Lee
Having Micah around was a joy and a torture, wrapped in one far-too-appealing package. That first night, when he stripped to shift, I’d had to turn away, pretending to scan the forest for threats before the sight of his bare skin undid all my control. Back home, I’d put a cot into the spare room for him when we slept in skin. I didn’t dare have him in my bedroom, for fear of betraying myself.
My hunger for him was better when we ran as wolves. My wolf didn’t want him for sex. And yet, in some ways the pull was worse, because my wolf surely did want Micah for pack and he was much less guarded with touch than I had learned to be. In fur, we nudged and wrestled and even slept pressed together. Inskin, every time my fingers brushed his, I had to think about the war to keep my dick under control.
He’ll be leaving soon.I kept reminding myself of that. We talked about our pasts in fits and starts, working on the jobs he insisted on helping with, sticking to our human lives in case anyone overheard. We were learning our way back to each other as friends. Micah loved his roving photographer life, that was clear. He’d had successes too— perhaps not National Geographic level, but his photos had been published in some major magazines.
All that week, he’d dug his camera out of his bag to get shots of Zipper, the local birds, and our Wyoming mountains, but that wouldn’t be enough for him forever.
I could leave with him.The thought shocked me, because I was settled as I’d never been before, here in this small town with my cozy house and my business and my neighbors. And Zipper. He was companion more than pet, and could fend for himself, but I liked to think he’d miss me.
Going off with Micah was a stupid idea, anyway. Even if I valued my best friend enough to give up this life, I couldn’t wander the world living on his earnings. Plus, I would betray myself, inevitably, at some point, by a look or a touch or a word. He’d be furious, and our friendship would be defiled in his eyes. Even if he didn’t call to some local Alpha for my death— the accepted penalty for being queer as a werewolf— he would run as far from me as he could. And I’d be even more alone.
No, I had to take this time with him as a simple gift. A golden moment I wouldn’t forget. Maybe, if he was happy and comfortable with me, he might stop by every now and then on his travels. That would still be far more than I’d had before.
By the end of that week, we were putting up a fence for the Beauforts, who were expecting their third child in as many years and wanted a safe play-space the little ones couldn’t get out of.Second day of work, and I figured we’d get the job done before sunset, even though we were pushing into dinnertime.
Micah steadied the second-to-last post as I applied the sledgehammer to drive it into the hole we’d dug. When the post was set, the echoes of my blows died away. Except… a soft thud came from a distance, followed by a muted cry, and a man’s voice muttering, “Bitch.”
Micah and I turned to the house next door.The Fletchers. Damnation.
Human ears probably wouldn’t have picked up the next blow, or the woman’s whimper. Micah turned to me. “Shouldn’t we go over there?”
“I can’t,” I said, my voice low between my gritted teeth. “If he sees me, he’ll hurt her worse. He imagines she’s attracted to me. And until she complains to the sheriff, it’s my word against theirs.”
“Why wouldn’t she complain?” Micah glared at the now-silent house.
“Fear? No money to live on if she leaves him? A dozen people telling her it’s a husband’s right tocorrecthis wife.”
“Well, I’m going to check on her. The husband doesn’t know who I am.”
That was optimistic. The entire town surely knew about the brown-skinned bum that I’d taken on as a hired hand. But at least Chuck wouldn’t see a man like Micah as competition. “Thanks.”
“What are their names?”
“Peggy and Chuck.”
Micah pulled off his gloves, used them to slap the dust off his Levis, then crossed the lawn between the houses. I moved closer, out of sight from the door but near enough to hear, and to be there in seconds if Chuck threatened Micah.
I heard Chuck answer Micah’s knock on the door. “Whaddya want?”
“We were working next door and heard someone scream. Is your wife all right?”
“It’s none ofyourbusiness.” Chuck’s tone suggested loathing. “Anyhow, no one screamed. She fell, is all. Here, Peggy, tell the man you’re fine.”
Peggy’s voice came from farther inside. “I bumped my arm on the table. I’m fine.”
“See?” Then Chuck’s voice harshened. “Wait, working next door. You’re the tramp that Pierce bastard’s hired, aren’t you? Is he spying on me? Did he send you to look at my wife?”
“No one sent me. I heard a woman in pain and wanted to make sure no one needed a doctor.”
“What happens in my home and with my wife is none of that Pierce’s business, or yours. If you don’t get off my property by the time I count to ten, I’m gonna shoot you for trespassing. No jury will care if I shoot a thieving Injun for looking at my wife.”
“I’m going, I’m going. But if either of youdoneed help, you know where to find me.” Micah’s boots echoed off the Fletchers’ wooden porch steps.
I drifted back to where we’d been working, and when he reached me, he muttered, “Charming man, that one.”
“Wifebeating waste of skin.”
