilted his head down and offered her a canine smile. Clara looked at him... and her shoulders eased down, her body relaxing with a gush of relief that even wiped away the tinge of fear in her scent. He had helped. Good. His smile broadened.

 

And then another part of his body started to grow excited. Sammy felt a familiar stirring, and his hand shot to his thigh, digging his claws into his skin.

 

"Uhm, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go," he said, sucking down the last of his chocolate milk and getting out of there before his scent got tainted. It was time for another night swim.

 

***

 

"What are you doing in the river at ten at night? It's still too cold this time of year for that!" Night Sky demanded with a growl of concern in her voice. "You come out of there this instant!"

 

Sammy hauled himself up out of the river's edge, shook off as best as he could, and approached his alpha with head hung low. "Sorry," he mumbled.

 

Night Sky stood and planted a kiss on his muzzle. "No need to apologize, I'm just looking out for you. C'mon, walk me home."

 

Keenly aware that he was dripping wet, Sammy followed Night Sky through the dark woods towards the house, until she took him by the hand and pulled him up beside her. The forest was spookily quiet, but then it tended to get that way in the vicinity of a werewolf not bothering to hide their presence. But without the excuse to savor the "night life," Sammy realized he needed to think of something to say to fill the quiet, before-

 

"Okay. Something's on your mind. You gonna tell me what it is?"

 

-that.

 

She gave him time to sigh and gather his thoughts. He had, actually, been planning to talk to her, but had been waiting til he could figure out just what to say.

 

"Night Sky... are there any herbs you could give me... to reduce my sex drive?" Keeping his gaze forward, he babbled on, "Nothing permanent, jus' somethin' I could take t'get rid a' these urges when I don't want 'em..."

 

He could sense her scrutiny, and it made his face burn.

 

"Well... technically, yes. There are herbs that can do that." She turned around and stepped in front of him. "But why?"

 

His head drooped and he sighed. There really was no hedging around this. Night Sky was too adept at sniffing out lies, and he was too terrible at telling them. "I don't... want Clara to think I'm sexually interested in her."

​

"Well, aren't you?"

 

He shrugged. "I tried talkin' to her tonight. Just welcomin' her to the pack, honest. But I couldn't go five minutes without... gettin' excited. An' I don't want her thinking that's all I care about!"

 

Night Sky reached up and patted him on the chest. "Sammy. I'll let you in on a little 'secret' that all female werewolves figure out: sex is always on men's mind to one degree or another. It doesn't matter if they're around women or not. Your average, red-blooded, healthy male will occasionally waft of arousal. Especially one your age. For a woman, it's just part of the background radiation of life. I certainly doubt Clara is going to think any less of you for it."

 

By now, Sammy's hands had raised up to cradle his face. "Are we really having this conversation?" he moaned.

 

"You brought it up."

 

"I did," he admitted, finally uncovering his face and forcing himself to make eye contact with his foster-mother. "You promise it'll be all right?"

 

"No one can control their biology, Phoenix. But they can control their behavior. As long as you behave and treat Clara with respect, I don't think she'll be too bothered smelling your interest in her."

 

Sammy nodded, and they resumed walking back home. "This must be so much simpler for humans," he said.

 

Night Sky just shrugged. "Ask a bitten. I'd think it's easier for us, since our senses are sharper. I'd hate not to be able to tell when my husband wants some."

 

Sammy had no comment on the sex lives of his alphas.

 

***

​

"You're overthinking this whole thing, you know," Liam said the next morning, as Sammy tossed another bale of hay at him up on the loft.

 

"Probably," Sammy agreed, then added, "What, exactly?"

 

Liam stacked the bale neatly on the pile he was building with the others before answering. He walked over to the loft's edge and glanced down. "This situation with the new girl. Everyone can tell you're enamored with her."

 

"I barely know her!" Sammy objected, before hurtling another bale.

 

Liam had to hop to the side to avoid the hay projectile. "Watch it! And barely knowing her isn't stopping you from imagining a future together, now is it?"

 

Sammy just grumbled.

 

"Hey, man. I'm not complaining. Keeping yourself busy to give her some space is probably the right idea right now. The less she sees of you, the more of an enigma you become in her eyes. Build up some intrigue, make her interested in you."

 

Sammy paused mid-throw and dropped his bale. "You think so?" he asked, then frowned. "You're just hopin' I take on more of your chores."

 

Liam shrugged. "I don't see why it can't be a win-win for both of us."

 

"It won't be a win for me if you swoop in and charm her while I'm busy bein' mysterious."

 

Liam made a balancing gesture with his hands. "Hey, it could go either way. You're a total hunk with a mysterious orphan vibe on top of it. All I've got is my charisma to keep up with you."

 

"From the way you brag, you've had no problems doin' better than me." Sammy flexed an arm and poked at his own muscle. "You really think I'm a hunk?"

