Timothy (18 page)

Otto tried very hard not to appear as shocked as he felt by Naran’s excessive talking. Normally she was as sparse with words as she was with smiles. But apparently she had a burden she needed to unload, and so Otto listened as she went on, bleeding out her guilt at having let her own pride and fear keep her from giving Ochir a home even when he’d first refused. No doubt he’d been scared, and unsure of whether he could trust anyone. Otto felt for the boy, and he intended to make sure the man who’d hurt him paid—although, if Naran got to him first, there wouldn’t be much left over for Otto to deal with.

Naran finally sighed and startled Otto by placing her hand on his. She turned her big, brown eyes up at him, and there in their depths, Otto saw the truth before she spoke it.

“I know. I’ve always known.” Naran exhaled and leaned in closer. “My father has known. He said our family always has, and we work in our own way to protect your kind as well as our dear species. It’s why we have the shop, to help hunt out those who would poach our defenceless creatures, and to keep an eye out on our sacred dual-spirited ones as well.”

“Sacred?” was what Otto managed to sputter out. “We’re not sacred.” He realised his admission but it was too late to retract, and besides, Naran would never let him. “We’re born, we live, we love if we’re lucky, we hurt and laugh, and we die, Naran. Just like everyone else.”

Naran had really freaked him out then, cupping his neck and pulling his head down. Otto broke out in a sweat, thinking she was going to kiss him, but she merely brought his forehead to hers. “You are blessed with the spirit of the snow leopard. How, why, these things have been lost, I am afraid. Perhaps people existed first, or the leopard, I do not profess to know. Why your family was chosen, maybe once they were favoured by the gods. The reasons do not matter now, just that you
are
, and the others like you as well. If you tell me you cannot see how sacred that makes you, I will tell you you are a fool.”

Otto wasn’t sure what to say, but he truly didn’t believe he or any of the shifters were sacred. Special, yes. Blessed by the spirits inside them that made them what they were? Definitely, but explaining anything more to Naran than what she knew seemed unwise, and so he didn’t, instead brushing a quick kiss across her brow before pulling back.

“Has Ochir given you anything at all I can use to find the man who hurt him?” Not only was he ready to get away from the subject of what he was being known to humans, he wanted to put an end to the fear of the poacher harming those he cared for. Ochir deserved to know he was safe, that the man who’d hurt him would never do so again.

Turning on the bench until she was angled towards the window to Ochir’s hospital room, she gave a sharp tip of her head. “Yes. He said the man kept talking in different languages, but when he addressed Ochir directly he spoke like a native. No accent, no hesitating. The little he saw of the man before he was blindfolded in a cave not far from where we looked—”

“We found the cave,” Otto interrupted, “I’m sorry. We’ve been going at our conversations in fits and starts, but yes. It was beyond the Vengi Pass. Nothing useful in there but a name carved into the stone ground, Amar Rana.”

Naran picked at her bottom lip, worrying the skin there. Otto figured it was worth a shot to ask her about it. No one else had turned anything up yet.

“Does the name mean anything to you?” Otto looked up at the window she kept watching. “A bunch of the files went missing at SLCP. We thought maybe this sick bastard had been an employee, or was somehow connected to the programme or someone in it, and maybe, like you, he knows about us.”

That got Naran’s attention. She quit abusing her lip and hummed as if mulling something over as she eyed Otto.

“What?” He hoped he didn’t have something on his face, smudged toothpaste or something worse. Otto nearly had to sit on his hands to keep from wiping at his mouth, or nose. Naran was skeeving him out.

Naran’s smile had a satisfied tilt to it, as if she’d accomplished her goal by making him utterly self-conscious.

“Seriously, Naran, I’m beginning to get irritated.” There was no ‘beginning’ to it. If she kept looking at him like that, Otto was going to be certain she was deliberately fucking with him.

“I think maybe you are right and this man does know of your kind.” Naran propped her arm on the back of the bench. “Amar Rana was a character in a fairy tale, perhaps one you wouldn’t be familiar with since its origins are from India, I believe. My mother’s mother was Indian. She would tell me this story when I was little, about a demigod, Vinkhu, who could shift into a leopard. He fell in love with a woman, I always thought, and that is how my grandmother told it. Amar Rana was blessed by the gods with beauty and grace, and a loyal heart. Vinkhu fell in love with her and took her for his own.”

