Wesley (5 page)

The three days he’d spent there had helped him to clear his head, even if he wasn’t yet squared away with Sully. Or Bobby. But Wes would get there, would make it right with them both.

Tonight Remus was performing a ‘cleansing’ ceremony on Wes. Wes was nervous, mainly because Remus had refused to let him know what the ceremony entailed. All Wes
did
know was that it was just what Remus had called it—a ceremony. There was no magic cure for the ache that still crept up on him, the longing for that spaced-out release narcotics had given him. Wes would just have to battle that as it happened, and seeing the homeless kids, getting to know them, helped keep him in line. Those kids needed someone, and Wes needed to be needed.

And he didn’t ever want to let his family down again, even if he felt like they let him down sometimes.

Wes wanted to be a strong person, a dependable one. Maybe even the type of person a reticent, mysterious guy might someday confide in.

As had happened more often over the past several days, Wes’ thoughts circled right back around to Armando. Wes waved goodbye to Alisa and to a group of kids sitting outside chatting. He strolled across the grounds, the grass dead in some spots because watering cost money, and while the shelter wasn’t broke, there were way more important things than grass to take care of. A good rain every few days for six months might help, Wes mused before zeroing back on Armando.

He liked that name, liked saying it and rolling it around in his mind. Thinking about Armando kept Wes from dwelling on himself so much. He’d grown tired of his mental me-me-me cycles, where he went over the mistakes he’d made repeatedly and fantasised about how to fix them. Wes had concluded doing so was every bit as self-centred as any other egotistical activity could be.

But he would think about Armando, his perfectly formed hands, with the short, buffed nails. They just looked so neat, so well-maintained. It was really contrary to the way Armando dressed, which, come to think of it, Wes mused, was maybe not as professional as it should have been.

Then again he’s working with homeless kids, and wearing a suit, or even slacks, would make him stick out like a pimple on prom night.

“Hey, Wes, you going home?”

Wes turned enough to see Sue and her girlfriend Dyan coming up behind him. The two had been at the shelter for a while, from what he’d been told. They were trusted with just about everything at the place.

“Yeah, I have a…”
ceremony
“thing to do with a friend tonight. What’re you two doing?” he asked.

Sue and Dyan both smiled so big it looked painful as Sue slipped an arm around Dyan’s waist. “We won tickets to go see
Peter Pan
by selling the most cookie dough for the school fundraiser. We’re on our way to the bus stop.”

Wes couldn’t help but smile back at them. Though he didn’t really know the young ladies, he’d got good vibes from them when he had been around them. “Do you want a ride to the bus stop?”

Sue and Dyan shook their heads like they were attached by invisible strings. Dyan was the quieter of the two, so it didn’t surprise him when Sue answered again. “Nah, the bus won’t be there for another ten minutes, and the stop is right over there.” She gestured to the covered bench. “It’s a beautiful afternoon, I have my lovely lady with me, and we are going to make the most of it. Have fun with your friend!”

Wes watched Sue and Dyan all but float on air as they headed for the bus stop. There were some couples that you just knew would stay together, and they were one of them, despite Sue and Dyan both being minors. Wes thought they had to be close to eighteen, but, regardless, the love they had for each other was unmistakable, and they always treated each other with respect. Respect was the one thing he believed was an indicator of a lasting relationship.

Once those two settled on the bench, Wes resumed his trek to his vehicle. Armando popped right back into his head. Wes wanted to see the man smile. Not a little fake smile, but a happy or horny—that might be even better—smile that lit up his eyes. Wes hadn’t seen that yet, not even when Armando was talking to Alisa, who was obviously a close friend of his. Wes didn’t need anyone to point that out to him. Those two were often chatting and huddled and if Wes hadn’t known Alisa was happy with her girlfriend, he might have been jealous.

