M

ARTIN

A

ND

T

HE

W

OLF

…“I want to mate with you,” Lucas said. “Are you willing?”
I almost laughed. Maybe I would have done, if my cock hadn’t

been straining against my briefs and my skin searing at his touch. For
a second I told myself he couldn’t be serious. Not here, so near the
house, though we were, I think, protected by the trees, and in Frank
and Miranda’s garden to boot. Then I understood how serious he was.

“Are you willing?” he said again, his tone low, urgent. “Tell me.”
Unable to find any words for this situation, I nodded and made a

sound of assent. Almost a whimper.

“Good,” he said, letting me go. “Then turn around and take off

your trousers and pants.”

I obeyed. It didn’t even cross my mind to do anything else. Almost

immediately, I heard the sound of a zipper and the hard slickness of
his cock against my arse. It felt delicious, but there was something we
had to do first.

“Please,” I managed to whisper. “Condoms…”
He snarled. Not words, but a sound of annoyance that both terrified

and thrilled me. “No need. As far as this is concerned, we’re both
clean. We can’t infect each other.”

That was crazy, of course, but I knew that somehow he saw it as

the truth.

“Please,” I said again. “Humor me. You’ll find what you need in

my trouser pocket.”

A moment of silence passed when I sensed he was weighing my

words in his own private balance. Whatever his decision was, I
understood right then that I’d accept it, come what may. I wanted this
too much…

A

LSO

B

Y

A

NNE

B

ROOKE

The Delaneys And Me

Give And Take

The Hit List

Martin And The Wolf

A Stranger’s Touch

Tuluscan Six And The Time Circle

MARTIN

AND THE WOLF

BY

ANNE BROOKE

A

MBER

Q

UILL

P

RESS

, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

M

ARTIN

A

ND

T

HE

W

OLF

A

N

A

MBER

Q

UILL

P

RESS

B

OOK

This book is a work of fiction.

All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the

author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales,

or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or

reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in

writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief

excerpts used for the purposes of review.

Copyright © 2010 by Anne Brooke

ISBN 978-1-60272-701-4

Cover Art © 2010 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

With grateful thanks as ever to all at Amber Quill Press

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

1

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

I wasn’t looking for anyone when I first met Lucas. Not really.

I’d split up with my boyfriend about ten months previously and,
frankly, couldn’t be bothered to seek out another relationship. The
ex had put me through the mill a damn sight more than once, and I
needed the break.

Didn’t mean a bloke couldn’t have fun, though. So when the

midsummer party invitation came from the couple who used to live
next door, I thought, What the hell, why not? I’d got on well with
Frank and Miranda, and I was more than happy to catch up with
them in their new home. It was only about twenty miles away, not
that far at all.

Which explained why, on the evening of June 21st, I could be

found in a posh house in the middle of the Surrey countryside, with

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

2

a cocktail in my hand—unknown ingredients but it exploded in the
mouth—and a smile on my face. A genuine one as I was deep in
conversation with Miranda, a woman in her fifties with cropped
blonde hair and wise green eyes.

“Good,” she said with pleasing conviction once I’d reassured

her I was still definitely single. “Alan was a nasty piece of work,
and I have no idea why you stayed together for so long. Frank and
I never took to him. I’m so happy you’ve finally got rid of him.”

I shrugged and smiled. It wasn’t the first time she’d said this,

but it was nice to hear it again. Actually, the final showdown
hadn’t been quite like that, though I did feel proud that I’d thrown
a plate at the wretched Alan’s departing back. Without my glasses,
it had missed and bounced off the wall, but, hey, at least I’d tried.
Right here and now however, I couldn’t help the secret glow that
came from Miranda’s assumption I’d been the one doing the
dumping. Still, knowing her, she was simply trying to make me
feel better. An effort for which I was grateful.

So I gave her a hug. I can do touchy-feely like the rest of them.

In the right circumstances. It was then, of course, that I saw him—
a tall hunk of a man, with dark, sleek hair and a dark beard. He
walked across the crowd of people in the makeshift dance area
behind us as if he were loping across the savannah. Almost
dancing. The movement had all the elegance and danger of a
panther on the hunt. Or a wolf.

I blinked, my eyes following the stranger. Heck, I couldn’t

have looked away. Miranda glanced around and saw whom it was I
was gazing at just as the man disappeared into the garden.

She laughed. “Ah, now, that’s Lucas. Maybe he’s your type.

Come and meet him.”

Before I could object that, as a thirty-six-year-old college

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

3

lecturer, I was probably capable of finding my own dates if I
wanted them, Miranda had grabbed my hand and was tip-tipping
her way in Lucas’ direction, with me stumbling along behind. I’d
learnt long ago that when Miranda made up her mind to do
something, it was best to go along with it.

In the garden, lights were strung up across the trees and bushes,

which gave a magical effect to the scene. Not that they were
strictly necessary, as the natural midsummer light was still strong
enough to see by. Miranda sighed and scanned the lawn for signs
of life.

“Ha!” She’d obviously spotted her unfortunate quarry, and the

two of us headed, hand in hand, to the other side of the garden.

I thought perhaps after all it was time to object. The brief

glimpse I’d had of Lucas told me loud and clear that he was way
out of my league. “Miranda, don’t you think—”

“Oh hush, Martin. Don’t you think it might be time to move

on? And you can’t tell anything until you try.”

Before I could either concur or object, we’d all but reached our

destination. The man—Lucas—swung around. In the lights hung in
the nearby branches, I could see that his upper lip was raised, as if
he were about to snarl or say something cutting. His eyes were so
light they were almost yellow and, this close up, I could see the
thick dark hairs on his arms.

He glanced at me and, to my surprise, something in those eyes

sparked. At exactly the same moment, he changed his expression
from a scowl to a smile and put out his hand to greet Miranda.

“Mrs. Falconhurst,” he murmured, his voice low and deep.

Like the richest earth and the deepest water. “So kind of you to
invite me. I haven’t been working for your husband for very long.”

“Nonsense! No kindness at all. It’s a delight to meet you at last,

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

4

Lucas. Frank speaks very highly of you. You have a great gift for
design, he tells me.”

“Thank you,” he said and then he turned to me.
Miranda introduced us, and Lucas held out his hand again. I

took it, hardly able to look the man in the eyes. The warmth of his
skin travelled up my arm, over my chest and across my face. At the
same time, that warmth travelled downward past my stomach and
into my legs, and everything else in between. I blinked when I
realized I actually had a hard-on. That hadn’t happened in a while,
at least not in response to someone else. I didn’t have a clue what
to do about it, couldn’t remember what the etiquette might be. All
of which was made doubly embarrassing by Lucas squeezing my
fingers slightly before finally letting go. In that instant, I knew he
knew.

Thankfully, Miranda didn’t guess anything. I hoped. She made

a few introductory comments about Lucas’s design skills and his
portfolio, filled him in on my position as senior English lecturer at
the local college, and then she vanished. Part of her skills as a
hostess, I assumed.

So Lucas and I were left alone.
I thought what would happen was that we’d chat for a while,

politely and about nothing in particular, and then he’d make his
excuses and move on. Leaving me to get another cocktail—non-
alcoholic this time—and drive home at an appropriate moment. On
my own. To my empty house and my single lifestyle.

None of that happened.
Instead, Lucas reached out and gripped my arm. The heat of his

fingers seared through my thin cotton shirt and into my flesh. Or at
least that was what it felt like. It felt like being branded. I gasped
and opened my mouth to say something—though, God alone

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

5

knows what—but didn’t get a chance. Because the next second the
man’s lips were crushing mine, and his tongue was ravishing my
mouth. He tasted of wine and spices. For another heartbeat, I
simply stood there, taking the sudden assault, then my body woke
up. For real. I dropped my drink on the grass. I didn’t intend to, but
it slipped out of my grasp. Luckily, it didn’t break. Then I wrapped
my free arm around his shoulders—my other arm was still
imprisoned in his grip—and held on. I realized I was moaning, but
I couldn’t help it. It was just so damn good, and so unexpected.

