HOWL 2.1

“Oh my god,” Eric breathes, voice barely a whisper.

Voices pitched low rouse Eric from his sleep. He can’t even remember nodding off, but a glance at the clock tells him he hasn’t been sleeping like the dead for long. He hurts everywhere. Not just in his ass, but everywhere. There’s a throb in his neck, a kink in his jaw, and the skin on his hips feel like it’s been rubbed raw. And then his ass, of course. That hurts like something much bigger than a cock has been up there. He doesn’t know how Regan does it on a daily basis and is able to walk afterwards. Eric realizes he has a new respect for his former partner.

Those thoughts fall away when he remembers what woke him. Voices, more than one. Adam’s talking to someone. There is another person in the cabin, somehow. The snow could be gone.

Such intense hope fills his chest at that thought that he forces himself to mobility. It’s worse than the first time he woke up. Every motion sends a bolt of pain right up his center. But it doesn’t matter—he’s a hunter, he works past it. He takes a deep breath, imagines the lights of his body burning merrily away and ignores the pain. The mini-mediation helps, and as he exhales his breath he finds he can move more easily.

First he needs to get dressed. The only thing he’s still wearing is the black cuff around his wrist, which strikes him as odd. Why would Adam bother stripping him so thoroughly only to leave the bracelet behind? For some reason the thought stays with him, niggling at the back of his mind as he pulls his clothes on. He takes the time to find his underwear, wants every layer he has between him and Adam. His jeans and flannel shirt are next, and once he steps into his boots he feels almost like himself again. He doesn’t know why he seems incapable of fighting his body’s impulse to—to submit to Adam, but he promises himself it goes no further.

Quietly he pushes out the bedroom and slinks down the hall. He’s not sure why he’s creeping, exactly, but he figures anything he might overhear could only be an asset. Somehow he needs to regain the upper-hand in this situation.

“…He won’t wait forever, Adam,” a gruff voice is saying. “Your father is not a patient man. You have responsibilities—”

“And two older brothers before me who could see to them.” It’s Adam’s voice, but it sounds almost childlike in its petulance.

“You know how the Tribe feels about them,” the older voice responds. “They will not accept either of them in a leadership position. You’ve had your own problems with them, if I recall.”

“Which is why I left the Tribe in the first place, if you recall.” Adam’s voice is bitter, angry, and it surprises Eric faintly that there’s real emotion beneath his big-man facade. “Father won’t back me against them, but he expects me to have no problem overstepping them in the hierarchy. He expects me to drop everything at his say-so, despite the mire it would turn my own life into. It’s bullshit, son of a chieftain or not.”

The other voice sighs. “Adam—”

“No, Elan.” Adam sounds firm now, a bit more like what Eric expects. “The Chief of Chieftains isn’t very positive on any of Father’s bio bloodline, anyway. If Father’s so desperate for a mentee they can come up with some suitable replacement together, and leave me out of it.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Eric wishes he dared scoot past the hallway to see what was going on, but he has no idea where the two are situated and doesn’t want to be seen yet.

Finally the other says, “That’s your answer, then?”

“It is.”

The sound of footsteps, and Eric freezes but relaxes when he realizes they’re heading toward the door.

“I wish you would reconsider,” the unknown man tries one more time. “This was a courtesy call, Adam. You won’t be so fortunate next time. Next time, your father sends the Omega.”

Confidently, Adam replies, “I’m not afraid of him. I’ll handle it.”

The older man sighs again, but says nothing else. There’s the creak of the door opening, and the thunk of it swinging shut. Silence, then. Not even the sound of Adam moving away from the door. The quiet drags out until Eric can’t help himself anymore. Cautious, he sticks just enough of his head around the corner to take a peak. Adam is nowhere to be seen.

Frowning, Eric comes around the wall and wanders a few feet into the living room. He has a perfect view of the large room, as well as the bar that separates it from the kitchen. Adam isn’t in either of them. He’s just gone, as if Eric had imagined him.

“Hear anything interesting?” Growls a voice from behind.

Eric whirls around to see Adam standing at the opening of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark with fury.

“Adam,” Eric starts, not even sure where’s he going with it, but he doesn’t get a chance anyway.

“So eager to overhear things not meant for your precious little ears that you’ve taken to sneaking around my house?” Adam demands, coming a step forward.

Immediately, Eric increases the space between them. Sure Eric has a lifetime of training, but Adam is a big man and Eric has no weapons. He needs to keep Adam where he can see him.

“Just wait a minute,” Eric tries again, but again Adam’s not interested in what he has to say.

“Maybe I should just show you, huh? Is that it?” Adam’s almost yelling, a very real and potent anger alive on his face.

“I-I was just—”

“Here it is then,” Adam bites off.

A pale golden glow lights up his eyes as his body folds in on itself. Eric gapes, mouth dropping open as fur flows like water across Adam’s body, his clothes magically fading away. It’s strangely beautiful to watch. There’s no gross distortion of Adam’s body, no cracking, popping, or snapping as his body rearranges itself. One second Adam was standing in front of him, and then in a nearly instantaneous ripple of sparkling white fur the largest wolf Eric has ever seen is before him the living room.

The thing is huge, its shoulder alone well past Eric’s waist, the width of its head probably all ten of Eric’s spread fingers. Its fur is a perfect, glossy white, unmarred by any other markings, even around its eyes and paws. Paws which end in very hearty-looking claws. Eric has no idea what just happened, but there’s no mistaking those soft-yellow eyes.

“Oh my god,” Eric breathes, voice barely a whisper.

A quiet sound fills the air, a low growl. Eric’s skin goes white as the wolf paws the ground in front of it, its intentions clear.

Without another thought, Eric runs for the door.