Justice (9 page)

Then something else penetrated his nightmarish memories. It started as a remembered touch, someone who wanted only to comfort him, not hurt him. Other things were added—a deep, soothing voice, the scent of woods and sage, eyes that looked upon him with kindness, not pity or hatred.

He wanted Justice there. Paul dragged in another breath, dizzy from the panic attack that had slammed into him. Vivian was still talking in a low, soft voice, but Paul didn’t pay attention to the words. What he realised was that she had her hand on his back, and it felt so good to have someone touch him without wanting anything from him. Without wanting to hurt him.

Paul gasped but quickly forced himself to return to his attempts at slow-breathing. Preston was scared to touch him, Paul saw it in his eyes. Nischal wasn’t close enough to him, and Sabin probably thought Paul was one fucked-up bitch, which was true enough. Marybeth and the other shifters walked on eggshells around him. Hell, some had even left the family home, like Oscar and his mate.

Marybeth had said they were due for a visit with Josiah’s family, but Paul wasn’t a fool. The only people there were Marybeth, Preston, Nischal and Sabin.

And now, Justice and Vivian. Paul’s chest didn’t feel so tight when he thought about Justice. Even through his panic, desire was building. He concentrated on Justice, letting himself focus only on him. Paul kept it clean, not drifting into thoughts of sex, instead wrapping himself in an imaginary embrace by the man. He could almost feel Justice sitting behind him, his inner thighs against Paul’s outer, Justice surrounding him, his chest to Paul’s back and those muscled arms running the length of Paul’s own.

Justice would hold him, let Paul borrow some of that strength. A man who’d served ten years in the Marines, and was now a cop, had to have an inner core of steel. Surely Paul could draw from that, with them being mates and all.

* * * *

Halfway up a mountain, the panic slammed into Justice. He yowled and stumbled as his nervous system went haywire. Breathing became damn near impossible. Fear swamped him thoroughly, hazing his vision.

Justice tried to shake it off, like a physical attacker. He shook from nose to the tip of his tail. The feelings didn’t fling off like water, though, and he dropped to his belly, his mind abuzz with more chaos than he could handle.

There were images bursting into his brain. Disturbing, horrific ones that made him growl and snarl as he pawed at the ground. He knew then what was happening. That mental bond he’d longed for had somehow opened, and Paul’s hellish memories were rushing through it.

Paul must have been in session—Gods, Justice hoped he was in session with Viv, otherwise, who would help Paul through this?

I will, I so fucking will.
If he was getting mental images and thoughts from Paul, then Paul should be able to get some from him. The difficult part would be getting past all the horror crowding Paul’s brain.

It was jarring, and fucking terrifying for Justice. He’d had doubts over things he’d done here and there—who didn’t? But this was self-doubt on a whole new level, and it’d been ripped and pounded into Paul by vengeful, sadistic shifters. It wasn’t Paul’s own doing, but the casual disregard for him as a human being at all, by the hands of others.

He’d been reduced to a thing, to be used and degraded, ignored then fawned over just to build his hopes. Only to have them crushed in ways so vile Justice ended up retching.

Even as he did so, he willed soothing thoughts to his mate, nothing concrete, just calmness, acceptance, affection. Justice wanted to give him so much more, but that would come with time. At that moment, he gave what he could.

And Paul took it, soaking it in like a dry sponge doused with water. Paul’s need wrapped around him, and together they worked towards calming their bodies down.

When the panic eased to be replaced with gratitude, Justice mewled and rolled over onto his back. He rolled his neck and let the sun warm his belly and chase away the lingering chill left behind from that sudden assault of fear.

Paul would possibly feel guilty and regret reaching out to him, but Justice wouldn’t let him sink under that weight. He kept sharing his own contentedness. Gods knew there wasn’t anything else like lying there sunning himself. His leopard might be a creature originally born to snowy climates, but it sure as hell loved warming up under golden rays.

Justice purred and stretched his front legs, pawing at the air. He swished his thick, furry tail back and forth, sending dirt and rocks scattering about. The ground wasn’t soft beneath him, but his coat was dense enough to make it all just fine and comfortable. The only thing missing was having his mate nearby, but that day would come. Justice doubted Paul would be eager to see him in shifted form.

