Timothy (19 page)

Chapter Sixteen

The scent hit them before they even made it to the hotel entrance. Nausea roiled in Tim’s stomach and Otto hissed as he stopped, pulling Tim to his side. “Where is he?”

Tim wondered the same thing. He was already looking, sniffing even though it made him want to hurl. For some reason the smell was getting to him worse than before, maybe because now it reminded him of a beaten little boy lying in a hospital bed.

Fury replaced the nausea. He’d had enough of this game, the stalking and shitty hints carved into cave floors! “Fuck this,” Tim spat. He took off for the hotel. Otto would be right on his heels. Tim could trust his mate to have his back, even though Otto was going to want to rip him a new one for charging in hell-bent on ending this nightmare.

“Tim, wait,” Otto snarled, his anger evident in his rough voice. “Slow down, Goddamnit.”

“We’re ending this,” Tim said over his shoulder. The odour was stronger inside the hotel, fresher. Tim mad a beeline to the elevator only to veer to the stairs since that was the way his prey had come. Except he wasn’t entirely sure who was the prey. This could be a trap.

“It could be a fucking trap, and we’re running head-long into it without thinking first,” Otto pointed out.

Tim pulled open the door to the stairwell. He sniffed first then cautiously peeked inside before looking at Otto. Oh yes, his mate was definitely not happy with Tim, as if he couldn’t feel Otto’s anger and fear, both directed at him. Tim would be lucky if he could sit for a week. Otto had plans for his ass, and Tim couldn’t find it in himself to object, but thinking about being spanked until his ass was cherry red and welted wasn’t going to help him right now.

“Stop it,” Tim snapped. “I get that you’re pissed and worried, but we’ve let this jerk lead us around by our noses all this time. It needs to end. Ochir needs to know he is safe, and we need to make sure our kind and the snow leopards themselves are safe as well. If that makes you want to spank my ass,” and just saying made Tim’s butt burn all over again, “then fine.”

“It does, even though you have a point,” Otto said. He pushed Tim into the stairwell. “That doesn’t mean I won’t bend you over my knees. You enjoyed it too much for it to be punishment.”

Well duh,
Tim would have said, but Otto slammed him to the wall and kissed the sarcasm right out of him. Otto owned him, with teeth tongue and lips, not to mention the hard, hot length of cock that threatened to burn a brand through their clothes.

“We’ll go rushing in like fools, but you stay behind me.” Otto pressed a finger to his lips when Tim started to argue. “You led this far. Now it’s my turn.”

“Damn it. I can’t even argue.” Tim didn’t have enough blood in his brain to form a logical argument. It’d all pooled in his dick, probably.

Otto’s eyes had a lovely twinkle to them for a second then he blinked away all amusement, his features setting in grim determination. “Come on. Stay behind me.”

As quickly as it had flared, Tim’s arousal deflated. He’d have felt stupid for being so easily distracted had it not been for the fact that Otto had been in a similar state. The attraction between them was too great to fit into normal parameters, at least Tim thought so.

Otto squeezed his hand then started up the stairs. Tim followed, not allowing the beauty of Otto’s ass to distract him—much. It was difficult to keep his mind on the very serious nature of the hunt when such a perfect display was in front of him.

“Not as perfect as your ass,” Otto murmured, and Tim was instantly awash with pleasure from the compliment. Otto’s sincerity was unmistakable. He drew in a deep breath and his happy bubble burst.

“Otto, do you—”

“Yes,” Otto ground out as fear turned the tips of Tim’s fingers and toes numb. “Fuck! Move!”

By move, Otto meant run, and they did, because joining the poacher’s scent was that of Dane’s, and the acrid tang of blood and fear.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Tim growled. “I will kill him!” He should have talked to Dane, should have warned him, or at least confided in him. What if Dane was killed all because some sick fuck had it out for shifters? What if Dane died believing Tim was keeping something important from him, that Tim had never trusted him enough? What if he suffered—

“Enough!” Otto might not have spoken loudly, but he roared the word in Tim’s head. “Don’t consign him to death already.”

Tim got himself under control as they reached the third floor. Otto paused at the door, holding a hand up to Tim’s chest as if keeping him from surging forward thoughtlessly. Tim wouldn’t have, he knew they needed stealth. Hopefully they’d not caused any suspicion. Even running up the stairs, they’d tried to be light on their toes.

