LGBTQ+ Shifter Romance

Date Published: March 27, 2026

EXCERPT

from Werewolf’s Choice

For Don Sanderson, disabled werewolf, life couldn’t have been
better.

He was three thousand miles from the pushy alpha werewolves of Washington, DC.
He was starting a new job. And life was just great in general. He’d
always wanted to travel and thought he’d never get the chance.

Mostly because of his wheelchair.

But here he was, rolling across the parking lot toward the carefully concealed
entrance to the SearchLight Academy campus in California. It was early March
and the whole of Death Valley was awash in wildflowers. The perfume in the air
was glorious and he’d never felt so glad to be alive.

Well, all right, that was laying it on a bit thick. He recognized his desire,
as a therapist, to be healthy and positive in his daily thoughts. This
wasn’t perfect because Timothy wasn’t with him. Timothy, damn him,
was gone.

Don paused to survey the flowers that crowded right up to the edge of the
parking lot. He smiled. Come May or June, there wouldn’t be any flowers.
The heat baking off the pavement could fry an egg. Or maybe even melt his
tires. But for now, he was content to park outside instead of in the garage.
He’d never thought to see Death Valley and get to celebrate its beauty.

Hell, he’d often thought he’d be under the flowers instead of
surveying them. Werewolf culture had little tolerance for a lone wolf, and yet
they didn’t want him to be part of a pack either. Disabled in more ways
than one, he wasn’t desirable. Yet, they couldn’t just leave him
be because “lone wolves are dangerous, ravenous beasts and separated
from society, they often go insane.”

He’d been raised on that truth, but he wasn’t insane. He had a
pack, of sorts. He had SearchLight. It wasn’t the same, and he knew it.
Being in a wolf pack, surrounded by your kind, was like being given a drink of
water after days of thirst. There was something that called to a wolf’s
soul when it came to pack living. But Don had been nicknamed. His full name
was Donald. Nicknaming was disrespectful, and he’d been ostracized. No
one wanted him.

Well, maybe dead, they wanted him. But only SearchLight could use his talents
as he was now: a therapist capable of helping others heal.

He entered the hidden passage, taking the gentle slope down toward the heart
of SearchLight’s new campus for students of all ages. There had
originally been only one SearchLight campus, in Washington, DC. Now there was
this second campus, in the Mojave Desert, shielded from humans and dangerous
magical creatures alike.

He traveled through the whispering silence and smiled when the almost creepy
stillness was broken by laughter. This place was so new everything practically
squeaked. There weren’t any security officers here, not until June, and
only some of the professors had reported. He was supplemental staff, and
technically he didn’t have to be here until April first, but he’d
been so very glad to get out of DC…

There was housing here, as there wasn’t in the nation’s capital.
Being all underground and far from usual human habitation, it was easier to
have apartments here than in the Panamint Mountains, which were relatively
nearby. Soon, Don would be hiding his car inside because he wouldn’t be
going anywhere. But today was his first day and he’d longed to be
outside with the fifty other cars.

They were hidden from standard human perception by leprechauns magic and other
concealment spells, but right now, the parking lot was simply another place
for anyone to leave their vehicle because the whole national park was open to
visitors. Hiding in plain sight was SearchLight’s favorite trick.

It was still early, barely eight o’clock. He wheeled his way down to the
cafeteria, following the signs, and thinking that he’d love to have
breakfast in his own apartment. Even well-prepared food, when it was
mass-produced, tasted nothing like home cooking.

When he was finally in the cafeteria, he balanced a tray on his lap and rolled
through the line. He was aware of people looking at him but that was okay. His
right leg ended just below his knee. It was normal for people to steal little
glances in his direction. He had two psychic senses even though most LGBTQ
werewolves only had one. He could always tell when he was being watched,
particularly with negative intent, and he was a telekinetic. He could have
rolled along with the tray floating an inch or two off his lap, but why show
off? He drew plenty of attention without that.

Reaching a table that was specially designed to allow a wheelchair to roll
underneath, he smiled. He was one of two wheelchair-bound staff, and there
might be students coming in with similar disabilities. Since Dr.
Sowerby’s decree, two years gone, that all SearchLight Academy buildings
must be ADA compliant, more and more disabled magical creatures had flocked to
the school designed for, and catering to, magical creatures.

“Do you mind if we join you?”

He glanced up as he set his tray on the table. It was a female who had spoken,
a female basilisk, and he rapidly searched through the list of names he kept
in his head. He didn’t know all of the faculty at the SearchLight
Academy back East, but he thought… “Ms. Vaughn?”

She blinked beautiful golden-brown eyes at him. “We’ve never met.
How do you know my name?”

“I’ve had students mention your classes.”

“That’s impossible,” she returned as she and the male
basilisk with her sat down. “I’m not a teacher yet. This fall will
be my first term.”

Confused, he ventured, “Aren’t you the languages expert, Ms. Susan
Vaughn?”

Her companion chuckled. “Now I understand,” he said. “No,
Susan is my sister. I’m Xavier Vaughn and this is my wife,
Cassidy.” He briefly touched a light chain around his neck when he
spoke.

Cassidy Vaughn smiled at her husband. Then she returned her attention to Don.
“And you are?”

He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to share his name but because
he didn’t know how they would react to his nickname. He’d been
known as “Don, the psychic wolf.” He’d been called deformed,
not just because of his leg but because of his other disability and his status
as a bisexual wolf.

“You’re the therapist, I think,” Xavier said.
“I’ve seen you around the DC campus a couple of times.” He
seemed to want to give Don a little more time because he continued. “I
was filling in for Professor Boyle last fall when he took off time to write a
book.”

“You were teaching parapsychology?” Don frowned slightly.
“I’m sorry — if I should remember you, I don’t.”

Xavier chuckled. “I have a way of fading into the background. It’s
one of my psychic talents.”

Cassidy leaned forward and took a sip of her coffee. “What’s your
name?”

Oh, to hell with it. Damned be all the stereotypes that went with a werewolf
being given a nickname instead of his full born-with identifier.
“I’m Don Sanderson. You’re right, I’m the head
therapist here in Death Valley. I used to work off campus at the Healing House
where attack victims and bullies alike were sent to recover and change their
ways. I’ve only visited the campus twice…” Then he realized
where Xavier might have seen him. “I gave a lecture on bullying behavior
to all the professors and staff last fall.”

“That must be where I saw you.”

Something in Xavier’s reply made Don raise his eyebrows. But the male
basilisk didn’t respond to the questioning look.

Cassidy was toying with a little key on a bracelet. She had a pleased smile on
her face. Don turned his questioning look on her.

“Nothing,” she answered his glance. But she took Xavier’s
hand and smiled at her husband as if they had a secret.

A rush of jealousy rushed through Don in that moment. He wanted so badly to be
looked at in that way, where he held enigmas with a lover. He wished briefly
that these two beautiful people were looking for a third…

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender
women’s speculative fiction. Seeking a world made of equality, she
created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its
problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host
of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires. And in the
contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily
has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate
quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her
website.

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