Timothy (21 page)

“You barely even breathed,” Tim said. He pushed Otto back against the slick tiles. Tim’s hand smacked against Otto’s stomach repeatedly as he beat himself off. “You were so good, so quiet and fucking hot, slick and hard under my hand.” Tim’s eyes narrowed to minute slits and he tipped his head back. His hand was a blur when Otto looked down. Thinking to help, he slicked his hands up Tim’s back, then around to his chest. Otto found hit tight little nipples and pinched them.

Tim’s eyes shot wide open and he bit his bottom lip on an indrawn breath. He fell against Otto and the scent of Tim’s spunk rose up between them.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Otto muttered against Tim’s wet hair. His man was so handsome when he came, more so than usual.

“Ah, damn it. I can hardly stand now.” Tim slumped heavily on him, almost dragging Otto down. “Guh, what you do to me, you sexy beast.”

For some reason, the description made Otto giggle, which surprised the hell out of him. He knew his eyes had to be the size of saucers and all that shit when Tim snapped his head up to stare at him. Well, Tim looked pretty surprised himself.

“You giggled,” Tim either accused or marvelled, Otto wasn’t sure which. Either way, his fucking face was hot with embarrassment. “I think it’s very sexy,” Tim purred.

“Well, as long as it makes you happy, I suppose I can let one slip out on occasion,” Otto offered, because making Tim happy was worth being embarrassed.

“You do love me, don’t you?”

Otto lost himself for a minute in Tim’s eyes, the soothing blue and the pitch black pupils, the kindness and hopes and dreams he saw there. “I really do.”

Tim’s smile could have lit up a small nation—at least. “That’s very good, since I love you too.”

Otto slanted his mouth over Tim’s for a messy kiss. He raised his head once he absolutely had to get some air into his lungs. “Good. Now let’s take care of this asshole tonight so we can get one with exploring all the ways we can express our love.”

Tim grinned. “Sounds like a damn great plan to me.”

Chapter Eighteen

It was anticipation that made the air snap and crackle with an almost electric current between him and Otto on the drive to meet up with Otto’s family. They talked a little, idle conversation, and Tim sharing how he was coming to understand he shouldn’t measure himself against others in his family, and certainly not by appearance. Goals and assertiveness, a little competition, those were good things, but trampling his own confidence was not.

If it hadn’t been for Otto simply being himself, Tim might not have put the thought into figuring out his own issues. He still had several of them, but at least he was becoming aware of them, he hoped.

The reached a spot Otto proclaimed perfect for parking. “It looks like every other piece of dirt and rock I can see,” Tim couldn’t help but point out.

Otto shut off the truck. “Well, sure, but it’s not like there’s designated parking spots here.”

“Smart ass.” Tim got out and watched with Otto as his parents and sister pulled up beside them. A check of the sun’s position assured him they had a little time before it set. The temperature was already dropping and the night ahead promised to be a cold one.

“At least we’ll be running around in fur coats,” Otto said. Tim laughed despite his attempt not to. He didn’t want to encourage silly jokes. Well, yes he did, but now wasn’t the time.

Lona and Steve walked over, Vendelia behind them holding what was indeed a pretty gun, if one could call a gun by such terms. Vendelia hefted the weapon up, placing the butt against her shoulder. “What if he isn’t out here?”

“Then we hunt for him wherever we have to. Dalanzadgad, Nepal, I don’t care, we are going to find him.” Otto unbuttoned his shirt. Tim began removing his clothes as well in preparation for shifting.

“I still think it’s amazing to be able to shift without it hurting like hell,” Tim said as he ardently ignored Lona and Vendelia. Stripping down to shift around family was nothing new, but he still didn’t want to inadvertently see any female bits. Or purposely, for that matter.

“Shifting is painful?” Lona asked.

“Yes.” Tim had his shoes and shirt off. All he needed to remove was his pants and boxers. It was fucking cold, though. He’d wait until this conversation was done. “It’s always been painful for me and my family members who are shifters to, well, to shift. It cuts back on how often we do it, for sure. Oscar and Levi—they both have mates of other shifter species—they said it’s got easier for them to do it since they’ve been shifting more often. Their mates, a wolf and a cougar respectively, don’t have the same problems we do.”

