To Tame a Werewolf

by Politzania

Summary:

In escaping his intended future by becoming claviger to the Connacht pack, Anthony Stark discovers a link to his recent past; he knows the beta werewolf perhaps better than he ought to.

StarkBucks Bingo - Shifter -- Tony Stark Bingo - AU: Regency -- Bucky Barnes Bingo: Tony + Supernatural AU

Notes:

From the Parasol Protectorate wiki: "Clavigers act as servants and companions to werewolves, and are paid for their services with the possibility of becoming werewolves themselves. Their duties include looking after out-of-control werewolves on (and around) full moon, and taking care of any business the pack has that needs to be conducted during daylight hours."

Chapter 1

It was Anthony’s first full moon as a claviger with the Connacht pack, and while Coulson, the manor’s steward, had done an excellent job spelling out exactly what his duties would be, Anthony was still nervous. And who wouldn’t be in a houseful of men about to turn into slavering, vicious beasts? That said, the majority of the pack were already secured in their cells after having enjoyed a feast designed to lull them into sated slumber.

Lord Stephen, head of the pack (and a magnificent specimen of a man, Anthony couldn’t help but observe) was pacing restlessly up and down the front hall of Brookline Manor. “He was supposed to be home yesterday!” the alpha roared, slamming his fist into the wall. The sturdy oak wainscoting gave way at the blow, leaving a splintered hole. The pack beta -- Sergeant James Barnes -- had been in Belfast on business for weeks, and his arrival was overdue; no wonder Stephen was agitated.

“Now darling,” Lady Margaret lay a calming hand on her husband’s shoulder. “I’m sure James will be here any minute. He knows his limits, and he likes to test them, just as you do.”

“But he doesn’t have the benefit of your loving touch, my dear.” Stephen gave her a sly, hungry look. “Which I should quite like to have some more of.”

“Is that how you wish to pass the evening, husband?” Margaret replied archly, even as her eyes sparkled with desire and her lips curled into a knowing grin.

“Indeed it ‘tis!” Stephen swept his wife into his arms and carried her up the stairs, just as Coulson entered the front hall.

He watched the retreating couple with a resigned look. “There they go again - and they’ll likely be as loud as the rest of the pack put together.” He turned to Anthony. “You need not worry. Lady Margaret has .... a way with her husband, even once he’s shifted.”

Anthony hadn’t told anyone at the manor that he was related to the lady of the house, much less that he knew her secret. Aunt Peggy was a preternatural, able to cancel out a supernatural being’s powers with skin to skin touch, which returned them to their human state for as long as they remained in contact. Needless to say, the fewer people -- supernatural or otherwise -- who were aware of her ability, the better.

But before Anthony could muse any further on the unusual talents of his kinfolk, the door burst open to reveal a tall, shaggy-haired figure backlit by the setting sun. “Sergeant Barnes!” Coulson called out as the man swayed and dropped to his knees. Anthony assisted the steward in helping the beta to his feet, realizing with a shock that he had met the sergeant before.

“Jamie?!” “Tony?!” they blurted out in unison. Three months previous, the two of them had spent a torrid weekend together in a small inn on the coast; not bothering with anything other than given names. Or nicknames, as the case appeared to be.

“Well, it seems introductions have been taken care of,” Coulson dryly commented, even as James’ body contorted and a pained half-shout, half-snarl burst from his lips. “Help me get our beta in a cell before he loses control completely.”

---

The next morning, Coulson called on Anthony to assist him in feeding the pack. As they loaded a tub of raw meat into the dumbwaiter, he explained that this chore was for Anthony’s benefit. “The pack will know you by scent by now,” he paused meaningfully, “including the Sergeant, it seems. But you will need to be able to recognize them in their wolf form as easily as when they are human.”

That made sense to Anthony, but he still couldn’t control the frisson of fear running down his spine. The full moon curse lasted a full twenty-four hours, during which --to his understanding -- all werewolves were in thrall to their basest animal instincts. A chorus of barks, snarls and howls echoed off the walls, as he and Coulson entered the dungeon.

Unflappable as always, the steward took a long, pointed stick from where it hung beside the door and speared a chunk of meat. He held it out, handle-first, to Anthony. “They generally eat in order of rank. That means the Sergeant goes first.” Anthony took the stick and stepped over to the cell that held the pack beta.