Naran made a rude sound and shook her head. “Romantic shit, I always thought. Amar Rana was slower to love Vinkhu, but once she did, she was his for life. Except one of the gods who’d blessed her became jealous. He’d always intended to take Amar Rana for his own. He got distracted and lost track of time, too busy playing the whore with other human women, planting his seed in them and all such male idiocy. When he found out Vinkhu had taken Amar Rana, the jealous god went insane and vowed to destroy Vinkhu.”

Naran looked at him from the corner of her eye. “This is all about male egos and penises. As is most thoughtless violence.”

Otto would not be stupid enough to ask her if thoughtful violence was a female thing. He had a feeling Naran would do her best to kick his ass, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

“So Vinkhu tried to fight, but he was only a demigod, not that strong after all. When he knew he was dying, he used the last of his powers to send his spirit into Amar Rana. She welcomed him, as blindly and stupidly devoted as she was to him. His spirit filled her, taking a second form in her—the snow leopard, if you haven’t guessed.”

Otto had, but saw no point in saying so. Naran was on a roll.

“The god came to Amar Rana after killing Vinkhu and tried everything to win her love, or more likely, just to get laid. Men,” she scoffed. “Amar Rana wasn’t made to be fickle, so she was not, and the jealous god screamed and did all the things jealous gods do, starting with ripping Vinkhu’s spirit from Amar Rana in a painful, murderous rage. Except that killed her, and in his absolute fury over being denied a good rape and torture session, he tore her body apart and flung her limbs in each of the four directions.” She shrugged. “Typical miserable tale, no happy ending. The important thing, I believe, is the part where Amar Rana had the snow leopard spirit ripped from her. What would that do to someone?”

Under Naran’s knowing stare, Otto shivered. There was a certainty in her manner he couldn’t refute. What would happen to a shifter if their dual nature was destroyed, leaving them only a human? Otto couldn’t imagine. His snow leopard was such a part of him, he hardly even gave it conscious thought, but it affected almost everything he did.

“It makes you wonder, doesn’t it,” Naran murmured. She stood up and tucked a finger under Otto’s chin so he looked right at her. “The man is not much taller than I am, and he’s soft but not fat, Ochir said. Thin hair, white or blond, he couldn’t be sure. Black eyes, but I don’t know if he meant the irises were literally black or someone had hit the man. A slight limp, he thought, but for all he knew the ass could have stumbled. That’s all Ochir could tell me.”

Naran popped up onto her toes and pecked his cheek, a surprising gesture from her. She waved and made her way back inside.

Otto sat there and ran through the story she’d told him. Was the poacher then claiming some kindred loss of spirit with Aram Rana? Or what he threatening to rip the shifter spirit from Otto and the other shifters? That wasn’t possible, was it?

But the mountain ghosts rumours and legends held more than a grain of truth, so what was to say Naran’s horrible tale didn’t, too? If only there was some registry of shifters—a ridiculous thought. Such a list could cause devastation for them if it fell into the wrong hands. Even his father wouldn’t attempt such a thing. Steve wanted to protect them, and learn all he could to do so, just as Otto did. And Tim, too. He had studied for years in order to be able to learn about his ancestors and help his family.

Otto knew digging around online would probably not turn up much information. He might be able to find something about the whole Vinkhu and Amar Rana legend, or story, he was never quite clear on what was which. Finding something on a shifter who had somehow lost half his soul, though, that was what he suspected he needed to find and wouldn’t. What were his choices? There were no other choices except to try and find out who the man was who’d burned his home and beaten a little boy.

Instead of calling Tim to tell him what Naran had said, Otto decided to go to the SLCP office. The urge to see Tim pulsed in him along with each heartbeat. It was a sort of giddiness, this sensation of being infatuated and entranced with someone.

No, not someone. Tim.
Otto reached for Tim, wanting to simply feel his mind touch his mate’s. Like an electrical current, Tim’s energy rolled into him, infusing him with a heady feeling that he was sure set a silly grin on his face.

“Are you free for lunch?”
Otto’s plans didn’t include food, unless eating Tim’s ass counted.

“Oh Goddamn, Otto, I just spat my soda all over my keyboard!”

