Timothy (5 page)

Lona shot him an incredulous look. “Do you have a mood disorder?”

“No, do you?” Dane jetted back.

“He’s just happy because he smells fried chicken,” Tim explained, clamping a hand to Dane’s shoulder. “Be nice,” he growled.

“She started it,” Dane pointed out. “Can I make gravy or something?”

Lona must have been content to let matters drop since she waved Dane over and started telling him what to get out from where. Tim started to ask if he could help too but Steve caught his eye. Tim sat down beside Steve and hoped he wasn’t about to get sent back to the States. He missed his family and everything, but there was so much he needed to find out about what they were—and alienating Lona was probably one of the dumbest things he could have done in his desire to help his family.

“I didn’t know, when I accepted your application,” Steve said after he glanced to make sure Dane wasn’t paying them any attention. “It wasn’t until I started watching you here, saw the way you paid such acute attention to everything, caught you sniffing the air, parsing scents, something I’ve seen Lona, Otto and Vendelia do hundreds or even thousands of times, I guess. The way you move, the careful look in your eye, even the way you hold Dane at a distance despite him being your best friend—all of those things made me believe you might just be a snow leopard shifter, too. I’m glad to know I was right.”

Tim let some of his irritation at Steve go. He could actually understand why Steve hadn’t asked him, or announce that he was married to a shifter. It’d have been beyond awkward had he done so and Tim not been who and what he was.

Steve leaned in closer to whisper the next part. “And please forgive Lona. She worries so much about Otto. There’s not many…uhm, options, for our son out here, and he refuses to move away. He believes it’s more important to protect and preserve our species—both snow leopard and shifter—than it is to worry about something like love.”

Tim risked a peek at Lona and found her glaring at her husband. “You know she heard you.”

“Yes, and she knows I didn’t approve of her making you so uncomfortable, but Lona does love to tease.” Steve sat back and blew his wife a kiss. “And I love Lona like crazy, even after almost forty years of marriage.”

“You better,” Lona told him, winking at Steve. She resumed cooking and Dane chattered away at her as if he’d never been ready to get into a throw down with her for Tim’s sake.

“I’d like to talk to Lona about some things,” Tim began, then found it difficult to say anything more. He was so used to not discussing his family, them being shifters, with anyone other than a person he was related to. Changing something he’d done all his life wasn’t easy.

Steve seemed to get it, though. “Okay. I know I’d like to talk to you when you feel comfortable, too. I had no idea there were”—he glanced at Dane, who was still stirring the gravy and gabbing on—“others elsewhere.” Steve grimaced and turned a worried look on Tim. “And now that’ll be another concern. I helped create the Snow Leopard Conservation Programme because of my wife and children. I do want to protect the snow leopards as well, but nothing is more important to me than keeping my loved ones safe.”

Tim could understand Steve’s vehemence on the subject. His own family meant everything to him. They let the topic drop for the time being as Dane began chatting to them on occasion. Tim took the time to study Steve and Lona. They reminded him of his parents, and he wondered if they were mates, then, a possibility that Tim and his family back in Colorado had only just learned of, thanks to Oscar falling for a wolf shifter named Josiah. Josiah had been kind enough to share his knowledge of shifters with Tim’s family, and several questions had been answered that had brought a measure of peace to Tim. But there was still more to learn.

“It’s ready,” Dane sang, adding a little happy dance Tim had seen him do dozens of times. It basically consisted of a few inappropriate jiggling moves. “Mmm, I am so hungry!”

As good as the food smelt, Tim would have waited to eat if it had meant more conversation, at least on Steve’s side. He didn’t think he could just spill about his family, but Steve would probably be more comfortable talking about shifters. Maybe.

Still, Tim’s mouth watered as the food was set on the table. Lona patted his shoulder. “Go ahead. I enjoy watching others enjoy my cooking.”

It was all the encouragement Tim needed. He picked out a couple of pieces of dark meat, loaded the creamy mashed potatoes on his plate, covered them in gravy, then snatched up a hot roll.

The first bite of crispy chicken dragged a moan from him. He closed his eyes to keep them from rolling back in ecstasy. Dane’s appreciative groans were louder than his, no surprise as Dane didn’t do anything half-way.

