2. Chapter Two #2
I’m just wondering whether I should call someone—who do you call in cases like this?—when something happens. I can’t really describe it. It’s not a flash of light. Maybe a distortion of light? Whatever it is, in the next second Agent Mark is gone and there’s a huge fucking dog in my living room.
What.
The.
Actual.
Fuck .
I blink. Then I rub my eyes. Then I blink again, harder this time.
The dog’s still there. Although, would I call him a dog?
He’s bigger than any dog I’ve ever seen, although I’ve heard there are dogs that reach waist-high, which he—it?
Let’s go with he, since allegedly this dog is the government agent who was just talking to me.
Anyway, he definitely reaches waist height.
Or would, if I was standing. Maybe a little higher—I’m not super tall.
Am I rambling? That could be because there’s a fucking giant shifter dog thing in my living room !
“Oh,” I say faintly.
The dog—Mark?—which kind of looks a little like a wolf around the ears and with the thickness of his fur—not that I’ve ever seen a real live wolf before—takes a cautious step toward me and cocks his head.
I melt.
“Aww,” I coo. “C’mere, puppy.”
He perks up and comes over for a head rub. His fur is thicker than that of any other dog I’ve ever petted, but he’s just as much of a sucker for being scratched behind the ears. Before I know it, I’m giving him a full-body rub.
“Who’s a good boy? Aren’t you sweet? You’re so wonderful, aren’t you? Who’s a good boy? Mark’s a good— Holy fuck, what am I doing?” I yank my hands back. Am I actually rubbing down a government agent? “Seriously? You should be ashamed of yourself!”
He hangs his head. I refuse to be swayed, no matter how sweetly pathetic he looks.
“You have to know I’m still coming to terms with this whole shifter thing. If I’d really thought it through, I wouldn’t have put my hands all over you.”
Whining, he drops his head further.
Yeah, I’m not going to be able to hold out against the adorable dog staring at me with pleading eyes.
“Change back,” I demand sternly. Much easier to be mad at the human.
Wait… is he human? It’s a human form, but would any part of him actually be considered human if he’s a different species?
This is just too weird.
That whole disconcerting light thing happens again, and suddenly Mark is standing right in front of me. Like… right in front, only inches away. And I’m sitting. Which puts my face pretty level with his crotch.
It’s nice, in case you were wondering. Decent bulge. Dresses to the left.
Maybe that’s why I spend a few seconds longer staring at it, close enough that he might be able to feel my breath, before I jerk my head back.
“Do you mind?” I squawk indignantly, because you know what they say about the best defense being a good offense. Nope, I wasn’t inappropriately gawking at your crotch and thinking about leaning forward for a nuzzle. You’re the one who’s standing too close!
He takes a few steps backward. “Sorry. I, uh, didn’t think that through before changing back.”
Deciding to avoid any discussion of me gawking at his bulge right after I spent a few minutes rubbing him all over, I ask, “What do you call this… human shape?” I wave up and down, indicating his body.
I swear, I can see him thinking something dirty. He wants to make an inappropriate comment, I just know it. Instead, he smiles politely and says, “It’s my biped form. I’m not human, so I don’t have a human body.”
My head bobs in one of those inane nods you use when you can’t think of anything to say. This is really happening. He really just changed into a dog creature thing. He’s really told me I’m a sex demon—sorry, incubus.
What the fuck?
“You should have a cookie,” I say. “They’re really good.
I made them yesterday for my new neighbors.
And because I like Christmas cookies.” This batch is pretty amazing, if I do say so myself.
I had some time on my hands yesterday, plus I wanted to impress the newcomers, so I put some effort into the decoration, and the Christmas tree-shaped cookies look gorgeous.
He picks one up. “Thank you. I love cookies. Do you mind if I ask why you decorate trees to celebrate your religious holiday? I’ve never had a chance to ask before.” He studies the cookie carefully, seemingly examining the flooded green icing and piped baubles and garland.
I open my mouth to answer, then pause. “I don’t really know,” I admit. “It’s tradition. Wait. Are you telling me werewolves—” He gives me a look. “—sorry, shifters don’t celebrate Christmas? So you have a different religion?” That’s kind of interesting.
His hesitation lasts a long time. “I think that’s something you should discuss with your contact at the Community Integration Agency.
