Coyote Rain

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Coyote Rain ISBN # 1-4199-0781-6 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Coyote Rain Copyright© 2006 Sienna Black Edited by Mary Moran. Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication: November 2006 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Content Advisory: S – ENSUOUS E – ROTIC X - TREME Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic. S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

COYOTE RAIN

Sienna Black

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Chevy: General Motors Corporation Jeep: DaimlerChrysler Corporation

Coyote Rain

Chapter One Thunder crashed. Jared Todd was soaked to the skin. The same dream had haunted him off and on since the last storm rolled through. He stood in the western pasture. It was twilight and hard to tell whether the sky’s blue-gray color was due to the hour or the clouds overhead. He turned and looked for the ranch house behind him. The porch light shone like a beacon through the rain. No getting lost then. As if he could. He’d been born and raised here. He knew the way back. He was supposed to go forward. He knew what was out there. The long, lonely howl still raised goose bumps, made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and caused his heart to skip a beat. It wasn’t fear that thrilled through him though. It was anticipation. Mud sucked at his boots as he trudged forward, slowing him down. It didn’t stop him. Nothing would. After so many nights, he’d lost all trace of wariness. Of caution. Nothing bad came out of this dream. He slogged up the little hill that didn’t exist in reality, skidding backward half a step for every one he managed. In the dream, it was the highest point on the ranch. He could see everything from here. The flocks of sheep getting just as wet as him. The house. The barns. The fence line that marked the borders of family land. Him. Just as always, the coyote jogged into sight, his step so light his paws hardly seemed to touch the ground. He paused, studying Jared with eyes that seemed to glow somehow. Then satisfied, he threw back his head and howled again.

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Jared shuddered hard, breath escaping him. His palms itched as he scraped them along the sodden seams of his jeans. Change, he willed. Change now. Please! He could hardly keep from shouting it aloud. His patience stretched toward breaking. Lightning flashed again, the rumble of thunder a second behind. Another flash and before the third, a man stood where the coyote had been. Tall. Lean. Beautiful. He smiled, something Jared felt more than saw in the dimly lit landscape of his dream. He held out a hand and Jared stumbled forward, tangling their fingers together, curling into his embrace. They kissed each other, hungry and open-mouthed, as the rain came down in sheets. The coyote-turned-man, naked himself, peeled away Jared’s clothes as if they weren’t heavy, licking rivulets of water from his skin as it was bared. He pulled Jared closer, his fingers tracing muscle, his nails leaving faint scratches on his skin that stung and warmed when struck by raindrops. It didn’t matter. Jared wanted more of that touch. His hands were warm despite the weather. Calloused fingers traced dancing patterns over his ribs, over his shoulders and his back, coaxing shivers out of him. Long fingers that traced the lines of his chest, bumped down his stomach and past his navel. Deft fingers curled around his cock, stroking. Jared groaned and let his head fall forward. He bit the coyote man’s shoulder, felt him tense and rock forward, his erection proud and hot against Jared’s hip. The rain slicked them and their bodies slid together. Jared trapped his erection there between his palm and hip, rocking with him. Begging with his body. He lifted his head, put his mouth by the other man’s ear. He caught the earlobe between his teeth and bit down hard enough to hear his partner suck in a sharp breath. “Come,” the stranger murmured. Demanded. “Come for me.” They rocked together harder. Faster. Jared thrust through his lover’s fingers, everything inside him tightening, building to the climax he wanted. Needed. God!

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Then he was on his knees, hands splashing down into cool mud and grass, falling rain pooling at the small of his back. The shift in position always made him dizzy and left him reeling. He couldn’t catch his breath. He wouldn’t tonight. The coyote man knelt behind him, hands skimming over his skin. He nipped and licked along his spine. When Jared gasped and arched his back, he fit himself between Jared’s legs. It was good—a completion—to rock back and feel him slide in. Jared curled his fingers deeper into the mud and cried out when the head of his partner’s cock stroked the sweet spot deep inside. When he pulled back, nearly all the way out, Jared whimpered and twisted to look over his shoulder. “More,” he begged. He arched his back again and pressed his cheek to the ground, utterly wanton. Completely unashamed. His lover slid home again with a rough thrust, making another fierce claim on his body. “Like that,” Jared panted. “Like that. Again. God, yes!” Another stroke, another twist, one more moment and he’d he there. His balls drew up tight and his whole body trembled. One more touch and he’d come, howling like the beast. His lover drew back for another thrust—

Music flooded the room. Jared’s eyes snapped open. No. The last vestige of the dream melted away. The feeling of his lover’s hands disappeared. The radio played a country hit. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to keep from screaming. Six a.m. and back in his bed in his parents’ house, alone with a raging hard-on. He slapped the alarm clock to silence it. He could hear his pulse, feel it pounding in his chest. In his balls. He slid a hand beneath the blankets. It would only take another moment, the memory of that calloused touch. He bit his lip and tried to remember the sound of the rain or his dream-lover’s voice. His bedroom door rattled. “Rise and shine. Ranch won’t run itself, Jared.” His father’s footsteps disappeared down the hall.

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He struggled not to groan. He should have been past this, too old to wake up hard and aching. Wet dreams—or nearly—were for teenagers, weren’t they? He was a college graduate. He’d come home for his mother’s funeral but he didn’t plan to stay. He had a life. He had plans. But the dreams kept coming and his body reacted every time. He reacted. In truth, he’d been hoping for another chance to meet the man in his dreams. It had been too long since he’d been with anyone. Months since Devon and he had parted ways, and finding someone in small-town Colorado wasn’t likely. It was better to live this fantasy life than out himself to his father and go searching. He knew where to start, which bar was rumored to be full of men looking for men, but discreet hookups and anonymous sex weren’t what he wanted. He wanted connection and trust and something lasting. He had it in his dreams, but he wasn’t going to get it here. Not when everyone knew his business. Not when knowing his name gave them license to comment and correct him whenever they saw fit. What he had wasn’t real, but it was better than nothing. For now. He shoved the bedclothes back, pushed a hand through his hair and hissed as the skin around his stitches stretched. He’d be all too happy to get rid of them too. Once they were gone, maybe he’d forget. The storm that night, the trapped coyote, the way it twisted back on itself to bite him when he tried to set it free. The bite wound throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Like his cock. Thank God, for a private shower, a washcloth and soap. He’d take care of himself then take care of his chores. Son of a bitch.

***** If he never saw a cage again, it would be far too soon.

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He should never have gone to the ranch in the first place. He should have known better. Who was he kidding? He did. And yet he’d let the will of the pack override him. When the chance they took backfired, he’d been the one locked in the little metal box. His father, if he were still alive, would probably have said he deserved the lesson. He’d often called his son impetuous and careless. Too obsessed with the world of men to listen to common sense. It wasn’t just any man now. It was Jared. They’d met some time ago by accident in town. Right away there’d been a spark of connection, of interest and more between them. It nagged like an itch under his skin that only got scratched when they were together. He didn’t know when he took on the role of Protector for the pack that his territory would include Jared’s ranch. He couldn’t say he regretted it, even now. It had been raining then, as it was tonight. With the sky turning dark before the deepening storm, the pack could run where it wanted, mostly unseen. The cubs were restless and the Mother anxious to teach them something. Anything to save herself another night of being pounced and chewed on until dawn. The flock of sheep Jared’s father kept was fat and healthy, more than plentiful enough to meet the needs of both man and beast. They’d only planned to take a few, enough to fill their bellies. The humans wouldn’t be pleased with the loss but it wouldn’t cost them heavily. But the cubs’ excess of energy spread to the adults. They forgot their hunting for a while, chased one another and played. Even he lost himself for a few carefree moments, more interested in dodging the leaps and nips of the cubs who attacked his flanks than in keeping an eye out for two-legged enemies. The trap had been well camouflaged inside a hollowed-out tree. The trunk had long since been blasted by lightning. There was no telling how long exactly it had laid there in the elements, warped and full of the tunnels bugs chewed through its wood. It smelled old and dry, like earth and the remnants of autumn leaves. 9