Dinner passed in relative silence, except for Tim and Dane’s effusive compliments on Lona’s cooking skills. By the time they cleaned their plates, Tim didn’t think he could waddle, much less get up and move to the living room. He’d thought, despite Steve’s earlier offer of transportation, he and Dane would walk back to the hotel, figuring a few miles exercise would do them good, but now Tim knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it. Exhaustion was weighing down on him, clutching him tightly as it’d tried to do for days.

“Maybe you should both stay here tonight,” Tim heard Steve say. “Tim looks ready to pass out, and you don’t look much more alert.”

“No thank you,” Dane said politely. “We can call for a cab, if you don’t feel like driving us. Just give me a few minutes to get past my gorged stupid state and I’ll help with the dishes.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Lona chanted, “my guests are not doing the dishes. I let you help with the gravy because I knew you were having fun doing so, but I am not going to put either of you nice young men to work. I will however pack you each a good lunch and send it with Steve tomorrow.”

Tim pried open an eye and saw Dane giving Lona a speculative look.
Don’t go back to being a smart ass, don’t go back to being a smart ass.

“Are you sure?” Dane asked, relieving Tim’s mind. He’d expected Dane to make a crack about Lona wanting them not to have dishwater dried out hands should her son show up or something equally as ridiculous. “I don’t mind at all. Tim sucks at washing dishes, though. I really suspect he deliberately breaks dishes just so no one will want him doing them again.”

“Hey, that’s not true.” Tim managed to open both eyes and zero in on Dane. “I will have you know I don’t always break dishes. Just, sometimes I get distracted, and those things are slippery!” He also wasn’t the most coordinated person in the world.

“It’s fine,” Lona said, “don’t you two worry about it. I actually like washing dishes. I find it soothing. Now, doing laundry on the other hand sucks. I’d almost rather have teeth pulled.”

“Laundry does suck,” Dane agreed.

“I like folding clothes more than washing dishes,” Tim admitted, then promptly wondered why in the world they were talking about chores. He stood abruptly, even though all he wanted to do was sleep for a week. “Lona, thank you for the lovely meal. Steve, thank you for inviting us, and for being our source of transportation.”

“Any time, boys. You’re both always welcome to come over for a home-cooked meal.” Lona gave them each a hug. “You and I need to have a chat,” she whispered in Tim’s ear.

“We do.” Tim didn’t feel as weird hugging Lona as he’d thought he would. Maybe it was because she was a shifter too, and he didn’t fear inadvertently giving away what he was.

The ride back to the hotel went quickly, for which Tim was grateful. His dick had been half-hard within seconds of getting in Steve’s vehicle. Tim was back to crossing his legs, but at least Dane and Steve didn’t seem to notice. Tim was lost in his own musings, trying to figure out why his body reacted so strongly to the scent in the truck when Steve pulled up to the kerb in front of the hotel.

Arousal slammed into Tim with the force of a punch to the gut. His body registered the figure approaching the vehicle seconds before his mind did. Dane was just as quick.

“Oh my God, he’s—”

“My son, Otto,” Steve interrupted. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

Tim gulped as quietly as he could as he watched his ideal of male perfection approach. His eyes locked with Otto’s and there was no hiding his erection when it sprang up, eager and proud.

“Someone’s happy to see Otto again,” Dane whispered. Tim didn’t even give a shit about being teased. All he could concentrate on was remembering to breathe as Otto stopped and waited outside his door.

Chapter Five

It figured Naran would be wrong.
Neither the suspected poacher nor Ochir had been anywhere near where Naran and Otto had looked. Otto had used his nose to pick out a scent he hoped might be the man he was hunting, and it’d lead here, to the Dalanzadgad Hotel. Then the trail stopped, gone at the kerb. Otto had walked over to the door and even checked out the lobby but hadn’t caught the slightest hint of the odour he’d followed.

Disgusted, he had left the hotel. His senses flared, heightened to the point of almost being painful. It was as if everything in him sharpened, his vision, hearing, smell—need. They all intensified as soon as he spotted his dad’s vehicle, which would have freaked him the hell out had he not immediately seen his mystery man inside it.

