Thrown to the Wolves (Big Bad Wolf) Read online

She knocked her head against his hand. “You don’t mind that I’m not special, do you, Boogs?” Cooper murmured, scritching the top of her head. Boogie leaned into the pressure, purring, then suddenly jerked away, as if embarrassed to be caught enjoying his company. She watched him for a moment, tail flicking against his arm with more power than expected from something so slim before leaping off the table and ambling away into a dark corner of the barn. “Well, I guess that answers that.”

  The barn door opened and a blast of cold air snuck inside and immediately sent a shiver down Cooper’s spine. He turned to see a dark figure in the dim light. Still, he’d recognize Park’s silhouette anywhere.

  “Hark, who goes there?” Cooper said, anyway.

  Park closed the door, cutting off the sound of the whistling wind, but just stood there watching him for a moment, face obscured by shadow, his eyes as inhumanly reflective as Boogie’s. Cooper waited, looking at him.

  “Are you okay?” Park said softly, finally moving toward him and into the light. His cheeks and nose were red like he’d been outside for a long time, and he scanned the barn, eyes lingering on the dresser of files for just a fraction too long. Cooper resisted turning around to check he’d closed the drawer all the way and nothing was peeking out. “You’ve been down here awhile.”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Cooper said. He kept his voice low, to match. Park was very close to him now but seemed unusually careful not to touch. Cold air was radiating off him, a couple of snowflakes were melting into droplets in his hair and he smelled faintly of cigarettes.

  “Were you smoking?” Cooper asked, frowning.

  “My uncle. He was a bit upset,” Park replied, not bothering to specify which one.

  “What was that about? The land stuff, I mean.”

  “My grandparents have made some investments in land conservation over the years. Stuart thinks there are better uses for it,” Park said absently. He was looking at the table now and ran his hand thoughtfully over the map, before tracing the same borderline Cooper had. He cleared his throat. “Listen, I know this day hasn’t been easy. And I know I made it a lot worse and you have every right to be angry,” Park said, eyes still on the map. This was obviously the start of a prepared speech. Absently Cooper imagined him working on what he was going to say, practicing and pacing outside in the snow. He felt a little twinge in his chest. “I understand I should have been more forthcoming with my family about how we met and your...you. I have no excuses and it was absolutely not fair to put you in that position—”

  “I’m not angry, Oliver,” Cooper said quietly.

  “I promise you it had nothing to do with—” Park stopped midway and looked up at him. “What?”

  “I said I’m not angry. It’s fine.”

  “That sounds like something an angry person would say.”

  “True.” Cooper smiled and placed his palm over Park’s hand on the map. Park stilled when Cooper’s fingers tightened around his. “But I’m honestly not mad,” he repeated. Yes, he’d been angry. Hurt and confused, too. But being forced to keep a lid on it and pretend everything was good and fine had given him an opportunity to watch Park with his family during dinner and some missing pieces had fallen into place. The anger was all but gone now. Replaced by something closer to sadness or perhaps regret. Maybe Marcus was right; maybe he didn’t deserve to be someone’s dirty secret. But he could hardly expect Park to brag about him being a human BSI agent, either. Not when it meant risking his relationship with his family. “I get it.”

  Park’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly do you get?”

  “Your family is important to you—you care a lot about them, and they obviously love you—but besides Delia, you haven’t visited any of them once in the eight months I’ve known you.” He shrugged. “Things are clearly still tense. Have been since you joined the BSI. Maybe even since you left the pack.” Park didn’t react to that one way or another. “I see the way they treat Stuart even after all this time. And obviously the situation with your grandfather was...complicated.”

  Park winced.

  “It makes sense you wouldn’t want to add fuel to the fire with me. And all the drama I bring along. It’s not like I’ve never tried to avoid a difficult conversation in my life myself.” He hadn’t even been out to his family when bringing Park home to meet them, for Christ’s sake. Talk about putting your loved one in an awkward position.