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And metal. He didn’t notice until it was too late. He’d already shoved himself into the box. It snapped shut behind him and he couldn’t back out. There was no room to turn around. He was wedged and helpless in the darkness inside the tree. So he howled. It was the only thing he could do. He called the pack to him, to ask them for their help. But they were four-footed only, no other shifters among them. He was the only one of his kind left for miles. Maybe in the state. Without the ability to trade paws for hands and fingers that could work the catches on the cage, it didn’t matter. All they could do was sniff and whine and worry. He should have known his cries would gain Jared’s attention. He should have expected to be dragged out of the tree, the wire mesh of the trap enclosing him, vibrating on all sides as it scraped over the ground. He should have relaxed when he caught Jared’s scent, when he saw that familiar face and heard the soothing note in his voice. But time—how long had it been?—stuck in the cage had robbed him of his patience and his sense. He snapped and snarled at Jared as the man fumbled with the cage. “Easy, boy,” he’d murmured, drawing his hand back as sharp teeth closed on empty air. “I’m trying to let you out. Be nice to me.” It took countless false attempts but eventually the catch popped loose, one end of the trap sprung open and he leapt free. Jared touched his flank as he would have darted past. It was one thing too many. Too much sensation all at once. Instinct made him snap back on himself, flatten his ears and lash out. Too fast for Jared to pull away. His teeth sank deep into the flesh between his fingers and thumb. For an instant only, but long enough. Jared let go a howl of his own and swung hard with the other fist. He’d let go immediately. He’d tucked tail and backed off. Not run, as he should have. The whine that escaped him was an apology but Jared hardly heard it, injured hand clutched to his chest. He shouted for his father and struggled to his feet. There was no time to explain. There was no way.

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So he ran. He followed the pack back to their cave. He’d comforted the cubs there, let the Mother groom his worries away. But he hadn’t forgotten Jared. He couldn’t if he tried. It wasn’t like the myths they told, his father had said. Biting a human wouldn’t change them or give them the urge to howl at the moon. Instead, it bound souls and lives together. Long ago, it had been used as a kind of protection. With a village full of blood-tied humans to defend the few local shifters, they had a chance of surviving. Over time, it had become a way to choose and mark a mate. Once bitten, forever owned. It wasn’t something to be done lightly. Or by accident. It shouldn’t have been a man at all, if he’d listened to his father. He should have found a woman, marked and mated her. He should be adding to their number, making children who might grow into the ability to shift between two legs and four. That was the way the bond was meant to work. Males were for companionship and nothing more. But curiosity had gotten the better of him, as it often did. He’d gone into town to buy more clothing with the money they had, given by those humans who knew their secrets. He needed things that fit, pants without holes, to replace the pair that had been bought for him years ago. They were too short and split at the seams. They were crazyman pants, Barton said. He owned the thrift shop and he promised, hand over his heart, that he would find Adam—that was the name he chose—decent clothing, no matter whom he had to rob. They were friends first. Barton shared his lunch and tried to coax information out of Adam when he visited. He introduced Adam to the other shop owners on the street and took personal responsibility for the mistakes he made. He worried over Adam when he wandered in soaked with rain or when the first snow had fallen and he showed up without a coat.

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He kissed Adam before Christmas one year. It was the mistletoe, he said, pointing out the plant overhead. Then he’d blushed and done it again. He asked Adam to kiss him back and by the time they’d parted, Adam was hard. They ended up in the back room, both naked and both out of breath. Barton taught him where to touch and what felt best. He made him swear not to tell a soul, no matter who asked. Adam promised but he couldn’t keep it from his father. His father made him promise not to go back. He obeyed. In time, Barton sold the shop. It belonged to a gray-haired woman now. She had dead eyes and didn’t want to know him. She wasn’t interested in sharing lunch. There’d been no one until Jared. He didn’t want anyone else. It would take time. He would go slowly but he had to answer the call in his blood. He had to make Jared his soon, before the wanting drove him mad. The rain had tapered off early tonight and once again the cubs begged for food. The other adults had much shorter memories. Why not, they wondered, when he warned them away from Jared’s ranch. When he reminded them, they swore to go more carefully. He didn’t talk them out of it. Perhaps he should have seen it as his duty but reason lost the battle to the larger part of him that wanted—needed—to see Jared. Just for a moment, only a glance, but it was more temptation than he could resist. He led them back.

***** The crack of the rifle report made Jared’s ears ring. The bullet whined as it sped through open air. It pierced metal like paper and slammed into the rock behind. The echoes of the sound rolled away like thunder in the silence before a raucous whoop filled the air.

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“I told you he wouldn’t miss!” Jared staggered under the weight of his father’s hand. He looked to his uncle and cousin for help but Greg pretended not to pay attention, just like always. Uncle Vic just shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Boy inherited my aim and did me one better. He never misses a shot.” He shook Jared, thick fingers gripping the back of his neck. “One day, he’s gonna be in the Olympics. My boy,” he said. “Ain’t that right?” Jared summoned up the same bland smile he always wore when his father started boasting. It didn’t matter whether they were in front of strangers or relatives. This sort of attention embarrassed him. “Well?” Jared ducked his head. “Maybe not the Olympics, exactly. I’m getting kind of old.” “Hell yes, the Olympics,” his father insisted, gripping Jared’s neck even more enthusiastically. He leaned in close and Jared held his breath to avoid inhaling the scent of sour beer. “What’d I tell you about selling yourself short? If they can put thirtysomething men in tights and skates, a twenty-three-year-old can bring me home a medal.” There was no point in arguing so Jared gave up. The smile remained and he nodded, letting his father muss his hair. “Sure, you’re right. The Olympics someday.” He’d settle for being off the hot seat. Impromptu family gatherings like this happened every summer. They were a regular part of his memories growing up. He suspected they’d continue to happen even after he’d moved out on his own. Again. He’d gone away to college, had an apartment of his own in Chicago. He’d lived a brief, glorious life that had nothing to do with tagging sheep or baling hay. He swore he’d never go back to Colorado. To visit, sure, but not to stay. There was nothing there for him. The family would understand that he had to do his own thing. They wouldn’t understand that he couldn’t be himself in small-town Roscoe. Too many people knew his business. Their fathers knew his father, their grandfathers went 13

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to school with his. There were no real secrets in a place this small and while most of the time it didn’t matter, Jared wanted to keep his private life to himself. “Finish that up,” his father said, waving a hand at the beer Greg held. “Don’t want to stand around all night waiting for you.” This sort of teasing was what he did when he’d had too much to drink. Fortunately, even with Mom gone, that only happened once in a while. The moment he had the empty beer can in his hand, his father wobbled out to the rock they used to set up “targets”. He lined it up beside the other four. “Now.” He put his hands on his hips with a drunken man’s flair. “Fifty bucks says all five in under thirty seconds.” Greg snorted loudly. “No way.” “Hell,” Vic added, “I could do that with my eyes shut.” His father grinned slowly. “That mean you’re gonna take me up on the bet?” Jared shifted his weight. “Dad. Maybe someone else wants to shoot. Greg, you want to try?” Please, he added, hoping his cousin could read the desperation in his eyes. But Greg shook his head. “You’re the hotshot. This is your thing.” “Nobody else wants to shoot,” his father said. “Come on, Jared. Fifty bucks helps buy the baby a new pair of shoes.” “The baby” was his grandfather’s truck, a 1950 Chevy they used for ranch errands. It still ran by some miracle but it always needed a repair or three. Like now. The brakes were nearly worn through and it was hardly safe to drive around their property, much less back and forth to town. Jared heaved a sigh and shook his head. “All right. Move.” His father stood his ground. “Dad, Olympics or not, I’m not going to shoot with you standing right there. You have to—”

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He held up his hand, a quick gesture cutting off the rest of Jared’s words. He turned to face out toward the ranch pastures and tilted his head. “You hear that?” Damned body. Traitor! Jared’s pulse kicked up and his groin tightened. He needed a hard-on in front of his family like he needed a third eye. By now everyone was listening, straining to hear what had caught his father’s attention too. Jared knew better and yet he leaned forward, weight on his toes and head tilted. Trying to hear something, anything, but the breeze that cooled the long day toward a temperate night. Silence stretched out between the four men. Nothing stirred. No one so much as scratched an itch. Then it came, a soft, distant sound, high-pitched and sharp. “The damned coyotes are back.” Most of the time they were just another part of the wildlife to people around here. They were sometimes annoying when they carried off a cat or pet rabbit or marked their territory in someone’s yard, but a nuisance to be tolerated. Some people called them cute. To a sheep rancher though, a pack of coyotes could be a nightmare. Better, Jared imagined, than a pack of wolves but not by much. Not enough to make a difference to his father who made another sharp gesture and beckoned to him. “Bring that rifle here.” He started, caught off guard by the demand. “Why? You can’t see them. They don’t come this close.” They hadn’t before at least. “The hell they don’t.” He pointed. “I can see them. Bold as you please, standing right out there.” Jared squinted as he stepped closer, following the line of his father’s arm. There were shapes out there in the darkness all right, but whether they were coyotes or sheep lying down, he couldn’t say. Until one of them lifted its head and pointed its muzzle toward him. Coyote. “Shoot it.”