​

"Of course. Hell, you know I'd rumble with you if you swung that way."

 

Sammy picked the final bale out of the back of the pickup. "Yes, you've made that offer a few times now."

 

"Well, I think it's good advice, regardless. Speaking from experience, the more hung up you get on anticipation, the more likely you are to screw things up." Liam placed his hands on his hips and looked down at Sammy. "Look. I'm rooting for you. I figure if you finally get laid, maybe you'll unwind a bit. Doesn't matter if it's with me, or someone else."

 

Sammy threw the bale right at him. "Definitely someone else."

 

***

 

Archery or violin practice? Sammy contemplated his options. Really, he ought to be practicing the musical instrument. Night Sky had requested he learn a Mozart piece, and he had been working at it, but he had yet to master the fundamentals. On the other hand, he found archery relaxing, and his aim was improving. He was sure to hit a bullseye any day now.

 

Spring was quickly being evicted from the land by summer, but it was still cool enough in the evenings to necessitate track pants and a hoodie when walking around humanside. The sun was setting, drawing long shadows which concealed his niche in a rock outcropping on the side of a hill. It took about twenty minutes to walk out here from the House, but Sammy refused to subject the pack to his practice sessions, at least until he could move the bow across a string without screeching or hitting another string. Sammy pulled the waterproof case out from underneath the outcropping and pulled the violin case out of that, then pulled the violin out and stared at it. Once he could actually play a song with this thing, then he'd bring it back to the House.

 

He cracked his fingers, resined the bow, plugged his left ear, and began his scaling practices. He almost made it all the way down the scale, until he got to the damned E-string. He winced, but forged ahead, hitting the A- and E- strings simultaneously on his climb back up the scales. Sammy whimpered, but he kept going. Maybe he should have picked out a piano, but it was too late to change now.

 

"I was wondering who was playing a violin out in the middle of the woods," Clara's voice cut in just as Sammy finished another pass.

 

Sammy jumped, not used to being taken by surprise like that. He turned around, and there she stood, wolfside and dressed in a tight-fitting tank top and short-shorts with a hole cut in the back to let her tail out. The clothes smelled like her own. She was standing downwind of him, and there was no way he would have been able to hear her approach over the noise he was making. Something about her alert posture told Sammy those had been deliberate choices.

 

"Yeah," he said, setting the violin back down in its case. "Sorry. A lotta people in the pack know how to play instruments. The Alphas got me this for my last birthday so I could join in some day. Odysseus plays the guitar, an' Night Sky used to play the trumpet in Mardi Gras parades. Liam plays the flute, an' even Hatchet joins sometimes with his harmonica. There are some other members you haven't met yet who play other things too."

 

"Wow. You guys are regular werewolf Von Trapps."

​

Sammy titled his head. "Didn't the Von Trapps just sing?"

 

"I dunno, I never actually watched that movie."

 

Sammy chuckled. "Neither have I. But last movie night, we watched 'The King and I.' It was kinda funny how dated that movie is."

 

Clara lowered herself onto her knees, sitting down but in a position to spring away if she had to. "Music and movie nights? This place is almost too good to be true."

 

"Yeah, I think that sometimes too," he said. And then, before he could stop himself this time, he blurted out, "Where do you come from?"

 

Clara glaced away. "Down... south. Arkansas. I'm your pretty average trailer park kid. Dad died of cancer when I was a kid, so it was just me and my mom. Struck out on my own as soon as I turned 18, chasing after older men, and before I knew it, I somehow ended up in a werewolf pack."

 

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Of course, it's just my luck I would end up in the worst kind of pack."

 

Sammy wasn't certain what to say. He knew how meaningless words like "I'm sorry" could be. Coming from the mouths of strangers, they were just an obligatory response more to give the listener an emotional release than to help the person sharing their woes. At least, that was how he felt. So he settled for, "That... sucks."

 

Clara nodded. "I'm in the situation I'm in just as much because of my own bad decisions as because of bad luck. But I'm trying to do better." She stood up and puffed out her chest. "I'm not going to be any man's 'bitch' again."

 

Sammy just nodded. "Good for you," he said. He almost said, I don't want you to be my bitch, but thought better of it. This wasn't about him.

 

The two stood there, regarding one another without trying to look like they were staring. Clara's brave stance degraded into a general mulling. This whole conversation had been unexpected, and neither of them really knew where to go from there.

 

"Well," Sammy said, brandishing his bow as if in a warning manner, "Fair warning, I should probably get back to my practicing, so for your own sake you might want to run away."

 

"Heh," Clara said, and turned around to go. She took a few steps, hesitated, and turned again. "It's Sam, right? Thanks for listening."

 

"No problem," he said. And as she vanished into the trees, Sammy took a deep breath to steady his nerves before he picked the violin back up and returned to another major challenge in his life.