The largest of the werewolves in the cells -- although Lord Stephen would be larger still, Anthony presumed -- watched him approach, making no sound, although his gaze was fierce and predatory. The hair rose on the back of Anthony’s neck and he nervously eyed the bars, judging their strength against that of the massive creature behind them. The werewolf's nose twitched slightly, and suddenly there was a spark of recognition in those storm blue eyes.

“That’s right, Sergeant,” Anthony murmured, opting for the formal address, “it’s me, Anthony. I’m the new claviger here at the manor. We‘ve met before.” The beta whuffed, as if in acknowledgement and Anthony pushed the meat between the bars; the werewolf deftly took the bloody chunk off the stick and padded to the corner of his cell to devour it.

“All right,” Coulson said, his voice carrying over the din of the pack’s baying. “Montague is next. He’s the brindle to your left.” The remainder of the feeding passed without incident, Anthony making careful note of the fur color and size of each of the pack members. He could feel the beta’s eyes following him the entire time; it was both unnerving and oddly reassuring.

As he and Coulson mounted the stairs, Anthony reflected on his previous encounter with Sergeant James Barnes. Their tryst had been one of the few high points of the past year for Anthony, and no matter how improper it might now be for them to attempt any sort of relations, Anthony couldn’t regret that fate had brought them back together.

Chapter 2

Summary:

In which Anthony writes a letter to a dear friend and has an interview with the pack beta.

Notes:

A/N 22 Feb - added a little bit to this chapter (just before Tony enters the room where Bucky's waiting for him) to make something in Chapter 3 flow a bit more logically.

My Dearest Rhodes -

As you can tell from the date on this missive, I have survived my first full moon with the Connaught pack. I was neither torn limb from limb nor eviscerated. That said, I have not remained unscathed.

I mentioned in my last letter that the pack beta, Sergeant J---- B--- had been absent due to business in Belfast. Not only was he delayed in his return to the manor until the very eve of the full moon --- his arrival being quite dramatic --- but to my surprise, it seems he is not exactly a stranger to me.

You recall my misspent weekend in Ballycastle? Well, that enthusiastic gentleman I dallied with was none other than the above named sergeant.

Anthony paused, lifting pen from paper. He’d made light of the incident when he recounted it to his oldest, dearest friend; but it had made more of an impression that perhaps he had been willing to admit. Especially considering what had precipitated Anthony leaving behind practically everything and everyone he had known - Rhodes and Aunt Peggy being the obvious exceptions.

At any rate, I am well and hope you are the same. Give your mother my love - I will write again when I have something interesting to impart.

Ever your affectionate friend,
A. Stark

Anthony sanded the letter, then folded it carefully and addressed it before dripping a bit of wax on the flap. He was about to go in search of Coulson to see whose turn it was to go into town the next morning, when the steward came knocking on his door. “Sergeant Barnes wishes to see you. He’s in the drawing room.”

Anthony tucked the letter into his vest; thankfully, he had dressed before sitting down to pen the letter and was able to respond immediately to the request without looking slovenly. “Yes, sir.”

As Anthony made his way through the main hallway, he came upon one of the household cleaning mechanicals. It buzzed loudly and impatiently, waiting for him to clear the way so it could proceed down its track. He stepped aside, noting a set of gouges on one side -- it seemed one of the werewolves had been startled by the buzzing and reacted violently. It was also leaving a trail of dust and hair in its wake; clearly it was over-full. Tony couldn't help but start thinking of solutions for both problems, and almost forgot what his original errand was to start with.

A few moments later, he took a deep breath to calm himself before tapping on the closed door of the drawing room. “Enter,” a familiar baritone voice replied.

The door creaked slightly as Anthony opened it; he slipped in sideways, noting that the beta was standing by the window, looking out across the grounds. The sky was clear, and the waning gibbous moon shone its light on the countryside. “You called for me, sir?”

Barnes turned, giving Anthony a considered look. “Yes, I did.” He took a few steps toward Anthony, stopping just inside the range normally considered a comfortable distance. “Why are you here?”

Anthony swallowed; the proximity of this handsome, powerful man -- who he now knew was much more than just a man -- set his nerves aquiver. He steeled himself to tell the truth, at least a carefully edited version of it. “I heard through a mutual acquaintance that the Connaught pack was looking for clavigers.”

