Omega Blues (Gay Romance)

Chapter Two: Moonlit Getaway

Bren

Matt's a great driver. He loves driving in the Matt-love way—with enthusiasm, endless excitement and jokes.

I'd been hesitant to even let him behind the wheel at first. I'd thought easily he'd be distracted and careless... I couldn't be hurt in a crash, but Matt could. I didn't want to see him hurt.

But he was the opposite of careless.

I had never thought driving could be beautiful, until I'd seen Matt doing it. It was like the moment his hands touched the wheel, the car became a part of him, and he moved it with the effortless grace of a dancer. He'd smile and chat but barely take his eyes off the road. He was still Matt, but Driving Matt was a pared-down and refined version, the puppy enthusiasm stripped back to the core of deep love and compassion. Because that's what it looked like when he drove: he loved the road, he loved my old pick-up, he loved the other drivers and wanted everyone to be happy and treated well.

We drove away from town and up into the Jagged Rock Mountains. The summer heat had dulled and road was dappled with shadow from the trees which grew close on both sides. We went a quarter of an hour without seeing another car, but Matt still indicated and checked all directions as he passed side streets.

Matt could drive better than anyone I'd ever seen, without even trying. And I was sat in the passenger seat trying just to keep in my human shape.

My gut clenched as my organs tried to shift, my spine cracking with enough horse to make my body tremble. I didn't want to show my pain on my face, or make any move to let Matt know what I was feeling. I kept my back rigid and my legs flat. My toes were curled in my boots, clenched tight to show the pain that I couldn't let show on the rest of my body.

"It was amazing," Matt said. "You wouldn't believe. I wish you were there for it!"

"For what?" My voice was rough. I swallowed. It didn't help. My throat was closing over, wanting to cut off the words that I wouldn't need soon—soon I wouldn't be talking, I'd just be taking orders from other wolves.

Matt's voice was hushed, awe to contradict my gruff bark. "I sung on stage. On stage! In front of a crowd of thousands!"

"That sounds terrifying."

"It was." Matt glanced away from the windscreen just long enough to grin at me. His eyes were so dark, irises merging into pupils, deep brown pits that drew me in like gazing up at the night sky. I was having more trouble breathing, my breath catching in my chest where my lungs felt too small. I told myself that it was the shift hurting me. But I wasn't sure.

My pick-up had always seemed large enough—too big, even—but with Matt behind the wheel, the truck seemed tiny. My senses had heightened and focused in on Matt so I was aware of his every breath, every tiny movement, the sound of his tongue over his lips and the steady rhythm of his heart. Matt's scent was so close and his pulse so loud it was like he was sitting in my lap with my face pressed into the side of his head.

I'd driven with him often before. And I'd felt the first stirrings of these feelings inside of me. But not this intensely. Now it was overwhelming. I rolled the window down, letting in a blast of cold air, twisting my head out to breathe it in and try to block out the scent that was tingling through my veins and crawling down my spine.

There was the moon through the gaps in the trees, heavy and full and pale, calling to me even when it was blocked from view. I felt its tug with every wrenching, suppressed change of my body.

I wanted to climb out the door. Just leap out into the night, shuck my clothes and my human skin. Slip away from the pain, let the agony disappear and just give in to it instead of fighting it with all of my energy.