Page 39 of Shifting Years
A man with a long handlebar mustache, who looked like a sheriff, watched me as I hurried down the sidewalk. I met his eyes temporarily and moved past, still feeling his unblinking stare.
Two attractive young men my age approached. The Black guy was taller than the shorter White man by his side. Both were well-muscled and walking close to each other. So close, you could believe they weretogether.
I swallowed nervously and introduced myself. I described the short man I'd searched for—the one who never left my thoughts. They stared at each other before sniffing slightly. The tight neck muscles hinted at secrets but suggested I see the sheriff.
Mike was the one who always avoided the police. He had a different name for them, though. I hadn't done anythingintentionallyillegal, besides hitchhiking and taking an acid tab. Although, it's possible my draft number was called.
Slinking around wasn't my style, and I had all intentions of going back to the mustached man. Instead, I froze in place. Outside the brick grocery store was a familiar muscled, short man with dark hair and the cutest light-green eyes I had ever seen.
My throat burned as if I had swallowed glass. Isearched,yes, because my heart demanded it, but I never thought I'd actually find him. His paper bags hit the ground, glass bottles shattering with sharp cracks. The scent of tomato sauce and dry pasta wafted through the air.
I raced over, with my hands pressed against his face, kissing him like my life depended on it. It was stupid and the sheriff could throw me and him in jail. I risked us both, yet his warm tongue twisted around mine as he stood. I was instantly hard as he trembled, not fighting me, but returning my kisses less with each passing second.
In that moment, it felt like we were the entire world, but reality soon intruded.
"Mike? It's okay. I found you. I accept what I am. We can be—"
His faint-green eyes pooled with tears and then dripped down to a simple, single-color shirt. I'd expected psychedelic designs or his favorite bands like The Doors, or Bowie, but there was no color to his wardrobe orface.
As if he'd seen a ghost, he stared back. "I'm… married."
"What?"
The sheriff strolled over with a loud sigh. Unlike my father, he didn't slap handcuffs on someone right away or start throwing around vague accusations. Hesuggestedwe visit the courthouse for a little chat. He then instructed Mike to go see his 'Alpha.'
The little man refused, getting a frown from the sheriff. "Suit yourself, but if Henry wants… I can't stop him." He scratched his handlebar mustache. "Course, it might be best."
I never thought much about that name, but now I hated it.
He walked me past same-sex couples, with some holding hands as they did in San Francisco. The papers said it was a gay sanctuary there, although they picked ruder words.
Up the white steps, we went past tall, muscled men in blue policeman uniforms and into a small clean office.
Once we had privacy, the sheriff spoke with a relaxed drawl. "How do you two know each other?" Before I could answer, he hurried to add, "If there's anything you think I wouldn't believe, just tell me. It'll make things easier."
My dad used similar lines, but I got the sense the sheriff wanted to help.
I looked to Mike for support, but he hugged himself, looking everywhere but me.
"You care if people are queer?" I asked.
"No."
"What about someone takingoneacid tab?" I didn't have to see Mike to sense his raised eyebrows.
"Do it outside town, and we're fine."
So, I told him, leaving out my town's name in case he ran a skip trace. I mentioned personal thoughts I had about myself and Mike. With reluctance, I went over the more unbelievable parts like meeting the two wolves, floating over my body, and sensing that I had to find this hidden town.
"That's a whopper of a tale."
Heat flashed over my face. HesaidI could trust him.
"My turn, son." As if he explained something to a child, but without a condescending attitude, he told me about a world hidden from most. Magic existed, as did vampires, bayou witches, and shifters, but notwerewolves. That was a racial slur, and he warned me to never say it. Then he finished with men who birthed children.
It was a story to instantly dismiss, but my intuition and Mike's bloodshot eyes told the truth. Whatever confusion he brought into my life, he never lied.
If true, then I was an Alpha. I could have gotten powers if I mated with an Omega like Mike.If only I was man enough to—