His leopard mewled piteously over that, but he reassured the beast that the time would come when all of him was welcomed by Paul. They just needed to be patient, and let Paul lead.

Justice managed to doze for a while, peace flowing between him and his mate. He hoped Paul was doing the same, curled up somewhere warm and safe, thinking of him.

Birds chirped and squirrels chattered. They’d all been silent before, hiding from the predator that Justice was. He guessed they either thought he was dead or asleep and harmless. Birds and squirrels weren’t his preferred meals anyway, but he couldn’t tell them that. Now, give him a nice, healthy deer, or a fat bunny, and he was one happy cat.

His tummy rumbled and Justice pried an eye open. Judging by the sun’s position, he’d probably been lazing about for an hour or so. He stretched, then did it again because it felt almost as good as getting off at that moment. Rolling onto his stomach, he raised his head and opened his other eye, too.

The sky was such a bright blue it almost made his eyes ache. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen. A hawk soared high overhead. If Justice could have any one special ability—other than his shifter one—he’d love to be able to fly. He imagined there was a freedom to it that nothing else could match.

Justice came to his feet and stretched again, arching his back and sticking his butt up to really get his spine feeling good. Then he loped up the mountain, even though he wanted to go down and run to his mate.

He had to let Paul come to him. That wasn’t possible right now, what with Justice a couple of hours’ worth of running away from the cabin. Paul needed to rest, and Justice thought that might be what he was doing. There was nothing coming from that newly opened link between them but a steady hum of what he could only describe as white noise.

Justice didn’t go all the way up the mountain. He’d save that for another time. He just went up to find the buck he’d been stalking earlier. His leopard was eager to take down the deer, but when it looked up at him, something stopped Justice. He saw the fear, and the will to live in the animal’s eyes.

When the buck took off, Justice and his leopard had a battle of wills. By the time it was over, the deer was gone and Justice’s leopard was pouting.

Yeah, he guessed it’d been stupid to hold back. He was a predator, at least part of him was, and denying that was foolish. He put his hesitation down to his experience with Paul earlier. Having seen some of the violence the man had been a victim of had put Justice off hurting anything else. He’d have to get past it, but for today, he’d let it go. He turned and began the trip back to the cabin, and hoped Viv had something cooked for dinner when he got there, or maybe Marybeth had fixed her awesome pot roast.

If not, he was capable of making something. Peanut butter sandwiches would work. Hell, he might just lick the peanut butter right out of the jar. The cabin would be stocked, that much Justice knew. No grandma, and especially not his grandma, would risk their grandkids being hungry.

Two and a half hours later, he was pleasantly worn out from the long run. He shifted and walked out of the trees, only to stop like he’d hit a glass wall.

Paul was sitting on the grass, staring at him hungrily. He had a blade of grass between his fingers, as if he’d been perusing it. Paul dropped it as he pushed himself up to his feet. His gaze raked over Justice repeatedly, studying him from top to bottom.

There was nothing Justice could do to keep his dick from filling. The instinct to breed was as ingrained as breathing. He could, however, keep from reaching for Paul.

But he looked Paul over just as thoroughly. Paul was a good six inches or so shorter than he was. His white-blond hair looked damp, as if he’d just showered. Justice inhaled and smelt soap mixed with orange and lemon. The tangy scent of it made his mouth water.

Paul’s eyes seemed a darker green and he realised it was because Paul’s pupils had dilated, chasing out all but a thin ring of the irises. There were pink stripes on Paul’s cheeks, signs of arousal. His nostrils flared with every indrawn breath. His lips were pressed tightly together, compressing their fullness into a thin pink line.

The corded tendons in his neck stood out, a sign of him restraining himself. His shoulders were broader than Preston’s, muscled thickly, just as his arms and chest were.

Justice could easily make out the prick of Paul’s nipples beneath his cotton button-up. Paul was wearing those faded jeans that looked butter-soft and fit him like a glove. His cock pushed against the material and a damp spot appeared as Justice watched. Paul’s thighs tensed, the muscles rippling.

Paul’s voice startled Justice. “Can I…can I t-touch you?”

But not as much as that request.