He growled a response into my mouth, but I didn’t want to hear

what he had to say. I just wanted him to keep on kissing me. I
didn’t need to worry. His body pressed against mine, all muscle
and purpose, and he walked me backwards until we were deeper
into the trees, away from the light. I came to an abrupt halt against
the rough stonework of a wall. It was then that he ended the kiss.

I was panting, hardly able to catch my breath at all. My glasses

were half on, half off, and my lips felt bruised and swollen. God,
but I missed his tongue.

His hand caught my chin, held it firm. He shook me, not so it

hurt, but as if wanting to make sure he had my complete attention.
Which he did. No question. Without a word, he removed my
glasses, folded them up and dropped them into the grass. I prayed
they wouldn’t break either.

Then he spoke.
“I want to mate with you,” he said. “Are you willing?”
I almost laughed. Maybe I would have done, if my cock hadn’t

been straining against my briefs and my skin searing at his touch.
For a second I told myself he couldn’t be serious. Not here, so near
the house, though we were, I think, protected by the trees, and in
Frank and Miranda’s garden to boot. Then I understood how

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

6

serious he was.

“Are you willing?” he said again, his tone low, urgent. “Tell

me.”

Unable to find any words for this situation, I nodded and made

a sound of assent. Almost a whimper.

“Good,” he said, letting me go. “Then turn around and take off

your trousers and pants.”

I obeyed. It didn’t even cross my mind to do anything else.

Almost immediately, I heard the sound of a zipper and the hard
slickness of his cock against my arse. It felt delicious, but there
was something we had to do first.

“Please,” I managed to whisper. “Condoms…”
He snarled. Not words, but a sound of annoyance that both

terrified and thrilled me. “No need. As far as this is concerned,
we’re both clean. We can’t infect each other.”

That was crazy, of course, but I knew that somehow he saw it

as the truth.

“Please,” I said again. “Humor me. You’ll find what you need

in my trouser pocket.”

A moment of silence passed when I sensed he was weighing

my words in his own private balance. Whatever his decision was, I
understood right then that I’d accept it, come what may. I wanted
this too much. His grip on me changed, and I heard the sound of
scrabbling at my feet and the blessed tearing of a packet. Then he
was back, cock at my entrance and his hand pushing my head
down so I bent forward over the wall, allowing him easier access.

The sound of spitting, a brief but gloriously wet finger at my

arsehole and then he was thrusting himself inside me. His cock
wasn’t as thick as Alan’s was, but it was certainly longer. It
divided me in two, and I was convinced that if he stopped now and

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

7

looked right inside me, he could have seen all my secrets laid bare
for his delectation alone. Thankfully, he didn’t stop. He pushed
right on in, catching my sweet spot so I cried out and arched
upwards.

“Stay still,” he muttered as he withdrew a little and rammed

himself in once more.

Three of these and I was coming, my spunk shooting out over

my own hand and over Miranda’s stonework. At the same time, he
shuddered against me and he came himself with a low howling
moan that pierced right through my body. I could feel the thunder
of his heart against my back.

For a few moments, we stayed like that, his body pinning me to

the wall. I thought I’d have some bruises in the morning. Frankly, I
didn’t care. It had been quick, but still it was the best sex I’d had
for a long time. Maybe ever. I loved the feel of him heavy on my
back, the rough sensation of his beard on my neck and shoulder
and the smell of spices and sweat from his skin. More than all of
these, I loved the sensation of being overpowered.

Finally, he slipped from my body and took a few paces away. I

peered round, still panting. His hazy shape leant over and reached
for something.

“Can I see you again?”
He snorted, though whether in surprise or disdain I couldn’t

tell. So I tried another tack. I used his own words right back at him.
Hell, I was an English lecturer after all—words were my business.

“Don’t you want to mate with me again?” I said. “Maybe we

can take it slower next time. You might like that even better than
this time. If you think you can handle it.”

I wasn’t sure quite how he got there without me really noticing,

but the next second he pressed against me again, his hand gripping

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

8

my neck and stroking my Adam’s apple. I swallowed and felt the
weight of his thumb move with me. I thought then that, if he
wanted, he could kill me right there. He seemed to have the power
for it. Thus, it seemed odd then that I didn’t feel fear, but more a
tingling excitement.

“Yes,” he said with a growl, his breath hot against my ear.

“Yes, I can handle it, if I choose to.”

With that, he brought up his other hand and placed my glasses

on my nose again. They must have been what he’d been retrieving
after we’d finished having sex. Mating. How he’d found them in
the undergrowth, I really didn’t know. He smiled, released my
neck and began to stride away.

I couldn’t let him go that easily. I wanted to see him again.
“Wait!” I called out to his disappearing back. “How will I find

you?”

He stopped at once and swung round. I caught the glimmer of

those strange yellow eyes in the gloom.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll find you,” he said.
And then, he was gone.

* * *

The next day, after work, I rang Miranda, mainly to thank her

for the party, though I was prepared to offer heartfelt apologies if
she thought I might have frightened the guests with an unexpected
display of outdoor passion. But she didn’t mention it, so I thanked
the gods above for allowing me to preserve a good friendship and
moved on. She chatted, mainly about work, the weather and the
current state of play with MPs’ expenses. The usual British topics
for discussion. It was only when we’d exhausted these excitements

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

9

that I found enough courage to raise the topic I’d been desperate to
bring up since I picked up the phone. Well, before that, actually.

I cleared my throat and went for it. “That man you introduced

me to—Lucas, who works in the design department for Frank’s
company. He’s…interesting.”

Miranda’s response wasn’t at all what I expected. She snorted

with laughter. “Did you make that judgment before or after you
were plighting your troth in the bushes? Is interesting a new dating
phrase I haven’t heard of yet?”

“Oh, God.” I groaned, my eyes squeezed shut, though, of

course, she couldn’t see that. “I’m so very sorry, Miranda. I can’t
imagine what came over me. I feel wretched. Please accept my
apologies. I really hope we didn’t ruin your party.”

She laughed again. “Actually, I think everyone will be talking

about it for months. I know we certainly will.”

I made a noise like a cat being strangled, slowly, and she took

pity on me. “Hey, I’m only joking, Martin. You were discreet
enough, and anyway I’m just glad you’re back in the dating game
again. I don’t think anyone realized but me and I haven’t told
Frank. It can be our secret. So, do you want Lucas’ number?”

That was exactly what I wanted and I smiled. When I finally

finished chatting to Miranda, I disconnected the call and drew in a
deep breath. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look my former
neighbor full in the face again, at least not for a long, long while.
Embarrassment was the least I deserved, and I made a mental
promise to myself not to act like a teenager again. Not if I could
help it. I was, after all, a grown man and a lecturer. I had
responsibilities to shoulder and some kind of reputation to uphold.

Lucas on the other hand didn’t seem like the kind of man to

pay either of those ideas much attention. Perhaps calling him

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

10

would be a stupid thing to do? I tore off the sheet of paper on the
telephone pad with Lucas’ number on it. Then I turned it round and
round in my fingers for a while, before dialling the first three digits
and then disconnecting the call. No. Probably best to leave it as a
one-off thing. The heat of the moment. Something between the two
of us that had ignited in the garden and burnt itself out almost as
quickly. Maybe.

I sighed and folded up the paper. I’d think on it for a while, see

how I felt in a couple of days’ time. I didn’t want to look too keen
and, besides, as I’d already told myself, he was way out of my
league. By now, he’d have forgotten I’d existed at all.