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Jared flinched again. “What?” “Don’t what me, boy. Shoot the damned coyote.” He stared at his father’s profile, measuring the tight muscle in his jaw, the thunder on his brow. There was no arguing with him when he got in this kind of mood. Jared’s mother had called it the “hell-or-high-water glare”. But if his coyote was out there…no. Damn it. Just a dream. There was no reason to “what if” himself to death. “His” coyote didn’t exist. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel, his own jaw tight. He understood. He didn’t like it but he knew why his father took the hard line. This was a battle of sorts. Coyotes didn’t reason. Like dogs, they’d forget why they’d run away come morning. Just get it over with. There were four or five of them out there, more shadows than real shapes. They were small, young ones maybe. No, he wouldn’t think about that. The flock, the ranch. That’s what counts. He fixed his gaze on a narrow silhouette and eased his finger toward the trigger. He held his breath. Another coyote stepped into the sights, blocking the shot. He stood taller than the others, longer legged, deeper in the chest. Jared hadn’t seen him among the rest when he’d picked out his target but they did move fast. And he could have taken the shot. Would have. If the coyote hadn’t turned and looked him in the eye. He jerked his head back from the eyepiece. Impossible. It couldn’t have met his gaze from that far away. Couldn’t have known what was coming. Couldn’t have seen back down the barrel to look at him that way. But it felt real. It felt as though the coyote understood and got in the way to protect his own. Jared didn’t have time to get his bearings. His father muttered a half-slurred curse and yanked the rifle out of his hands. Before Jared could stop him, he fired. Jared flinched away at the last second but his ears still throbbed.

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One of the coyotes yelped, a sharp sound. Jared looked up in time to see a shadow stumble and weave after the rest of the scattering pack. Shot. Wounded, at least. His father thrust the rifle at him, expression dark and heavy. He didn’t say a word and he didn’t linger. His eyes said it all. He felt betrayed. He stalked back toward the house, leaving Jared and everyone behind. The party was over for the evening. Jared stared numbly at the rifle in his hands. He mumbled something to his uncle and cousin when they made their awkward excuses and wandered home. His mind raced. It couldn’t have happened. It didn’t make sense. Coyotes were animals. It was too far away. There was no reason to believe that the intelligence he’d seen in its amber eyes was real. It was nothing more than guilt. Fantasy. Impossible.

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Chapter Two Fire. There was a fire in his leg, beneath his skin. It burned him from the inside out. He didn’t mean to whimper but he couldn’t stop himself. It hurt to move, to breathe, to think. Better him. Better him than any of the pack. They wouldn’t understand. Even he, with all his lessons, had a hard time and the pain that seared and scarred him, throbbing in time with his racing heart, didn’t make it any easier. Jared. How could Jared do it? How could he have known? Adam had never confessed, never known whether he could trust Jared that far. If he knew, he wouldn’t have let it happen. He’d have stopped the other man. It was important to believe that. It kept his mind working and his thoughts off the worst of the pain. Jared had never seen him this way. Every time they met, he went without his fur, practicing the art of blending in. The first time, he’d been sitting on someone’s front steps, watching people pass by and trying to mimic their expressions and postures. He was practicing Adam, the human name he used. He was learning how to look like any other human man. Jared had been shopping in the store across the street. When he came back to his car, Adam stared a little too long. He couldn’t help himself, the man was beautiful. It caught Jared’s attention. It should have ended there. But Jared watched him, amused, as Adam went on mimicking. Eventually he wandered up to the steps where Adam sat. “Do you know you’re making faces at people?” he’d asked, eyes dancing. Adam was taken in by them right away. They were storm blue. “Is that bad? Should I stop?” They were just simple words and yet Adam’s mind whirled. He found it hard to remember how to make human sounds with this man standing before him. He smelled of old wood and metal, something clean, and warm 18

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skin. His shirt smelled of detergent, something that tried to reproduce the scent of flowers with sharp chemical smells. Usually it made Adam sneeze. Not that day. That day it smelled good. “I don’t know if it’s bad,” he’d answered. “It’s different, at least.” “Is it bad to be different?” Jared laughed. “No. Never. No matter what anyone says.” He tilted his head. “So what are you doing if you’re not making fun of people on the street?” “Watching,” Adam told him. “Do you want to watch with me?” Jared grinned slowly. A dimple appeared in his cheek. Adam confessed to himself that the first sight of that little hollow was the moment he fell in love. And now here he was, still bleeding despite the long trip back to the den. He’d straggled after the rest of them, half afraid to go back in case they were followed and too worried not to be there if they needed him. He managed to stay on four feet most of the way, though by the time the caves bobbed into sight, he’d given up and hopped on three. Now, now that he’d settled for the night, whatever it was that kept the wound open had to come out. So he shifted back, bone and muscle realigning. He clenched his jaws together and swallowed as much of the pain as he could. If he’d had the strength to get up again, he would have changed outside, away from the pack. They were already edgy. Switching shapes just made it worse. They lined the walls of the cave in a loose sort of arc around him. They watched him warily. Their eyes and ears tracked every movement and every breath, but none of them dared to come closer. He couldn’t blame them. He was a mess. The change made the hole in his leg bleed even more. The scent of it hung heavy in the air, thick enough to choke. Sweat and fear and pain combined to alter his scent. He wondered why they didn’t run him off. He called it a miracle that they hadn’t already.

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They were just coyotes. Not shape-shifters, nothing out of the ordinary. Not his kind, as his father had often said. They were the little cousins who needed protecting but they weren’t friends. They weren’t family. There was no family, not anymore. Not here. The old home, his parents, his brothers and sisters, they were all dead or gone. Killed and chased away by greedy men who claimed the land as their own. After the battle, after the massacre, they knocked down the caves, paved over the bones and memories. They built a thing called a shopping mall where it had been. The coyotes were the only family he had left. And he had to be strong enough to protect them again, if it came to that. Hesitation would not help him heal. He took as many deep breaths as he could and braced himself. He had no doubt that this would hurt worse than anything else. He puffed his cheeks in and out, working up the courage to do it, and do it quickly. Then with a nod of encouragement for himself, he shoved a finger into the hole left by the gun and dug for the metal piece still inside. He howled. He couldn’t help it. The pain was too much to keep silent but he didn’t let himself give up. Blood slicked his hand and wrist, pooling beside his leg, but he kept on searching, desperate to have this over and done. His fingernail scraped something hard that shifted and tugged beneath his skin. He twisted his hand, the edges of his vision going black, and curled his finger around, scooping it back toward the raw opening. Bile rose in his throat. It was hard to breathe. His entire body trembled. Another inch. Another torturous moment’s work. There! It was out. He held up the warped thing, bright and shining when the blood was wiped away. It stank of burning metal and heat. He dropped it, not caring where it landed or where it went. It was out and that was all that mattered. He took his first deep breath in a long while. Then he gave in to gravity and crashed over onto his side. He’d heal now. Faster. Better. He’d be walking by morning.

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The Mother crept forward now that he was down, ears and tail tucked inoffensively. Tentatively she sniffed him, checking to make sure he was alive. She sniffed his shoulder. She licked his outstretched hand. He lifted it and curled it deep into her fur, anchoring himself as his eyes drifted shut. She whined quietly and settled down beside him. She’d watch over him while he rested. If anything happened, she’d wake him. For now, he needed to rest.