He envisioned Tim blushing and wiping the sticky sweetness from his desktop. When Steve and Dane’s laughter filtered through the vision he knew Tim was sharing his ongoing experience with him.

“Come to the office. Dane will be heading off to lunch soon and we can run over what you’ve found out with Steve.”

Otto sighed silently but didn’t argue. His plans for Tim’s ass would have to wait, which was probably best. It was a short drive to the SLCP offices, and as Otto was walking in, Dane was on the way out. A horn blared behind him and Otto turned to wave at Gansukh. When he faced forward again Dane was almost on top of him, smirking, fit to be tied.

“Looks like you and the secret stealth club in the office get to have a working lunch while I get to be fucked by a stud until my brain melts.” The smug look vanished and a tic kicked up on Dane’s jaw. “It’d be nice if I wasn’t excluded. I know there’s more going on than what I’ve been told.”

And Dane took off, pushing past Otto and calling out to Gansukh. Otto rubbed at his chest, not because he’d been shoved—Dane was too short to shoulder him there—but because he found that he felt guilty for hurting the guy. Dane was smart, observant, and he’d realised something was being kept from him.

Otto could easily imagine how it must hurt Dane to know his best friend of many years was confiding in people who were, in length of time at least, strangers. Dane wouldn’t know about the mate bond, or the other secrets they shared. How could he? But could he be trusted? Otto thought he could. It would be Tim’s decision, of course, and if Dane and Gansukh ended up making a long-term thing of their hook-ups, then Gansukh would no doubt end up knowing for sure too.

This was becoming a complicated mess, and it needed to be figured out. Otto mulled it over as he entered the building. He was sure Tim was picking up on his thoughts as he became aware of Tim’s concern over Dane. Otto believed Tim should have the right to confide in someone he trusted.

The office door swung open and Tim came out. “Hey.”

“I missed you.” Otto reached for him, uncaring of who might see. The only other person there would be his dad, since Dane had taken off.

Tim’s smile set Otto’s stomach to fluttering. “That’s what I really wanted to say, not ‘hey’. I missed you, too, even though it’s only been a few hours. I thought I was being silly.”

“No, we aren’t being silly.” He clasped Tim to him and kissed him, soaking in the feel of him, the taste and smell of him, the soft, silky texture of his hair. Otto pulled the band off and started fingering the thick braid loose. By the time he reached Tim’s skull, Tim was moaning and palming Otto’s cock.

Otto assumed they’d get a little less mushy as they spent more time together. Maybe they wouldn’t. Their bond wasn’t going to get weaker.

Tim sucked on his lower lip and Otto’s entire body went tight as heat pooled in his groin. He raised his head and rocked his brow on Tim’s. “We better cool it,” he rasped. “I don’t want Dad walking out here and catching me fucking you against the wall.”

“Jesus. Shit, don’t say things like that.” Tim actually panted for a moment as he struggled to get himself under control. “Now I’ll have the image of you doing me right here burned into my mind.” Tim’s mouth was quirked up just so at the edges. “Thanks.”

Otto smiled back but there was no possible way he could compete with the sheer, smoking sexiness Tim was emitting. “Any time.” He purred the offer, making sure Tim got the visual of Otto pressing him face against the wall and fucking him until Tim’s spurted cum on the cool tile.

“Maybe your dad should go get us lunch.” Tim pressed against Otto’s shoulder until Otto’s back hit the wall. “Then I’d shove your pants down and fuck
you
against the wall, make you shoot with nothing more than my dick in your ass and the hard wall rubbing you off.”

Tim’s low, rough voice was almost as stimulating as his words. Otto gulped and stuffed a hand in his pants pocket, glad he’d worn loose cargos so he could take advantage of the long pockets and touch his dick through the material.

“You boys coming in here or are you going to make out in the hallway?” Steve hollered. “Because I’m going to have to veto the last one there.”

Tim narrowed his eyes and ratcheted up the wicked in his smile. “Tonight,” he promised, and Otto thought his very bones quivered as the anticipation started to build. By tonight, he’d be a puddle of gelatinous goo because he was sure to hear Tim’s voice repeating his dirty plans for him, oh, only every other minute of the day.

And damned if Tim didn’t ‘accidentally’ brush his hand over Otto’s swollen cock when he turned around. Otto bit back a groan. It was going to be a long day.