Lona had kept her shirt on, and it was long enough to come to mid-thigh, thank the gods. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps it has something to do with the cougar and wolf being native to the area they are in? I’ve never heard of there being a problem before.”

“It was very uncomfortable for me to shift when I lived with Uncle James,” Otto told her. “But I thought it was because I couldn’t do it often at all. I don’t think so now.”

“It’s certainly something we need to investigate.” Steve took the gun from Vendelia and tousled her hair until she snarled before giving Tim a thoughtful look. “Maybe when you go back, you should take some soil or something, I don’t know. A rock.”

“A Genghis Khan statue,” Vendelia suggested.

Lona swatted her arm. “Don’t be cheeky.”

“We’ll figure it out, son.” Steve brought the gun up and peered through the scope. “Go ahead and get shifted. I’ll see what I can see.”

Tim and Otto undressed and the ease of the shift was still a surprise, even though Tim was expecting it. Spending half the year, or even most of it, here wouldn’t be so bad if he could shift and just enjoy being his cat. Plus he would have Otto and his family here, so he wouldn’t be lonely. Homesick at times, but this would be his home, too.

“Our homes, both countries.”

The warm thought from Otto pleased Tim to the tip of his tail. He purred and rubbed against his mate, enjoying the play of muscle and fur.

Until something bit his tail. Tim yowled, barley managing to keep it quiet-ish as he spun around and came nose to nose with a smirking—had he known snow leopards could smirk?—Vendelia. She licked her lips and rumbled at him. Tim turned and flicked her with the end of his tail. It wasn’t too sore for that.

“Enough, kids,” Steve said when Vendelia’s rumble became a snarl. “Vendelia, you started it. Act your age not your paw size.”

Vendelia chuffled and sat on her haunches. Steve returned to examining the landscape through the scope, but the sun was setting and Tim wondered how well Steve could see. Finally he lowered the gun and pulled out the map he’d folded and put in his pocket.

“The night vision scope I have will work just fine,” Steve muttered, more to himself Tim thought. Steve squatted and spread the map on the uneven ground. He tapped the spot they’d all agreed upon. “Okay, start here. Lona and Vendelia will take the easterly path and you and Tim head west. I’ll keep a watch on each pair and everything in between as best I can. Anyone see or hear anything possibly having to do with the man we’re after, no heroics. Head back here and listen for the whistle.”

Human ears wouldn’t pick it up, but a snow leopard’s would. Tim wished Lona and Vendelia had agreed to each pair with one of them, but when he’d suggested it all hell had broken loose and he’d been informed in no uncertain terms was he to ever imply the women needed a man to protect them. Tim had shut the fuck up. He couldn’t help wanting to be chivalrous, but he could help being stupid.

“Ready?”

Tim nudged Otto in answer. They took off, loping, stretching their legs and letting the cool wind ruffle their fur. There was nothing quite like running in tandem with his mate, Tim decided. It felt so right, so perfect. If only they were out for a night time run simply to enjoy it.

Soon, Tim told himself. They’d put an end to this crazy shit and have the rest of their lives to spend enjoying one another.

Otto edged ahead, and Tim tried not to get pissy about it. He’d wanted to protect the women, and Otto wanted to protect him. Now he knew why Lona and Vendelia had shit bricks over it. Tim nipped Otto’s hip. The warning worked and Otto slowed enough to let Tim reach his side.

They veered west of the pass, taking on steeper ground. The rocks and boulders were a challenge to navigate, and Tim’s soul was soaring with the thrill of it. Grandma Marybeth’s family may have died closer to Nepal but Tim felt in his bones that they must have originated from this area.

The moon rose and its silver light caressed him and Otto. It cast the land in pale beauty, and Tim could have lost himself in it any other time. He definitely wanted to do this again, and often. Imagining his family visiting, running with them—he’d never even dreamed so big before.

Tim was parsing scents and trying to keep his imagination in check when it hit him. That rank, rotted scent slapped him in the nose just as it did Otto. They skidded to a stop well past the Vengi and on the edge of a steep slope on the mountain. Tim tipped his nose up and wanted to sneeze. He hated the odour.

“It’s not very old, as strong as it is.”

Otto agreed.
“We should turn back.”

