Clark cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, sure, I guess.” I’d have been happier if he hadn’t also muttered, “I can’t exactly stop you,” but I’d take that as permission.
As I trotted through the entry and down the hall, I took a good sniff around. From the scents I could pick up, only Clark and Larissa lived in this house, their presences heavy in the air. Older traces of three human women and one man came to my nose, and beneath that a faint array of occasional visitors. If Clark had a partner, or Larissa another parent, they were either on extended absence or lived elsewhere.
I was relieved not to detect a dog or cat. Most animals were not fans of werewolves. I’d had to walk away from more than one hookup over the years when the guy had invited me home, only to be met by a snarling— or hiding and peeing— dog. I wanted a moment with Clark tonight, a connection, something. Not sex, with his kid around, but a chance to have someone know who I was in skin and fur. I was relieved that moment wouldn’t be ruined by “Don’t trust anyone your dog doesn’t like.”
The bathroom off the hallway turned out to be small, just a half bath with limited floor space. I ended up back in human form with my head under the toilet and my chest aching from where the tight saddle straps dug into my skin. I fumbled the buckles open and took a deep breath, relieved I hadn’t strangled myself.That was stupid.I wasn’t sure why I’d been so driven to talk to Larissa’s dad that I’d ignored the basic rules of safe shifting.
Except, now here I was, a six-foot-five naked stranger in Clark’s house with his kid. I hadnotfucking thought this through. There weren’t even full-sized towels in the half-bath, just hand-towels. I used two of them, front and back, holding the sides in place at my hips with both hands. Which meant turning the doorknob with my elbow and fucking hell, I hadn’t been this inept since high school.
When I reached the entry, the guy had closed the door down to a crack, but not latched it. Whether that was to facilitate my escape or his, I wasn’t sure. He stood on the tile five feet from the door, his shoulders tense and a frown on his face. Larissa was nowhere to be seen.
I said, “Look, I’m really sorry for barging in.”
His body language eased a little and he waved a hand. “You didn’t barge. Larissa basically dragged you over the threshold.”
“She’s awesome.” I glanced around. “Is she okay?”
“Sure. I sent her up to get out of the torn dress.”
“Sorry about that too. I wasn’t in control of all my buckles.”
“You were dressed up like a pony?”
“A Warg,” I corrected. “Or maybe a dire wolf. I’m not entirely sure what fandom young Dylan was cosplaying.”
That got me another fraction of relaxation. “Your kid?”
“A friend’s. Riding on a werewolf was apparently an ambition. The saddle was his mother’s work.”
“Nice of you to go along with that.”
“I like kids,” I said airily, even though that was only half true. I liked kids I knew, in small doses. I’d defend any of the pack pups to the death, but I didn’t always know what to do with them.
The guy looked me over. “Listen, can I lend you something better to wear? I guess when you change shapes you end up naked, but that doesn’t look comfortable.” He glanced at his closet. “A coat, maybe?”
“Not sure anything you have will fit me, but thanks.” Clark was close to six feet tall but slim, and I had several inches of shoulders on him.
“Hang on.” He turned away enough to rummage through the closet and came out with a package. “That should work.”
The black plastic rain poncho was hardly high-fashion wear, but it was one size fits even me. Just one problem. “I can’t hold the towels and put it on.”
Something flashed in the guy’s eyes and he dropped his gaze below my waist, murmuring, “What a shame.” Then he winced. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”
“Well, it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” I reminded him. “Although it was dark in that hallway.”
“I what?” His focus sharpened. “Do I know you?”
“I wouldn’t say know. We’ve met. Once.”
“Ooooh.” I saw recall hit him. My size was no doubt memorable. “Halloween. Must be what, ten years back?”
“Something like that. Hello, again, Clark Kent.”
“Call me Superman. Or, you know, Kendrick, which is my real name.”
“Hi, Kendrick.” I twitched the towels at my hips. “I don’t think it’s safe to shake hands. I’m Trent.”
“A werewolf.”
