Chapter Nine
Calvin
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“Okay. I can process this.” I paced Riot’s bedroom, the enormity of his revelation finally hitting me. I was trying to fit werewolves into my existing understanding of reality and failing spectacularly. “Completely. One hundred percent. Totally can do this.”
My socks made soft sounds against the floorboards. Riot’s bedroom was bigger than I’d expected with dark wood furniture and a dresser that looked older than my grandmother. The bed was massive, covered in a navy comforter that looked incredibly soft.
“This is a nice room. Very masculine. Very wolf-appropriate.”
From his spot near the door, Riot leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed. He’d been watching me wear a path in his floor for the last five minutes without saying a word. His mouth kept twitching like he was hiding a smile, which only made me pace faster.
“So you turn into a wolf.” I waved a hand in his general direction. “That’s a real thing that happens to people I’ve kissed.”
“Twice,” he said.
“What?”
“You’ve kissed me twice. The second one in the driveway counts as a separate incident.”
“Are you keeping a tally?”
“Maybe.”
I pointed at him without breaking stride. “Don’t distract me with your charm. I’m having a crisis. I might appear calm on the outside, but that’s very, very deceptive.”
Spinning on my heel, I headed back toward the dresser. My reflection caught in the mirror above it. I looked like shit. My hair was a mess, my face flushed, and my eyes were a little too wide. I looked like someone who’d just discovered his maybe-boyfriend was a mythological creature.
Because that’s exactly what happened.
“I have questions.” I stopped pacing long enough to shake out my hands, fingers tingling with leftover adrenaline.
“So many questions. Are there others? Obviously there are others. I met the others. I ate with the others. Oh god, I ate food prepared by a wolf. Is that sanitary? Do wolves have good hygiene?”
Riot made a noise like he was highly offended.
“You broke me, so I’m allowed to ask any question I damn well please.”
I resumed pacing. “And the club. The Howlers. Oh my god. Makes complete sense now. You don’t have to hide the truth, because who in their right mind would think the name is literal?”
I spun around. “Are Ollie and Spencer wolves? I liked them so much. How can any of this possibly be real?”
“They’re human.”
I laughed so hard it actually felt like I was losing my grip on reality. “A motorcycle club. Nope. A wolf club.” I laughed again, thinking of wolves trying to ride motorcycles.
Why did I find that so funny? None of this was hilarious. I’d gone from battling plastic in a dryer, daydreaming about Riot’s handsome face, to…this.
I couldn’t make this shit up even if I tried.
Between my brother, Miguel, the laundromat, and Riot, the pressure on my shoulders was beginning to cause cracks.
“You’re all wolves. Every single one of you. Except the smaller men. Spencer’s human. Trent’s human. Ollie’s human. I’m—” The words caught in my throat. I stopped walking and stared at the far wall. “I’m human.”
“Yeah.” Riot’s voice had gone softer. “You are.”
Running both hands through my hair, I tugged at the roots until my scalp protested.
The sting grounded me, kept my thoughts from spiraling completely off the rails.
“How long have you been a wolf? Wait, don’t answer that. Stupid question. You said you were born this way. So your whole life. You’ve been a wolf your whole life, and I’ve been a human my whole life, and somehow, we ended up in the same orbit, and now you’re telling me supernatural creatures exist,
and I’m supposed to just—what? Nod and accept it?”
Two completely different lives colliding.
“If you want.”
“I don’t know what I want!” The words burst out of me. My arms threw themselves upward without permission. “I want to be calm about this. I really do. But calm is currently in another zip code, and I don’t know when it’s coming back.”
Riot hadn’t moved from his spot against the wall. His arms stayed crossed, his posture relaxed. Like he’d wait forever for me to work through this.
He probably would.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” I spun to face him. “You’re just standing there looking all…all stoic and mysterious and attractive. How am I supposed to have an existential crisis when you’re leaning against the wall like a model on a magazine cover?”
“You want me to look worse?”
“Yes. No… Maybe.” I dropped onto the edge of his bed, the mattress firm beneath me. The comforter smelled like him, and all I wanted to do was wrap it around me. “Am I dating a wolf? Is that what’s happening here?”
“If you want to be.”
“Stop saying that!”
“Stop asking questions you already know the answer to.”
A laugh burst out of me, half-hysterical, half-genuine. I flopped backward onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. The paint was white. Ordinary. Nothing supernatural about it. “You have a very nice ceiling. No cracks. Very well-maintained.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I pressed my palms against my eyes until colors bloomed behind the lids.