***** Jared tossed and turned on his bed, but no matter what position he tried, he couldn’t sleep. He could lie on his back or his stomach, he could make himself breathe deeper and close his eyes, but as soon as he felt himself sink toward dreams, arms and legs heavy and pulling him down, the memory of those amber eyes returned. They were too smart, too keenly focused. They seemed to look right through him or worse, into his heart. Impossible and yet as it played out in his mind, he was sure that the coyote knew what he was doing. Knew what would happen the moment he’d stepped into Jared’s sights. It had to be him. The shot went off again and Jared flinched upright. That was it. He gave up. Sleep wouldn’t come tonight and that being the case, he had only one thing to do. He was going to find him. His wounded coyote. It didn’t take long to fill a backpack with things he thought he might need. A flashlight to find his way, a canteen of water and the pistol, just in case. He added a blanket at the last moment. If it wasn’t badly wounded, he’d come back for his Jeep. A vet clinic might not have coyote-specific training but they ought to be able to clean out a bullet wound. Jared would just fail to mention who’d shot it in the first place. Dad still wasn’t talking to him, hadn’t all night long. If the pattern held, it’d be another couple of days—maybe three—before the silence would break. It made living in 21

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the house awkward. It meant he didn’t have to say goodbye. Instead, he left a note on the kitchen table. Went for a walk. Back soon. Odds were good he’d be back before it got read. The air outside felt cool and damp. The early morning hours were the only time in summer when Jared thought it was cool enough to hike. Then, and after an impromptu rain, but those couldn’t be counted on. One minute there’d be clear blue skies and in the next, a sudden downpour, but that was hard to predict. Morning came every day. It wasn’t hard to find the trail. Fat splatters of blood stained the sandy ground. Jared kept the flashlight trained forward, counting paces between the last drop and the next. Three steps then six. One and twelve. It wasn’t bleeding badly then. Maybe that blanket would come in handy after all. That shouldn’t have been a relief. One less coyote was good for the ranch and yet? He had an easier time breathing if he believed it wasn’t dead. He wasn’t sure how far or how long he’d walked when he found the cave. He’d left his watch on the nightstand by his bed. Had the sky really gotten lighter or was that his imagination? He turned around to look back the way he’d come. He’d crossed the line of fence that closed in their property some time back, but that was so far gone now that it was out of sight, even in the flashlight beam. A beam that reflected back at him in glowing amber eyes when he looked toward the cave. A pair of coyotes stood in the opening, heads down and ears pointed forward toward him. Jared stood a little straighter under their scrutiny. Several long moments passed, neither man nor beast moving. “I’m not here to hurt anyone,” he said eventually, holding his hands up, empty save the flashlight. “I just want to see your friend. I just want to make sure he’s all right.” It shouldn’t have worked. He told himself it was stupid the moment he spoke out loud. They wouldn’t understand. He was talking to animals. But the pair looked at one another, back at him then they disappeared into the darkness in the cave. One of them

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paused to look over its shoulder as if waiting to see if he’d follow then faded into the black. “Crazy,” Jared murmured. He stepped after them anyway. A single flashlight, no matter how bright, couldn’t banish all of the shadows in the cave. He swung the beam from side to side, not wanting to be ambushed. Not knowing how many animals might be inside. He caught glimpses of tails and paws as they scattered. Their eyes reflected bright against the darkness. The smell of musk was so strong that Jared could hardly breathe. He tucked his nose into the crook of his elbow and kept on. It smelled of blood in here too. The coyote they’d shot—the one his father had shot—had to be close. He thought he could hear it panting. He tried to follow the sound but couldn’t tell where it came from for sure. Every noise bounced back off stone walls, amplified and repeated until he hardly knew left from right. That’s why, he’d tell himself later, he didn’t see the body until he’d nearly stepped on its bare feet. No, not a body. It—he—was breathing. This was the sound he’d been following. It came from the man lying on the cave floor, one hand curled deep in the fur of the coyote tucked next to his side. A coyote who bared its teeth as Jared struggled to get his backpack off and kneel on the man’s other side. He kept the light trained on it, just in case it attacked. He pulled the pistol out and laid it beside him, within easy reach. Then he swept the light down over the man’s body. Dirty. Skinny enough to count ribs and a wound still oozing blood too quickly to be healthy from the bullet hole in his thigh. Jared hesitated, hand poised over the other man’s shoulder, not wanting to scare him. Not wanting to leave him if he needed help. He let his fingers brush dirty skin first, a featherlight touch that could be batted away if the man simply slept. He didn’t stir. Jared took a deep breath, gripped the shoulder and shook. He thought he’d braced himself for whatever the injured man might do. He was wrong. One minute he was stretched out, passed out, seemingly oblivious. The next 23

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he’d surged up and twisted to catch Jared’s shoulders. Skinny though he was, he was strong and he slammed Jared backward so hard that his head cracked, smacking the hard ground. He saw stars for a moment, bright specks of light that swam in and out of his vision. When it cleared, he thought for sure he’d gotten a concussion. He was imagining things. He had to be seeing something that wasn’t real or dreaming. He hadn’t really come all this way. He was still asleep, still tucked into his bed. That was the only way to explain why he knew this man. Why the wild thing holding him down was… “Adam.”

***** Jared. “No.” The haze of pain evaporated as he scrabbled backward. Off. Away. He couldn’t be here. He smelled of fear. He should have been home. He should have been anywhere but this cave. Adam wound his arms around his knees though it pulled at the hole in his leg. The scent of fresh blood filled his nose as the wound opened again but he ignored it. He put his head down on his arms and closed his eyes. If he wished him away, if he pretended he hadn’t seen, maybe he would go away. It didn’t work. “Oh God,” Jared said, so much closer now than a moment before. He touched Adam’s arm. His shoulder. His hair. “Adam, how can? I don’t understand. Why are you here?” He fell silent a moment then added, “You need help.” Help. That word from any other man would have made him laugh. Men didn’t help, they took. Men like Jared’s father killed. But Jared could be trusted, even though he was confused. He had the right to be. He was not a threat. So he gritted his teeth to bite back a whimper that was more of apology than pain. Adam tilted his head, brushing his cheek on the back of Jared’s hand, and murmured, “I’m healing. You don’t have to stay.” The place where the Mother had been was empty. She’d taken the opportunity to disappear, no telling where. He would have to apologize to her too.

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Jared shook himself, a full body shudder that Adam felt more than he saw. Breath left him in a rush and he sucked in another to replace it. He meant to say something, Adam thought. Instead he scrubbed at his eyes and shoved his hand back through his own hair. His arm hung heavy from where he gripped the back of his neck. “Can I at least take a look?” He reached for the flashlight that had tumbled from his hand. The beam swung across the cave walls, making Adam’s head spin. Help. Jared only wanted to help. He nodded, closed his eyes and stretched out on his side. The first touch was light, fingers warm above his hip. Jared hesitated, holding his breath, then went on exploring. He slid his palm gently over bare skin and left a trail of heat in the wake of his hand. He paused the first time Adam shivered. “Am I hurting you?” “No.” Adam said it again, loud enough to be heard. “Good. Let me know if I do.” Long fingers probed the muscle of his thigh, far away from the wound itself. It was tender but not painful. “I was looking for you.” It wasn’t what Adam expected to hear. He looked back over his shoulder in surprise. “Why?” Jared grinned a little, hardly noticeable in the cave’s half-light. His shoulders rose and fell. His hands kept moving. “I wanted to see you. Not like this. Just. It’s been a while and I wondered how you were.” The backwash of light from the flashlight painted hollows and shadows across Jared’s face. His eyes were almost colorless and his dimple pure shadow. His chin was haloed, beginning growth of a beard softening his jaw. Adam wanted abruptly to touch it and know if it felt as soft as it looked. Their gazes met and held for a moment then Jared glanced away. Looked down at the place where his hand rested at Adam’s hip. “So,” he said on a gusty breath. “I was going to look at your leg.”