The last person Otto expected to see again without having to hunt and find him was the man he’d followed days ago. Well, men, but he hadn’t been pursuing the shorter guy. No, it’d been the tall, lanky blond who’d drawn Otto. He’d found himself watching—chasing, really—the handsome stranger before he even realised what he was doing.

Once he had and he’d caught a whiff of the fear and something which smelt an awful lot like arousal Otto had forced himself to stop, to turn around and head the other way. It’d been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. For reasons he hadn’t understood, it had felt like he was abandoning someone, or a part of himself, when he’d walked away. Stupid, but there it was.

Now he zeroed every bit of his focus on the passenger sitting beside the door of his dad’s vehicle. Otto’s skin prickled, his cock filled and his balls drew up to his body when smoky blue eyes streaked with grey turned towards him. For a moment Otto couldn’t even breathe, although his body kept moving, his legs carrying him closer to the truck at the kerb.

Otto was slightly amused when it occurred to him that his body seemed to know instinctively that it needed the stranger. He was only slightly amused, however, because the rest of his mind was memorising the man’s features. Long, straight nose, the nostrils flared slightly, wide eyes with a panicked look in them, cheeks flushed with what Otto knew in his gut was desire, a narrow face with high cheek bones, a firm yet round chin and well-shaped lips just begging to be kissed.
Or stretched around my dick. Fuck yes, they’d be perfect like that.

Otto stopped as close to the door as he could get while still maintaining eye contact. He was aware of the guy in the middle glaring at him and babbling—although he was whispering, it didn’t matter, Otto could hear him—and of Steve getting out from the driver’s side.

“Otto, what are you doing here? Is there something wrong?”

The worry in his father’s voice was the only impetus that could have dragged Otto’s gaze away from the luscious man just inches away from touching. Steve’s concern was evident in his expression as he looked at Otto, who gave a clipped nod.

“I was following up on the information Naran gave me, the possible poacher I told you about.” Otto gestured over his shoulder. “Trail ended right about here. I can only assume someone picked him up in a vehicle. Who is this?” Otto put his hand on the top of the truck, right above the blond’s head.

Steve frowned and examined Otto so closely he wanted to squirm. Then Steve grinned. “Well. The young man in the middle is Dr Dane Calderon, and the one right by you is Dr Timothy Trujillo. If you’d step back maybe they could get out and have a proper introduction.”

Otto recognised the amusement in his father’s expression, but he didn’t mind it at all. Something was happening, he could feel it in the air and with every beat of his heart. Otto dropped his gaze back down to tangle with Timothy Trujillo’s.
Timothy Trujillo.
The name sounded exotic, like a promise of ecstasy should he say it and call Timothy to him.

It was tempting, very much so, but the smaller man, Dane Calderon, was glaring fit to kill at Otto. He didn’t know what the connection was between Timothy and Dane, but if they were in a relationship, a serious one, Otto was afraid of what he might do. His snow leopard was snarling inside him, wanting out, wanting to mount and fuck Timothy, to bite and mark his skin.

Otto curled his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms as he stepped back. The urge to reach out and grab Timothy as soon as he opened the door was almost overpowering. It was a frightening feeling to experience for a man who was normally so controlled. Yet twice now he’d acted out of character around Timothy. What did it mean?

You know what it means.
Otto shivered as he watched Timothy watching him. Timothy’s exit from the vehicle was like some bizarre mating dance, intriguing and tempting Otto, testing his restraint since he had to step back as Timothy pushed the door open further.

Otto drank in the sight of long legs encased in faded denim, and tanned forearms, thin but defined, sprinkled lightly with dark blond hair. Timothy had long, elegant-looking fingers, like Otto would imagine a professional piano player having. His nails were clipped short and Otto almost moaned at the thought of having them scratching down his back.

“Stop it.”

Those lowly muttered words weren’t the first ones Otto would have chosen to hear from Timothy. He didn’t intend to hear them again, not like that. Otto narrowed his eyes and, aware of Dane cursing and scrambling to get out of the truck, Otto held his hand out to Timothy.

“Otto Marquat.”
Your mate.
He wondered if Timothy could read his thoughts. Some mated couples could, some couldn’t. There didn’t seem to be any set rule for the phenomenon.