“I’m worse.”
Kit played at being unamused, but Sage could see how the corners of his mouth quavered into a smile. They walkedtowards the house together, Sage stretching his muscles out as he went.
“So, have you thought any more about your stag do?” he asked.
Kit made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “In addition to your insistence on planning the night, DJ has also offered his services. Which means I’m between having a penis party or a penis party. So many options to choose from.”
“A penis party?” Quin asked, meeting them at the front door. “Sounds like my kind of event.”
Kit put his head in his hands, and Sage met Quin’s amused eyes. “That’s settled then. I’m throwing you a double stag.”
“Just promise me one thing,” Kit said tiredly.
“Yeah?”
“No strippers.”
“I don’t want to lie to you, Kit, so I can’t make that promise,” Sage said.
Kit harrumphed, and Sage smiled serenely at him. He wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity for strippers. It was of vital importance—a rite of passage, a cultural exhibit, a time-honoured tradition of his people.
It also happened that one of Sage’s favourite things was watching hot dudes dance whilst wearing tiny little thongs.
But that was just a coincidence, of course.
Undressing with gusto in front of your cousin might seem odd, but Sage and Quin were so used to seeing each other’s junk that it barely registered these days. Sage’s clothing felt wrong on his skin, so freeing himself of its confines to stand naked in the woods was a balm to his soul. He dug his toes into the dampground and resisted the urge to dig his hands in, too. He wasn’tquiteready to be on all fours yet.
Gone were the chirping finches or the coos of the wood pigeons. Only the sound of Sage and Quin’s deep inhalations and the wind breathing its own cadence through the trees remained. Quin and Kit’s scents bathed the area, mingling together. To Sage, it smelled like pack. Like family.
Since moving back to Wales, Quin had come to the main pack lands—an hour away by car—on a couple of full moons, but he preferred the sanctuary of the farmlands. This was Sage’s third occasion running with Quin and Kit here, and he knew that Quin’s parents had done it once.
“Fuck, my teeth hurt,” Quin said, rubbing at his mouth.
Sage mimicked the motion, scratching at his stubble. He ran his tongue over his incisors, expecting them to be sharper. “It’s my nose that won’t stop throbbing.” He touched the spot where his piercing usually sat, the silver hoop and matching earrings removed to avoid them getting lost when he changed.
“That’s ’cause you broke it when Glyn caught you with that rugby ball.”
“Ibroke it? Glyn broke it, givenhewas the one to throw the ball at my face.”
“Aren’t balls flying at your face your primary source of entertainment? Would’ve thought you’d have been a pro by now.”
Sage laughed, then threw himself at Quin in a rugby tackle. Given that Quin was stronger than him, Sage ended up on the ground first. They tussled and rolled, even throwing in a few half-hearted punches for good measure. It distracted Sage enough that the change hit him without further warning.
They broke apart as their bodies remade themselves. Sage flopped over, panting, his chest heaving as he drew in lungfuls of air. It hurt—it always did—but Sage fell into the change, lettingit wash over him. It was more raging typhoon than gentle wave, but it was over in a matter of seconds.
Sage went over and licked the side of Quin’s face and got a growl for his trouble. So, he nipped at Quin’s flank in retribution before loping off to avoid Quin’s snapping jaws. In both human and wolf form, Quin was bigger than Sage, but Sage was faster.
He sprinted off through the woods, letting out little yips to spur Quin on. He was almost at the pond when a figure stepped out in front of him, appearing out of nowhere. Sage swerved to avoid them, plowing headfirst into a bush.
“Real smooth,” Kit commented, arms folded across his chest.
With difficulty, Sage removed himself from the bush, then used his teeth to pull out a twig that got stuck in his coat.
Kit came over and flicked a few leaves off Sage’s fur. A howl rent the air, long and deep. Kit smiled, threw his head back, and answered the call. Sage joined in, the three of them singing a discordant tune thanks tosomeone’sinability to hit the right pitch. Sage side-eyed Kit. Well, at least he’d got better since the last time.
Quin came running, making a beeline for Kit, who neatly dodged him. Skidding to a halt and turning, Quin chased after him again. Sage left them to their game, nose catching the smell of a herd of deer farther into the woods.
As Sage passed through the forest, he made sure to scratch at the trees. This might be Quin’s territory, but it didn’t stop Sage from pissing along the way to leave his own scent trail. Part of him was horrified by his boldness, but his wolf just continued stalking his prey, paying little notice to Sage’s human sensibilities.