How wrong I was.
Two days later, on the Wednesday, Lucas appeared at my

doorstep. But perhaps not in the usual way that people do. It had
been a hellish day at work. Too many damn management meetings
that went on and on about strategy and focus and student
engagement until my brain felt as if I’d been pummelled with
words. Until I was too weak to object. All I’d ever wanted to do
was read the authors I loved, teach them to my students and add in
a little research to the mix. I hadn’t wanted my life to be kidnapped
by process. But a college lecturer’s life was inclined to be filled
with paperwork and meetings, no matter how much I tried to keep
them to a minimum.

All of which meant that the moment I opened the door, I

shrugged off my old green jacket, slipped off my shoes and headed
for the kitchen. Where I went straight to the fridge and opened an
ice-cold lager. Bliss. Hoping it would take the edge off the day, I
swung round toward the living room and, as I did so, I caught a
glimpse of something dark moving swiftly across the front garden.
When I looked out the window, I could see nothing, but,

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

11

wondering whether the neighbor’s Labradors had escaped again, I
padded back to the front door, my glass of lager still clutched in
my hand.

Outside there were no dogs to be seen. They couldn’t have got

that far away. The road was clear and quiet. No barking. With a
sigh, I turned round to retrace my steps and it was then that I saw it
again. That quiver of something dark at the edge of my vision. This
time, it was around the corner of the house, near the yew hedge.
Damn dogs. I trotted that way, making what I hoped were soothing
noises that wouldn’t scare them away. Still nothing. Strange.

Eventually I made my way around the entire house, but there

was no sign of any run-away pets. I turned the final corner to reach
my front door again, feeling like an utter idiot and hoping the
neighbors hadn’t spotted my antics, and there he was.

Lucas. Standing on the path, panting a little as if he’d been

running, and smoothing one large but shapely hand through that
thick, black hair. I gulped and dropped my lager onto the gravel.
This time the glass broke and the liquid spilled out. I ignored it.

It took him only three paces to reach me. Then, without regard

to who might be watching, he grasped my head and brought his
lips fiercely down onto mine. I barely had time to draw breath
before his tongue was filling my mouth, just like it had before. The
heat from his skin made my glasses steam up, but it didn’t matter
because I was operating purely on feel. And he felt—and tasted—
bloody delicious.

Finally, he broke the kiss, then wiped his lips dry. I was still

shaking and couldn’t say anything at all. I didn’t need to, as Lucas
spoke, or rather growled out a few words, first.

“I’ve tried mating with other men,” he said, “but they’re not

you. They’re never you. I need to mate with you again.”

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

12

Hell, those weren’t the best chat-up lines I’d ever heard, but,

for some strange reason, they were surely the most effective. By
the time we woke up the next morning, sprawled across my bed
together, gloriously naked and exhausted, I thought they were
probably the height of romance, in Lucas’ eyes. It was obvious he
and I were very different.

Those differences started early, too. That first morning, he

woke me up by the simple means of biting my ear. Which was
rather more committed than the sweet-talk I’d been hoping for, but
didn’t get. It wasn’t a serious bite—more of a nip-with-intent, but
it had the effect of plunging me into wakefulness with a yell as I
was thrashing about on the bed like a stranded fish. Not a pleasant
sight.

“What the heck was that?” I batted at his mouth, and he had the

grace to look crestfallen.

“Just wanted to see if you were awake,” he muttered.
“By biting me?”
“That’s what we always—” he started to say and then changed

it. “It worked, didn’t it?”

True enough. And once I’d realized my ear was still attached to

my head, I was certainly glad to be awake. With him. Because his
eagerness was in no way diminished from the evening before. If I
could put it like that.

After we’d both showered, and I’d shaved, I gazed at his body

in the full light of day as he dressed. He must have been the
hairiest man I’d ever seen. Certainly, the hairiest man I’d slept
with. Dark hairs lined his arms and legs and covered his chest.
Even his back was sprinkled with them. On any other man, it
would have looked strange, but on him, it was perfect. My mouth
watered and I couldn’t keep from touching. He laughed and danced

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

13

away, clutching his shirt. It was the first time I’d heard him laugh.
I liked the sound of it.

“What are you doing?” he teased me, keeping just out of reach.
“Can’t help it. I just want to touch you.”
“Like the way I look, do you?”
I finally cornered him between the bed and the window,

pushing him back down onto the duvet. He gave half a snarl, but
there was no threat in it. I ran my hand over his chest, feeling the
hairs flow through my fingers. Those strange yellow eyes of his
darkened.

“If you carry on like that,” he said, “both of us will be late for

work.”

Damn it, but he was right. With a sigh, I gave his body one last

stroke and fell back on the pillows. He nuzzled my shoulder and
my neck, causing me to gasp.

“I could say the same about you,” I said, but my voice shook

more.

It struck me that if I let him get to me, my life wouldn’t be my

own at all. But even then, though, it was perhaps too late to do
anything about it. I was already snared. I could have stayed with
him in my bed all day, forgotten all about the college, my fellow
lecturers, even my students. But real life isn’t like that and there’s
always a price to pay because tomorrow does turn up after all. So I
indulged myself with kissing him for a while and then eased away.
“Come on. I’ll make you breakfast.”

Downstairs, Lucas looked out of place in my pale green, all-

wooden kitchen. It was almost as if I was trying to trap a tiger with
a butterfly net. He sneered at my suggestions of toast, cereal and
even porridge. But his eyes brightened when I mentioned bacon.

“I knew I could smell it,” he said.

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

14

I didn’t see how that could possibly be true.
He helped me cook the bacon, though really he was more of a

hindrance than a help, and laid the table following the instructions
I gave him. I learnt quickly that Lucas’ skills didn’t extend to the
kitchen. And he wasn’t a great fan of cutlery either. At the
breakfast table, after a quick, almost challenging glance at me, he
dropped his fork and went for the bacon with his fingers. Watching
him wolf it down stirred something inside me, as if I’d been living
with lace for too long and had finally been introduced to steel.

I reached over and touched his mouth. He snarled, swallowed

down the bacon he’d been chewing and imprisoned my finger with
his lips instead. The heat of his tongue sent a flame right through
my hand and arm, across my shoulders, down my body and into
my groin.

“God,” I whispered and my eyes caught his.
The next second, he pushed the crockery onto the floor. All of

it—plates, cups and saucers, followed almost at once by my
mother’s best tablecloth. I heard the sound of breaking china and
knew I’d have to fit in a trip to the shops sometime today, if I
wanted to eat like a normal person again. For now, I found myself
lying spread-eagled across my own table, with Lucas dealing
swiftly and expertly with my zip.

“I can’t do this,” I managed to whisper. “No time.”
“You can,” was his no-comeback reply. “There’s time

enough.”

He had my cock in his mouth even before I’d managed a groan

and was swallowing me down as if I was the best thing he’d ever
tasted; maybe even better than the bacon. It felt as if one false
move and he was likely to bite me instead of sucking, but that
thought only seemed to spur me on. The next moment I was

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

15

howling and my spunk filled his mouth. When he finished licking
me clean, I was still shaking, unable to bring any of my responses
under control and utterly open to him in a way I didn’t remember
being with anyone else before. My head was telling me to be
cautious, that this was too soon and I was falling too fast, but
neither my body nor my gut was paying that warning the slightest
attention.

Finally, Lucas took a step or two backwards and stood up. He

was smiling. I watched as he wiped a few globules of my cum
from his lips. I couldn’t speak, but I didn’t need to.

“That’s something for you to remember, Martin,” he

whispered, as those eyes of his glittered. “And a token gesture for
how thoroughly I’m going to mate with you tonight.”

Then he was gone, so fast I never even saw him leave the

room. Must have been the effect he had on me—I was still
shattered from the early-morning blowjob.

That day was the first time I’d ever been late for my Browning

lecture, but, frankly, I didn’t give a damn.

* * *

During the next few weeks, Lucas and I moved easily and

somehow inevitably from a one-night stand in a friend’s garden
status to a regular shagging status. We both knew it, whatever that
meant when it came to Lucas. As I’d already thought, he was
certainly different from most of the other men I’d known.
Correction: from all the other men I’d known.