“And who might this mutual acquaintance be?”

“Lady Margaret.”

A flash of surprise crossed Barnes’ face. “I see. And she thought you a suitable candidate?”

She had, to Anthony’s surprise. While he had some creative tendencies that he channeled into his mechanical designs, he was reasonably certain that he did not possess the excess of soul needed to survive the process of becoming a werewolf. Then again, he had no intention of requesting the bite; he was in service to the pack primarily because this was the last place his father would think of looking. “Apparently so, sir.”

“And I assume you have told no one here how you and I came to ... be acquainted?”

The brief pause coincided with a momentary darkening of Barnes’ storm blue eyes; Anthony’s heart skipped a guilty beat as he thought of the letter tucked away in his vest. It was only then that it dawned on him that perhaps he was on the verge of dismissal. But while he had nowhere else to go -- except crawling back to his father to accept the betrothal he’d fled from -- Anthony’s stubborn pride kept him from asking if he might stay; hoping that his connection to the lady of the house might be enough to keep him in the beta’s good graces. In the meanwhile, he would play the diligent servant, and keep his heart well hidden.

“No, sir. Although I believe Coulson has some sort of inkling.”

Barnes snorted in amusement. “I’m not surprised. But fortunately, he’s also quite discreet.”

“I imagine that is a trait that has served the steward well.”

“Indeed. May I assume that recent events have not dissuaded you from continuing your association with us?”

While he couldn’t deny that a part of him had been afraid upon experiencing their wolf forms; Anthony had trusted that he wouldn’t actually be in danger. After all, a pack who devoured their staff once moon-struck would soon find it impossible to hire replacements. “No, sir.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Mister Stark. Coulson says that you’re performing your duties well and the other clavigers have nothing but good words to say about you.”

Anthony found his cheeks heating as his mind went back to the last time his companion had praised him, albeit for demonstrating very different skills. “Everyone has made it easy for me to fit in here.”

“If you find living with a pack easy,” Barnes chuckled, “I wonder what sort of situation you came from.”

Anthony froze for a moment as he recalled the predicament he’d narrowly escaped. “My father and I disagreed about my future,” he answered stiffly.

“Ah,” Barnes replied, with an almost apologetic air. “I didn’t mean to pry.” Anthony nodded, but made no further response. “I simply wished to know for myself what brought you here and whether you planned on staying. “ Barnes stepped back and gestured toward the door. “I won’t delay you further.”

Anthony made a quick bow and departed; their conversation leaving him with at least as many questions as answers. He wondered if the Sergeant felt the same.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Anthony attends the Tinsley ball and dances with an unexpected adversary.

Steve | Tony | Bucky Bingo - Surprise

Anthony regarded the rectangle of pasteboard with suspicion. “You’re quite sure this was meant for me?”

Coulson nodded. “Lord Stephen insists; if he or any of his pack are invited to a social event, the clavigers must be invited as well. Whether it’s his egalitarian nature, or simply a way to keep everyone on their best behavior, I’m still not quite sure.” There was the slightest hint of a smile on his lips - Anthony had come to understand the steward’s desert-dry sense of humor.

“But I haven’t anything appropriate to wear to a ball.” As Anthony’s departure from his father’s home had been rather precipitate, his wardrobe was severely limited.

“That can be remedied. As you might imagine, I know several seamstresses who are able to provide complete outfits at very short notice.” Which made sense, Anthony realized; the transformation from man to wolf surely wreaked havoc on whatever one was wearing at the time. Coulson took a tape measure out of one pocket. “If I could get your measurements?”

 

A week later, Anthony found himself traveling to the Tinsley estate in Lord Stephen’s coach, sitting across from him and Lady Margaret, with Sergeant Barnes at his side. The two of them exchanged pleasantries, but there was still a certain tension that Anthony was intensely aware of, heightened by how they inadvertently jostled one another every few minutes thanks to the roughness of the route.

Once they had reached the post road, Lady Margaret spoke up. “Mister Stark, I want to thank you for the upgrades you’ve made to our household mechanicals. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them working so smoothly or quietly!”

“It was my pleasure, ma’am. And thank you, Lord Stephen, for providing the necessary supplies.” The list of equipment and raw material Anthony had given Coulson had been mostly aspirational, but no one had batted an eye; he now enjoyed a fully stocked workshop and was already planning out new projects.