They listened for a solid minute and heard nothing. No screams of agony, no whispered pleas. The clank of the ice machine startled Tim into flinching, but other than that, there was nothing. It was like the hotel, or at least the third floor of it, was empty.

Otto and he locked gazes. Otto nodded and turned to the door. He pulled it open so slowly Tim had to grit his teeth to bite back the demand for Otto to hurry up. Otto moved cautiously, taking the time to ensure it was safe for them before leading Tim out of the stairwell.

The air in the hallway was so heavily saturated in the familiar, rotten odour that Tim gagged. He pressed his hand to his mouth to keep the sound back. They didn’t know what the deal was with the man they were hunting. Had he been a shifter and somehow lost his leopard? Was that even possible? Or was he blaming the gods for hurting someone he’d loved who had been a shifter? Going after the gods favoured ones—could that be his perception of them?

They reached the room Tim had shared with Dane and Tim began to tremble, fine, constant ripples racking him as his nerves took over.

“Calm, baby. I need you calm. Dane will need you calm.”

Otto’s mental voice soothed Tim somewhat. He closed his eyes and willed himself to have some damn control. Dane wasn’t the only one who needed him. Otto did, too. The shaking stopped and Tim opened his eyes, calmer, his anger banked but ready to be unleashed to fuel a fight if need be.

Otto’s approval washed over him like a ray of sunlight chasing off a shadow’s chill. He cocked his head then, and Tim did as well, concentrating on listening for any hint of sound.

A slight shift, maybe a body against something soft. Sheets or clothing? Tim could hear snuffling, he’d call it, as if someone was having difficulty breathing around something.
Dane!

“Open the fucking door,” he whispered, then he realised they didn’t have a key.

“I don’t know if the—” Otto began.

Tim tried not to shout. “I don’t give a fuck if the guy we’re looking for is in there or not,
Dane
is in there and he needs help!”

Otto didn’t snark over Tim’s outburst. Instead he backed up and kicked, the power behind the move so great the door flew inward, a large dent appearing in the metal as it was ripped from the hinges. The rending sound hurt Tim’s ears, but the sight of Dane inside, bound to the bed, his eyes wide with terror then relief, wiped out everything else. Tim pushed past Otto, running to Dane’s side.

“Oh, honey.” The endearment slipped out unthinkingly as Tim reached for the duct tape covering Dane’s mouth. Bruises stained Dane’s cheek, and one eye was swelling. Tears began leaking from the corners of Dane’s eyes and Tim ached inside like he never had before. “I’m so fucking sorry. So sorry, Dane.” Tim caught the edge of the tape and waited for Dane to nod. It broke Tim’s heart a little, ripping the tape off in one quick move.

Dane didn’t even shout, instead whimpering piteously. More tears gushed out and Tim’s vision blurred as he ran his hands down Dane’s body. His wrists were bound behind him, which had to be painful as he was on his back. Tim wished he could give a reassuring smile, but even happy as he was that Dane was alive, the ache at seeing him hurt kept the relief at bay.

“Let me help you,” Otto said, kneeling beside Tim. “You’re going to be okay, Dane. And I promise we will find the fucker who did this. He’ll never hurt anyone else again.”

The deadly certainty in the way Otto delivered the words cemented with Tim’s own conviction to destroy the man responsible for Dane and Ochir’s suffering. But right now, his friend needed him, needed soothing and comfort, not the sharp spikes of fury that kept trying to burst through Tim’s skin.

Tim cupped Dane’s cheek and kissed the reddened skin where the tape had been. His poor lips were cracked and bleeding. Tim slid his hand under Dane’s neck. “I’m going to roll you on your side so Otto can get to your hands.”

Dane’s breath hitched and he worked his mouth, swallowing in dry clicks and shaking his head. Tim vowed to make sure the man who’d done this experienced the same agony as his friend.

“Please d-don’t move,” Dane scraped out.

Tim frowned and darted a glance at Otto.
“Don’t move him or don’t move me?”

Otto stood and looked down at Dane. “You don’t want to lose sight of Tim.”

The relief in Dane’s eyes was answer enough. Tim stayed where he was while Otto walked to the other side of the bed. “I’ll roll you so you face Tim, okay? Then I can get your hands and feet free.”

Tim hadn’t got as far as Dane’s legs. He checked now and saw the tape binding his ankles together. Normally Dane had kept his body smooth and hairless, but since waxing wasn’t an option in Dalanzadgad—Dane insisted on having it done properly—Dane had stopped having his hair removed in preparation of learning to live with his hairy self. In other words, removing the tape was going to be more painful than it would have been a couple of months ago.

