HOWL 2.2

At first Eric thinks he’s dead.

At first Eric thinks he’s dead. He throws open the door and stumbles right into the snow, almost goes down. But there’s no searing pain of claws in his back, no hot breath on his neck, so he forces his legs to come up through the snow and he trudges on. The exaggerated steps aggravate his leftover sex-pain, but there’s no time for that now. If he doesn’t run, he’s dead.

So he runs, but he’s no civilian. He runs with purpose. The only chance he has of coming out of this is if he finds a weapon of some kind. His truck is miles away, and he doesn’t even know where he is right now. That leaves Adam’s place. It’s his only choice.

Eric angles back around the cabin. There has to be a window or back door or something he can use to get inside. The drifts of snow are even larger up close to the side of the house, probably from the wind. Some of them are so large Eric starts using his hands to pull the snow out of the way before he can run through them. He doesn’t know why the wolf hasn’t caught up with him, but he’s not going to knock it. He’ll take every chance he can.

Finally he rounds the building, sees a window above his head. Without the snow he probably couldn’t reach it, but he can just get his fingers in the sill and push the pane up. He climbs in head-first and finds himself in the bathroom. He spares a second rummaging through the drawers of the counter and comes up with a long pair of scissors.

He flips them around in his hand and carefully opens the bathroom door. Apparently Adam keeps the place in good repair because the hinges don’t squeak. Gluing himself to the wall, Eric takes careful-but-hurried steps down the hallway. When he comes to the door to Adam’s bedroom he steps across the hall to be on the same side. Gently, he pushes on the door until it swings open. He drops to the ground and sticks his head around the frame. It’s empty.

Retaking his footing, he creeps as fast as he can to where the wall ends as the hall opens to the living room and kitchen. Adam’s not there.

Springing into action, Eric abandons the scissors and they skitter across the bar. Instead he pulls a heavy-duty chopping knife out of the block on the counter. Turning around so the wall of cabinetry is to his back, he brings the knife into a defensive position in front of him.

Step by careful step, Eric leaves the kitchen. The door is still open, so if he can close it at least he can keep an eye on the hallway. He doesn’t get the chance. He’s only taken one step off the linoleum of the kitchen when the wolf slams into him. How something that big made no sound as it crept into the house, he doesn’t know, but it’s the furthest thing from his mind as he hits the carpet and rolls to his back.

He brings the chopping blade to bear, but a hand—a human hand—closes heavily around his wrist. Adam’s on top of him, the wolf is gone. Eric pushes against his weight, trying to move the knife closer, but Adam’s body is seemingly made of steel and he finds no purchase.

“Don’t,” Adam hisses, tightening his grip on Eric’ hand.

Then Adam rocks his hips into Eric’s, and he realizes with a jolt that the other man is hard. Again. Oh, hell no, Eric thinks.

“Get off me,” he spits.

“Open your legs,” Adam counters, leaning into nip at Eric’s neck.

But he can’t, it’s too much. Only panic and adrenaline kept away the pain of Adam’s cock ripping him open, and now that he can feel the evidence that Adam would love to do it again it all comes rushing back. He can feel the heat, that strange, irresistible raunchiness that ignites in his gut when Adam dominates him. But this time, he just can’t do it.

“Get off me!” Eric roars, and brings his knee up into Adam’s groin.

He doesn’t strike anything precious, but it gets the message across. Adam is suddenly gone, crouching a few feet away.

“Geez,” he mumbles. “Wasn’t gonna hurt you.”

Eric springs to his feet, still holding the knife. “I’m sore, okay? I can’t. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I fucking hurt, all right? You are not small, and I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to use lube or something.”

Adam looks away from his furious eyes. “I didn’t mean…I would never have…sorry.”

The surreality of it all strikes Eric then. They’re arguing over sex as if Adam didn’t just spontaneously transform into a hulking wolf right in front of him.

“Forget about that,” Eric says. “What are you?”

Lifting his chin proudly, Adam stands. “I’m a werewolf,” he says.

“No, you aren’t,” Eric replies automatically. “Werewolves are extinct.”

“Mostly extinct,” Adam says, eyeing him strangely. “And how do you know that?”

“Uh,” Eric sputters dumbly, but Adam’s eyes have already dropped to the black bland around Eric’s wrist.

“Ah, hell,” he says.