  Park shook his head. “That’s not—” He carefully extricated his hand from Cooper’s and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, maybe. I’m not even sure why myself. Every time I tried to tell them, I just...didn’t. I thought I shouldn’t have to say. It shouldn’t matter.” He sighed. “I was being stubborn and didn’t think about how that would affect you. I fucked up.”

  “Mmm. What’s that feel like? I’ve never done it.”

  Park smiled faintly, but when he finally looked Cooper in the eye, his expression was almost shocking in its sadness. Like knowing he’d disappointed Cooper, failed him, even, was devastating. “I’m sorry. I was wrong and I hurt you.”

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Cooper insisted, and a whine ripped free from deep within Park’s chest. “I’m okay.” He reached for Park, needing to reassure him, but Park jerked away from the brush of his fingertips.

  “No,” he said, rejecting the touch. Cooper immediately stepped back. “I—First we should talk.” Park sighed, running a hand over his face. He moved to sit on the couch and Boogie immediately trotted over from the shadow world to hop up into his lap, purring and kneading at his thighs, oblivious to the tension. “Are you upset?”

  Cooper frowned. “No. I told you. I’m over it. I accept your apology.”

  “Not that. Are you upset about the other thing?”

  He rapidly reviewed the day’s events. “That your family is crazy rich? It was difficult at first, but with dedication and hard work I think I’ll get over it.”

  “No.” Park exhaled, frustrated. “I mean with Camille. Are you...troubled? Disturbed? A-afraid?” He whispered the last one and wouldn’t look up from the floor.

  “You mean because I saw her shift? Oliver, no. That’s not—It was fine.”

  Now it was Cooper’s turn to wince. Fine wasn’t the right word. But what was? Incredible? Breathtaking? Something he wished Park trusted him with himself? No, that didn’t sound right, either. He didn’t want Park to think this was some kind of fetish for him. Howl for me, baby, or what have you. It wasn’t. And while Cooper could see there was something...disturbing about the shift—of course he could, her whole body had broken apart and rebuilt itself, for fuck’s sake—it was raw and honest, too.

  “It’s natural for her,” he said finally. “So why should it bother me?”

  Park gave him a searching look. “I guess it shouldn’t.” He sounded doubtful.

  Cooper tried to smile reassuringly. “I hope I didn’t upset her.”

  He huffed. “Very little upsets Cami for long.”

  Cooper took a hesitant step forward, then sat on the couch, getting twin apprehensive looks from Park and Boogie. “Did it upset you? Me seeing her shift, I mean?”

  Park stroked Boogie’s fur head to tail, a rare sign of blatant affection that ratcheted her purring up in volume tenfold. “I suppose you’re going to tell me it shouldn’t have.”

  Cooper opened his mouth, shut it. Who was he to tell Park what to feel? He’d said what he could and it wasn’t enough. Not today, anyway. Park was clearly carrying some deep shit that Cooper wasn’t licensed enough to solve. He could only do his best.

  “Can I touch you now?” Cooper said instead.

  “Yes. If you...want.”

  Cooper put his hand on Park’s thigh and heard him exhale, as if in relief. Cooper petted the muscle there, feeling the tension ease. “Can I kiss you?”

  “Yes. Please,” Park breathed, and Cooper leaned in slowly�
�sending Boogie scurrying off in annoyance—and their lips met. A simple, affectionate touch that offered the reassurance and connection he couldn’t seem to give with words. He liked the way Park sometimes held his breath when Cooper kissed him like this. Like unexpected affection was so precious he didn’t want to risk any interruption. The way Park kept himself straight and stiff, clearly wanting to look his best for someone he must surely know already thought he couldn’t get more beautiful.

  Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe that was the problem.

  When they separated, Park pressed his forehead to Cooper’s. They stayed there for a long minute, until sharing each other’s breaths became too uncomfortable. Park pressed a kiss directly below Cooper’s eye—as soft and light as a snowflake landing on an eyelash—then another to the edge of his jaw, before leaning back on the couch, pulling Cooper against him. He looked around again, hand stroking Cooper’s hip and down his thigh.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this barn. It’s weird having you here. Good. But weird.”

