Page 3 of Howl for the Gargoyle

I wasn't sure that sounded like they had adjusted, or if they'd just had the burden of a werewolf living with them lifted from their shoulders.

"It's not that. It's just how…Virgil is," I said.

Virgil Darwood. Lead singer of The Knock 'Em Deads, one of the world’s most enduringly popular rock bands—Dad said the greatest rock band—style icon, rebel to all things domestic, and somehow…my dad. In the ways he managed to be.

"But he calls too, and that's big for him," I continued before Theo might express concern or sympathy. Dad called to talk about the reunion tour, to let me know when he'd be passing through or stopping in Chicago, to ask me how it was going with the label I'd signed with—a small label, one that hadn't seemed curious about my father or our relationship or any potential collaboration. And at the end of the conversations, he would check in, in his small way.

"How's it going, howling at the moon?"

There was no view of the moon in the safety cubbies provided at the shelter.

We reached Theo's house, the drive passing in easy silence, and Natalie was already standing in the doorway, a sticky handed Emmett banging on the glass, sobbing.

"It's not too late to turn back. She's going to pass him to you the second you walk in," Theo warned me.

I laughed and slid out of the front seat, Emmett's wails audible from the sidewalk. "I signed up for it."

I knew Theo and Natalie both had siblings, but I was aiming for the role of Emmett's best auntie, and if that meant getting peanut butter in my hair, so be it.

"Hammah!" Emmett screamed as Natalie opened the front door, his short chubby arms straining for me.

"I made the mistake of trying to bribe him with the promise of you coming over," Natalie said. "He doesn't like waiting."

I managed to catch Emmett as he dove out of his mother's arms and latched his surprisingly strong arms around my neck, still weeping, as I followed Natalie inside.

"Sorry, buddy, your dad drives like an old man," I said.

Natalie snorted and shot me a grin over her shoulder. "I told Theo we were having mushroom risotto, but I didn't tell him he was making it for us. I need wine on the couch, and Emmett needs to show you every single one of his toys."

Emmett grunted in what might've been agreement, and Theo called to us from behind.

"Like I didn't know what your plan was all along!"

Natalie groaned as she stretched out on her couch, and upstairs something thumped heavily from Emmett's room. I glanced up at the ceiling when Theo came racing down the hall.

"I'm on it," he called.

Natalie opened one eye and smirked at me, her hand trailing down to the floor to find her wine glass. "He knows he's on duty, don't worry. And I've got the monitor on," she added, flashing her phone to show Emmett digging around in his trunk of toys.

"Long day?" I asked.

Natalie shrugged. "Actually, it's been this week. Toddlers have nothing on prima donna clients who don't know what they want but love to make demands. Theo's making me mute my emails until Monday morning. He's a good mate."

I stared at her, sipping my wine and chewing over a question I'd been wanting to ask. She stared back and raised her eyebrows, silently daring me.

"Do you want Theo to bite you?" I asked.

Natalie smiled. "Sometimes. But it's a big adjustment, and Emmett's still really young. And then if we had another baby, they'd be a werewolf by birth, and that might… I dunno, kids are never on equal footing anyway, but that just seems like it would complicate dynamics. Theo knows we're mated, so I know we're mated. I'm okay being human until the timing feels right."

I didn't know any other mated couples, not both parties, but it made sense with Natalie and Theo. They had a harmony I'd never seen in a relationship before, although I hadn't grown up around the best models. My parents had never been more than a brief fling, and my mom had decided that raising me was going to be her entire life until suddenly, in my teens, she died in a car crash. And then I'd been Dad's problem. He'd had plenty of marriages and relationships, but none of them remained harmonious for very long.

"Is it my turn to ask a personal question?" Natalie asked, a dangerous gleam in her brown eyes.

I laughed and reached for the wine bottle. "Wait, I need this first."

Natalie scooted back against the arm of the couch, pulling her black braids over her shoulder and staring at me like a predator who'd caught sight of prey.

With a full glass of wine in hand, I nodded for her to continue.

---