Justice was so afraid of screwing up that he didn’t reply verbally, instead nodding. Paul gulped and squeezed his left wrist. He looked so needy, so torn and unsure. Justice knelt, hoping that if he did so, his greater height wouldn’t seem imposing. He canted his head to the side, a move that Paul might recognise as a sign of submission. Sweat slicked Justice’s skin as he waited, watching Paul rub his wrist until the skin was dark red. He’d just about conceded defeat when Paul took a tentative step forward.

Paul’s second step was quicker, as was his third and fourth. When he stopped in front of Justice a dozen steps later, he’d stopped trying to twist his wrist off. His hands were shaking, but then again, all of him was. Justice would have caressed those shakes away if he’d thought Paul would let him.

As it was, he lowered his gaze and stared at Paul’s bare feet. He had elegant toes, something Justice had never understood before when he heard other people say it or when he’d read it in a book. But it was true. Paul’s feet were pretty, pale and dotted with honey-coloured freckles.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Paul reach for him at the same time he heard Paul inhale sharply. Justice had to close his eyes as Paul touched his cheek. Paul didn’t stroke, only held his palm against Justice’s face. Justice canted his head and rubbed his cheek over Paul’s hand, unable not to.

Something close to a sob escaped from Paul. Justice snapped his eyes open and was going to tell Paul it was okay, but he didn’t get the chance. Paul grabbed him at the nape and kissed him with a brutal force that was still erotic. It wasn’t anger that was fuelling Paul’s assertiveness, but a need that flowed into Justice.

Justice could and would meet that need. He could allow Paul to have him in any way necessary. Anything, anyway, Paul wanted. Justice kept his body relaxed as he allowed his head to be tipped back and his mouth to be plundered. Paul whimpered and bit at his lips, stinging nips that might have broken skin. Justice didn’t care. His leopard was a rough son of a bitch who enjoyed the way he was being manhandled just as much, to his surprise, as Justice did.

Paul shoved and Justice went over backwards. Paul went right down on top of him, not letting up on the kiss. Their teeth clacked together when Justice hit the ground.

Paul lifted his head. “Oh God,” he rasped, regret pinching his features. “I’m sorry! I—you’re bleeding.”

Justice did move then, framing Paul’s face with his hands and leaning up, straining for more kisses. He rumbled happily when Paul gave him what he needed, diving back into the kiss like it’d never been interrupted.

Paul’s hands were all over him, fleeting touches that spurred Justice’s desire higher and higher. Paul hadn’t touched any of the usual erotic spots yet, either, and Justice was dangerously close to coming already.

It was Paul’s need, his hunger, that was driving Justice to the edge. Paul straddled his waist and ground forward and down, rubbing his denim-covered cock against Justice’s belly. He wanted to touch Paul all over, but the thought was in his mind that he might still scare Paul off, so Justice kept his hands framing Paul’s sweet face.

Paul kept kissing him, plunging his tongue deep in time with the thrust of his shaft against Justice’s stomach. It was difficult not to shove his hips up and get some friction for his dick, but knowing Paul’s past, Justice wouldn’t make any such move.

He rubbed his palms over Paul’s jaws as Paul nipped and sucked at his bottom lip. Paul rutted harder, faster, then he grunted and dragged his mouth over Justice’s cheek. He kept scraping over skin, down Justice’s neck to the spot where shoulder and neck joined. The instant Paul bit, hard, painfully so, Paul’s muffled shout was countered by Justice’s much louder one. Spunk warmed Justice’s stomach through the material of Paul’s jeans as Paul sucked the wound and rocked against him.

Then Paul was wiggling, moving, and a hand was on Justice’s dick, jerking him off with harsh quick strokes. Paul left off biting his neck to move down and teeth one of Justice’s nipples.

Justice bucked and yelped, pain and pleasure colliding in him in an exquisite dance. He lasted one more stroke, one more bite, then he was coming so hard his head spun.

He was out of it for a few minutes, he thought, but came to with Paul’s panicked, “Oh my God, what did I do?” in his ear.

Justice opened eyes he’d apparently closed at some point. He had a nauseating second where he thought his mate was regretting the intimacy between them before he realised Paul was staring in horror at the spot where he’d bit Justice’s neck.