  Cooper had felt the same way seeing Park in his own childhood home. That collapsing of compartments we all build for ourselves. Of course, his home was significantly smaller and didn’t have a full-on secret lair on the premises.

  “What is this place? The family Batcave?”

  “It’s a bit of a catchall. A supply room for post-runs. Extra storage. Our out-of-house basement.” Park smiled, but it was faint, melancholic. “Joe used to take me down here a lot.”

  “Your grandfather? What for?”

  “Mmm. For talks about the future. Which always involved a great deal of talk about the past.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, your typical grandpa talk in some ways. Less in others. Our history. How his family came to own this land generations ago. How we as wolves came to be at all.”

  “You mean like evolution?”

  Park tilted his head back to look at him. “Do you think we evolved, then?”

  “Well, as opposed to what?” Cooper said awkwardly. “Bitten by a radioactive wolf?”

  “When I was a little kid, Joe would tell us this story of the first werewolf and the hunters.” Park hesitated, hand lingering at Cooper’s hip and playing with the waistband.

  “Well? Don’t leave me hanging.”

  “It’s a silly story.”

  Cooper settled in deeper against Park’s side. “I’ve made you watch Bringing Up Baby three times. What makes you think I don’t like silly stories?”

  Park huffed. “All right. A long time ago, a pack of wolves—not werewolves—ruled a large forest. They maintained the balance of nature, hunting only when hungry, and were respected by all the other animals. Then one night, a lone human got lost in the forest.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Cooper.

  “The wolves took pity on the human and showed him how to hunt and navigate the trails and where the cleanest water was. Eventually, when he had learned all he could given his...inadequacies, he left the wolf pack to return to his own kind. He taught the others there everything he’d learned. But the humans were greedy with their new knowledge. They killed all the other animals, diverted the water to their own camp and cut down the forest so they would not have to share the trails. When the wolves protested, the hunters began to kill them, too, and wore their skins as a warning to the others.”

  “Jesus, what a bunch of dicks.”

  “The surviving wolves attacked the hunters, who attacked them back, and so it went, the forest and the wolves and hunters all dying as one. Until one clever female came up with another way.” He hesitated again, but this time it was for the sake of drama.

  “What was her name?” Cooper asked.

  Park flapped his hand. “Naming is a human tradition and not even a ubiquitous one at that. Wolves had no need to name themselves then. She was just a clever female who smelled like pine needles on the forest floor after the snow had melted and slept by the gulley where the creek used to run.”

  “That’s Miss Pine Needle if you’re nasty.”

  He felt Park’s chest shake with suppressed laughter. “Anyway, while the others attacked the hunters, the clever female watched them instead. She circled their camp, staying quiet and out of sight, and began to copy what she saw. She learned to walk on two legs, to tuck away her tail and pull her fur inside her skin. One evening she stood in her disguise and walked straight into their camp. The hunters were wary at first, but she offered them a dead hare in return for shelter and they accepted.” Park paused.

  “A hare? Like on your gates?”

  “Shhh, god, you must have been a treat in kindergarten. The next morning, when the hunters awoke, one of them was dead, hanging from a tree with his throat slashed. They didn’t suspect the first werewolf because she had no weapon that could cut into skin like that. They didn’t suspect the wolves because they wouldn’t have been able to tie the knots in the tree. The only possibility left was that the man had been killed by one of his own kind. So the hunters fought amongst themselves, accusing one another of the crime. The fight turned vicious, and over eleven days they killed each other until only one remained, the original lost explorer.”

  “Of course it was.” Cooper snapped his mouth shut when Park sighed pointedly.