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He went back to his careful inspection, fingers wandering ever closer to the wound. “I’m not a doctor or anything,” he explained. “But I know how to clean things up at least, and if you’ve been out here since it happened, you might need—” His exploration stopped. Adam heard him lean closer. Then he felt his breath, a warm burst of air against his skin when he spoke again. “There’s no hole.” He didn’t need to look to know what that meant. With his eyes closed, he imagined he could feel Jared’s heart beating in the fingertips touching his skin. “I told you that I healed.” “You were still bleeding when I came in.” Jared’s hands stilled. “What are you?” He’d known the question would come, that Jared had to ask, and yet he’d hoped that it could wait a while. They were good friends. There was a chance they could be more. Could have been. No. He wasn’t giving up. He let the silence stretch between them until it seemed sure to break then covered one of Jared’s hands, trapping it on his skin. “What do you see?” This time the quiet felt heavy, expectant. Jared took several stuttering breaths and let them go before he spoke again. “He shot a coyote, Adam. My dad. Tonight. That’s what I saw. It looked me right in the eye and then Dad took the rifle and shot it. And when I couldn’t sleep, when I followed the blood, I found you, but that can’t…” He swallowed hard. “It’s impossible.” Adam rolled up to sitting. He reached for Jared’s cheek, to stroke it. He’d touched him like this before. Jared caught his hand this time, one slight shake of his head saying more than silence. Adam gripped Jared’s wrist with the other hand, waiting for him to meet his gaze. “Why,” he asked. “Why can’t it be as simple as it seems? Why is it impossible?” “Because you can’t be a coyote!” His breath had gone short and hard. The sharp tang of fear and sweat spiked the air. “But I am,” Adam pressed gently. Denying it was like denying sunshine. Or rain. “Your father shot a coyote. You found him. You found me.” 26

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Jared shook his head, slowly at first then more certainly. “You can’t be. Like a werewolf. Werewolves aren’t real.” Adam pressed the heel of the hand he held against his chest so Jared could feel the way his heart pounded. “You know better,” Adam reminded him. “I am real.” Then on an impulse, he let go to frame Jared’s face between his hands, leaned in close and kissed him, an insistent brush of lips over the other man’s mouth.

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Chapter Three Whoa. If he’d been confused a moment ago, he was miles beyond it now. His mind was so busy racing, he’d barely had time to register the warmth of Adam’s lips before he moved again. Closer, shifting onto his knees so he could straddle Jared’s legs, hands braced on his shoulders. Jared stopped him, hands at the waist. He felt his forehead wrinkle, eyebrows knitting. “What was that for? What are you doing?” “Something I should have done a long time ago. I wanted to,” he explained. “I didn’t know how when you didn’t know the truth. Now,” his shoulders hitched, “no more lies. I’m kissing you,” he said, and did it again. It wasn’t that Jared had never kissed a man before. Or been kissed, more accurately. That had happened more times than he’d told anyone. It started in his freshman year of college when he’d had to take the theater class. He met Devon. Devon didn’t do subtle hints, he said at the first closing-night party. He’d wandered up to Jared with a shot of tequila in one hand and a salt shaker in the other. He’d demanded that Jared hold out his tongue, and when he did, he laughed and sprinkled it with salt. Then Devon kissed him, hard and fast, threw back the shot of tequila, stuffed a wedge of lime in his mouth and grinned so that the green rind showed through his lips. They’ dated on and off through all four years of college. Jared had to learn fast. There’d only been girls in high school. He dated a few times and once ended up in the back seat with Amanda Kerber in her cheerleader uniform and all. She’d been eager to lose her virginity and half naked before Jared’s mind caught up with his body. He came before he managed to get the condom on and though she promised she wasn’t offended, they never went out again. 28

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He tried to date other people in college, in the dry spells when Devon got bored and broke it off so he could date someone else for a month or two. Jared could only manage a week or two before the sex got old and the kisses felt stale. Then he’d call it off, go back to being single and wait for Devon to come back to him again. Maybe it was the magic of Devon having been his first. The first man he’d had sex with, the first who’d held him after and murmured about being in love. Jared had believed he was in love with Devon too. He’d believed it until they’d talked about the future, about whether Jared would come back after the funeral. Whether Devon would wait or move on. They’d kissed goodbye and Jared knew it wasn’t a “see you later”. It was “goodbye”. It hurt. Kissing Devon had never been like this. Adam held nothing back. There was no shy exploration of a new lover’s mouth. When Jared opened his mouth, Adam cut off whatever he might have said with a sweeping thrust of his tongue. He murmured, a wordless sound that might have been a growl. It buzzed against Jared’s lips. Adam thrust his fingers deep into Jared’s hair, making fists to hold on. When the kiss went on and Jared failed to muster up the will to push him away, Adam leaned closer and moved his mouth, kissing a trail that followed Jared’s racing pulse. He bit carefully, teeth the faintest pressure as he suckled against Jared’s neck, tongue tracing lines on his skin that stole Jared’s breath and made him whimper out loud. This close he couldn’t help but notice the hard ridge of another erection pressing at the seam of his pants. This close Adam’s cock slid up into fabric, catching and wrinkling Jared’s shirt. “Oh God,” he breathed. “You’re naked.” Adam laughed, the flashlight beam glinting briefly off a flash of tooth. “Yes,” he agreed, making fists in shirt fabric. “You should be.” He should protest, Jared told himself as he lifted his arms and let Adam peel his shirt away. Hadn’t he just been saying that none of this was possible? That the man who claimed to be a coyote couldn’t be real? Adam tugged his belt open and slowly 29

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pulled the zipper down on Jared’s jeans. If this weren’t real, Jared thought as a groan escaped him, he didn’t want to wake up. They toppled over together gracelessly, Adam cushioned on Jared’s chest. Not that he took it as an excuse to be still. Not that he didn’t take advantage. He pushed himself backward, trailing kisses down Jared’s chest as he went. He scraped his teeth along Jared’s ribs, hard enough to sting but not break skin. It should have scared him. It only made him ache. Jared buried his fingers in Adam’s hair, not sure whether he meant to hold him back or encourage him. Not sure whether it mattered. He toed at his shoes futilely. He would have to sit up to remove them and that wasn’t happening. Not with Adam’s nose tucked to his hip. Not with his fingers in Jared’s belt loops, tugging denim down. Not with the warmth of Adam’s breath filtering through the fabric of his boxers, a tease that made the wetness at the head of his cock all too clear. Adam left the jeans tangled around Jared’s ankles and tugged the boxers down too, chanting, “Off. Off. Off,” with each short pull. When they were also tangled and forgotten by Jared’s shoes, Adam crawled over him again. He moved like an animal, graceful, prowling, power coiled just beneath his skin. He lowered his head and put his nose against Jared’s leg, exhaled breath a new kind of torment as it swirled against skin that seemed loaded with oversensitive nerves. Jared’s hips jerked up and Adam moved, tracing a line up the inside of Jared’s thigh with his nose. His hair brushed the underside of Jared’s balls and they drew up hard, tightening. Jared nearly bit through his bottom lip to keep from coming on the spot. “I don’t,” he panted when he had enough breath to speak. “I can’t. How do you—?” “Like this.” Adam hovered over him now, mouth just a breath away from Jared’s. The long length of his body, smooth and bronze and very fit, rested against Jared’s. There was not an inch where they didn’t touch. Jared was aware of his knees and his thighs and liquid heat that leaked from Adam, proof of his arousal that raced over Jared’s skin and should have evaporated into steam. 30

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Adam was the world for now. There was nothing but him. Nothing but the halfreflected glow from the flashlight in his eyes, nothing but the smell of him, musky and almost overpowering. That scent had been enough to choke Jared before, but now? Now it only added to his hunger. It was another part of the man he wanted. Needed more than breath. Adam braced himself up slightly and claimed Jared’s mouth again. Their tongues twined together hungrily, Adam thrusting his tongue deeper as his hips moved, rolling against Jared’s. It was a motion, a rhythm Jared couldn’t ignore. He lifted his hips to meet each rocking thrust, shuddering hard when their cocks met and slid together. Their groans echoed back from the cave walls, a chorus of voices that drove Jared to rock harder, faster. Adam moved again, his other hand sliding between their bodies now. Jared made a sound of protest that was choked off in a groan when Adam gathered their erections together and stroked them. Better. It was so much better this way. Now each movement, each lift and twist of hips was better than the last. They gasped and groaned with one voice now. Adam’s kisses buzzed against Jared’s mouth and his breath echoed loud in Jared’s ears. He gripped Adam’s shoulders hard. He was solid. Warm. Real, God, yes, there were no doubts now. Holding on was the only thing that kept him from flying apart, and with the next thrust even that failed him. He tore his mouth from Adam’s, a rough sound he didn’t recognize as his own escaping him. He wasn’t usually this quick to get off. He usually had some stamina. It was the hard ground beneath him. It was the unexpectedness of sex. It was the sudden, desperate thrusts as Adam’s hips pistoned back and forth, as his fingers spread slick lubrication on them as it leaked from their heads. It was the sharpif-quiet hisses of air that shot between his teeth. It was the needy, pleading way he whimpered, “Jared!” before he came—hot, thick wetness splattering Jared’s skin.