I’ll set you up with an appointment before I leave.
They’ll help you understand more about incubi and the community as a whole.
” He takes a bite of the cookie before I can protest, then moans, his head falling back.
“This is amazing! Even better than the ones Sam used to bring.” To my surprise, he becomes a little teary. “I’ve missed those cookies so much.”
“Uh, thanks. Sam doesn’t bring you cookies anymore?” Who’s Sam? And is it completely ridiculous for me to be jealous right now?
He takes another bite and answers with his mouth full. “No, he was taken from us.”
Oh my god, is Sam dead ? Am I being creepy and jealous about a dead man? Shame floods me.
“I’m so sorry,” I gasp.
Mark looks up in surprise. “It’s not your fault. Those evil bastards lured him away.”
Say what now?
I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts as he crams the last of the cookie into his mouth and grabs another.
“Who is Sam, exactly? And what happened to him?” Because I’m pretty sure he’s not dead. Maybe kidnapped? Kidnappers lure people away, right?
Mark swallows and says, “He used to be the admin for our team, but then another team headhunted him. Now we have Aunt Vivienne, and she never brings us cookies or lets us come over for pizza when we’re bored.
” He pouts, looking so downtrodden and pathetic that I find myself reaching for the plate of cookies to offer him another. Which he takes eagerly.
The last half hour has been the most surreal experience of my life.
“I can pack up some cookies for you to take with you, if you like,” I offer faintly, because what else do you do when faced with a six-foot-three government agent who can shift into a giant dog and whines because his team administrator doesn’t bake cookies?
He instantly brightens. “Thank you. That would be wonderful.” Carefully, he brushes crumbs from his shirt into a tissue he pulled from his pocket.
It’s an odd contrast to the way he crammed the cookies down his throat and spoke through the crumbs earlier.
“Do you have any questions for me right now?”
So, so many. Oddly, though, I can’t think of any of them.
“What does this all mean?” I ask finally, waving my hand to encompass the room, what he’s told me, and the world in general. “What happens now? Do I have to move to a government compound?” I find myself close to tears at the thought of leaving my home and my life.
He shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly.
“Most of your life will stay exactly the same. In the short term, you’ll have some sessions with the Integration Agency, and they’ll help you learn how to control your abilities, teach you about the community, and make sure you have access to things like our health care system.
Long-term, you’ll be able to meet others in the same position as you.
This isn’t about changing your life; it’s about making sure you can live it safely and don’t accidentally expose our community. ”
That all sounds good, but I’m stuck on one thing. “I have abilities? And they’re not controlled?”
“Yes.” He smiles. “Working at Naughty Boyzz allows you to feed passively, so you’ve never needed to use your ability. That’s a good thing, but enthrallment comes naturally to you, and you’ve been doing it inadvertently for a long time.”
“I have?” That doesn’t sound good.
“Enthrallment is not used a lot in modern times, not like it used to be. Originally, its purpose was to enable an incubus to feed from a single donor. It acts as an aphrodisiac, enabling a donor to perform multiple times and ignore exhaustion, while also clouding the mind to obscure memories of the incubus and protect anonymity. In modern times, with higher population density and fewer social objections to casual sex, enthrallment is rarely necessary, although a lot of people say it’s a cool experience. ”
I blink a few times. That’s a lot to take in. “But… I hardly have sex,” I point out, trying to ignore the heat flaming in my cheeks.
“No, but without you shielding your ability, it seeps out of you in other ways. You obviously love this street and your neighbors, and there’s a strong energy here that shows that. A constant urge to feel welcome and happy.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “I’m compelling my neighbors to be happy? Like mind control?”
He winces. “It sounds awful when you say it like that, but basically yes.”
“Can you show me how to stop? I don’t want to be influencing my neighbors’ brains.” Mild hysteria begins to creep up at the thought.
“I can’t show you how to shield fully,” he admits. “You need another incubus or a succubus for that. But basic meditation will help you to control it. Do you want to try?”
“Yes.” I nod vehemently. “Let’s do that. Now, please.”
Mark smiles gently at me. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Neil. And I promise you’re not harming anyone. We’ll meditate, and then I’ll set up some appointments for you. We’re really glad to welcome you to the community.”
For the first time in my life, that tiny, voiceless part of me that felt out of place, that felt different, settles.