Danny McMann has been busy on pack business for weeks and just wants to spend the upcoming full moon deep in the woods with his pack, running, hunting, napping and generally goofing off. The last thing he wants to hear is that they’ve got another man on their hands who’s been bitten and is about to turn with the arrival of the full moon.
Hammond Argyle was in a bar fight a few weeks ago and was bitten by his assailant. He’s been in a foul mood ever since and it’s only getting worse. As is the way, his skin itches and feels like it doesn’t fit him anymore. So when someone starts lurking around, following him, it’s about all he can take.
Will Danny be able to help Hammond through his first change and beyond?
Fanny, the grizzled old seer, nodded sagely and pulled another card from her deck.
The Death card. Endings, beginnings, change, transformation, transition. Fuck a duck, that was Danny’s card.
He sighed, rolled his eyes. “Okay. Okay, I’ll go make sure he knows the rules, doesn’t freak out, blah, blah, blah. No more anyone biting anybody else though, okay? I’m totally not doing this every weekend.”
Chuckling at him, Fanny pulled another card, and one of her bushy gray eyebrows went up. Then she smiled and tucked all three cards back into the deck. “You’ll probably not need to worry about it again.”
“No? Good deal.” Danny leaned in, kissed her dry dusty cheek. “You have a name for me?”
“Do I have to do everything for you young pups these days?” she asked.
“Absolutely. We’re spoiled rotten.” Not to mention it would be infinitely easier to track this guy down if he had a name, and they were right on the cusp of the moon—time was of the essence.
She swatted at him, then her gaze went inside, eyes staring through him for a moment. She blinked, coming back to the present. “Hammond Argyle.”
“Argyle? Do we even allow people called Argyle be wolves?”
“We don’t seem to have had a choice, impertinent pup. And you’d better get going if you’re going to be in the city before the moon brings its changes.” Her gruff words belied the fact that she liked him. Danny could see the fondness in her eyes, still bright as the sky despite her extreme age.
“I’m headed out. I’ll be in touch.” He just wanted to get this done so he could enjoy a break.
“Try not to leave a trail of havoc behind you, Danny.” Rich could growl when he wanted to.
“You got it!” Like the so-called havoc was ever his fault. He wasn’t the one biting people, only cleaning up the messes after those who were.
“No havoc,” Rich called out again as Danny headed out.
“Nope! Havoc free, that’s my motto! No havoc at all.” Right. Trouble followed him like a shadow whether it was of his making or not. And Rich’s snort said he was thinking exactly the same thing…
Amber Quill: Click Here
Often referred to as “Space Cowboy” and “Gangsta of Love” while still striving for the moniker of “Maurice,” Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and pursuing the Kama Sutra by channeling the long-lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to Chicago.
A long-time writer of complicated haiku, Sean is currently attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate-spinning and soap-carving sex toys.
Barring any of that? He’ll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.
To learn more about Sean, please visit: www.seanmichaelwrites.com.