Justice (8 page)

“Why?” Paul did look at him then, a shuttered expression that Justice couldn’t read. “I mean, why did you follow me today? Do you do stuff like that often?”

Translation
—w
as I just an easy piece of ass?
Justice turned to face Paul fully. He looked him over from head to toe, noting the erection that matched his own. Every bit of Paul’s exposed skin right down to his fingertips was blushing. Justice met Paul’s gaze.

“No, I don’t. I’m not saying I haven’t ever had a one-night stand, but I saw you and something inside of me recognised you.” He watched Paul start to fidget, knew he was trying not to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. Paul finally asked anyway.

“Why? I’m nothing special. If you’d have known who I was—”

“I’d still have followed you,” Justice admitted, “But I’d have tried to talk to you instead of sucking you off in the restroom.” He slowly reached for Paul’s arm, just needing to touch the man briefly. He wanted more, but he would settle for the quickest touch to that soft skin.

And it was soft, and warm. Justice brushed his fingers over the ridge of muscle and Paul shivered. “You are special, Paul. You have people here who care about you.”

“Preston,” Paul said, then he sucked on his bottom lip.

Justice nearly came on the spot.
Down, warped libido!
Now wasn’t the time or place. “Marybeth, and I bet Nischal too. Mates are very close. They share almost every feeling.” He swallowed as Paul’s lip was released. It glistened and was darker from being bitten. “Mates need each other. It’s a craving, an urge that lies dormant until the two meet, then it comes to life and demands the two touch, talk.”

Justice moved an inch closer. So did Paul as he looked up at Justice with big, hope-filled eyes. “They do?” Paul asked.

Justice nodded and caressed Paul’s arm again. “They do. I’m sure you’ve seen the way your brother and Nischal can’t seem to be apart. It’s hard on mates, or so I’ve heard. They want to be with each other. Sometimes, I guess, they can’t, not right away.” Gods, he didn’t even know what he was trying to say. He just kept rambling as Paul inched ever closer.

“I’m a mess,” Paul uttered. His eyes were streaked with red, as if he were battling back tears. “You’re the first person I’ve touched like that since—” He broke off and started to move away.

Justice cupped his elbows. “Please.” He waited, not holding Paul, just touching him. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Just don’t leave yet.”

Paul trembled, but after a moment, he raised his eyes to Justice’s. “I hope your sister can help me.”

“She can,” Justice asserted. “More importantly, you can help yourself. You want things to be different, you recognise the necessity for it.”

Paul bobbed his head. “I do. I can’t keep going on like I was.” Then he edged closer. “They found me, two of the wolf shifters, in Denver. That’s when I broke down, after some other guy stepped in and attacked them. I just lost it when I got home. I don’t even remember—” He shook his head and took another half-step towards Justice. “I was so scared, and I couldn’t breathe. Then Preston was there. I might be crazy.”

“No, you’re not.” Justice brought a hand up to run his fingers along Paul’s jaw. There was a hint of prickly stubble that shone golden under the sunlight. “Isn’t there a saying about crazy people not thinking they’re crazy?”

Paul’s smile was slight but beautiful to see. “So I’m not insane because I think I am? Somehow that makes less sense to me.”

Justice found the fluttery spot on Paul’s neck where his pulse was racing. “I’m a cop in Phoenix. I’ve seen crazy, and believe me, you’re not it.”

“A cop?” Paul’s eyes looked positively huge. “You’re a cop?”

“Only recently,” Justice told him. “I was in the Marines for a decade, then I applied to the Phoenix PD. I’d managed to get a degree online over the years, which helped. That, and being a vet.” He chuckled. “Man, I thought Grandma was going to fly out to Phoenix and rip everyone at the training academy a new one because I was going to miss the annual family reunion.”

“Marybeth is something,” Paul said. “What’s happening? Between us?” Paul clarified. His face turned an even brighter shade of red. “I mean, something is, right? I can’t understand why you’re touching me, or talking to me—”

“Your self-esteem needs some lifting, because you should know you’re one gorgeous fucker, Paul.” Justice traced Paul’s lips with his thumb. “Your eyes—damn, you could ask me for anything, to do anything, and I’d do it just because you looked at me like you’re doing now.”

