Nine
Wyatt
Iwas still shaking after cal dropped me off at vern’s.
vern was, unfortunately, still out, which meant i’d had to fumble around in the dark for where he kept the spare key.
i cursed myself for locking the doors. vern had looked at me like i was out of my mind.
i guessed out here, in the country, you didn’t worry so much about people breaking in.
still, for me, it seemed like a huge liability.
the nearest neighbor was almost a mile down the road.
an unlocked, unoccupied house seemed like a prime target for any thief.
Vern had just laughed and muttered, “City-slicker,” under his breath, but he hadn’t stopped me.
Cal had waited until I was inside before he’d turned the truck around and driven off down the lane.
Now I was standing alone in the kitchen, listening to every creak and groan of the house, the wind in the branches of the budding trees outside, the incessant tick-tock of an ancient clock on the wall.
All of that faded into the background as my brain spun circles around the idea of shifters. Werewolves. Were-coyotes. Whatever the hell Cal and Cam were.
I swallowed, then slowly made my way to the counter and checked the kettle. Vern had said his gran was English, so she insisted on making tea “the proper way” when he was little, and he’d stuck by it ever since.
Tea sounded good right now, though. Something to calm the nerves a little, without any alcohol involved. Although a good, stiff drink might have done wonders for my nerves.
A good stiff something, I thought, then gritted my teeth and pulled the kettle off the base. I filled it from the tap, then put it back on the base, listening to excess water pop and hiss as it heated up.
Cam and Cal could turn into coyotes. Apparently, it wasn’t just them. There were other people who could turn into other animals.
I stared out the window, into the dark. I felt like my entire world was crumbling. Everything I’d ever known was falling away. Could you tell shifters apart from regular animals? Had I met one before, and I just hadn’t known it? Had any of my patients been shifters? Other than Cam, of course.
Cam. Fuck. Did the rules of medicine I’d learned at school even apply to him? If he could shift back and forth between forms, what good was it to set a bone in one form? Fuck, was he screwing up his shoulder forever by flip-flopping between human and coyote?
“I gotta go back,” I muttered, then nearly jumped out of my skin when the kettle clicked, signaling my water was hot enough for that tea.
I set about finding a mug and filling it. I’d have to go back tomorrow and check on Cam. I’d thought he was a coyote. I didn’t know a damn thing about humans—or, well, not enough to treat them, at least.
Did Cam even count as human in his … non-coyote form? Was he some kind of … super-human? God. I rubbed my forehead.
I needed to calm down. All this thinking was giving me a migraine. I took my tea and sat down at the kitchen table. I’d just lifted the cup to my lips when there was a howl.
I jumped, knocking my knees into the tabletop, spilling scalding tea everywhere. I barely missed burning myself with it.
Another howl cut through the stillness of the night. I gritted my teeth and turned to the window.
Sure enough, there, trotting down the laneway, was a coyote.
No, not a coyote. Cam.
I knew it was him, even before I got a good look as he trotted past the house, up to the back door. I stalked through the kitchen, then flung open the door. “What the hell do you want?” I snapped.
When golden eyes burned back at me through the dark for a second too long, fear curdled my gut. Had I just made a mistake?
But the coyote shifted, fur disappearing into pale skin, snout resolving into Cam’s ski-jump nose. He stood up slowly, and I bit my lip.
I glanced down, then screwed my eyes shut.
“Wyatt,” he said. His voice was rough, like a growl. Why did it make me shiver?
I took a step back, clutching at the doorframe. Cam advanced as I stumbled into the kitchen. “Hey,” I snapped, “you can’t just show up, unannounced, and barge into people’s houses completely naked—”
“Wyatt,” he said again, the screen door banging shut behind him. He reached out and landed a hand on my cheek.
I should have flinched or smacked his hand away or something. I didn’t. Instead, I found myself leaning into his touch, almost sighing at the way callus brushed my skin.
What the hell was wrong with me? Some naked guy who could turn into a fucking coyote had stalked me across the countryside and entered Vern’s house without permission. Why wasn’t I telling him to get out or running outside screaming or calling the cops or …
Or anything, really?
I opened my eyes. I hadn’t realized I’d closed them. Now I was staring into two pools of amber emotion, and I had to swallow the sudden lump in my throat at what I saw burning in his gaze.
He wanted me. Badly. Maybe as badly as I wanted him.
In the morning, I was going to tell myself that this was a momentary lapse in sanity. That it was because I was so desperate. It had been a long time, and I was super pent up. That was all.
He opened his mouth, and I thought I saw now that his teeth were sharper, more like the canines of a coyote than a regular human’s.
Before he could say anything, I was answering. The word came out in a breathy rush—yes.
Cam paused, amusement and confusion crossing his features. “Yes what?”
I took another deep breath. “Yes this. Yes everything. Just … yes.”
Cam considered that for about thirty seconds. Then he smirked and lifted his other hand, cradling my face between his rough palms, before he leaned in and sealed our mouths together.
He pushed his knee between my thighs, and I stumbled back into the kitchen counter.
I gripped it, hard, trying to hike myself up on it, but I’d never been the most athletic.
I ended up being bent backwards over it, the corner digging painfully into my lower back as Cam ravaged my mouth and rutted against my leg.
Thankfully—or maybe mortifyingly—Vern walked in at that moment. The door squealed open, his boots clomped on the floor, and he said, “Why in the hell do you have the storm door open, Wy—”
And then he paused, the screen door banging shut behind him, bumping him a bit further into the kitchen as he stared at us. And we stared back.
“I, uh,” I started.
“Well,” Vern harrumphed, putting his hands on his hips. “Ain’t no business of mine, but can you take your business outta my kitchen, at the very least?”
He glanced at Cam. “And put on some goddamn pants.”
“Uh,” Cam said.
Vern’s face fell. “You ran over here in your fur?”
“You knew?” I squeaked, feeling my eyes bug out.
Of course. All of Vern’s talk about getting mixed up with the Carlyles and their secrets suddenly made more sense. He hadn’t been talking about me hanging out with queer people. He’d been talking about me hanging out with coyote shifters.
I blinked. Did that mean Vern was also—
Cam was waving a hand, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.
Vern huffed again, then kicked off his boots and clomped around us, into the sitting room. “Goddamn coyotes, you’d think they were raised in a barn,” he grumbled, barely audible over the squeaking floorboards. Cam tracked his progress. I stared at the ceiling, biting my lip.
Vern clomped back in, shoving a bundle of clothes into Cam’s arms, which Cam promptly used to cover himself. “I don’t wanna see your junk,” Vern grumped. “If Wyatt does, then that’s fine, but in the privacy of his room. For God’s sake. Kids these days.”
And with that, he plodded back out of the room.
We waited until his footsteps had faded, both of us holding our breath, as though waiting for the other shoe to fall. The TV blared to life, the volume climbing higher than I’d ever heard it before.
Finally, I risked a look at Cam. “Uh.”
“Er,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck.
“You, uh … wanna take this upstairs?”
“I do,” he replied, his expression darkening, “but I don’t.”
The laugh track from whatever Vern was watching resounded obnoxiously. “I know what you mean.”
Cam sighed. “I’ll get these on.” He indicated the clothes. “And I’ll meet you upstairs?”
“Sure,” I said, finally peeling myself away from the counter. “And maybe you can explain just what the hell you think you’re doing.”
Cam took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll … try.”