  “The first werewolf revealed her true nature to him and told him to warn the rest of his kind not to wander too deeply into the woods ever again. It did not belong to them, and hunters were not the only animals who could learn. The lost one swore he would tell them, and the first werewolf returned to her pack a wolf once more. Just before she died, she taught the others to walk like she could in case the hunters forgot and strayed too far off the woods’ path.”

  “Jesus,” Cooper whispered. “Step up your game, Greenpeace. That was...dark. This is the story your grandfather told you all as children?”

  Park snorted. “It was supposed to be inspirational. He wanted us to remember our primary purpose as guardians of nature. Something caught in between worlds to maintain the balance.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s just a ridiculous kids’ story. And there are tons of other creation myths floating around out there across cultures. They even vary depending on the pack you grew up in. Mai’s parents immigrated from Vietnam, and they raised her on this one involving a bridge, nine frangipani trees and a ghost bored with death. You’ll have to ask her to tell it, though—she’s much better than me. When Simon first heard it, he slept with the lights on for a week, and he was at least seventeen at the time.” Park smiled fondly.

  “So did Joe take all your siblings down here for stories like that?”

  Park shook his head. “Not exactly. He expected a lot from me,” he said slowly. “It was obvious from pretty early on that I had...leadership qualities the others didn’t. Me and Camille, both.”

  “Take a lot of Myers-Briggs around here, do you?” Cooper suggested wryly.

  “Something like that. Eventually Cami lost interest. The barn creeped her out, if you can imagine that. She started coming up with excuses to stay away from here, but I couldn’t. Having his attention felt...special. I didn’t want to lose that. Then, even after everything I did for—” Beneath him, Park shifted in his seat. “Whatever. It turns out I lost him, anyway.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cooper said softly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have left you if he could.”

  Park laughed. “Yes, he damn well would have. I didn’t mean I lost him to death. Joe and I went our separate ways long before this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you ever had a relationship so built around one thing that when you take that thing away, you realize you’re just two strangers who don’t like each other very much? That was me and Joe. I’m sad he’s dead. But my grandfather—the one who walked me around on his shoulders telling me fairy tales—disappeared from my life years ago. Which was still about fifteen more y
ears than my other siblings got with him, so I shouldn’t complain too much. He was not a warm man.”

  “What caused the rift?”

  “Joe wasn’t just disappointed when I left the pack. He felt...attacked. He said I was stealing everything he’d ever taught me to use against him. As if I ever wanted any of it,” Park added quietly.

  “Any of what?”

  He gestured around the barn. “Oh, this sort of stuff. The secrets. The responsibilities. Their world.”

  “It’s your world, too.” Cooper hesitated. “Isn’t it?”

  “Not necessarily,” Park said quickly, almost angrily. He sighed. “I just—There’s more than one way to be a wolf. That’s something I didn’t understand until I was much older, after I’d already wasted years and years.”

  His hand returned to stroking Cooper’s thigh. “It’s why I left the pack. Not because they’d lied to me about my parents being alive for all those years or because I wanted to find my mother—they were upset about that but wouldn’t have stopped me from looking—it was because I gave up being the person Joe wanted me to be and went looking for a new way to live. He just couldn’t accept that. He never truly spoke to me again.”

  Cooper’s throat tightened. “What kind of person did Joe want you to be?”

  Park’s hand paused midstroke, his body tensed, then deliberately relaxed.

  “Oh, someone who didn’t sleep with the enemy, for one thing,” Park said with deliberate lightness. His fingers danced across Cooper’s legs, dangerously high. Clearly there’d been too much serious conversation for one night. That was fine by Cooper. It was more openness than he’d managed out of Park in a long time. “And someone who kept nosy trespassers like you out of the top secret files for another.”

  “What?” Cooper choked out, scrambling upright. “How did you know I—You didn’t know until I just confirmed it. Obviously.” He rolled his eyes and Park patted his thigh in a consolatory way, then started massaging the muscle there. “I’m sorry I snooped. It was...unintentional.”

  “The wind just happened to blow that drawer open? Your story needs work.”