For a start, he didn’t like fruit, vegetables or salad. Before him,

I’d never met a gay man who turned up his nose at rocket lettuce.
Meat was fine, though—the less cooked the better. I kept trying to

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

16

secrete a few spoonfuls of peas or sweet corn under his steak,
simply to ensure optimum health for the man who was beginning
to take over my every waking and dreaming thought, but that never
got good results. Once, though, when he was about to shag me
over the washing machine (full cycle), I managed to extract a
promise that he’d add more healthy food to his menu before I
allowed us to mate. Afterwards he kept to it, too, though not
without a lot of dark looks over the table and a hell of a lot of
snuffling and snarling.

He didn’t like my jewelry either. I had a small silver crucifix I

wore occasionally, but the first time he saw it, he leapt back over
the coffee table with an elegance I couldn’t help but admire in a
man so imposing. Once there, he literally growled at me until I
took it off and promised never to wear it again. He told me he
didn’t like silver—thought it was a poor man’s riches—but at the
time I wondered if he had some kind of religious objection to it.
However, it couldn’t have been that, as he presented me with the
exact same crucifix the next evening, but in gold. Said he thought
it went with my eyes and coloring better. As the design expert, I
assumed he would know. Lecturers aren’t renowned for their
fashion sense, whether gay or not.

After that, I quickly found that all my silver jewelry—what

little there was—was unaccountably vanishing and being replaced
with the same item, but in gold. I said nothing, simply smiling to
myself as I thanked the powers that be that my cutlery was only
silver-plate. That didn’t seem to rile him quite so much. Then
again, he wasn’t a fan of cutlery either.

Neither was Lucas a great one for what I would have called

normal pastimes. He didn’t do much reading, got bored easily with
TV and really didn’t much like being indoors at all. My garden had

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

17

never been better. He was always doing something or other with
plants and flowers I couldn’t name and it made the lawn look
glorious. I supposed it had to be his designer background.
Sometimes, he would simply lie down on the grass and stare up at
the sky. Watching him like that made me feel freer in a strange
way, as if seeing him cast aside the expectations of behavior might
allow me to do the same, too. One day.

In spite of all these contrasts, however, something between us

gelled. He made me feel more alive. And for now he kept to the
condoms. I’d insisted.

I told all this to Miranda as we shared a Danish pastry and

sipped our Cappuccinos one Wednesday afternoon at a café
halfway between her home and mine. Neither lecturers nor
students work on Wednesday afternoons—it’s not in their job
description. Unless they’re forced into attending management
meetings, but today I’d been lucky.

“So do you think it’s strange?” I asked her when I’d finished.

“I mean Lucas being so different? Does Frank find he’s like this at
work?”

She sprinkled more chocolate on her coffee and wrinkled her

nose at me. “He tells me Lucas isn’t a team player, but then a lot of
designers are like that. He’s very talented, and talented men don’t
act like the rest of us, you know.”

“True, but to be honest, I don’t really know how to react to

him. I don’t know if it can go anywhere.”

“Ah.” She sat back and wiped a few crumbs of pastry from her

lips before dropping her napkin back on the table. “So what you’re
asking isn’t about Lucas at all. It’s about you and Lucas.”

“There’s a difference?”
“Come on, Martin. Don’t be coy. It doesn’t suit you. You like

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

18

him, don’t you? A lot.”

I considered that. Staring round the café, looking anywhere but

at Miranda, I took in the small wooden tables and the scattering of
comfy seats. I gazed at the bright counter with its shelves of
baguettes and cakes, and the line of eager customers. I glanced at
the modern but not overly intrusive artwork and I breathed in the
pungent smell of coffee. Finally, I looked back at my companion.
She was smiling.

“Yes,” I said at last. “I really like him. What I don’t know is

how to handle it.”

She leant forward and I caught the scent of Clarins’ Par

Amour.

“I don’t know if anyone needs to handle anything or anyone

else,” she said. “You look the happiest I’ve ever seen you, so
maybe the oddities of Lucas suit you more than you’d imagine. I
know you academics tend to analyze everything to the nth degree,
but my advice is just lie back and enjoy the ride, my dear. Because
you never know where it might take you.”

She was right there.
Because just under a month later, I was watching TV and

flicking idly through the channels when I heard the sound of the
key in the front door—I’d only given Lucas this the previous
week—followed by a loud crash.

I was already on my feet by then, my skin fizzing with the

presence of my new boyfriend in the house, but the noise of his
entry had me running out into the hallway, wondering just what the
hell was going on.

Lucas was lying across the hall floor, his glorious hair messed

up, mud all over his trousers and with what looked like blood on
his arm.

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

19

“What the hell?” I dropped to my knees beside him and took

him into my arms. “What’s up? What happened? Are you alright?”

Panting heavily, he gazed up at me. His eyes were dark, almost

gold, and he didn’t seem able to speak. The questions could wait.
Somehow, I got him to his feet—but that was more him than me as
I didn’t have the strength to carry him—and we staggered to the
bathroom. He collapsed with his back against the tub, and I filled
the basin with warm water and grabbed the iodine. My heart was
beating fast and I had no idea whether I was doing the right thing
or not.

Hands shaking, I helped Lucas take off his shirt and gasped at

the scratches and smears of blood on his chest. His arm was worse,
though. It looked as if he’d been bitten or clawed by some kind of
animal, though I didn’t have an idea in hell what that might be. I
washed him clean as best I could and then dabbed iodine on the
worst of his wounds.

“Do you want to go to hospital?” I asked him.
He shook his head fiercely. “No.”
“Then get in the bath. You’re filthy.”
He snarled. “Are you telling me what to do?”
I quirked one eyebrow at that, though my hands were still

unsteady. “I wouldn’t dare. Please would you get in the bath,
Lucas? I think it might help. I’ll run it for you.”

Something in his eyes softened and he blinked at me. As if

seeing me properly for the first time.

“Yes, thank you,” he said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“Forget it,” I said.
Five minutes later, the bath was ready and I was helping Lucas

into it. In the water, his body stretched out, and I couldn’t help but
admire the planes and angles of his chest and legs, the sleek length

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

20

of his cock, all that glorious black hair. He was breathing a bit
easier now. As was I. While he stared upward at the ceiling and
sank deeper into the water, I gathered together his dirty clothes and
made my way downstairs to the washing machine. I flicked
through them before setting the wash cycle. On Lucas’ trousers,
under the mud, which explained why I hadn’t seen it at first, was a
hank of black fur. I laid my hand across it. At once, it reminded me
of Lucas’ beard in its softness, but it was somehow more
animalistic than that. More bestial. It felt warm.

Unable to think, but not sure why, I extricated the fur from the

mud and laid it on the table. Then I started the wash and sat down.
Every so often, my eyes strayed to the torn fur, but mostly I just
sat. After a while, I heard the sound of the bathwater running out. I
wondered if I should go upstairs and see how Lucas was, but
something inside told me it was best to wait.

Finally, he came downstairs, and I heard the pad of his feet

across the hall. The kitchen door opened and I looked up. Now my
boyfriend seemed more…more human was the phrase that sprang
to my mind, though that didn’t make any sense at all. He was clean
and neatly dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, and although his
hair was still damp, at least it was smoothed down. Those strange
eyes of his pierced me through, and I felt my skin tingle. It was the
effect Lucas always had on me. I tried to ignore it.

“Are you okay?” I asked him. “Do you need anything for those

cuts?”

He shook his head. I understood he’d already spotted the fur on

the table. He sat down opposite me, the flow of his stride like a
dancer, but a dangerous one.

I swallowed. Laid my fingers on the hank of fur again. “Did an

animal attack you?”

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

21

“No.”
“Then what’s this, Lucas? How the hell did this fur get there?