“I understand you’re looking at ways to make them trackless,” Lord Stephen replied, with a hint of skepticism. “What’s to keep them from getting stuck in a corner, or simply rolling out the door?”

Anthony explained his ideas for programming the mechanicals with an internal map of the manor; as he did so, Barnes showed interest, asking pertinent questions to which Anthony was happy to provide answers. “I’m also looking into how bats find their way through the darkness to see if that is something that could be adapted for use in mechanicals.”

“What a fascinating idea!” Lady Margaret exclaimed, while Lord Stephen poked his beta in the knee.

“Sounds like something you would have come up when we were young, doesn’t it?” he asked with a boyish grin before turning to his wife. “Dearest, did I ever tell you Bucky here wanted to be a dirigible engineer when he grew up?”

Barnes flinched slightly, and Lady Margaret struck her husband with her fan. “Stephen!”

At first, Anthony thought she was reproving the alpha for using an overly-familiar nickname for his beta in front of a lower-ranking member of the pack, but then he realized that it was for thoughtlessly reminding his friend of a dream he could no longer have, as werewolves became violently sick when airborne.

“It’s alright, my lady,” Barnes murmured, and Anthony’s heart went out to him. Deciding to redirect the conversation, he asked Lady Margaret about the Tinsleys. That topic carried them through the better part of the journey, and Anthony made careful mental notes that he hoped would prove fruitful for the weekend’s activities.

Upon their arrival, the Connaught pack were shown to their rooms; Anthony shared his with two other clavigers, Wilson and Lang, with whom he’d become well-acquainted. “Just so you know,” Wilson mentioned, “Lord Stephen will most likely ask you for the first dance,”

“It’s a territorial thing - an alpha introducing his new claviger to society,” Lang explained. “Don’t take it too seriously. And,” he added with a grin, “watch out for your toes; Lord Stephen is not a very good dancer.”

Just as Wilson had predicted, once their party was announced and they all stepped out onto the ballroom floor, Lord Stephen turned to Anthony. “May I ask your company for the first dance, Mister Stark?”

“The pleasure would be all mine, my lord.”

Lang’s warning had been valid as well; especially since the alpha was wearing his military uniform, complete with well-shined boots. Anthony’s slippers in contrast provided little protection, and he had to move more quickly than the music warranted during the opening steps to avoid injury. Lord Stephen apologized profusely as they waited for the next figure. “It’s quite all right,” Anthony reassured him, “it simply gives me practice for being light on my feet.”

Once the dance was finished, Anthony made his way off the dance floor and waited for Lady Margaret to introduce him around; however, she was deep in conversation with several other matrons. So instead, he stepped over to the refreshment table to look over the offerings. He was just about to bite into an eclair when Lady Tinsley approached with a gentleman of perhaps forty years in tow.

“Mister Stark, I’d like you to meet Doctor Johann Fennhoff. He’s originally from Moscow, but now resides at Underwood Hall. Doctor Fennhoff, this is Mister Anthony Stark. He’s staying at Brookline Manor.”

Fennhoff clicked his heels and bent low over the hand Anthony had extended; a formal gesture that was unexpectedly flattering. “So good to meet you, Mister Stark. May I have the pleasure of your company for the next dance?”

While Fennhoff wouldn’t have been Anthony’s first -- or even second or third -- choice, it would be terribly rude to refuse. Anthony glanced around briefly, and fruitlessly, for Sergeant Barnes before replying, “I would be delighted, sir.”

The country dance that had been called gave them some opportunity to speak with one another. Casting about for a topic of conversation, Anthony said. “I’m rather new to the area -- where is Underwood Hall?”

“Some miles south of here,” Fennhoff explained, leading Anthony into the first figure. “While the lady of the house doesn’t travel, the rest of us do our best to be sociable with our neighbors. Brookline Manor, alas, is an exception.”

“Why is that?” In reply, Fennhoff smiled just enough to display the tips of his fangs, sending a chill down Anthony’s spine. He was all too aware of the enmity between vampires and werewolves. “I see.” Once they had returned to their places, he added. “Well, I suppose I should inform you I am claviger to the Connacht pack.”

“What a waste,” Fennhoff said with a look of amused disappointment as they stepped through another figure. “to be associated with such uncouth - and dangerous - rabble.”