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He followed. How could he help but follow? How could he hold back? He knotted a hand at the back of Adam’s neck, not worried about scratching him. Wanting to tear his skin. He’d heal. He’d be fine. “Fuck!” His hips arched up hard of their own volition, a last frantic pulse through Adam’s fingers before he came too. Then he crashed back down to the stone below him, cock still twitching, every inch of skin oversensitized. Adam collapsed beside him, half draped over him. Too much. Too much to think about all at once. Too much work for his brain, for the body that wanted to revel in the aftershocks of orgasm. The body that needed sleep. It felt late. Or early. If he didn’t wake up in his bed, he’d deal with the consequences then. Adam snored softly as Jared drifted off to sleep.

***** Adam woke with the sunrise. That hadn’t changed. Like a tap on the shoulder, he always knew when it would slip above the horizon. He was alert and waiting most mornings. This morning he’d been loath to get up. Though the lure of daylight called him, he was comfortable there, half tangled with and twined around his lover. He nuzzled Jared’s throat and earned a soft, contented murmur as reward. He didn’t wake and Adam left him sleeping. He had to hunt since the plan to catch sheep had gone so badly. A quick shift and he was back in the fur. With his leg all but healed, the wound nearly invisible now, it took no time to track down a fat pair of jackrabbits. The Mother reappeared from wherever she’d gone and they worked together like a well-practiced team. She bumped his shoulder companionably when she settled beside him, both of them supervising the makeshift tug-of-war the growing pups played with their meal. She was still wary with the scent of Jared on him but she licked his ear and relaxed, stretching out in the sun beside him.

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If things had gone on the way they were, he might have mated her next season. He might have tried at any rate. His place in the pack was as cemented as it would get, given that he wasn’t truly one of them. Still, the challenges were more or less ended. He was beta, not leader. He would not take that role away from the male who’d been keen enough to earn it on his own. If he took it, it would be because he was bigger, stronger. Because he understood a little of the world of men and could protect them. He could do that well enough without disrupting the pack. And now, more than ever, he was glad he didn’t have a mating tie to keep him here. Jared, he thought, wouldn’t understand splitting his time with a four-footed mate. Adam wasn’t much in the mood to share. He jogged back to the caves when the pups had settled down to gnaw on bones. He had a stash of clothing hidden in a nook. Spring was a busy time in the pack and his trips to town didn’t happen as often as they had. Still, these clothes were clean and in decent repair. He didn’t stand out when he wore them and that was all that mattered. Then dressed, he went to wake Jared. It was late morning by Adam’s standards, but humans lived by a different sort of time. Without a clock to tell them that time passed, most of them didn’t notice subtle changes in daylight. They didn’t glance up at the sun to judge how long it would be until nightfall. Here, in cooler darkness, it would be easy to oversleep. But Adam knew before he’d reached their impromptu bed that Jared wasn’t sleeping. That he wasn’t there. As a matter of fact, the only proof that he’d ever come to the caves at all was the whisper of his scent still in the air. Not long. He couldn’t have been gone long. Adam hadn’t hunted far from the caves today. He trusted the pack, believed that they would leave Jared alone. It wasn’t that worry that kept him from wandering. It was the desire to stay close while still doing his duties. He hadn’t wanted Jared to feel abandoned. Now, instead, he felt that way. But if he hadn’t left too long ago, then he could still be tracked down. Adam went back to the cave opening, shielding his eyes against the sun to see. No sign of him but 33

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distances were deceiving. It wasn’t too late. Unless Jared was running, he could still catch up.

***** Stupid. Idiot. Jared looked for another good word to describe himself. He’d been out of his mind to go looking for the coyote last night in the first place. He’d been crazy to stay. So what if it was Adam? So what if he’d been trying to find a way to make a move, ask if he’d be interested, without just blurting out an awkward proposition? It was one thing to take Devon home to the apartment in Chicago and find new uses for the furniture. That was his world, his space. No one else paid the bills and nobody but he had a say on what—or who—he did. The ranch was Dad’s. It ran by his rules. And there was no room in his world for a gay son, much less that son’s lovers. Lover. It wouldn’t matter that he had only one. Just the mention of it was sure to get him disowned. He’d crossed the fence line some distance back. His mind raced as he struggled to come up with a good excuse. He could hope the fact that he’d left wasn’t noticed, but Dad had a funny way of picking up on the things Jared most wanted to hide. He was good at ferreting out a lie too. This one would have to be good. He was so caught up in his thoughts, so determined to get home, that he didn’t hear anyone coming until he was in danger of being run down. He turned at the same time a hand seized his wrist and found himself eye to eye with Adam again. Jared thought his chest might burst out of his chest. His pulse doubled—no, tripled—and the ground seemed to tilt at a crazy angle. “You can’t be here. Please don’t be here,” he blurted desperately. No smile, no glint of humor in Adam’s eye. He said, “You left without saying goodbye.”

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Jared pushed off and stepped back now that the ground was level. Now that he could breathe. “I left you for a reason.” “Why?” Now Adam’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m not coyote now. No one will shoot me when I’m a man.” Jared wasn’t so sure. He shook his head. “You don’t understand. My father—” “Isn’t here.” “That’s not the point,” he snapped. He closed his eyes, composing himself. He took a deep breath, the air still cool enough to make him shiver. He forced his shoulders down where they belonged, uncurled his fists and looked up. “My dad doesn’t know I’m gay.” Adam tilted his head and Jared couldn’t help but think of it as a canine gesture, not now that he knew. He’d thought it was cute before. Now it was almost alien. “You never told him about your friend at school?” “Boyfriend,” Jared corrected, much as he hated the word. “And no, I never told Dad. I thought it would be better to be able to come home without being afraid he’d strangle me.” Adam’s forehead creased. “He would do that to you?” Jared smirked. “When it comes to Dad, I never know.” It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it before he spoke. He took a breath to take it back but Adam was already moving. Fast, faster than he should have. Too quickly to catch his arm. Arms swinging, he powered toward the house and Jared found himself jogging to catch up. “What are you doing? Where are you going? Wait. Adam!” He put on a burst of speed and cut him off, hand flattened against his chest. He was surprised by the fury and determination that darkened his normally open expression. “Tell me what you’re thinking at least.”

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Adam’s jaw worked but he didn’t look away. If that hard gaze of his could do real damage, Jared knew he’d be bleeding. “I’m thinking that a father shouldn’t threaten his son that way. I’m thinking that a son shouldn’t let him.” Jared frowned. “It’s not as simple as ‘shouldn’t’ and ‘let’. He’s my father, Adam. I can’t just throw things in his face. I respect him too much for that.” “He doesn’t respect you.” Those words sucked the breath from Jared’s chest. He felt dry, hollow inside for a moment. Emptiness was replaced by a kindling wall of fury. “You don’t know him. You don’t know anything about him.” “I know what you tell me,” Adam countered evenly. “You tell me that he’d threaten you, send you away for who goes to your bed. I’m telling you that’s wrong.” He looked past Jared toward the house again. “I’ll tell him too.” He stepped forward. Jared shoved him back, both hands on his chest now. He pushed with all the strength he had and Adam stumbled, confusion replacing rage. Jared wiped a hand over his face, trying to rub away the burning in his cheeks. In his eyes. “Just,” he made a throwaway gesture, “go away.” Adam shook his head, just enough of a negative to be seen. “I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.” He folded his arms across his chest. Jared nearly groaned. How could he want to burst into laughter and shout at the same time? Did Adam have to be so damned attractive? Or infuriating? “Fine. We’ll talk. But not on my front lawn.” Adam summoned up a wry smile. “You live on a ranch, Jared. Your front lawn is a big place.” Jared smirked. “Lucky for you, I know a place. Come on.” He held out his hand without thinking. Adam took and held it before he could pull back. When Jared’s arm tensed, Adam squeezed his fingers but didn’t let go.

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Jared glanced toward the house, half expecting to see his father framed by a window. Half hoping as there’d then be no need to explain. But the window was empty and Jared set his jaw. “Come on,” he repeated, and started walking.