And where did it come from? A dog? Just what was it that did this
to you?”

He sprang up, so quickly my eye barely caught the movement,

and began to pace up and down in front of the sink. A small growl
came from his throat.

“Nothing did this to me.”
“Oh, come on. I can see how injured you are. God, you could

barely stand up when you arrived. Don’t lie to me. What have you
been doing to get like this?”

The next second he was in front of me, and his fingers were

gripping my chin. The light in his eyes was brighter now, but I
faced him down. I didn’t flinch away. Instead, I repeated my
question, as best I could with the way he was holding me.

He let me go and stepped away. “Nothing. I’ve been doing

nothing. I was with—” He stopped abruptly, as if he’d revealed too
much, and turned his back to me. I wasn’t going to let this one go,
though. Not after what I’d seen tonight. I stood up.

“Who?” I asked. “Who were you with, and what the hell did

they do to you? Are you seriously hurt?”

Several horrific scenarios flooded my mind and I put my hand

on his arm to try to give comfort, if that was what was needed here,
but he gave a sharp laugh.

“No! I’m not hurt. Nothing like that! I was with—friends,

that’s all. Old friends.”

I let him go. “Some friends, if they let you leave in that state.

For God’s sake, what did you do—get into a fight or something?”

Again, he shook his head. “We were just playing.”
He closed his eyes, and I blinked at him. “That’s no game, if

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

22

this is the state you get into. Who are these friends of yours
anyway?”

He would say nothing else to me, however, and eventually we

got into bed, still silent. That night we made love with the most
intensity I’d ever known, as if he was trying to convey something
to me that I couldn’t even begin to understand, and as if I were
trying to keep him with me against all the odds. In the morning, the
strange hank of fur was gone.

Even stranger was the fact that after a couple of days, the

scratches on his body had all but disappeared. I said nothing about
it. I just looked at him and wondered.

* * *

The next month, September, the same thing happened, though

it was less obvious. Lucas sneaked into the house while I was
attending a college party for the start of term, and by the time I got
back, he was in bed, asleep. Even by the landing light, I could tell
there was something wilder about him, though. I found his
muddied clothes—though this time with no fur—at the bottom of
the laundry basket in the bathroom. Lucas was never one for
thinking things through on the domestic front. I might have had no
idea if he’d simply washed them himself.

With all this, I lay awake for a long time that night pondering.
Over the next few weeks, Lucas and I began to know one

another a little better. And I don’t mean simply in bed, though that
continued to be as explosive and revolutionary as ever. I met some
of his workmates, had the tour of his offices and chatted with
Frank for a while. I gained the impression Lucas was respected for
the results he produced, but that some of his colleagues were a

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

23

little wary. Not that I could blame them—the man had the same
effect on me, but if I’d discovered one unexpected fact about
myself, it was this: I liked living with that sense of danger, and of
mystery, too.

At the same time, I persuaded him to attend a college barbeque

with me, which was part of our principal’s “welcome to the new
academic year” celebration. He loped around the outskirts for a
while, but the smell of the meat drew him in and, by the time we
left, I think he’d quite enjoyed it. His eventual comments were
something along the lines of: “not too bad, your colleagues, are
they? And the burgers were good.” Which I considered praise
enough.

For the rest of that month, I was busy with the new college year

and doing a hell of a lot of research and reading, learning and
marveling at the facts I found. But not all of that was for work.

And then October was upon us.

* * *

This time, Lucas had the courtesy to ring me, so perhaps

something of my normal, everyday existence was rubbing off on
him after all.

“I’m going out tonight. I’ll be late back. Or I might just stay at

my place,” was all he said.

I swallowed. Seeing as we’d been all but living together at my

house for the last few weeks, this was obviously something
different, and Lucas knew it. I glanced at my watch. It was nearly
8:30 P.M.

“You out with those friends of yours tonight?” I asked him.
The only answer from his end of the line was a soft growl.

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

24

“Because if you are,” I continued, “do you want me to set the

washing machine up for you this time?”

“Don’t you question me,” Lucas said and now the snarl in his

voice was more than evident. “I do what I want to, when I want to
do it. That’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will.
I’m the one in charge here. Do you understand?”

I made no answer to that. I simply waited until both our

breathing was a little steadier.

Lucas coughed. I waited some more. Finally he spoke.
“I’ve not been in a relationship with a… with someone like you

before,” he said. “I might not be good at it. Yet.”

“You make me very happy,” I whispered. “Confused, but

happy. So maybe you’re not as bad as you think. All relationships
are difficult, Lucas. They take time. And I’ve known from the start
that the one in charge is you. You know that.”

“Yes, I know.”
We were silent for a while. Then he said, with a rising note of

urgency, maybe almost panic, in his voice that I hadn’t ever heard
from him, “I’ve got to go. It’s near the time. Tonight’s my last
chance to…”

“Last chance for what?” I cut in when his sentence stopped.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Can’t your friends
wait?”

“No. No, they can’t. Trust me, Martin, please. Tonight, it’s

important that I’m there. More important than I can say. I’ll tell
you. I’ll try to tell you soon, but not now. It can’t be now.”

His last word was more like a low moan, almost a howl, than

an actual word. I was about to tell him that I did trust him, but I
also needed to know more and he needed to trust me, too, but the
line disconnected and he’d gone.

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

25

I took a deep breath, thinking about what was important and

what was not. I could let this go and wait for Lucas to come back
and explain everything, if he could. But my unpredictable
boyfriend wasn’t one for explanations. Not without a lot of help
anyway. Somehow over the last few months, he’d become more
vital to me than I realized, and I wanted to know him, through and
through. Whatever it took. It also sounded like, for the first time,
he might need help. I might have been an ordinary lecturer, but that
didn’t mean I couldn’t make extraordinary decisions. Once in a
while.

I’d do it then. I was going to follow him. God knows what

good it would do, but if I could be there with him, I might
somehow be able to help him, as well as finding out whether or not
my suspicions—and what suspicions they indeed were!—might be
true.

Twenty minutes later, and as prepared as I could get under the

circumstances, I was sitting in my car at the end of Lucas’ road. I
could see his house from where I’d parked. The upstairs lights
were on, though I couldn’t discern any movement. Perhaps he’d
already gone? If so, I needed to make several decisions and
quickly. I waited for another five minutes, fingers drumming on
my steering wheel and throat as dry as Dickens could be. Then I
told myself not to be so stupid and try Plan B. Not that there was
much of a Plan B, but Plan A where I stalked my boyfriend to
where he was heading was history and never that clever in the first
place. Lucas, with those incredibly heightened senses of his, would
probably have known I was here even before he opened the front
door.

So, heart beating way too fast and wondering how the hell I

was going to explain any of this in the morning, to anyone, I drove

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

26

to the park. Not that it was much of a park in all honesty. It was
more of a wood, with a small playground for the children on one
side and a lake on the other. But it was the largest area of natural
countryside our town had, and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to
go.

I left the car near the lake, shrugged on my jacket, checked I

had what I’d thought, in the utterly insane world I’d been living in
recently, might be useful, and began walking towards the woods. It
was mid-October and I needed my torch even though the moon
was full. I strained to hear the sound of anything unusual coming
from the trees, but all I could make out was the wind and the odd
screech of a barn owl on the hunt.

If I were Lucas wanting to meet those strange friends of his

where nobody would see, where would I go?

The answer to that was easy. In the deepest part of the trees, as

far away from the lake and from people as I could get. Taking a
long, ragged breath and desperately thankful none of my
colleagues could see me now, I turned right and plunged into the
woods.

Branches snagged at my hair and bracken clung to my legs, but

I kept on going. The moon sparkled between the branches
overhead and cast an eerie light and dancing shadows across my
path. I felt as if I were stepping into a magical place where
anything might happen.