“What makes you say that?” Anthony found himself equally intrigued and insulted by his partner’s comments.

“You are Howard Stark’s son, are you not?” Anthony felt the blood drain from his face, but Fennhoff held his gaze as they spun together, clasping gloved hands. “And rumored to be even more gifted, I’m given to understand. Surely, a man like you would be much more suited to life as a drone, with all the possibilities we offer, instead of a servant to witless beasts.”

Anthony knew he should protest, stand up for his pack but he found himself unable to form a coherent reply. “Should you change your mind, young Anthony,” Fennhoff whispered seductively as they completed the final figure of the dance, “you would be welcomed with open arms.”

The music stopped, and they made their honors to one another. “I await your answer, Mister Stark.” Fennhoff added, giving Anthony a final, appraising look. “I do believe our queen would find you delightful.”

Chapter 4

Summary:

Sergeant Barnes expresses displeasure at Anthony’s behavior, then claims a dance. The next morning, Anthony is caught out in a storm; his rescuer has ulterior motives.

Anthony felt more than a little unbalanced, presumably due to the exertion of the dance coupled with the shock of being identified as his father’s son. He returned to the refreshment table, loosening his neckcloth as he poured himself a glass of punch. But before he could take much more than a sip, Sergeant Barnes stalked over to him.

“What were you doing with that man?” he demanded, sounding so much like Howard that it instantly put Anthony on edge.

“Lady Tinsley introduced Doctor Fenhoff to me,” he answered defensively. “And when he asked me to dance, I could hardly say no, unless I wished to sit out the rest of the evening.”

“Do you know what he is? What he wanted from you?”

“I didn’t find out what he was until it was too late; we were already dancing.” Anthony explained. “As for what he wanted,” He paused for a moment, as he couldn’t quite remember the topic of their conversation. Regardless, he didn’t appreciate the beta’s accusations. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Sergeant.”

“Don’t be so naive,” Barnes growled. “And for god’s sake, refasten your neckcloth.” Anthony belatedly realized that he must have disgraced the pack by accepting a dance from one of their traditional enemies; no wonder their beta was so upset. As Anthony neatened his appearance, Barnes exhaled slowly through his nose, as if to calm himself and then asked, “Mister Stark, may I have this next dance?”

“Of course,” Anthony replied meekly, letting the sergeant lead him out on the floor. Despite the tenseness of their interaction -- which was very different from the easy conversation they’d enjoyed earlier that day during their drive -- Anthony was pleased to note how skilled and graceful his companion was: quite a contrast to Lord Stephen. He also cut a very fine figure in his military uniform, with its tapered jacket accentuating his broad shoulders.

Truth be told, Anthony could scarcely tear his eyes away from his partner as they stepped through the figures. While Barnes’ gaze was as intense as that of Fenhoff’s, there was none of the hypnotic command of Anthony’s previous partner; instead, there was a certain bold fascination that made Anthony want to blush and look away.

“Thank you for the dance, Sergeant Barnes,” Anthony said as he made his honors.

“You might call me James, sometimes, if you would like,” his partner murmured in reply, bending over Anthony’s hand.

“Then to you,” he replied, pulse suddenly racing, “I should be Anthony.” The intimate moment was broken by some sort of disagreement involving the members of their pack, Dugan’s bellow carrying clearly above the din of the ballroom. James made a brief apology, quickly escorting Anthony off the dance floor before investigating.

 

While Anthony wished that he could spend the rest of the ball with James, he feared that would only bring additional - and likely unwanted - attention to the pack. So instead, for the final dance before supper, Anthony asked one of the young ladies in attendance to partner with him.

Miss Everhart was quite inquisitive, asking questions about werewolves and being a claviger that Anthony found challenging to answer, but helped restore his unsettled mood. He then accompanied her to supper, where -- joined by Lang -- they continued their conversation.

“Is it true that an alpha werewolf can change so only his head becomes that of a wolf?” she asked, eyes wide.

“I have yet to see it in person, but yes,” Anthony replied.

Lang added, “It’s called the Anubis form, and such a transformation only takes place during a metamorphosis - the ceremony of creating a new werewolf.” Lang then went into rather more detail regarding the gruesome process than was appropriate during a meal, but allowed Anthony the time and space to reflect on the events of the evening so far.

