QSFer Kaje Harper has a new MM paranormal novella out in the Hidden Wolves series: Unmasked.
Trent: Halloween has always been a night I take for myself. On that one night, I cut loose with a mask hiding my face, and head to the gay bars. I can dance and flirt and maybe get laid, just one guy in a crowd of guys like me. They don’t know I’m a werewolf. My pack doesn’t know I’m gay. Every year, I grab onto my night of freedom and enjoy it hard.
Until this year, when my Alpha tells me I have to shift into wolf fur and go trick-or-treating with the pack kids. I’m supposed to wag my tail and charm the humans with “Operation Werewolves Make Good Neighbors.”
This was not how I wanted to spend my Halloween, but I’m just pack Fifth. When Alpha says “Hop,” I ask “How high?” So here I am, out with the kids, playing a happy, furry Warg, when I hear a little girl crying. And in saving her, I set a chain of events in motion that will upend my entire life. When Halloween is over, I’ll have to figure out who I want to be, in a world not made for gay werewolves.
Unmasked is a stand-alone story in the Hidden Wolves universe, set thirteen years after the main series, as werewolves and humans are learning to live side by side.
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Excerpt
As my paws hit the pavement, I sniffed the air. A little smoke reached my nose from blocks away, probably a woodstove but perhaps a bonfire despite the dry fall. The scents of grass and weeds, of people and werewolves, gasoline and hot metal, sun-warmed tar, fading flowers, distant curry simmering, and bread in the nearby trash can blended in a symphony of impressions. I could hear squirrels in the trees overhead, a mouse in the weeds, an owl waking to its evening hunt. When I was in skin, I loved my sharp color vision and my opposable thumbs, but this sensory intensity was one of the joys of being in fur. I inhaled more deeply.
Nick said, “Okay, we’ll head west first, hit up the next couple of blocks, then see how it’s going. Trent, let me know if you need to get the kid off your back and out of the saddle. Bark twice.”
I yipped once to show I understood.
Dylan wasn’t too heavy for me to carry. I’d occasionally run in fur with a backpack, and I could manage forty pounds. He was wiggly, though, and prone to clutching my ruff in a tight fist when he lost his balance. Alpha was going to owe me big for this performance.
By the fourth block, I had to admit the “charm people with the tame werewolf” idea was turning out to be a decent one. When I carried my little orc and his goodie bag up to the doors, and folks said, “My, what a big dog!” Garrett would say, “He’s a werewolf. One of our best friends.” Then I’d wag my tail, cock my head, pant, and act cute. We’d all studied the “appease the humans behavior-suite” lecture. Rick Brown had made training videos. Ears down, big eyes, look goofy. I knew the drill.
Reactions from the folks in the houses were mixed, of course. Some not great. No one slammed a door, but I got some glares and a few humans drawing back, the whiff of fear or anger in their scents. No slurs, probably because these suburban homeowners weren’t quite up to that language in the face of a princess, three elves, Superman, Batman, an evil wizard, a black cat, and their parents. Not to mention the cell phones the moms had out videoing the cute kids and incidentally, anyone causing trouble.
On the good side, a lot of people were fascinated and amused. With my orc bouncing in the saddle and the little princess clutching my ruff and leaning against my shoulder, my aura of danger was definitely defused. Operation “Werewolves Make Good Neighbors” seemed mostly successful.
The kids’ bags were bulging with candy when I caught an unhappy sound. Not near where we were walking, but somewhere a road or two over. A young child, crying out in fear. Maybe it was just a little girl reacting to a jump scare someone had set up— an axe-man in the bushes or a bat dropping from a tree. But the sound tugged at me.
I yipped twice, then twice again.
Garrett scooped Dylan off my back and I dashed off down the block. As I ran, I flicked my ears back and forth, trying to localize the source of that fear. In the distance, the child whimpered again, a sound of terror suppressed as if trying not to make too much noise. There.
I redoubled my speed, the stirrups flapping against my sides. Keeping to the shadows, I cut through a side yard, sprinted down the next two blocks, and turned left. As I rounded the corner, a streetlight illuminated a young girl a little older than Dylan. She stood clutching a sack of candy, while in front of her, two teenage boys nudged each other and giggled while pointing at her. The smell of whiskey on their breaths carried clearly on the air.
One of the boys said, “Give us your loot. Don’t make us come get it.”
The girl shook her head silently, her arms wrapped around the bag.
“Aw, come on.” The boys advanced on her a step, shambling and off balance but menacing all the same. “You’re not really gonna fight us for candy, are you?”
Enough was enough. I sprinted around some bushes and came up behind the girl. With my charcoal-gray coat blending into the night, and with the blur of whiskey onboard, the two boys took a moment to spot me. But when I stopped ten feet behind the child and silently bared my fangs, their heads went back and one boy gasped.
Mouth open, fangs gleaming, nose wrinkled and hackles raised, I paced forward one step, two, three.
The teens broke and ran, one of them dropping the stuffed pillowcase they’d carried. Tripping over each other, they bolted off into the night. My wolf wanted to give chase, harry them and nip at their heels and teach them the consequences of bullying. But the little girl sagged to the ground, sobbing, and I wasn’t about to leave her.
She hadn’t seen me yet, so I crouched low to the pavement, tail wagging furiously and yipped. The girl turned and her eyes widened, but she didn’t run. I crept forward a few feet, belly down, and paused there, my head cocked. I’d assumed she’d run home once her tormenters were gone. Instead, she stayed put, looking around her, then turned back to me.
“Are you a nice dog?”
I wagged harder. I was going to sprain my fucking tail at this rate.
“Good dog.” The child’s voice shook. “I think I’m l-lost.” Her next breath was a sob.
Well, fuck…
Read how this works out for a grumpy werewolf like Trent, in Unmasked: a Hidden Wolves novella.
Author Bio
I get asked about my name a lot. It’s not something exotic, though. “Kaje” is pronounced just like “cage” – it’s an old nickname, and my pronouns are she/her/hers. I’ve been writing far longer than I care to admit (whispers – forty years), although mostly for my own entertainment. I write M/M romance, often with added mystery, fantasy, historical, SciFi, paranormal… I also have Young Adult short stories (some released under the pen name Kira Harp.)
It was my husband who finally convinced me that after all the years of writing just for fun, I really should submit something, somewhere. My first professionally published book, Life Lessons, came out in May 2011. I now have a good-sized backlist in ebooks and print, both free and professionally published, including Amazon bestseller The Rebuilding Year and Rainbow Award Best Mystery-Thriller Tracefinder: Contact. A complete list with links can be found on my website “Books” page.