“Okay. Okay. So you’re a wolf. Fine. Great. I can handle that. People handle things all the time. My mom handled my dad’s death. Niles handles his father’s passive-aggressive tie boxes. I can handle my maybe-boyfriend being a dog.”
“Wolf.”
“Stop correcting me.”
“Stop calling me a dog.”
“Stop blowing my mind.”
I sat up fast enough to make myself dizzy. “Show me.”
Riot’s eyebrow lifted. “Show you?”
“The wolf thing.” I flapped my hand. “The changing thing. Whatever you call it.”
My heart thumped against my ribs so hard I could feel it in my throat.
“I need to see it. Otherwise, I’m going to convince myself I imagined the whole thing, and then tomorrow I’ll show up expecting orgasmic food and instead I’ll have a complete breakdown because I repressed everything.”
“You sure?”
“No. Absolutely not.” I pushed off the bed and started pacing again, three steps to the dresser, three steps back. “But I’m doing it anyway. Rip off the bandage. Face the music. Insert third cliché here.”
Pausing at the window, I stared at my reflection.
Behind it, the darkness pressed against the glass, and I could make out the shape of trees and the faint glow of a security light near the fence.
Somewhere in this place, the puppy was probably sleeping.
The regular, definitely-not-a-wolf puppy who ran sideways and terrified me for no good reason.
Except now there was a reason. Maybe my instincts had known something my brain hadn’t caught up with.
“Calvin.” Riot’s voice pulled me back. “You’re shaking.”
I looked down at my hands. He was right. My fingers trembled against my thighs, fine tremors that I couldn’t seem to stop. “I guess I am.”
“Do you want me to show you or not?” His tone wasn’t impatient. Just careful. Like he was giving me an out if I needed one.
Taking a deep breath, I turned around and squared my shoulders. My legs felt rubbery, but I locked my knees and lifted my chin. “Do it. Show me. I’m ready.”
“Okay.” He pushed off the wall and took a step toward the center of the room. “You might want to give me some space.”
“Right. Space. How much space?” I was already backing toward the bed. “This much? More? Should I leave the room entirely? Is this one of those things where I need protective eyewear?”
“Breathe.”
I dragged air into my lungs. Then another breath. My calves hit the bed frame, and I dropped to the bed with a bounce.
Riot reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion, dropping the fabric to the floor.
What… My lips parted. His chest was as impressive as I’d fantasized about. Defined muscles, olive skin, a dusting of dark hair that tapered down toward his jeans. My eyes wanted to drift lower, but I forced them to focus on those ridiculous abs.
“What’re you—” I moistened my lips. “Why are you undressing?”
“The shift shreds clothes.” His hands went to his belt. “Rather not ruin my jeans.”
“Must save the jeans.” I couldn’t look away from the way his fingers worked the buckle.
The leather slid free with a whisper. The button popped.
The zipper descended, and then he shoved his jeans down those taut legs.
He stepped out of them, kicked them aside, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs.
It felt like a private striptease, sans any sensual music. I wanted music.
This is fine, completely fine. I’m a mature adult who’s seen plenty of nudity. Mostly online. I can handle watching Riot—watching him—the bike. Something, something.
My brain collapsed.
The briefs came off, and I made some weird-ass sound. It might’ve been a mix between a groan and a hiccup.
Riot stood in the middle of his bedroom, completely naked, and I sat there staring at his dick like it was a rare, exotic species I’d just discovered.
A naturalist encountering a previously undocumented life form. I heard David Attenborough voice in my head.
Here we observe the North American Werewolf penis in its natural habitat...
“Calvin.” Riot snapped his fingers. “You look like your battery suddenly died. You’re just sitting there frozen. You sure you’re ready for this?”
“You shifting? Whatever. Your dick?” I frowned, forgetting what I was about to say.
Stop making it weird, idiot.
I ripped my gaze away from his huge cock. “Found that third cliché,” I laughed. “You did this on purpose.”
Riot wasn’t smiling. He looked concerned and confused. “I was gonna flex a little, but you went blank. You okay?”
“Show me your wolf.” I wanted to crawl under the comforter and demand it live up to its name.
The air changed immediately. A prickle raced up my arms, lifting every hair along its path. Static electricity danced across my knuckles when I gripped the edge of the comforter. The room felt charged, like the moment before lightning struck.
Then Riot’s body started to change.
I’d expected something slow. Cinematic. The kind of transformation that happened in movies, with dramatic music and special effects.