“I don’t understand this,” Paul muttered, lowering his lids but still watching him. “I haven’t been able to let another man touch me since I was freed, and yet I want to snuggle right in.” His sharp bark of laughter showed his surprise at either his admission or the urge itself. “Oh damn, I can’t believe I just said that.”

Which answered Justice’s question. “Paul.” Justice eased him closer but didn’t embrace him. He wanted to shout for joy when Paul tentatively put a hand on his hip. Justice took a deep breath, inhaling Paul’s soap and citrus scent. The man smelt delectable. “We’re mates,” Justice said as he exhaled, keeping the words as soft as his heart when it came to Paul. Already Justice knew he’d give the man anything. That in itself was proof to him of what they were to each other.

Paul jerked his head back and those eyes went wide again. Instead of red, though, he went pale as a ghost. “M-mates? No, we can’t be.”

That didn’t sound good at all. Justice didn’t stop Paul from moving away from him this time. Paul was shaking his head, staring with those wide eyes, hope still in them though Paul seemed to be trying to deny it.

“I’m too messed up. Look at today. I just wanted to get off—”

“And you touched me, like you haven’t anyone else,” Justice continued when Paul stopped to take a breath. “You let me touch you, too, up until you scooted away. Is it so horrible, the idea of us being mates?”

Paul backed up another step and stared at him. Justice was about to give up on him answering when Paul finally spoke again. “Not for me, no, but for you? Come on, Justice. How am I supposed to think you’d be happy about being stuck with me? Do you have any idea how many men have fucked me? What they’ve done to my body, my head?”

The anger in Paul’s voice matched the anger flaring inside Justice, but he kept it buried. It wouldn’t help Paul right then. “I wish they hadn’t hurt you, Paul, but they did, and I can’t change that. All I can do is tell you it doesn’t—it won’t—stop the way I’ll feel about you. It won’t stop you from wanting me, either. The mate-bond is very strong. I’d always heard it was so, but feeling it…” He pressed a hand to his belly, where need was uncoiling and spreading to his groin.

Paul nodded, glancing down at his hand, then lower still to where Justice’s dick pressed against the inseam of his jeans. “Right, but you’re getting the short end of the stick in the deal. There’s… I can’t even—fuck. I can’t talk about this!”

It was a dismissal, Justice supposed. He didn’t want to leave Paul, but at least he’d got to see him, hear him, touch him. He’d said what needed to be said, because keeping what they were to one another from Paul would have been wrong. Justice wanted to hold him, to soothe him with touches and kisses, but couldn’t, and it made his heart ache.

“I understand.” Justice took a step back himself. “Look, I think Grandma is putting us in one of the new cabins. I won’t be very far from you if you need to talk, or want to. Or want anything. I’ll leave it in your hands, no pressure.” Gods, it was such a difficult thing to say and mean, but Justice wouldn’t push. “Go on in, meet Viv and maybe you’ll be able to talk to her. I’m going to go stretch my legs.”

Paul shuddered. “You mean shift and run?”

“I do,” Justice agreed. “I can’t change what I am, Paul. All I can promise you is, I’m not like the shifters who hurt you. I hope you’ll believe that someday.” If not, Justice was going to be a miserable son of a bitch. He had to have faith in the bond that was coming to life between them, though. Had to trust the Fates. Justice tipped his chin at his mate, then turned and strode down the porch. Maybe he’d find some kind of solace under the sun, with the wind ruffling his fur.

It was difficult not to look back, but Justice didn’t. Paul needed time to think about what Justice had told him. Standing anywhere near to each other wasn’t helping, not when part of Justice could only think about having Paul’s hands on him. If Paul was feeling even a smidgen of the lust Justice was, thinking was impaired.

Justice stripped his clothes and shoes off after he rounded the third cabin. Whoever was living in it wouldn’t freak out if they saw him. He thought it was Oscar and his mate Josiah. That gave him pause. Josiah was a wolf shifter. How would having Josiah around affect Paul?

That was something Justice would have to talk over with Marybeth, and Viv, and maybe Paul if he could. Right now, though, he needed a break from thinking. His leopard was restless, frustrated—randy as hell and wanting to mate, but it wasn’t going to happen. Justice knelt and closed his eyes as the shift came over him. It wasn’t exactly fun, all the popping tendons and constricting muscles. In fact, it hurt like a fucking bitch, but that was part and parcel of being a snow leopard shifter. He’d heard something about some of his cousins figuring a way around the pain. That was another thing he needed to talk to his grandma about.