“We should, but I feel your reluctance as surely as you feel mine.”
Tim was afraid if they left now the fucker would get away somehow. And he really wanted to confront the man. But—”
Bad shit always happens to people in movies and books when they go against the plans. Unless, you know, they’re big action stars and have already been trounced by the bad guy a time or two.”

Otto cocked his head and regarded him like he was nuts.
“You do realise this isn’t fantasy or fiction? Otherwise I’d have you naked or just take you in our leopard forms, that would work, and some abominable something would come and eat the bad guy.”

Tim’s mind was stuck on the idea of them fucking as leopards until one single rock bounced down beside his foot. It went over the edge and kept on going. Tim looked at Otto. Their prey was up there somewhere. Far enough to be away from many of the loose rocks, or else he could be deliberately taunting them.

“We should go for help.”

The second Tim thought it, an explosion of sound tore through the night. Rubble rained down on them, rocks and pebbles and dirt. Gun powder—the smell of it burned a pathway through Tim’s sinuses.

The shot had come from above them.

“Fuck!”

Otto’s panic and rage was every bit as explosive as the first shot, and fuelled to greater heights by the second one. Tim scrambled to keep close behind him. Had Steve been shot? Or Lona and Vendelia? Two of the three? Or just one? How far away and how good a shot was the man?

What the fuck was going on? Nothing could happen to Otto’s family, it would hurt him too badly. Tim couldn’t bear to see his mate in pain. Those shots had to have missed or been warnings or something.
Please,
Tim thought,
please let everyone be safe.

A yowl sounded in the distance. Otto stumbled but didn’t slow down for longer than it took to get his feet under him. Tim tried to figure out what the yowl meant. It had sounded like Vendelia, but had there been panic to it? Anger, yes, but pain? He didn’t know!

Otto leapt a good fifteen feet, his powerful hind legs propelling him over a gap that made Tim’s stomach drop. He didn’t hesitate to follow. He just closed his eyes and surged through the air. It was incredible, amazing, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the beautiful things his body could do. He kept behind Otto, sometimes even smacking his back paws by accident.

Until they cleared a series of boulders and Otto stopped suddenly. Tim slammed into his haunches, knocking them both on their asses. He shook his head because the collision had made his ears ring. Fear coalesced into a ball in his chest when he saw the man leaning against a boulder, rifle pointed at Otto.

Otto growled, his ears laid flat and he lowered his head. The threat was unmistakable.

“Otto, no!”
Tim’s panic was almost suffocating him.

The man raised the rifle and aimed it at Tim. “Shift, or I will put a bullet in his skull.”

Otto shifted. “I’ll fucking kill you, you know.” He said it calmly, with enough promise in his voice Tim halfway expected the man to drop dead.

“Fuck you.” He stood straighter and came a few steps closer. He had a definite limp, Tim noted. “Do you know who I am? Did you figure it out?”

“I know you’re a piece of shit who’s going to die shortly.”

Tim shivered. He’d never seen this side of Otto. It didn’t scare him, but he wasn’t thrilled about anyone dying, even the fucker who’d beaten Ochir.

“I shot your father.” He cocked the rifle and held it steady on Tim. “Hard to tell if I killed him at this distance. He should never have started this fucking programme.”

No accent, Tim realised.
How odd. A talented linguist, then.

“He wasn’t the only one to start it,” Otto pointed out.

“Shift.”

Tim did. That barrel seemed to be getting bigger the longer it was aimed at him. As soon as he was human he started shivering. It was dangerously cold, but the man in front of him seemed unaffected.

“I was like you once,” he said calmly as he looked at Tim. “I had a mate, a beautiful woman. She died, you know. Out here, when we were running. Some well-meaning soul from the Snow Leopard Conservation Programme tranq’d us both. She never woke up.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispered, because he was. He couldn’t imagine losing Otto. He’d go insane, but not like this, not where he hurt other people, he hoped.

“Sorry doesn’t make it better.” The sickly grin made Tim’s stomach twist. “And as for the rest of my story, well, you’ll die not knowing how I ended up without my spirit, won’t you?”

It was all the warning Tim got, and even then it wasn’t enough. He leapt forward, and so did Otto, both of them shifting as they moved. The shot caught Tim high on the shoulder and agony combusted and spread through his body. Otto’s yowl was joined by another. Tim couldn’t sort it out. He was wavering between blackness and consciousness, and focusing on anything other than the pain was nearly impossible.