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Chapter Four An old barn stood not far from the house. They used it to store equipment now instead of housing sheep. Jared led them there and opened the door. He let go of Adam’s hand and waved him in. He left it standing open and followed, daylight lending just enough to the gloom inside so that they could see. Dust motes and bits of old straw danced in the half-light inside. Adam leaned against an old unused stall, legs stretched out before him. He looked comfortable, casual. Jared wished he felt half as easy in his skin just now. He shoved his hands into his back pockets and shrugged. “So. We’re talking. What do you want me to say?” Adam studied him a moment before he spoke. “Why did you leave that way?” Jared could have made excuses, could have said that the night before had been a mistake. It didn’t feel like one. There was a reason why he’d found the trail of blood so easily, why he’d kept going when he could have turned back and why he hadn’t run when he learned the truth. He wasn’t sure he believed in Fate as a power but it seemed to believe in them. So he shrugged again and confessed. “I was scared. I am.” Adam tilted his head another time. “Of me?” “Of you,” Jared agreed, stepping closer. “Of me. Of everything.” They stared at each other a while, Jared’s heart battering itself under his ribs. “I thought I knew you. I was wrong. You.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Adam laughed, more breath than sound. “When would I? When did I have the chance? Telling a friend that you run with a pack and howl at the moon isn’t something fit for everyday conversation. It takes trust. It takes time.” He paused. “I told you when you needed to know.” “It changes things,” Jared argued. “If I’d known before—” 38

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“What would you have done?” Adam’s eyes seemed brighter somehow. “Would you tell your father not to shoot me? Would you tell him what I was? Wouldn’t that make him more determined to hunt me down? Afraid, Jared. You said you were afraid of me. He doesn’t know me. He’s afraid of his own son and who he might bring to his bed—” “I don’t want to talk about him.” Tight, crisp words. Jared made fists in his pockets. “We’re talking about you and me. Let’s leave him out.” Adam nodded slowly. “Fair enough.” Another silence spun out between them. Thoughts came and went before Jared could voice them. He wanted his hands on Adam, not to have to think and talk. He wanted Adam’s hands on him. Adam’s easy posture wasn’t helping. It was practically an invitation. Jared groaned aloud this time, shoving a hand through his hair. “What am I going to do with you?” “I thought we’d figured that out last night.” Definitely not helping. “That’s not fair,” he breathed. “I’m trying to be serious.” Adam’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m not?” He straightened and stepped forward. “Coyote.” Jared licked dry lips. “They’re tricksters. Always grinning.” Adam demonstrated beautifully. “That’s a myth. Besides.” He was close enough to touch. Jared just had to reach. “I’m not a coyote now.” “No,” Jared agreed, curling his fingers into Adam’s shirt. “You’re not. That’s what confuses me. How can I…?” “How can you what?” Adam asked as his arms slid around Jared’s waist. He lowered his head to trace the bridge of Jared’s nose with the tip of his own. It was a simple, silly gesture, tender and playful all at once. It made what he was feeling concrete. Jared gasped and shuddered. “How can I be in love with you?” “You’re mated to me.” Jared groaned. “I’m not talking about sex now, Adam.”

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“Neither am I.” He caught Jared’s hand and brushed his thumb over the bite wound. “This,” he said, glancing up. “This binds us together. This makes you mine.” Jared stared at him, mind reeling. “What are you saying? What do you mean?” “In the cage,” he explained, gaze steady. “When you set the coyote free. It was me, Jared. When I bit you, there was a bond made between us.” Jared pulled his hand away. Stepped back and rubbed at the wound himself. “So this. It’s all because of some mystical something?” He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m not.” Adam stepped forward and caught his hands again. He held on when Jared would have pulled away. “The bite was an accident. I was afraid. You touched me and I bit, but what we feel, that happened before. When we met. Do you remember?” Of course he did. “Of course I do.” He was still frowning. There’d been a spark from the very beginning when they’d met on someone’s front step. He looked forward to seeing Adam when he made trips in to town. He went out of his way to look for him, that he couldn’t deny. “I dreamed. I dreamed of you.” Adam kissed him. Jared could all but taste the smile that curved his mouth, warm and sweet. His arm circled Jared’s waist and pulled him closer. He worked the other hand’s fingers under his shirt and swept his thumb rhythmically across his skin. It was maddening. Distracting. His heart pounded and Adam’s thumb didn’t match the beat. Jared clapped his hand over Adam’s. “Stop. I’m trying to talk.” Adam pulled back to look Jared in the eye. “I don’t want to talk.” He nudged Jared’s chin up with his nose and kissed his pulse, the tip of his tongue flickering briefly over his skin. Then he bit, just hard enough to have an edge of pain. And it was good. He groaned without meaning to, sank his fingers into Adam’s hair and tipped his head back. Adam hitched him closer, his erection obvious and bumping Jared’s through their jeans. He made a low, throaty sound and slid his hand down Jared’s ass, curling him forward another inch.

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Jared sucked in enough breath to make his head stop spinning and stepped back. The air felt cool without the heat of Adam’s body. He held Adam’s gaze, searched it for a reason to protest. Something that would make him walk away. He watched Adam’s chest rise and fall, as out of breath and aroused as he was. Adam wet his lips and clenched his hands. Jared sank to his knees. His hands moved of their own accord, unfastening Adam’s belt and twisting open the button on his jeans. The sound of the zipper coming open was loud despite the roaring in his ears, but he wanted this. He needed this. Adam. He had to feel and touch and taste him. Here. Now. He pulled Adam’s jeans to the floor. As he expected, he wore nothing beneath the denim. No underwear, no boxers to hold him in. Just perfect skin, a thick tangle of curls and the jutting length of him. Jared shifted closer on his knees, planting one hand on the wood behind him to brace himself and not topple him as he leaned in close to nuzzle Adam’s thigh. He inhaled a breath full of the thick scent of his lover. It smelled of heat and musk and arousal, a reminder of last night’s passion and pure temptation. Adam was uncut, foreskin flushed and dark. Jared hadn’t noticed in the darkness of the cave but he wasn’t surprised. Coyote, he reminded himself. His lover was a coyote in human skin. Moisture already seeped from Adam’s cock. Jared blew across it, lips deliberately pursed. His reward was another low groan and a shudder that shook Adam’s whole body. His hand dropped to rest on Jared’s head, fingers gripping his hair. His cock twitched and hardened impossibly more, straining even without clothing. Jared brushed his fingers over it first, the lightest touch he could manage. A tease. He followed the arc of it with the pad of his thumb, all the way to the head. He curled his fingers around it, peeled the foreskin back and exhaled again as he lapped the trickle of excitement away. This time Adam’s hips jerked forward. He whimpered as his hand fisted and murmured, “Jared, please.”

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It was all the encouragement Jared needed. He turned his head and dropped his jaw, taking Adam into his mouth eagerly. Eagerly, but not too fast. He wanted to take his time, to have his lover begging and desperate before they were through. He swallowed, covering more of the length with his mouth, slow inch by inch. He wouldn’t stop until he surrounded Adam, until he was buried in the sudden heat of his mouth. He wanted to hear Adam groan with the ache of need, wanted Adam’s nails to scrape his scalp as his whole body tightened for an instant. He wanted and he got. He stroked Adam’s cock with his tongue, curling it around the shaft as his mouth moved on him. He drew back to lick the head and let Adam thrust forward, reclaiming his mouth. He groaned and Adam shuddered hard, driving deep. Jared’s jeans were fast becoming torture. He fumbled with his own belt, yanked open the fly and shoved his hand into his shorts. They were soaked with moisture and he didn’t care. He slicked his fingers with it and stroked himself. Faster. Hard. He was nearly there. He sucked harder on Adam, cheeks hollowing. Together! He wanted them to come together. “Jared!” Adam gave no more warning. Adam’s cock pulsed heavily on his tongue and jerked in his mouth as he came, Adam’s body shuddering and fingers tight in Jared’s hair. Jared swallowed until the last spasms stopped, the hand in his pants still for the moment. He drew back, letting Adam slide from his mouth. “I want you.” Simple words that meant the world. Adam dropped to his knees and covered Jared’s mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. There’d been no time for Jared to catch his breath. His heart pounded madly as Adam’s tongue owned his mouth. Adam pushed him sideways then onto his back as he stretched out above him, long and lean. He slid down Jared’s body, another reminder of the night before. He paused to push off his own shirt and hook his fingers in the loops of Jared’s jeans, peeling them off carelessly. He wrestled Jared’s shoes off and left them in the pile with his clothes. Then he hovered over Jared’s cock, holding Jared’s gaze, his mouth twisted into a mischievous smile. He waited until Jared thought he might go crazy to be touched.

