Wesley (8 page)

Wes had so many questions, but one look at Remus and he knew the shaman was right. Asking for information from him would be wrong, and Armando wouldn’t appreciate it from Wes even if Remus didn’t answer. He wondered who had hurt Armando, and whether or not he could hunt them down and beat their asses.

“Wesley.”

Wes blinked, pulling himself out of his vengeful thoughts. Remus shook his head. “No, you cannot resort to violence. The last one who hurt Armando is dead anyway, but that is Bobby’s story to tell.”

“You’re a horrible tease,” Wes muttered, only halfway joking.

Remus nodded. “Yes, and if it gets you talking to your brother and Bobby, then that turns my words from a tease to something else entirely, like good planning and perhaps a bit of manipulation.”

Wes snorted and stood up. He cupped Remus’ shoulder and gave it a squeeze to show he wasn’t angry. “Well, I would say more than a bit of manipulation, but that’s all right. What’s the saying about not being able to lead someone in a direction they don’t wanna go?”

“I’ve no idea.” Remus stood and shook his hand. “Be careful on your way home, and if you need any advice after Armando has confided in you, I will be here.”

Leaving the hard work up to me, and Armando.
Wes knew that was the way it should be anyway. “Thank you. And thank you for the ceremony. If nothing else, it was good to reconnect so strongly with my leopard.”

Later, as he drove to the garage apartment by Sully and Bobby’s, Wes thought about that. He had pushed his leopard away, in small increments at first, then with the drugs. He had to face that, and the reasons behind it. Socially awkward as he’d been back in school, it had been easy to blame it on being different, being a shifter and having to hide that fact. It had kept Wes from letting anyone too close, and he’d become a rather pathetic loner.

Then one day he’d been so lonely, and so angry. His stupidity had almost cost him his family, and his leopard, probably even his life. Wes was lucky his leopard had embraced him again so warmly, so completely. Now he had to make sure he was always worthy of that, and of the mate he would claim when the time was right.

Chapter Five

Call him a coward, Armando didn’t care. He locked himself in his office the following day, and told Alisa he was not to be disturbed. She’d told him she wasn’t his fucking receptionist and for him to grow up and stop hiding from Wes.

“How do you even know that’s what I’m doing?” Armando had snapped. “There is a hell of a lot of paperwork that has to be taken care of to keep this place up and running. When do you think I can do that if not on the rare occasion I sequester myself in my office?”

Alisa had propped a hand on her hip and studied him so long Armando had squirmed. Then she’d got a soft look on her face, which was weird and a little scary, and she’d nodded. “All right, I will make sure you have the day to yourself.”

Now Armando was done with most of the paperwork, at least with the stuff he could do without having to begin more research on laws and taxes. He shuddered and pushed his shirt sleeve up to check the time. It was still almost an hour before he could leave in good conscience.

Leave in good conscience.
Armando groaned and dropped his head into his hands on the desk. God, he’d run out of Remus’ place like a damned coward last night. At least he’d called Remus this morning and made sure to apologise.

Sleep last night had been impossible, and Armando now found his eyelids drooping as lethargy settled over him. All he’d been able to see every time he’d closed his eyes last night had been Wes, his beautiful cock hard and leaking, the arch of his body as he came. Every thought was of Wes, and despite brushing his teeth twice, Armando had tasted him for hours. Now Armando was worn out, emotionally and physically. He’d probably expended more energy on erections in the past day than he ever had before. Skipping breakfast and lunch hadn’t helped, and before he could work up the strength to stop it from happening, sleep pulled him into its embrace.

Dreams of Wes ensured Armando a restless sleep. Images of Wes, his lean yet muscular body writhing as Armando took his virgin ass kept Armando on that odd verge of sleep and wakefulness, where the world seemed unreal and malleable. He didn’t want to wake, nor did he want to give in and really let sleep take him for hours. Want spiralled through him, increasing as it spun, thick strands of it tangling with his morals and strangling some of his fears.

Armando jerked out of the sleep haze when his phone chimed with Alisa’s familiar tone. He was breathing heavily, his gut tight with lust, as he read the text telling him it was past time for him to go home. Alisa, for all that she could be as snarky as he could, was also a mother hen at times. Her text also included orders that he go home and have a good meal before getting his head out of his ass.

“Leave it to you to kill the warm fuzzies,” he muttered as he typed the message in to Alisa. He hit send then tidied up his desk and prepared for another night alone.

* * * *

Wes tried, as nonchalantly as possible, to stroll in the direction of Armando’s office again as Alisa seemed to have left for the day, finally. Stealth was his goal, yet he somehow managed to trip over air and, with a ridiculous amount of flailing, kept himself from landing on his ass. A quick look around assured him that no one had seen his walk-fail.

You’d think, me being a leopard and all, I’d be able to stalk with the best of them.
Instead he felt clumsy and oafish, and very, very obvious. He didn’t trust himself so much anymore, not after his colossal lapse in judgement. If he had instincts, they were skewed. The cleansing ceremony, while only…ceremonial, might help with that. Wes did feel closer to his leopard still, the day after the ceremony. That was cool, awesome even, but he really wanted to be closer to one stubborn, intriguing man who had remained locked in his office all damned day. Wes’ leopard was restless, not as patient as the human part of him was. Wes silently worked to calm the beast, wanting to keep that closeness with the cat he’d felt since last night.

Fear that it would fade away popped up and Wes pushed it back down. He needed to believe instead of doubt. Besides, it might not be his instincts that were skewed so much as his common sense was. If he even had any. Sometimes Wes wondered.

