Worse Than His Bite

Chapter 6: Wolf in human clothing

Leo, for one reason or another, decided to entertain the stranger that had offered him a drink.

He couldn't decide whether it was the man's attractive physique, handsome face, thick highland accent or the fact that he blushed like a virgin whenever Leo said something even slightly suggestive.

It had been an accident at first. The stranger had offered to buy him a drink, then when he passed Leo his drink, their hands touched. The stranger flinched away, dropping the drink so quickly that Leo was only just able to catch it. A bit of it sloshed out and spilled onto his hand. Great. Now, his hand was going to stink of beer.

He was going to yell at the stranger. Ask him quite bluntly, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Except he faltered.

The stranger was clutching the hand that had accidentally brushed against Leo's. His eyes were cast down and focused on his hand as a deep red blush flooded his face. Tentatively, almost lovingly, he traced a finger over the part of his hand that had touched Leo's. It surprised him, to say the least.

Leo was trained to handle a guy like the stranger. An overgrown mutated dog wearing the skin of a human was nothing scary to him.

He'd been taught their behavioural patterns, their body language. They were more animal than man and that came out in everything they did, no matter how hard they wanted to hide it. When they experienced intense emotions, their eyes would change to that of the beast's, their nails would change into claws, their teeth would lengthen and sharpen into fangs. There were more, so many more. The way their skeletons would physically change, collapsing and growing simultaneously. The way they lost their voices as their voice box became restricted by their changing body and thus unable to form understandable speech.

He'd memorised all the tell tale signs of a werewolf about to go berserk, knew them better than he knew anything else.

What the fuck kind of reaction was blushing?

"What's your name?" Asked Leo.

The stranger blushed some more when he saw the way Leo watched his strange display. He hid his hand behind his back, presumably out of embarrassment. "I'm Callum. Callum McCameron."

Leo always found it funny that these dogs had learned to name themselves.

"You almost dropped my drink." Leo told him.

"I'm so sorry. It was a complete accident. I just..." Leo noticed the muscles in his right arm flex. Something about his hand touching Leo's had triggered something in him. How curious.

"It spilled onto my hand."

"Did it? Gods, I'm so sorry."

Gods? As in plural? Leo had heard of American werewolves worshipping an ancient female moon deity whose name was long lost to time. Multiple gods. Leo hadn't heard anything about that. A different faith because of the region, perhaps?

But, father had insisted that there was only the moon goddess. Unless, he was wrong.

If father was wrong and Leo brought back evidence of Scottish highland werewolves being polytheistic, think of the glory he would gain. The respect from his siblings. From everyone!

"Do you want me to clean it up for you?"

What? Leo eyed Callum curiously as he reached down and took Leo's beer covered hand. Callum did nothing with it straight away. If anything he seemed to relish simply holding it. His hands pressed so lightly against Leo as if he considered Leo's hand delicate or precious. The blush went straight to the tips of Callum's ears. He blushed that much just from holding hands? Jesus, this guy really was a virgin.