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"Dry is fine." Ethan lit up, inhaled, exhaled, and raised his eyebrows. "Hey, it really does help."
Luke sniffed at Ethan's smoke but refrained from taking one himself. "How did you know about
that?"
"From a firefighter I used to date, way back when. Although 'date' isn't exactly the right word.
He couldn't risk being outed, so we had to keep it all under wraps."
Luke's expression darkened.
"I know what you're thinking," Ethan went on, "but John was a really good guy. Nothing like
that bastard Kyle. You should have let me rip his throat out."
"You're joking, right?" Though from the look in Ethan's eyes as he'd said it, Luke had his doubts.
Tearing his gaze away, he poured Scotch into the glasses and slid one across the table before
recapping the bottle.
"It wouldn't be the first time." Ethan's tone was so low that Luke wasn't sure he'd heard him
right.
"First time for what? Joking?"
Ethan stubbed his cigarette out in the saucer and took a sip of Scotch, then looked Luke in the
eyes.
"Luke, you're a good man. Any dog would be proud to have you as his master. And if you want
me to, I'll stick around, as Jet, until Kyle is safely behind bars. Before tonight, I'd have been
happy to stay indefinitely. But now you know what I am."
"Well, it's not like I'm going to tell anybody!"
Ethan sighed. "That's not the point. I know you, Luke. I know how much you value honesty and
openness. I couldn't stay with you, as Jet or as Ethan, without coming clean about my past. And
there are things that, if you knew, you'd never want to see me, or Jet, ever again."
Luke sipped from his glass, considering his options. He could do as Ethan suggested, keeping Jet
close until the danger was past, and maybe even start something up with Ethan himself, all the
while knowing that it couldn't last, that at some point he'd be left alone again, with neither lover
nor dog for company.
Wanna Be Your Dog - 20
Or, he could insist that Ethan come clean about his past, and then decide for himself how he felt.
After all, Jet had defended his honor, and Ethan had probably saved his life. The two of them
were a fundamentally good person, Luke was sure of it -- what could they possibly have done
that was so bad?
He set the glass down on the table and reached for the cigarettes and lighter. "Ethan," he said,
once he'd finished coughing, "I love Jet, and in case you haven't realized it yet, I'm also very
much attracted to you. And I'm not prepared to let either one of you go without good reason. So
please, tell me your story, and then I'll make up my own mind as to whether or not I want you to
leave."
For a long moment, Ethan sat there, saying nothing, just staring into Luke's eyes as if trying to
judge his sincerity. "Well," he said finally, "okay. Just remember you asked for it."
Luke listened attentively as Ethan spilled the whole sorry tale. Ethan's father had married late in
life. His wife was young and wild, but the two of them were devoted to one another. They lived
in a farming community, a fair distance from the nearest town.
Ethan's birth had been premature. With no time to get to the hospital, his mother delivered him
alone, at home on the farm the couple owned, having made his father swear to stay out of the
room until it was over. She was a shifter, but her husband didn't know that. At least, not until he
broke his promise, out of concern for his wife, and walked into the room to find, not a woman
and her baby, but a black, long-haired German shepherd bitch and her pup. Apparently, giving
birth was easier in doggy form than in human.
Distraught, Ethan's mother shifted back and begged her husband not to kill her and the child.
Luckily, his love for her was stronger than the shock of knowing what she really was, and he'd
accepted both mother and pup with open arms. It had taken Ethan less than two months to learn
how to shift. When his father first saw Ethan in human form, he'd broken down and cried for joy.
Ethan's childhood had been a very happy one, and on leaving school he'd gone to work with his
father on the farm, where he was free to shift and race through the fields, sometimes on his own,
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