I didn’t know how far I’d walked, stumbling over grass and

tree roots, before I realized I wasn’t alone. Something in the
keening of the wind must have been different for a while before I
noticed it. I stopped at once and turned round. Even in the
darkness, I sensed a movement at the edge of my vision, a greater
blackness against the shadow. I held my breath, wanting to speak,

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

27

even ask who was there, but knowing it would be useless. For a
long moment, everything was quiet. Even the sound of the owl had
vanished. Then I heard it again: that low keening that wasn’t the
wind. No, it wasn’t the wind at all.

Perhaps this hadn’t been quite such a good idea. I took a step

back toward the lake and turned to run. And then they were
there—shapes in the darkness surrounding me, black silk
undulating in the night, disappearing and reappearing between the
trees. But not silk: fur. And those yellow eyes. They were so fast I
couldn’t focus on one creature before it had vanished and another
had taken its place.

I couldn’t help myself. I cried out. Even though I’d thought I

was prepared for this, I wasn’t. In any way. The moment the sound
pierced the night air, the wolves were upon me. Limbs I couldn’t
describe snatched me up and carried me even deeper into the trees.
I managed to cling onto my glasses while around my ears rang a
howling that pierced through my very blood. The woods rushed
past my eyes at such speed I couldn’t focus on anything but the
wild pace of the journey. I could barely even draw breath.

At last, when I thought I might pass out for lack of air, I found

myself tumbled onto bracken and weeds. Something dug into my
back, perhaps a tree root, and I scrambled away, the pulse
pounding in my head. Alongside the sound of my desperate
panting, I heard a low growl.

I knew at once it wasn’t Lucas, but God knows how. When I

twisted around and tried to get away, something warm and hard
grasped my neck and flung me back to where I’d been lying. It
knocked what little breath I had left out of me. The next second, a
shape loomed overhead and I blinked upwards, trying to focus.
What I saw in the strangely piercing moonlight was a tall animal,

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

28

as tall as a man, but covered in thick black fur and leaning toward
me. Sharp teeth glinted white and too close. Its head shimmered
between one shape and another—sometimes a man’s head and
sometimes that of a wolf. Its eyes glittered yellow.

So like Lucas, yet not. I struggled upright so at least I wasn’t

lying like a vulnerable fool at this mythical creature’s feet. From
my jacket pocket, I drew out the silver chains I’d brought with me
and shook them at him. The wolf snarled again and snapped at
empty air.

“Are you afraid of that then?” I spoke as loudly as I could

through my throat’s dryness, trying to puff up my own poor
courage. “Are you afraid? Lucas hates silver, and all the books say
you fear it.”

For a long moment more, the man-wolf glared at me and then

he raised his head to the moon and howled. The sound brought
other shapes I hadn’t seen looming closer and, at the same time, as
I stared horrified at them, the creature in front of me brought one
great paw low and swiped the chains away from my hand. They
landed where I could no longer see them, though I heard the
telltale splash of water and knew we were near the lake. And that
my hoped-for protection had vanished.

Then the creature bent his head to mine. “Do not be so foolish,

human. Because we of the wolf-race hate a thing, it does not
follow that we fear it.”

To that, I could say nothing. His voice was a mixture of beast

and man, each word a growl, each pause a menace. Still, I knew
what I’d come for and, even if he tore me apart with his next
breath, I would say what I needed to.

“What are you doing to Lucas?” I whispered, as the wolf-

creatures gathered from the trees around us. “Where is he, and why

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

29

do you hurt him? Whatever is going on here, it’s not his fault.”

There. That was it—my ridiculous attempt at saving my

boyfriend from whatever these wolves intended for him.

“You question me?”
Now this kind of response I could deal with; God knows I’d

had enough practice with Lucas.

“Yes,” I said, my voice a little steadier now, but only a little.

“Not because I challenge you, but only because I want to know.”

“Call me Alpha-Wolf when you address me.”
“Yes, Alpha-Wolf,” was my instant response and then I waited.

Under the circumstances, I could do no other. But it did strike me
that if some unlucky person found me torn to pieces tomorrow, it
would be an unusual way for a simple college lecturer to meet his
end. I also wondered what Lucas might do then, and if it might be
a good thing for him after all.

Before I could formulate any kind of answer to that question,

one of the wolves surrounding us in the trees sprang toward us. He
skittered to a halt only a few feet away and I felt my skin begin to
tingle. Compared to Alpha, this one seemed younger, his fur
glossier and more undulating. I knew who he was at once.

“Lucas?”
At the sound of his name, he swung toward me and I saw the

familiar glow of his eyes. I swear I would have recognized him
amongst a thousand wolf-people. He took one pace in my
direction, but Alpha-Wolf growled and raised himself up to his full
height, and Lucas stopped at once.

“Stay where you are,” Alpha said with a snarl. “You are under

our questioning and you have no right of reply here.”

Lucas’ eyes shone more brightly at that and he lifted the edge

of his lip. He looked at Alpha and then at me, once, twice. His fur

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

30

rippled, and I gained the distinct impression that, in spite of the
command, he was prepared to leap between us if the lead-wolf
threatened me more physically. Whilst I appreciated the
reassurance of that more than I could ever convey, I remained
unconvinced that a full-on fight here would do anyone any good.
Hadn’t I already seen Lucas’ injuries?

“Please,” I said, and at once all the wolves’ eyes turned to me. I

swallowed. I hadn’t even intended to speak, but seeing I was here
in the out-of-this-world situation I was in, I might as well continue.
“Please, sir, why is Lucas being questioned? What’s he done that’s
so wrong? From what I’ve read, he’s doing nothing that
other…other werewolves haven’t done before. With men or
women. Why is this different, Alpha-Wolf?”

In truth, I expected another rebuff, but instead the lead-wolf fell

to all fours again and stared at me, his strange, shimmering head
changing from man to wolf and back again. No matter the oddity
of the circumstances, it was beginning to make me feel dizzy. This
evening wasn’t working out to be one of my best by any measure.

Alpha padded closer to me, and Lucas gave a low snarl. I could

see he was once more ready to leap, despite whatever his leader
had commanded.

“You should not believe everything human legends tell you,”

Alpha said, with the merest flick of his muzzle at Lucas. “Here it is
against our traditions to mate with one of your species. We wolves
of this pack keep to ourselves, in every way.”

At that, the company of creatures circling ever nearer set to

with a great howling. The sound filled the air and trees, the water
and the night, rising upward and ever upward until I could barely
contain it in my mind. I covered my ears with my hands, but still
the noise of it pierced me through. Just when Alpha-Wolf joined

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

31

his terrible call to the chorus, I felt soft warmth, with the
undercurrent of sinew and muscle, across my shoulders. It smelled
of Lucas, even in the form he was in, and I almost sobbed at the
comfort of that. Burying my head in his fur, the sound lessened and
I was able to breathe again.

Finally, the howling ceased, and the silence that followed it

was the deepest I had ever heard. Still, I knew I had to speak into
it.

“Is that why you punish him?” I asked, looking at Alpha-Wolf.

“Because he chooses to be with me?”

Alpha padded back toward me, and I saw he was panting. At

his approach, Lucas slipped away from my body, but kept his
position at my side. Without warning, he snarled and snapped at
the lead wolf, who lowered his head and snapped back. They
began circling each other, and I sensed that probably wouldn’t end
well either.

“Please,” I said, my heart beating so fast I thought they all

could hear it. With their abilities, they no doubt could. “Please,
Alpha-Wolf, I would love to hear your answer. How can I know
your wisdom if you fight?”

The two wolves turned at once to me, as if they had been

engaged in a private quarrel and I had dared to interfere. It was
then that Lucas spoke for the first time.

“I, too, am an Alpha,” he said in a growl, but the threat to me

was minimal.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” I replied, lowering my voice

as if only he could hear. “I understand that more than anything else
that’s happened since I arrived here. Believe me, Lucas, I’m not
likely to forget it.”