Wishing to avoid both Fenhoff and any further faux pas, Anthony visited the card room in lieu of returning to the dance floor. He played a few friendly hands of whist before retiring to his room. Being used to keeping night hours, Anthony then wrote a letter to his dear friend, updating him on the events of the evening before falling asleep.

The next day, Anthony asked directions to the nearest village in order to post his letter. It was only a few miles away, so he decided to walk instead of borrowing a mount. After letting Lang and Wilson know of his plans, he set out along the country lane. It was a windy and overcast afternoon, but otherwise pleasant, and he let his mind wander to thoughts of James.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the dance they had shared had rekindled the beta’s interest, and whether he would take Anthony’s invitation to visit in the workshop as a way to spend time together in a more intimate fashion. It was perhaps too much to hope for, but a pleasing way to pass the time, nonetheless.

What was less pleasing was the turn in the weather. By the time Anthony reached the village, dark clouds were rolling in from the west, and the leaves of the trees were showing their undersides; a sure sign of an impending storm. Anthony conducted his business as quickly as he could, but he’d barely gotten back out onto the road before the weather broke.

Anthony pulled his collar up against the rain, quickening his steps. He considered striking out across the countryside before the sun set when he heard hoofbeats coming up behind him. Anthony stepped to the side of the road; a clap of thunder rolled across the countryside as the covered cabriolet came to a stop. To Anthony’s surprise, the driver hailed him by name. “Mister Stark!” It was Aldrich Killian, his whist partner from the night before. “May I offer you a ride?”

“I would be grateful, sir.” Anthony climbed up next to Killian. “I should have checked the glass before making my trip.”

“The weather is quite changeable this time of year,” Killian replied as he urged his horse back into motion. “What brought you to town, anyways?”

Anthony explained he wished to post a letter to a friend, which led into an attempt to discover whether they had acquaintances in common. It was a topic Anthony approached cautiously, letting Killian lead the conversation. The rain was coming down quite heavily, so when Killian missed the turn to the Tinsley estate, he assumed it was simply an error and brought it to his companion’s attention.

“I’m afraid we won’t be returning to the Tinsley’s at the moment,” Killian drawled, an unsettling smirk making his handsome features turn sinister. “You see, Doctor Fenhoff and I had a chat last night after the ball, and he believes our queen would like very much to meet you. We’ll be meeting him shortly and he can provide you with a proper introduction.”

Chapter 5

Summary:

Anthony escapes Killian with help from James; they make an astonishing discovery while traveling back to Tinsley Manor, revealing their true feelings for one another along the way.

Steve|Tony|Bucky Bingo: Thunderstorm -- WinterIron Month: SWF Friday Trope: Shifter AU

Anthony’s blood ran cold. Despite Killian mentioning he was staying at Underwood manor during their conversation the night before, Anthony had been too caught up with his own concerns to have thought through the implications. He gathered himself to jump from the carriage, but Killian grabbed his wrist with one hand, while urging the horse on with the other.

“Careful, Anthony,” Killian's warning was laced with menace. “You might break something if you fell. And then you would be out there alone in these woods, injured and bleeding. Who knows what might be out there lurking?"

“I’ll take my chances, ” Anthony growled in reply. As he pulled away from Killian, a flash of lightning crackled across the sky, highlighting the form of a massive beast in the road ahead of them. It leapt toward them with a menacing growl; the horse, already in high spirits from Killian’s urging, reared, tipping the light carriage up on one wheel.

Killian and Anthony both tumbled out onto the muddy road, Anthony planting an elbow in Killian’s midsection and knocking the breath out of him. The spooked horse fled back the way they had come, dragging the damaged cabriolet behind it. Scrambling to his feet, Anthony looked around for anything to use as a defensive weapon.

The wolf padded toward him, another flash of lightning illuminating its face. “James?” Anthony cried out in surprise as he saw the familiar storm-blue eyes. The wolf whuffed in agreement, nudging him away from Killian. “I can’t just leave him out here.”

James snarled under his breath, then looked up the road. Anthony followed his gaze and noted two small pinpoints of light, perhaps from another carriage. James pushed his head between Anthony’s arm and body, making a shrugging motion. “Do you want me to ride you?” Anthony questioned.