The office door was shut and no light was evident under the door. Wes squinted and sniffed, and, while he smelt a whole lot of things, there was nothing that stood out like Armando’s scent would. Wes would know it now, after what had happened between them last night. But there was nothing, and he wondered if Armando had doused the entire building with his spray or whatever it was he used.

“He’s already gone for the day.”

“Jesus!” Wes spun around and glared at the woman several feet behind him. He slapped a hand to his chest.

“Nope, just me, Alisa, although some of my ex-girlfriends
did
call me a goddess after I—”

“Stop,” Wes pleaded, “I don’t wanna know.”

Alisa tsked at him. “One can never have too much knowledge.”

“Yes, one can. Or I can, anyway.” Wes dropped his hand from his chest, fairly certain his heart wasn’t going to pound out of it now. He should have heard Alisa approaching but
noooo
, he’d been too busy being a psycho stalker.
A busted psycho stalker.

“Er,” he began, trying to think of a way not to come off as a giant creeper.

Alisa rolled her eyes and gestured him away from the office. “As if everyone but Armando hasn’t noticed you have a crush on him.”

“I do not!” Wes protested, but he was more than certain Armando was aware, otherwise last night wouldn’t have had that whole fabulous blow job part to it. Alisa cut him a scornful look and he gave her one right back. “Look, anything that I might or might not feel for him, that’s between me and Armando. I’d love to discuss it with him, but any time I get near, he vanishes.”

“Armando doesn’t date,” Alisa said flatly. “He doesn’t fuck around. As far as I can tell, he’s like one of those monks that takes a vow of celibacy or something.”

“A priest, maybe?” Wes asked.

Alisa smacked him on the arm. “Ugh. No. That would imply a shitload of religion and Armando isn’t into all that.”

And monks weren’t either? Well, Wes didn’t know all that much about monks, he guessed. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on them, though. “Seems like you know him pretty well.” Which, for some bizarre reason, made Wes kind of…jealous, which in turn pissed Wes off.

“Get over yourself,” Alisa began, only to purse her lips and give him an intense look. She tapped her finger to her chin for a couple of seconds then nodded. “Well, or not. I haven’t seen Armando avoid anyone like he’s avoided you—”

“So you admit it!” Wes said almost gleefully. Then he immediately felt like shit because Armando really was shunning him.

Alisa snapped her fingers in his face, something that Wes discovered irked him in a heartbeat. He glared and she rolled her eyes. “Whatever, don’t fucking interrupt me again or you’ll be wearing your balls for earrings.”

Wes winced and dropped a hand over his ‘nads before he could stop himself. “Isn’t that harassment or something?”

Alisa shrugged. “We’re both volunteers, and anyway, are you really going to go tattle? It’d sure make you seem like a pussy, don’t you think?”

Wes decided he didn’t like Alisa. At all. He did, however, give her props for having mad manipulation skills. Not that he’d tell her that. “Whatever.”

“Whatever is right,” Alisa crooned, looking like the crow that got the fattest worm. “You guys are so easy to handle. Now, I probably shouldn’t reward you with this bit of info, but oh well. I’m doing it for Mando—I mean, Armando.” She levelled another harsh look at him. “And don’t you dare call him Mando. He hates that. I slipped ‘cause I have a cousin named Armando, too, and we all call him Mando for short. Anyway.” Alisa harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest. A defensive stance, Wes thought, though he didn’t know why she took it. “I think he’s running scared.”

Wes opened his mouth to argue about that. He hadn’t done anything to Armando. It had been Armando who had been all over him, so wonderfully all over him. Alisa just kept talking, and he kind of started un-disliking her again.

“And I haven’t ever seen him do that before.” Her expression shifted to something resembling amusement. “Hm. Yeah, he never seems aware of when other men are eye-fucking him. I’ve seen more than one in tears because of how obtuse Armando is about come-ons. But you”—she tipped her chin towards Wes—“you he runs from.”

As if Wes hadn’t noticed. “I haven’t—”

“So I have to wonder why that is,” Alisa barrelled right over him verbally. Wes began to suspect she had just waited for him to speak so she could do so. He’d swear there was a sparkle in her brown eyes proclaiming it. “I mean, Armando isn’t a coward. Not when it comes to other people, at least, but I’m beginning to think maybe he’s scared of himself.”

“That makes no sense,” Wes said in a rush. Then he wished he hadn’t spoken, because it made a lot of sense. Armando was scared of what he felt, maybe didn’t even understand it if he didn’t know they were mates. And who would have told him they were? Not Wes, but he’d thought maybe Armando knew about that stuff from being around shifters. As for Wes, he didn’t trust himself, his judgement, and hadn’t in a long while. He was beginning to see that he’d deliberately put himself in a bad situation just because he thought so little of himself. There was no reason for it, either. He had a good family—

“Yes, it does. It makes perfect sense and I should have seen it earlier.” Alisa sniffed and actually tilted her chin up, putting her nose in the air. “If you want to be a dick and argue about it, then you’ll miss your chance to go ask Armando how he’s doing. He should be in the parking lot about now, since he was going to go check on—”

Wes figured it was his turn to cut Alisa off. “Thanks!” He turned and ran for the back door that opened to the parking area.

In under ten seconds he was through the door and zeroing in on the man walking between two battered trucks. Wes closed the door silently, his leopard purring softly inside him as he watched the smooth, sensual movements of Armando’s body. The man moved like sex and chocolate, or what Wes imagined sex should be like. His cock began to firm up and he lowered his head, watching Armando much like he watched prey when he was hunting in his cat form.

Heat curled inside of Wes, tight coils that burned him with a need he’d never felt so intensely before. His sexual experience last night had made him crave more—more sex, a more intense connection—just more of everything with Armando. He wanted Armando badly.