“Be silent or I will kill you both,” the lead-wolf said, and Lucas

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

32

and I turned simultaneously to acknowledge him.

Both of us obeyed; I with rather more humility, I couldn’t help

but notice.

“Here,” the wolf continued, “it is I who am the alpha. As I have

said, the traditions of my pack dictate that we do not mix with
those who are not like us. If we do, then situations such as we face
now occur and the pack is broken. So, those of us who disobey are
punished. Twice have I and my followers disciplined Lucas on the
night of the full moon and still he has not given you up. Now he
must bear the ultimate price.”

I reached out and buried my hand deep into my boyfriend’s fur.

I felt the rumble of his response against my fingers.

“And what is that price?” I whispered. “Tell me, Alpha-Wolf.

Please.”

“As long as Lucas stays under my jurisdiction, he must either

give you up, or he will die.”

I swallowed. Hard. “Surely there’s another way?”
“Yes,” said Lucas, his voice rolling through his body and

making my fingers vibrate where they touched him. “Yes, there is
another way. If I leave the pack, then the honor of Alpha is
satisfied.”

“No-one has ever left before the time is right.” Even before

he’d finished half-speaking half-howling the words, the lead wolf
had launched himself into the air.

I cried out a warning, but it was already too late. Lucas tumbled

over and over in Alpha’s grip, the two of them snarling and
snapping. More than that, ripping at each other’s flesh and drawing
blood. Even as the pack surrounding us began to howl again, I
flung myself at the battling wolves. God alone knows what I
thought I might do. My only thought was to save Lucas. Somehow.

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

33

I grabbed a handful of fur and held on. The next moment, I

found myself slammed against the ground, then lifted upwards into
the moon-bright sky and down onto the hard ground again as the
three of us rolled over and over. My glasses vanished, and I cursed
the vulnerability that caused me. Though, God knows, I was
already vulnerable enough. I could smell the acrid scent of blood—
Oh, God, let it not be Lucas’s—and hear the gnashing of teeth
through the pack of wolves’ song.

I had no idea how long this madness went on for, but at last, the

earth around me was still. I was lying on mud and covered in
leaves and bracken. My heart was pounding and I struggled up
onto all fours.

“Lucas?”
The only answer was a low whimpering, followed almost at

once by a snarl.

“Leave him,” said Alpha from somewhere to my right, the

direction the snarl had come from. “He has fought and lost this
day.”

“You’ve killed him? No.” Then, uncaring what else might

happen now, I scrambled in the direction of Lucas’ wolf-body,
nothing but a shimmering hulk amongst the trees. I gathered him
into my arms and hugged him to me. His fur felt warm against my
skin and face. For a long moment, I rocked him, murmuring soft
words and then I turned to Alpha.

The lead wolf’s deep yellow eyes glittered at me through the

darkness.

“I tell you this,” I said to him, “if this man dies, if you have

killed him for loving where you said he should not, then I demand
that you here and now fight me also, and kill me, too, no doubt.
Because, whether you like it or whether you don’t, I am Lucas’

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

34

pack and I have no desire to be in another’s. Not now and not
ever.”

The background howling of the wolves ceased at once. The

night came rushing in. I stayed where I was, holding my strange
un-human boyfriend and staring into the eyes of a wolf. His pack
drew closer, and I kept tight hold of what I thought of as mine.

Finally, Alpha-Wolf gave a strange hissing noise, and I closed

my eyes. This was it then. This was the end. I hoped it would be
quick. What happened next wasn’t what I’d expected at all.

“You would die for Lucas-Wolf, human?”
I opened my eyes, blinking to try to focus, though it was worse

than useless of course.

“If I had to,” I said quietly. It was the truth. I wasn’t a brave

man, but there it was: the truth in full view. It didn’t matter that the
man I loved might not be a man at all, and that I was about to be
ripped asunder by the sort of animal I’d never realized existed. It
was still the truth.

The lead wolf stepped back, shook his long, dark body so

droplets of blood spattered in all directions, lifted up his head and
howled. I turned to bury my head in Lucas’ fur, but this time the
sound of it didn’t have the devastation of before. It stopped as
abruptly as it had begun. Then he spoke once more.

“Then you are truly the best of Beta-Wolves,” he said.

“Perhaps the time has come for Lucas to leave us after all.”

“But you’ve killed him.”
As I spoke, I lunged at Alpha, but he skittered back and

snarled. “Do not go too far beyond what I have already permitted.
We will leave you now.”

Before I could say another word, the strange creatures were

melting away into the trees, swallowed up by the night. The next

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

35

moment, they had gone. I could sense their absence, even though I
couldn’t fully see it. I collapsed back onto the ground next to
Lucas’ body, panting hard.

What now? I needed to take Lucas somewhere, somewhere I

could simply be with him. I couldn’t think about what would
happen after that. I couldn’t let myself think about it.

“Lucas.” I held him again, my body shaking. His fur felt silky

on my face. I couldn’t believe he was dead. Ever since I’d met
him, he’d been so very alive. I’d never met anyone like him. Not
only in what he no doubt was, but in how he was, too. Demanding,
difficult, dangerous, but also passionate, committed and real. He’d
changed my ordinary world, and I couldn’t see how I could be
without him.

I began to cry then. Stupid, pointless and distinctly unBritish,

but I couldn’t help it. After a while, I became aware of something
patting my cheek. Something thin and long. I sniffed back my tears
and tried to brush whatever it was away. It refused to go. I blinked
a few times and tried to brush it away again. It was then I realized
what it was. The arm of my pair of glasses was being knocked
against my ear, over and over again. As if trying to attract my
attention. More astonishing than that was the fact my glasses were
being held by strong fingers covered in dark hair.

“Lucas?”
The answer was a snuffle followed by a groan. I cried out his

name again and found myself wrapped in his embrace. Hot breath
flowed over my neck, and I felt the smooth warmth of his hair
against mine. I couldn’t stop saying his name, half-laughing, half-
crying, and, somewhere in the middle of all that, my glasses were
replaced on my nose and I could see everything clearly at last.

Lucas was there, but not there. One moment a wolf lay in my

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

36

arms and the next it was a man. Each transformation revealed the
cuts and bites of his body where Alpha-Wolf had torn into him,
and everywhere I looked, there was blood.

I reached out to him, but he batted me away with a sleek black

limb that at once turned into his arm. “Leave me, Martin. I’m not
dead, but I need to come back. Into. My. Body.”

His voice was nothing but a growl I could barely interpret and

it was only a moment later that I caught his meaning. As I gazed at
him, helpless, the long figure of a wolf was for a heartbeat or two
outlined against the moonlight, and then everything about him
began to change into the man I knew. From fur into skin and hair.
First the head, then shoulders, chest, arms and then, as he began to
pant and writhe on the grass, his buttocks and legs also. One last
high-pitched wail and he was as I had first met him. But this time
his clothes were ragged and torn, and fresh blood oozed from the
scars I could see underneath.

I didn’t care about any of that. I only cared that he was alive.
It took a while for the two of us to stumble back to my car. I

couldn’t even remember where I’d parked it, but Lucas’ sense of
direction was infallible. I wondered about asking him if he wanted
to go to hospital, but knew even as I thought it how ridiculous that
was.

For now, I simply needed to get him home. Everything else—

and there was so much else, wasn’t there?—could wait.

I didn’t really remember how we got back to my house. I didn’t

think I caused any accidents or jumped any lights, but really, who
could tell? All I could think about was Lucas, the fact he was alive
and the overpowering imperative to get him home.

Once there, I ran the bath as my boyfriend stripped. As he sank

into the steaming waters, I cast an anxious eye over his wounds,

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

37

which, to my astonishment, already seemed to be healing. These
werewolves evidently had more powers than even I had discovered
in my research. After that, I left him to it, made my way
downstairs, loaded the washing machine—a chore that I might
have to get used to on a full-time basis, depending on what
happened after tonight—and retrieved a much-needed lager from
the kitchen.