James nodded sharply with another whuff, so Anthony scrambled up, grabbing handfuls of the thick fur at the werewolf’s nape as his legs dangled on either side. Springing into motion, James found a gap in the hedgerow thanks to another flash of lightning. He began to cut across the rain-drenched fields in hopes of avoiding the approaching party, regardless of whether they were friend or foe.

Anthony's gloves had grown slippery in the rain, making it difficult to maintain a firm grip. He shed them, then sunk his fingers further into James’ pelt until he could feel the warm skin below. The werewolf’s loping stride broke suddenly; he stumbled to a stop with a bewildered whine, shaking his head vigorously.

Anthony felt a disquieting shift of bone and muscle below him and sprang off of James’ back. He’d dismounted just in time, as the werewolf rose up on his back feet and his transformation back to human form commenced. Confused and concerned, Anthony turned away, baffled at why James was shapeshifting while they were caught out in a storm and possibly being pursued.

Cringing in sympathy at the muffled, pained sounds coming from his companion; Anthony doffed his coat and held it out behind him at arm’s length once he realized that James would be completely nude. “Thank you,” James replied a few moments later, his voice hoarse and exhausted.

“Certainly, but whyever did you change form out here in the middle of nowhere?” Anthony couldn’t keep the frustration from his voice, even as he struggled not to openly admire the parts of his companion not covered by the coat he’d lent to him.

“I had no choice!” James shot back, “I was compelled, just as if I were under the light of a full moon. Or as if--” he paused, then gave Anthony a sharp, analytical look. “How is it you know Lady Margaret again?”

“She’s my aunt,” Anthony confessed, trying to figure out why that mattered at the moment. And then it dawned on him. Anthony stared at his hands with a mix of shock and fascination: he must also have some measure of the preternatural bloodline. James clearly came to the same conclusion, as he barked out an astounded laugh. “Good lord - so you’ve got the touch as well!”

Anthony shook his head in confusion. “But when you and I....” he trailed off, feeling his cheeks heat, remembering their tryst.

James stepped close, resting a hand on Anthony’s cheek. “I felt something then too. You made me feel human again, Tony. Wholly and completely.” The soft, affectionate look on his face made Anthony’s heart pound in his chest. “And then when we met once more,” he withdrew his hand with a resigned look, “you learned who and what I really am. Not a human at all.”

Anthony took James’ hand and pressed it back to his cheek, unable to hide his feelings any longer. “Oh, Jamie - you are a fine, brave, admirable man no matter what form you assume. The moments we spent together left an indelible mark on my heart and if there’s any chance --”

James interrupted Anthony’s words with a passionate kiss, which he returned as thoroughly as he knew how. When they broke apart, they were both panting for breath. “While this is all quite romantic,” James said with a roguish grin. “perhaps you should don your gloves again so we can finish our escape?”

Anthony had completely forgotten about Killian. “Wait, did you know what Fenhoff had planned?”

“I had my suspicions,” James growled, “and so I trailed you.”

Anthony wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or affronted. “I can take care of myself.”

“More so than either of us suspected,” James chuckled. “But come, let us go.” He shed Anthony’s coat, and began to shift. This time Anthony did not turn away - what better proof could he offer James that he accepted everything he was?

Once James was fully transformed, Anthony mounted the werewolf’s back, gloves once again firmly in place. Even though the storm itself was slackening, nightfall was nearly upon them, leaving them vulnerable to more than just the hive’s drones. But the lights of Tinsley Manor were shining through the gloom, and James made straight for them, leaping fences and hedgerows in a single, magnificent bound.

Reaching the manor grounds, James circled around to stop next to one of the outbuildings. When James scratched at the door, Anthony dismounted and opened it. As soon as they both stepped inside, James began his shift back to human form. This time, it seemed to take longer, and once complete, he leaned heavily against one wall, exhausted and shivering.

“My clothes,” he panted, “up on that shelf.”

Anthony peered through the gloom and spotted the stack. He retrieved it and assisted James in getting dressed, even as a part of him wanted nothing more than to appreciate his companion’s nude form. But James needed to spend time resting in front of a fire with something hot to eat, which sounded quite appealing to Anthony as well.

They entered Tinsley Manor through the rear entrance; making their way up the servants’ stair to their rooms. James paused in front of his door, and with a tender, hopeful look, asked, “Would you join me tonight, Tony?”

Anthony’s heart skipped a beat as he replied, “Gladly, Jaime.”