First Bite

FIRST BITE SAM BURNS W.M. FAWKES Copyright © 2022 by FlickerFox Books. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Content Warning: this book is intended for adult audiences only, and contains graphic violence, blood, animal traps (exclusively used on werewolves), military service. Cover art © 2021 by Zoe Perdita at Rainbow Danger Designs Editing by Clause & Effect CONTENTS 1. Indigo 2. Riley 3. Indigo 4. Riley 5. Indigo 6. Riley 7. Indigo 8. Riley 9. Indigo 10. Riley 11. Indigo 12. Riley 13. Indigo 14. Riley 15. Indigo 16. Riley 17. Indigo 18. Riley 19. Indigo 20. Riley 21. Indigo 22. Riley 23. Indigo 24. Riley 25. Indigo 26. Riley 27. Indigo Epilogue Acknowledgments Also by Sam Burns & W.M. Fawkes Also by Sam Burns Also by W.M. Fawkes About Sam Burns About W.M. Fawkes CHAPTER 1 INDIGO Hot ginger neighbor guy was at it again. He was the only neighbor I had, and I was half convinced he was trying to drive me nutty. His house was a good five-minute walk from mine, but one tiny corner of his yard was visible from my back porch. It was the spot where he chopped firewood, and boy, did he chop a lot of firewood. I didn't know if he chopped it for other people, for sale, or if he just got really, really cold and kept a raging inferno in his house, but I'd watched him chop a lot of wood since I'd moved in three weeks ago. He did it shirtless, naturally, even in the snow, his giant lumberjack physique on display for the entire world. Or, well, since we lived miles away from town or any other people, it was on display for me, every freckled inch of skin and every bulging muscle. But only if I sat on the far west edge of my back porch and leaned back against the rickety railing. What? That was my spot. I wasn't going to move just to avoid the show. Hot ginger neighbor guy was hot. And shirtless. And chopping wood. And ginger. His shoulders were broader than mine—broader than most men I’d ever known—and he had a fucking way with a piece of wood. It made a guy think about what else he might be able to grab one-handed and throw around like it weighed nothing. What he could manhandle with nothing more than a thought and one well-placed, callused palm, and the way he could make a guy into mush with that piercing emerald stare. Also, he was giving me the stink eye again. Which was rude. I was being subtle, sitting there drinking my coffee and reading the news on my phone, only occasionally glancing up at his flexing muscles, broad back, and giant fucking biceps. I wasn't gawking, and I didn't have my dick in my hand. That was for later, in the privacy of my own room. I'd spent the previous twenty years in the army, after all, and sure, maybe that “don't ask, don't tell” bullshit was over, but it still wasn't exactly rainbows and puppies being a gay guy in the army. My guys had known, sure. It was hard to be that close to people, to trust them with your life, and not have them know who you were. But coming out to a random soldier was as likely to get you socked and told to “stop fucking hitting on me, fairy,” as it was to result in a friendship, let alone a relationship. With those odds, I'd usually opted for few friends and a cold bed, but the certainty of keeping all my teeth. Hot ginger neighbor was definitely giving me the “stop fucking hitting on me” look, and I hadn’t even said a word to him since I’d moved in. I’d tried waving at him the first morning I’d seen him out chopping wood, but he’d scowled and deliberately turned his back, so I’d figured he wasn’t looking for a friend. Again, retreat was the better part of keeping all of one’s own teeth. Or valor, whatever. After twenty years in the military, many of them in the desert, I could take most guys in a fight, so I wasn’t usually worried about it. But hot ginger neighbor was . . . big. Like, bigger than my own muscular six-foot frame, and one of the things they taught us in the army was not to pick fights if you didn’t think you could win them. Plus I was fresh out of the service. I really didn’t need to be starting a bloody feud with my neighbor first thing when I arrived in a new town, trying to start a new life. I wasn’t fucking Rambo. But I was trying to figure out what to do with myself, now that the army, the only thing that had ever seemed to need me, had cast me aside. I dropped my phone and mug onto the deck railing in front of me and stood, stretching the kinks out of my back. A few satisfying pops later, and I scooped them back up. Not that I expected the deck railing to collapse, but it was one of the top things on my list to replace in the house. The wood was weathered and gray, and the whole porch was creaky. I thought I’d seen it swaying in the wind the night before, during the snowstorm that had dropped a few inches on us, and that was concerning. I’d even considered not drinking my coffee on the deck, but then I’d spotted a flash of orange-red hair from my kitchen window, and well . . . Yeah, anyway. It was time to