“Jealous,” he muttered as he unlocked his truck. “Seriously. What a dork.” Wes got in and buckled up. He started the truck and finally rolled his eyes at himself. He had no right to be jealous, not of Armando, but damn it, he wanted—

Wes stopped before backing up a few feet. Armando was walking through the parking lot, and if Wes wasn’t mistaken, the other man was glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Wes leant forward to get a better view in his side mirror. Armando was kind of weaving, like he wasn’t exactly looking in front of him as he walked. His sunglasses were on his head, and Wes was glad he’d cleaned them up, even though it’d been a gross task. With the sun just beginning to set, gold and orange light splayed out from around Armando, almost like a halo. Wes’ eyes burned as he watched, but damn, Armando was every bit as addictive as any substance Wes had used.

Wes leaned over some more and whacked his forehead on the window. “Fudge,” he growled. “Bet he saw that.” Because that was the kind of luck Wes had, and, sure enough, Armando stumbled and jerked his head in the other direction. Wes couldn’t swear to it, but he thought the man’s shoulders heaved as he snickered. “Glad I could entertain you.” And Wes was, but he wished he could see Armando’s expression.

Armando got into his car, a shiny little thing he parked close to the end of the parking lot, by an alley. Wes supposed he did so because no one else parked out there, and Armando was hoping to avoid door dings from vehicles being parked too close to his pretty car. In seconds, Armando was zooming out of the parking lot. He turned left on sixteen, the same way Wes was going.

Wes felt kind of stalkerish heading out the same way. Usually he left before Armando, so this was the first time he’d seen which direction the guy took when he got off work. Rather than have to worry about the weirdness of driving behind or beside Armando, Wes hung back in the parking lot until Armando’s car was around the curve. Then he turned left anyway and crossed the highway to pull in at the Shell gas station. It was a nicer place than he’d worked at back in Colorado, better stocked and cleaner. Wes needed a drink for his parched throat, then he needed to hustle it to the pack land and to Remus’ house.

* * * *

Half an hour later, Wes parked the truck in Remus’ driveway. He gathered his empty bottle and bag—he’d had a weak moment and bought a pack of the chamoy-covered dried plums he’d discovered. The Mexican candy was really the anti-candy since there wasn’t anything sweet about it. Salty, bitter, with a little bit of sweet and a heavier dose of chillies in it, a lot of people might not have called it a treat at all. Wes loved the things, and ate them often enough that he wound up with a raw tongue more often than not because he couldn’t resist eating all of the plums in the package instead of saving some for later.

“How you can eat those things?” Remus shook his head. “I’m a native here and even the smell of chamoy makes my stomach hurt.”

Wes started to reply then something else occurred to him. “Is it possible for someone to have no scent at all? Or is there a product made to eradicate all odour on someone and their surroundings?”

Remus’ forehead wrinkled like it did when he was not pleased. “Why do you ask?”

Wes glanced at the trash in his hand and tried to figure out why Remus hadn’t given him a direct answer. It didn’t matter—he’d never understand Remus’ mysterious ways. He returned his gaze to the older man. “There’s this guy at the shelter, and he’s…” He was going to sound like a crushing teen, but Wes couldn’t help it. “He’s fascinating, and the weird thing is, I get nothing from him scent-wise, not even when I went into his office. You’d think I would have caught a whiff of…of something. Foot odour, or hell, even gas. I mean, he’s a guy—”

Remus shushed him with a wave of his hand. “We have to get you ready for the ceremony. I have other people I must attend to tonight.” He turned and started up the drive.

Wes frowned and followed. “How many people are going to be at the ceremony? I thought this was a symbolic thing just between me and you.”

Remus glanced back at him. “No, this is between you and your snow leopard spirit. It is realigning the two souls into one again. I am merely the guide for it. You must forgive yourself, and your leopard must forgive you for hurting him as you did with the chemicals you forced into your body.”

“Oh.” Wes kind of knew that. He could have chased his snow leopard spirit right out of him if he’d kept up with the drugs.