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“Do something for me,” Adam murmured. The slight touch of breath against his cock made Jared’s hips twitch. “Anything.” “Get up on your knees.” Yes. What little breath he had left him. Déjà vu made him dizzy as he turned to his side then pushed up to hands and knees. As if Adam had planned it, thunder rolled across the sky. There’d be no water on his skin, not inside, but it hardly mattered. This was real, not a dream. Adam’s hands were hot where they rested on Jared’s back. He bent over him, faint length of bangs tickling Jared’s skin. He kissed his way up Jared’s spine and when he arched his back, fit himself between Jared’s legs. He reached around him, gathered slick moisture from Jared’s cock with a stroke and slicked himself before he fit the head of his own against the tight pucker. Jared rocked back into him—onto him—without prompting. He sucked in as much air as he could manage as his body stretched and burned, adjusting. Adam waited, licking patterns against his back, over his ribs. He curled his hand around Jared’s cock again, stroking him slowly, encouraging. It was good, it was perfect. Jared exhaled and relaxed around Adam, now taking him in deep. So deep that he swore he could feel Adam’s heartbeat settle into an echo of his, buried deep inside his body. Adam moved slowly at first. His teeth scraped skin as he doubled over Jared, the quick sting of pain blending with the heat that built beneath Jared’s skin. When Adam stroked him faster, long fingers touching every inch, from base to the sensitive head, Jared couldn’t help but cry out. It echoed from the rafters of the barn. “More,” he begged. “Please, Adam. More. Don’t stop.” He answered with a rumble and another deep claim. Adam’s hand moved faster, demanding thorough strokes, and he bit Jared’s shoulder, hard enough to break skin. Another claim, that bite. Second bite. It cemented things, connected them more deeply than any ring or vow ever would. It pushed him gracelessly back to the edge of ecstasy, everything in his body tightening to that one moment when tension broke and he 43

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spilled himself, cock pulsing so hard it might have shot life instead, howling as he came in Adam’s hand. They collapsed together, breathless and spent. Jared twisted to put his back on the ground and Adam crawled over him to half drape his side. His thumb traced absent patterns on Jared’s chest. They traded sweet kisses and sweeter smiles. “Mine,” Adam murmured. “Sure as hell ain’t mine.” Jared froze. He felt Adam tense and lift his head. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t need to see the scowl that darkened his father’s brow. He already knew how his face would redden, how the muscle in his jaw would tick as he chewed through his temper. He didn’t want to see. It wasn’t up to him. “Jared.” He made it a command, not a request for attention. “How about you introduce me to your friend?” It was a wonder he didn’t choke on the word. But he wanted Adam. He knew that now. Had known for weeks and done nothing about it. He wasn’t going to regret it or take it back. He touched Adam’s cheek, held his gaze a while then kissed him unashamedly. When he stood to get his clothes, he didn’t shrink under his father’s gaze. He buttoned his jeans, waited for Adam to stand, and said, “Dad, this is Adam.” Adam never saw the punch coming. Jared hadn’t seen his father move that fast in years. With the element of surprise and his larger build, it was no wonder Adam stumbled sideways. He caught himself on a stack of old unused straw. Jared dashed the distance between them when he saw his father stalk after. “That’s enough!” He planted a hand squarely on his father’s chest and pushed. “You got in your punch, now leave him alone.” His father balled his fist again. “You telling me what to do?”

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So he wanted to throw another punch? Jared set his jaw and lifted his chin. He’d make a good target if that’s what was coming. “I’m telling you to behave.” He didn’t look away. “Adam?” “I’m all right.” He came back to Jared’s side, touched the small of Jared’s back lightly. “I’m not hurt.” “If you’re gonna brag about it, I can change that for you.” “Dad!” “Don’t you shout at me. I come in here to make sure everything’s put up before it rains and hear—see…” He trailed off, shaking his head in disgust. “I get the right to be upset.” “We didn’t do it to upset you.” In truth, he hadn’t been thinking after the first few minutes. They should have been somewhere else, somewhere private, but that didn’t matter now. “Doesn’t matter why. You did it in my barn, on my property, on my land. A man would have some respect.” Jared felt the growl like a shudder in the air before he heard it, low and close behind him. Adam crowded his shoulder, pressing him forward. Jared turned his head to mutter, “You’re not helping.” “He can’t talk to you like that.” “My property, my kin,” Jared’s father argued. “I can talk to him however I want.” “It’s not right,” Adam challenged. “Nobody asked you,” he shot back. “Would the two of you knock it off?” Jared looked between them then lifted his hands and stepped out of the way. “On second thought, if you’re going to fight, then do it and get it over with.” He put his hands on his hips and waited. They stared at one another for a long moment, both of them with their hands balled and jaws set like steel. Then his father mumbled an oath under his breath and turned

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away, stalking down the length of the stalls. Jared watched him go and went to Adam instead. “Go home,” he said. “Go back to the cave. I’ll get there when I can.” Adam shook his head and caught his wrist. “Come with me.” “I can’t, Adam. Not right now. I have to talk to him.” Adam glared past his shoulder. “He’ll hurt you.” “He won’t.” Jared wasn’t sure about that but he wasn’t going to confess it now. “Things happened fast. He’s just upset.” “So are you,” Adam countered. “So am I.” “Adam.” Jared framed the other man’s face between his hands and kissed him. He meant it to be a brief show of affection but the warmth of Adam’s lips made him linger a while. “Go,” he said when he pulled back. “I’ll be there, I promise. Later. Go.” Adam made a sound, half whine and half grumble. It was clearly a protest but he nodded all the same. He curled a hand into Jared’s hair, kissed him another time then twisted away. Jared followed him to the barn doorway, watching him lope off across the ranch with ground-eating strides, even on two legs. Then he summoned up his courage and turned back to face his dad. One minor skirmish won. One siege ahead. Jared walked the aisle between stalls to the other side of the barn, trying to find the right words all the way. When he got there, when he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his father, he took a deep breath and just started talking instead. “I’m not going to lie to you or make something up. I’m not going to tell you, you didn’t see it. It’s exactly what you think it is.” “I know,” his father answered tightly. “I’ve got eyes. I’m not dumb.” He went quiet, jaw working through the silence. “What I want to know is just how long you’ve been lying to me.” Jared glanced up, startled. “Lied to you? About what?”

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“All this time, not bringing anyone home. Not telling us about anyone at college or not. Making me think everything was all right.” Jared frowned. “Everything is all right. And I never told you because, well, let’s face it. You never asked. And if you had?” He gestured toward the door Adam had jogged through. “You punched him.” “I was surprised!” “So you used your fists? Dad,” Jared shook his head, “there’s no way I could have brought anyone home. I wouldn’t have. Not with you always talking about ‘those faggots’ or ‘the gay down the street’. Nobody deserves to walk into that.” He hesitated over the next words then forged ahead, “I’m moving out.” “Guess you’re gonna have to.” Jared closed his eyes. It hurt, no question about it, but he had to do this. “Not far. I’ll still be around to help with the ranch. If you want me.” He could hear his father’s teeth grind as his jaw worked, chewing over thoughts he didn’t speak. “Can’t do it alone. Can’t afford to hire help.” “Then I’ll be back,” Jared promised. “Every morning. Stay as long as you need.” He turned to look at him. “We can both be happy.” “We can work together,” he answered, glancing sidelong at Jared, but not turning more than that. It was a start. Not ideal, not perfect, and bound to be uncomfortable now and then. It would take some adjusting on both of their parts and Jared would likely bend before his father did. But not about Adam. No how, no way. He nodded and clapped his father on the shoulder lightly. They weren’t the hugging type and he didn’t want to offer a handshake. So he left it at a simple touch and headed for the open door. “I’ll have my stuff out as soon as I can. Be back in the morning to help with tagging.” He glanced back once. His father still had his back turned so Jared left without a real goodbye and stepped out into the first drops of rain.

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About the Author Sienna Black has lived all over the country and even spent a little time overseas. She fully believes that she meets people for a reason and that everyone has their own story to tell. She’s just fortunate enough to be able to tell hers for a living. She dreams of owning a sprawling ranch somewhere in the “real” West, but until that day comes, she’s content with her husband, horses and other pets.

Sienna welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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