“It’s gonna suck,” Dane huffed as he was put on his side. More tears leaked from his eyes. “Everything hurts, Tim.” His eyes bored into Tim’s, and whether the accusation in them was real or only Tim’s imagination, it still ripped into him. He deserved it—Tim wanted Dane’s anger and recrimination. He should have trusted his friend. Maybe knowing everything would have helped him somehow. Why hadn’t he realised Dane was in danger? How stupid was he?

Dane hissed, his body going rigid when Otto pulled the tape from his wrists.

“I’m sorry, buddy.” Otto sounded it, in fact he sounded as if he weren’t too far from sobbing himself. Tim shut his eyes against a burn. Something tickled Tim’s cheek and he swiped at it. Moisture smeared onto his palm. He hadn’t even known he was crying.

“It’s okay, I still love you,” Dane croaked, and Tim jerked his eyes open. Even bloodied and swollen, Dane’s smile was still something special to see. That he could joke, even if there was a serious note to the words, dragged a jagged laugh from Tim.

“I love you too, Dane,” Tim said once he could speak around the lump in his throat. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I should have trusted you. I just hope you still love me when I tell you…” But was now the time, when Otto was trying to get Dane freed of his bindings?

Otto counted down a warning then peeled the tape from around Dane’s ankles. Dane’s eyes reflected the pain of it, but he didn’t so much as curse, still staring at Tim. Then he reached out with one shaking hand and smacked Tim on the arm.

Tim yelped, not from pain, it wasn’t that hard a hit, but from sheer surprise.

“You should have trusted me,” Dane told him, and it dawned on Tim that Dane’s hand wasn’t shaking, but the finger he had aimed at Tim was. “I had to hear it from some psychotic freak that my best friend is a supernatural being!”

“Fuck!” Otto stood and strode to Tim’s side.

Dane glared at him and pointed his finger in Otto’s direction. “Yeah, that’s what I said. I thought he was just crazy, but…” Dane’s gaze darted between them. He rolled onto his back. “Was he? Right, I mean. For sure he’s a crazy fucker. But are you really some kind of leopard shifter?”

“Yeah.” There was no point in denying or delaying his answer. Tim began checking the bruised parts of Dane’s torso. Otto sat on the bed and helped, prodding and poking, drawing hisses and curses from Dane. “We should take you to the hospital to get checked over.”

“Fuck that,” Dane groused. “Nothing’s broken. I’ve been beat up before worse than this.” He sat up with help from Tim. “I’ll tell you about the guy who did this, then I want to know about you. I won’t ask why you didn’t trust me, because surprisingly, I kind of understand thanks to the fucker who did this to me. There are dangerous people in this world, and if they knew there were people like you and Otto—and Steve?” Dane snorted when Otto shook his head. “Well, Lona, for sure. Now that I know, I can tell it was a sort of power I felt coming from her, like I did around Tim at first, until I got used to him, and like I do around you. Ass.”

“I’m an ass?” Otto asked, clearly befuddled.

Dane rolled his eyes then groaned and covered them with his hands. “Fuck, that hurt. And yes, you’re an ass, Tim’s an ass. It’s like you both pulled a big joke on me, even though I know neither of you meant it that way.”

“I’m sorry, Dane.” Tim gently pulled Dane onto his lap in an awkward hug. “I’ll keep saying it until you believe me, and somehow I’ll make it up to you. It’s just, my family’s always kept it secret unless one of us marries or finds our mate.”

Dane peeked out at him from between his fingers. “Is Otto your mate, or destined mate, whatever?”

“Yes,” Tim answered, his heart fluttering. “He and I were made for each other. Destined mates, fated mates, whatever you want to call it.”

Dane dropped his hands to his lap. “I thought so. I wish regular people had destined mates. It would make things so much easier.”

“Not necessarily,” Otto said. “Not everyone has a mate. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital? Your eye is swelling shut.”

“Won’t be the first time, right Tim?” Dane elbowed him hard enough to make him grunt. “Remember that time I hit on the football player and he hit back—after he got a blow job? Fucker.”

“I remember.” It still pissed Tim off. “But he looked a hell of a lot worse than you did at the end of it all.” That was the only reason Tim hadn’t beaten the hell out of the guy. Dane had taken one punch then unleashed a true ass-whooping on the dumb jock.