The tapping on a keyboard woke Dean. He hated that Matty couldn’t sleep, but he loved having the man stay over, especially on Valentine’s Day.
I’m turning into a sap.
As Dean snuggled closer, Matty leaned an elbow on his forehead, eyes locked on the screen. “We have a small problem.”
Laughing, Dean shoved Matty’s arm away. “We do?”
“A cupid is in town.”
Matty glanced down. “Forget cherubs and true love. Think goblin that eats chocolate and whose bite induces lust.”
“Lust, you say?” He tried to slip a hand under Matty’s laptop, reaching for skin.
“Calm yourself. This is serious.”
Dean sighed, removing his hand. “Should we call your sister?”
Matty winced. “She’s sleeping.”
“You told me that werewolves can go days without sleep.”
“We can, but she’s really grumpy when she doesn’t get at least six hours.” Matty’s eyes shifted back to the screen. “You and I can handle a cupid.”
Dean sat up, heart racing. “We can?”
“I thought you wanted to learn more about the supernatural.”
“I do…” Dean cleared his throat. “But you said this was serious. Shouldn’t I start small, like on fairies or something?”
Matty laughed. “Every infestation is serious, and no fairies yet. They are super dangerous. But a cupid is mostly just small and annoying, although we don’t want it breeding. The hard part will be killing it unnoticed.”
Dean shivered in the light, falling snow, as he waited for Matty to sniff around Market Square.
Should I be insulted that he’s faster without me, or thankful the hunt is delayed?
Whatever he had said, monster hunting unnerved Dean.
The clicking of claws on frozen bricks announced Matty. In his werewolf form, Matty looked liked a cross between a German Shepard and a Husky, at least to Dean, who didn’t really know dogs. He just liked the faint black mask over Matty’s now golden eyes.
Dean pulled a collar out of his coat pocket and slipped it over Matty’s head. “So you know where to go now?”
Matty gave one of those short, high pitched yips that made Dean bite back a smile. Wolves didn’t bark. They growled, snarled, howled, and had a yip that sounded like something normally heard coming out of the purse of a spoiled socialite.
Dean snapped on the leash. “Lead the way.” Matty did so, subtly pulling on the leash. They walked past the glass castle of the PPG Place towards the train station. As they headed underground, Dean winced. Matty couldn’t ride the T unless he was in a bag or crate. Dean fought not to laugh at the thought of one hundred and thirty pounds of werewolf in a purse.
Matty glanced over, a question in his gold eyes. Dean shook his head slightly. Somehow, the lupine features managed to paint a picture of disdain. Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
While he was distracted, Matty slipped his head from the collar and jumped off the platform. Dean’s laughter turned to a yelp, one echoed by a few other waiting passengers.
Dean jumped after Matty, ran beside the electrified tracks, and prayed that the love of his life knew what the hell he was doing.
No trains rumbled down the tunnel as Dean followed Matty to the next station. The wolf scrambled up the sides to the empty platform, and so did Dean.
Matty didn’t wait here though. He took off up the stairs to the station, nose to the ground, oblivious to the alarm around him.
“Hey, who’s dog is that?”
Dean hurried, pushing through the incoming lunch crowd. Matty stopped suddenly, nose in the air. Dean didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance and forced the leather collar over Matty’s snout.
“Listen, you furry brat, I’m not paying to get you out of the pound.” Dean’s furious whisper was met by a lupine smile. “I’ll call your sister.”
Matty’s smile became a growl.
“You don’t scare me. Now, which way do we go?”
The werewolf trotted to the glass doors that lead outside. The Port Authority workers gave them funny looks, but said nothing. Dean made a mental note to buy a service-dog harness and a cane.
Once they hit the cold street, Matty led the way once more. It seemed to Dean that Matty stopped and sniffed at every store with a candy display. But then the wolf would hurry off again, to Dean’s relief.
Outside a parking garage, Matty froze, the ruff on his neck standing up. He strained on the leash, a whine clear in the frozen air.
Dean cursed mentally, but he slipped the collar off Matty’s neck. As soon as he was free, the wolf darted into the building. Dean followed, heart pounding, and eyes and ears straining for some clue.
He noticed a crinkled brown paper from a candy box. Matty sniffed it briefly before tearing off to the bowels of the parking garage.
Dean quickly lost track of him in the dark, so he hurried along the trail of brown candy papers. Soon the grunts and groans of people celebrating Valentine’s Day became apparent.
He did say that cupids induced lust.
Dean slowed down, searching the dark for Matty, or the couple, or anything really. His heart slammed in his chest. Small nuisance or not, Dean didn’t want to get caught unawares by any supernatural creature.
A skittering came from his right, but he had no time to react. Something light landed on him and sank sharp teeth into his head, right through his knit hat.
Dean howled as he blindly swatted. He missed whatever was there, but managed to smack himself hard enough to see stars.
Matty’s growl from the darkness was a relief, as was the weight of the wolf bearing Dean to the ground. There was a snarl, and a sharp snap of teeth before Dean’s hat came off. A horrible crunching sound was accompanied by piteous cries but only for a moment.
Then Matty scrambled off of Dean. Dean sat up, wincing as he touched the open wound on his scalp.
Matty dropped a small, broken green thing that still clutched Dean’s hat. He tilted his head, a question in his eyes.
“I’m okay.” Dean shivered with something other than cold. His blood caught fire. His skin burned. He couldn’t catch his breath. And those two were still moaning from the darkness. “I think- I…” The front of his jeans grew tight. “I need to go home… now.”
Dean paced, panting, wondering why Matty wasn’t back already. The werewolf had insisted on disposing the body immediately. Had something happened? It felt like hours since the hunt.
The click of the lock replaced Dean’s worry with heat. Matty’s thin, pointed, human face fanned the flames.
Dean grabbed Matty’s sweater, pushed him into the door, and kissed the werewolf roughly, scraping lips. Matty laughed even as he tugged on Dean’s jeans.
Dean took a step back, pulling Matty’s sweater over his head. “What took so long? I’m dying here.”
“Toldja hunting could be fun.” Matty winked.
“Shut up and get to the bedroom.”
Matty’s grin turned feral. “Yes, sir.”
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