“As for who will be there, it is just you and I, but I do have other commitments.”

“Of course you do.” There was always someone who needed Remus’ help. Wes didn’t know how the shaman handled it, because it seemed like he never had a moment’s peace.

The inside of Remus’ house was decorated in warm earth tones, browns and beiges, rust and blue. The furniture was hand-made from mesquite, the wood a faded grey. Knick-knacks were scattered all around, but the place didn’t seem cluttered. It felt like a home.

“Please go shower, then meet me in the back circle.” Remus began gathering herbs off his shelf. “I left a cloth to cover yourself with if you feel it necessary. Naked would be best.”

“Yes, sir.” Naked was fine with Wes. He wasn’t particularly shy and it seemed fitting for a ceremony outside, which was where the circle was.

In the bathroom, Wes stripped hurriedly, but he folded his clothes into a neat pile and set his boots on top of them. Knowing Remus had others to tend to, Wes showered thoroughly but quickly. His cock went half hard as soon as he touched it. Armando’s visage flitted through his mind and Wes groaned. Now wasn’t the time. He wasn’t shy, but he didn’t want to parade in front of Remus with a woody.

His dick had other ideas. Wes muttered a curse and fisted his hard length. At least he had youth going for him—at twenty, he could go off in seconds and be hard again before he caught his breath. Normally Wes liked to take his time, let his pleasure build to an explosive climax, but he didn’t have that luxury, and it’d take longer to lose the erection than it would to beat off.

Wes closed his eyes and pictured Armando, his serious, dark brown eyes and thick, shiny black hair. Those were both beautiful, but it was the image of Armando’s mouth, his lips wet and slick, that sent need rocketing to Wes’ balls. He clenched his ass as he jerked himself rapidly, catching himself good under the rim of his cock with every upstroke. Wes had never had a blow job, but he’d seen plenty of them in porn. Armando would kneel down and look up at him as he fisted Wes’ length. He’d lick those plump lips then tongue the tip of Wes cock—

“Ungh!” Spunk shot from his slit and splattered against the shower wall. Wes didn’t even get to imagine the good part, Armando sucking him down all the way. Well, that was all right, he would be good to go again soon.

Wes washed his groin and hand then shut the water off. He grabbed a towel and, while he rubbed his face dry, he thought about Remus not answering his question earlier. It seemed suspicious, and Wes wondered if Remus knew Armando.

Wes froze mid-swipe with the towel. The shelter was partially funded by the pack, which was how Wes had been placed there as a volunteer so easily. Armando wasn’t a shifter—Wes was certain he’d know otherwise even if he couldn’t smell the man.

But did that mean Armando couldn’t know about them? Surely there were humans who’d found out about shifters somehow, other than being married to one?

Or maybe Armando had been one of the homeless kids, and a shifter had helped him out?

“Or maybe he’s just a dude who doesn’t know anything about us.” Except there was the whole non-scent thing…

Wes hung the towel up and finger-combed his hair. He left the bathroom and went out back. The sun was almost completely set and the moon shone in the sky. Wes stretched his arms up as Remus began making marks on the ground.

The chanting crept up on Wes. He didn’t know when Remus had started doing it, or what he was saying. The words were unfamiliar, a language Wes suspected he’d never know. Each one held power that shimmered up Wes’ spine and settled in the base of his skull. Pressure built there, a warm tingling that wasn’t uncomfortable for all that it kind of creeped Wes out.

Wes had the thought that this seemed more than just ceremonial. His arms raised up to the sky again as if of their own accord, and the weight at the base of Wes’ head pulled it back until his chin pointed at the specks of stars dotting the heavens.

Streaks of heat spread down his spine and chest, to his limbs and fingers and toes. His cock sprang up again, and every inch of him felt alive. Inside, his snow leopard yowled and purred, pleased as Wes offered his shifted spirit amends, the promise to never harm the sacred soul again.