Hungry
First posted, probably on Livejournal, circa 2013.
Set far before the events ofSome Kind of Magic
Summary: A gay teenage werewolf in a heteronormative human world. (Ray likes a boy.) Gen.
Baseball practice after school meant Ray got home just after sunset, but he was still surprised to see his mom at home too. Working in the law office meant she kept whatever hours herboss kept, but they must not have had a pressing case tonight because his mom’s car was in the driveway and he could see lights on in the kitchen.
Ray didn’t swear out loud, not with her sharp hearing, but he picked up his backpack and his gym bag and moved as quickly as he could through the back door and past the kitchen.
“Raymond.”
Ray froze at the single word, then heaved a sigh.
“Hey, mom,” he started as he turned around. He dropped his bags and came forward into the kitchen to kiss her cheek. He didn’t have to stoop, but she turned her cheek up anyway, so Ray tried to keep himself angled sideways so she wouldn’t see.
He still didn’t know if it was a mother thing or her greater experience with filtering out smells letting her detecthurt/pain/wound, but she inhaled sharply and then grabbed his arm with one hand. She used the other to turn his face toward her.
Ray could have shaken her off—he was stronger now and still growing—but at her soft growl, he ducked his head and held still.
He’d been planning on running out into the woods behind their house tonight and shifting for a hunt so the extra strength would make him heal faster. A hunt where he could stretch and be himself, not hunch his shoulders to fit in small high school doorways, where he didn’t have to hold back. Just the wolf and the scents ofwildandfree. That was the only time Ray felt normal anymore.
Now his mom was gently touching the tender skin around his left eye. He half expected her to put some of the raw meat out on the counter in front of her on his face, but instead she took a piece of the bloody steak and popped it in his mouth.
Then she let go of him and went back to preparing dinner.
Ray was actually starving. He always seemed to be starving these days. He’d wake up bigger and taller, with more hair all over him, and be hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. So he chewed and swallowed before looking at her again.
“I was going to ask if you’d thought about what we talked about on Saturday, but I guess now I’ll just ask, was anyone else hurt?” She meant: had he hurt anyhumans?
Ray shook his head. Not much. Just what it had taken to push the other guy off and let him know it would be a mistake to try that again. One slight push of Ray’s paw—hand—and the guy had been on his ass on the dirt in front of everyone, eyes wide with real fear before he’d hidden it.
Ray had had to stop himself from shaking, or shifting, or following the action with another, like going for the throat.
He realized he was snarling and stopped, flushing hot. His mother wouldn’t blame him for that; she was always telling him and his sister that puberty was a hard time for werewolf, saying it so often it was embarrassing. But she was right. Everything made him want to shift or pounce. He was always too hot.
“They are weaker than we are and don’t know any better. But for this to work, they can’t fear us.” She took a sip of her white wine. Ray didn’t know why his mom liked wine, except to flavor her cooking. He didn’t know why anyone liked it, honestly. He would have tolerated the taste the way he tolerated stolen beer at house parties, to fit in without making a scene, but he wouldn’t drink it on his own. She might have gotten into the habit from doing the same thing. It was always about appeasing humans. Even….
Ray sighed and kicked the fridge, lightly, with his cleat. “Iknowthey’re weaker. But he said...”
He shut his mouth and clenched his jaw.
Senior prom was coming up. Everyone was supposed to go—with a date. Even the were people wanted on their team because he swung the bat harder than anyone else but didn’t really want to hang out with because he didn’t like beer, or couldn’t get drunk, or because he didn’t want to date a cheerleader.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ray finally rumbled, barely suppressing a growl. “He was right.”
“Raymond.”
Ray looked over at his mother through his loose, falling hair. She stood tall and straight, her hair without a touch of gray, her arms toned as she sliced up more steak. She smelled like perfume and wine and blood, a weird mix likeiron/strengthandsoft/warm.
He looked at the floor. “No one is going to go with me,” he muttered. Not who he wanted anyway.
His mother made a noise.
“Didn’t I tell you on Saturday that Cici next door said she’d go with you?”
Ray hadn’t forgotten. How could he when the humiliation of being found a date by his mother made him squirm? Cici’s family lived on the next property over, just on the outskirts of town, and had gotten used to their werewolf neighbors years ago.