It was way after midnight when Lucas finally came downstairs.

I’d been sitting and staring at the walls of my living room for a
long, long time, and I’d heard the bathwater changed more than
once. Three empty lager bottles lay by my chair. Even in these
circumstances, I wasn’t a great drinker. When I heard the door
open behind me, I didn’t get up, though. This time, I let him come
to me.

He padded in without a word. I could smell the heat rising from

his body and sense the way his yellow eyes pierced me through,
though I didn’t look at him. Not then. He stood for a moment or
two near the bookshelf and then he sat down on the sofa opposite.

“Martin, I want to thank you. I—”
“Please,” I cut him off, raising one hand. “I don’t want to hear

you talk. I want to think.”

The beginning of a low growl met this announcement, but it

was just as quickly cut off. For the time being, he wasn’t my
Alpha-Wolf, if that was the phrase I should be using now, and I
needed him to know it. I swallowed and gazed as far away from
him as I could. Even doing that, I was aware of his presence with
every inch of my body.

After a while, when I was ready and not before, I began to talk.
“This is real, isn’t it,” I said, though that wasn’t a question, not

at any level. “This is real, and I have to find some way of coping

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

38

with it. If I can. I want you to understand just how very difficult
this is for me. I never intended to fall in love with someone who
isn’t human. Or not entirely. I didn’t even know people like you—
werewolves—existed outside the traditions of fantasy literature.
Seeing what happened out there tonight and being part of it has
changed everything I thought my world was about. It frightened
me. Very much. I know you won’t understand this as you must
have been living in two worlds for as long as you can remember,
but I haven’t. I need time to adjust to what it all means, and how it
might be from now on. Do you understand that?”

I turned and looked at Lucas for the first time. His hair was still

matted to his head and glittered with water. But he was in a fresh
pair of jeans and a T-shirt and looked normal enough. Only I knew
better. Moreover, he was crouching, not sitting, on the chair, as if
at any moment he was likely to leap out of it and away. The sight
of him made my heart beat faster. As it always had. I wanted to
touch him, check if he was all right, but there was still so much to
say. So much he needed to say, too. I waited, simply looking at
him.

He took a long time replying and when he did, I could tell how

much of an effort he was making. An effort to try to meet me on
my own ground. Hell, perhaps that was something we were both
going to have to learn, if this—whatever this was now—was going
to go anywhere at all.

“I’m sorry,” he said, slowly, such words being unaccustomed

to his mouth. “I’m sorry that I thought I had to lie to you about
who and what I am, but I never intended to fall in love with
someone who isn’t like me either.”

He shook himself on the chair, shifted his position, those

strange yellow eyes holding my gaze. It was like having a wild

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

39

animal in the house, one I couldn’t entirely predict. Though, of
course, it was exactly that, wasn’t it? I simply hadn’t understood it
before.

I took a breath, then shut my eyes for a second or two.
“Do you want to sit in some other way?” I asked him. “Is that

uncomfortable for you?”

“No. I’ve run with the pack now. My old pack, that is. I don’t

want to stretch myself across the ground, or be free in the woods or
howl for the moment. It takes a while to settle again afterwards,
that’s all.”

“Okay,” I replied, as if any of that made sense. As if we were a

normal couple discussing interesting differences in décor or
lifestyle. Which, in a way, we were. Something else occurred.
“What will you do without your pack when you need to be a wolf
again?”

“Martin, I’m always a wolf.”
“Yes. Yes, of course you are.”
“If you mean what will I do when the next full moon rises, then

I can run alone. Perhaps, later, find others who are more liberal
than Alpha-Wolf was.”

“I can come with you, if you like. If it’s possible, I mean.

Whether you’re on your own or with others.”

He gazed at me, eyes glowing golden in the light. He blinked.

“You would do that for me?”

“Yes,” I said, simply. “I’m your pack. If you’ll have me.”
Some of the residual tension in the room began to melt. Lucas

smiled, looked as if were about to say something, but the words
wouldn’t come. He blinked again, rapidly. Looked away, looked at
me again.

“Anyway, is this”—I spoke to distract him, made a sweeping

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

40

movement with my hand to demonstrate what this might be—“is
this the reason why we don’t need to use condoms?”

Lucas nodded and gathered himself together. When he spoke,

his voice was hoarse and he had to clear his throat and start over,
“Werewolves and humans don’t cross-infect. You’re not sick,
Martin, but if you were, you couldn’t harm me. The same goes the
other way round, too, though I’m not sick either.”

“I see.”
We were silent again together for a while. I felt the terrors of

the evening ease themselves away even farther and something like
normality began to drift back in. Here we were. Just two blokes
living together and sharing an evening. Or rather a very early
morning. At least that was what it might seem like from the
outside. The fact that only one of us was completely human was
simply an additional complication in the already offbeat
complexity of dealing with a modern relationship. Wasn’t it? God,
I hoped so.

After another while, Lucas stood up and came padding over to

my side. He hunkered down and placed his head on my knee,
rubbing his cheek across my trousers and laying one hand on my
foot. Slowly, carefully, I reached out and stroked him. He
snuffled—yes, that was the word for it—and arched upwards,
seeking more contact with my fingers. Swallowing, I caressed his
head, wallowing in the glorious silkiness of his hair. It felt so
bloody good to be touching him again, and my shoulders released
the knots that seemed to have been stored up for hours. He
growled, but it was a sensuous sound, carrying no threat.

“We’re very different,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Being with you has made me the happiest I can ever

MARTIN AND THE WOLF

41

remember,” I told him in nothing more than a whisper.

“Yes,” he said again, his hand beginning to stroke upwards

over my leg. “Me too.”

Another silence. Again, it was I who broke it.
“We need to talk to each other more,” I said. “If we can. I want

to know how things are for you. It seems to me when I think it
through that you’ve been hiding yourself ever since we met.
Trying to be fully human. Lucas, if we’re going to make this work,
we have to be honest with each other, acknowledge our differences
and deal with them. That is, if you want to try to make it work. I
know I do. I love you.”

He rose up then. The strange and beautiful man I lived with. He

took my hand, pulled me to my feet, kicked the lager bottles out of
the way and lay me down. Right there on the rug in front of the
unlit fire.

“Yes,” he said. “I want that, too, Martin. I want it with you.

There is one thing, however, if we’re going to be honest about who
we are now.”

“And that is?” I said with a gasp as he licked and bit at my

neck, the glorious spicy scent of him filling my nostrils.

“I can’t be the Beta-Wolf like this for long,” he whispered. “I

need to be in charge. It’s my nature.”

I laughed at that as he began to undo my shirt buttons, all but

ripping them open to get to my skin.

“God, I thought you’d never say it,” I told him while I could

still find words at all. “Because, believe me, Lucas, you being my
Alpha is just what I need you to be.”

A

NNE

B

ROOKE

Anne Brooke’s fiction has been shortlisted for the Harry Bowling
Novel Award, the Royal Literary Fund Awards, and the Asham
Award for Women Writers. She has also twice been the winner of
the DSJT Charitable Trust Open Poetry Competition. She loves
reading dark and quirky crime novels and has a secret passion for
bird watching and chocolate. Preferably at the same time. She once
took a balloon flight in Egypt but spent most of the time
screaming, and she hopes she never has to do it again.

To learn more about Anne and her writing, please visit her website
at:

http://www.annebrooke.com

* * *

Don’t miss The Hit List

by Anne Brooke,

available at AmberAllure.com!

Jamie Chadwick is straight. Determinedly straight. Or so he keeps
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longer ignore the past he’s kept hidden for six years. When Robert
and David get together, Jamie’s feelings begin to surface in
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Who, amongst the crowd of people set to blow his life apart, will
make it onto his fantasy hit list? And in the midst of Jamie’s own
emotional battlefield, how can he keep things together at all?

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