Later.
Justice opened his eyes to a sharper world. Everything was brighter, louder, smellier, and not all in a bad way. He loved the way his senses were so finely honed as a snow leopard. Someday, he wanted to spend a week or so in a cold, snowy climate. It was probably weird that a snow leopard shifter lived somewhere as hot as Phoenix, but he was also a man who wanted to be near his family, so the heat was something he had to deal with.

But to be able to run through mounds of snow…that would sure be something.

Something he’d dream about and maybe someday experience. Justice let the longing go and bounded into the forest, ready to give his leopard its head.

Chapter Seven

Vivian Chalmers looked so much like her brother it was almost unreal.
Except for the boobs.
Those were something Justice didn’t have, though his tight T-shirt had emphasised his well-defined pecs.

“Is this going to be too awkward for you?” Vivian asked Paul. “If it is, I understand.”

Paul hitched a shoulder in a shrug. “I honestly don’t know.”

Vivian leant back in the chair. They were seated in the living room of the cabin Paul had been staying in. He had to admit, it did make him more comfortable, made him feel almost safe to be there.

“I’d like to suggest that we refrain from talking about my brother while we’re in sessions,” Vivian said. “Unless it’s in context with what we’re dealing with, of course.”

“He told me we’re mates,” Paul blurted out.

Vivian hummed and seemed to give the barest nod. “Yes, and that might be problematic. You told me in your last email what some of your perceived issues were.”

“Perceived?” Paul repeated, feeling his eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “They aren’t perceived, they’re real. I mean, I’m not the brightest paint chip in the rainbow, but even I know that I had been taking risks that could have led to my death. Then there’s the whole thing where I have some fucked-up sexual hang-ups now and was just shoving my dick into any willing man I could find, as long as he’d let me have it my way. I didn’t even enjoy the sex!” he all but shouted, frustrated and wanting Justice despite everything colliding about in his head. “It was all about control!”

“You hadn’t had any control over you or your body in over a year, Paul. I think reclaiming some of that control was necessary for your psyche, but the risk-taking, that is worrisome.” Vivian tapped a finger against her chin as she glanced out of the window. After a few seconds she looked at him again. “What do you think your reason for engaging in risky behaviour was?”

What did he think it was? “Isn’t it your job to tell me?” God, he was being a bitch.

Vivian didn’t seem the least bit fazed. “I firmly believe the most gripping, and lasting, revelations, come from the person seeking them.”

“Well, fuck,” Paul huffed. He ran a hand over his short hair. It made him feel kind of nauseated to parse out the reasoning behind his actions, but it came down to one thing, didn’t it? “I guess I thought I was so fucked up, it didn’t matter if I died. That’d be easier than trying to fix myself and trying to overcome my past. I couldn’t just kill myself, though. Preston would have been devastated. If someone killed me, that’d be different. Easier, like he wouldn’t feel like he’d failed me.”

“You honestly think he wouldn’t feel that way?”

“No,” Paul answered unhesitatingly. “He’d have felt like shit regardless. I was being a coward. I was stupid. I just—it’s like something inside of me was broken. I don’t know if it can ever be pieced together again.”

Paul pulled his legs up onto the couch and tucked his arms around his knees as he continued talking, the words just spilling out of him. “You have to understand, I was tortured, raped, treated like I was nothing. Oh, I was cared for, too, because no one wants a completely broken toy. I was patched up after they hurt me. I’d had more stitches than Frankenstein by the time I was rescued. The outside, though, that shit is healed. I can’t…” Paul’s chest tightened and his throat closed up. His next breath was a wheeze.

“Paul, listen to me. Try to calm down. Whatever you’re thinking about, push past it and focus on something good, something that doesn’t frighten you. Take slow breaths, because the more you pant, the less you feel like you’re getting air.
Breath
e
.
”

Vivian’s words penetrated his building panic in fits and starts. Paul tried, letting go of his legs and bending. A hand on his back helped, pushing his head down between his knees.

Paul drew in a deep breath even though his mind was racing, telling him he wasn’t getting air. Images tangled in his mind, teeth and claws, cocks and pain.