 

***

 

He had just gotten everything squared away into his rocky niche and taken the first few steps towards home when Clara's scream echoed through the forest. Birds scrambled out of their roosts in the trees, filling the air with echoes of chaos. It came from the edge of their territory, and Sammy couldn't be sure if anyone back home would hear it. He spared a glance in the direction of home. There was no time to run and get help.

​

He scrambled with his hoodie and tried to will the change, but his body had already begun going wolfside on its own initiative. It was all he could do to fall back and yank off his boots before his foot stretched out. Contrary to what Hollywood would have you believe, the transformation could not break a pair of even decent-quality shoes. That kind of constriction would just damage the foot. Once free of those, he pushed his pants down just enough to allow his tail free reign. There was no time to remove his hoodie or the T-shirt underneath.

 

Rolling onto all fours, he opened his mouth to gulp down air. He hadn't transformed this fast since... since BioPharm, though thankfully his body didn't rip itself apart this time. His skin darkened and scraggly hairs burst forth. Feeling his feet take shape, he tried to stand up, only to lose balance and have to grab a tree for support, but with so much force that his claws sent fragments of bark hurtling through the air like shrapnel. Sammy shut his eyes and groaned as his face stretched. The whole process took less than a minute, but every second counted in a crisis. As his muzzle settled into its new form, he chomped down hard enough to make audible noises. Flecks of saliva went flying. Satisfied that the transformation was complete, he dropped back onto all fours and flew through the forest.

​

Tracking Clara's scent was easy. There was only one distinctive path to follow. But soon he came across other werewolves' scents. His hackles raised. Intruders!

 

As he neared the din of growling and struggling, Sammy frantically tried to recall everything Hatchet had taught him over the past couple years. He knew he was not a stealthy beast, but this was his home territory. He stayed upwind and got as close as he dared, close enough to make out three strange wolves circling Clara. He took advantage of their distraction to creep a bit closer, until he was just a couple yards away. He wondered if one of them was the fearsome Marley. Clara had her back agianst a tree, snarling and snapping fervently enough to keep them at bay. Or so she thought--Sammy could tell from the way they were darting in and out of range and laughing that they were just toying with her.

 

"Get away, Ray!" Clara screamed.

 

Faster than she could react, the dark-furred man she called Ray reached in and smacked her open-palmed. "I'm not leaving here without you. I made you, bitch. You don't belong to anyone but me!"

 

Clara spat blood at him. "I belong to no one!"

 

Rage lit a fire in Sammy's body. Clara was not part of Argo yet, but this was their land, and she had come here seeking protection. 

 

Sammy burst from his cover and tackled the biggest wolf. Just as Hatchet had taught him using a dummy, Sammy grasped his head in both hands and twisted. He had always thought it was a macabre thing to practice, but as his foe's neck cracked and Sammy suddenly felt himself on top of dead weight, he sent a silent thank you to the grumpy old man who had insisted he master the skill.

 

Only... he hadn't killed since BioPharm. He had torn men limb from limb and chewed on their bodies. He could still remember the taste. Blaming such savagery on the drugs had been the only way had could lived with himself since then. But he had just performed that horrible deed again, without even thinking about it. There were no drugs he could use as an excuse this time.

 

He was a killer. Violence was the burden of werewolf life.

 

"God help me," he whispered in prayer, in every meaning of the word "help."

 

"Son of a-" the other intruder growled, and Sammy felt something slash into his thigh. He leapt away out of reflex, but then shouted in pain as fire flared through his leg, almost hobbling him. He turned and saw the pale wolf, brandishing a claw weapon strapped to his right arm. Sammy's blood boiled on the tips of three nasty blades--silver blades.

 

"What are you waiting for, Marley?" Ray demanded. "Put this Argo asshole down before his friends get here!"

​

So. This was Patrick Marley, the would-be alpha of a gang of nasty rejects and misfits. To lead such a band, he would have to be the nastiest and the cruelest of the bunch. And he had silver. But Sammy had his size, his training, and, hopefully, God on his side. He took a defensive stance.

 

"What, you think some kung-fu shit is gonna help you?" Marley laughed, and then charged, slashing wildly with his blade. Sammy hopped back, dancing out of the blade's reach each time. Hatchet had taught him to fight smart. Marley would tire himself at this rate, if Sammy could keep him going.

 

"Run, Clara!" he shouted over his shoulder. He didn't expect her to get away, but if she could keep Ray too preoccupied to help Marley, they just might get out of this alive...

 

"Oh no you don't...!" he heard Ray shout, and behind him the two began trampling about. He heard a thud, and some feet away the two began scuffling and snarling on the ground.

 

Marley slashed downward, and that's where Sammy made a mistake--he brought his left arm up to block, and the next thing he knew he was staggering backward and screaming, clutching his arm as his blood boiled out of three deep gouges and soaked into the cotton fleece tatters of his sleeve. Silver not only hurt a werewolf, it also retarded the healing process. His wounds would still heal, but only at a human rate.