Nischal [leopard spots 9] (14 page)

Preston lifted an intricate, beautiful, ringed decoration off a hook. It smelt like leather and something ancient and powerful. Nischal’s skin crawled with the undercurrent of mysticism. He’d felt it with Kapuk on occasion, and he’d never been sure if it was because the old man had claimed to be a shaman, or if it’d been because Kapuk was insane. Now, of course, he knew it was the former.

The item Preston was showing him had the same kind of power.

“Look at this, it’s so beautiful.” Preston touched the tanned leather. “It’s a dream catcher. Have you heard of them before?”

Nischal shook his head even as he took a step back. Was Preston unaware of the dream catcher’s power?

“It’s supposed to catch your bad dreams and keep them from you, I think.” Preston frowned. “Why are you backing away from it?”

“It doesn’t feel like a good kind of magic,” Nischal explained. Maybe whoever had made it hadn’t intended it to be a helpful thing despite its purported use.

Preston flicked a tag on the side of it and hung the thing back up. “It’s made in China anyway. It’s not handmade by Native Americans. That might be the reason for the wrong vibes you’re getting.”

Whatever the reason, Nischal didn’t care for the dream catcher. They looked at a few more items then Nischal was itching to go.

Preston paid for their purchases and Nischal promised himself he’d find a way to pay him back. He’d learn to read and write no matter how long it took him, and he’d be useful, productive. Helpful to his mate.

They left the store and went back to the Murano. Preston unlocked the doors and Nischal got in before taking the bags from Preston. Nischal shut the door. The impact caused one of the bags to slip off his lap but he caught it before it hit the floorboard. Preston was still standing outside, and Nischal watched him for a moment as Preston took his cellphone out of his pocket and started dialling.

Nischal started digging through the bags. He was excited, he couldn’t help it. He swapped his ill-fitting shirt for the new, pretty blue one. “Look, Sabby. Pres bought it for me. Isn’t it pretty? It says New Mexico.” Nischal traced the letters just like Preston had done in the store. He saw Sabby peeking out from under the blanket, watching him with something like envy in his eyes.

“He got you one, too. Red, like the flowers in Nepal…” Nischal took the shirt out and showed it to Sabby. “The letters look the same, so I think it says New Mexico too. Our first gifts.” It made him feel kind of sappy and close to weepy, which would never do. “If you don’t wear it, I will.”

Sabby came out from under that blanket with a yowl that made it clear he was pissed off by the threat. Nischal felt like an ass. He wanted his brother to shift, to talk to him instead of mewling at him. That didn’t give him the right to be such an obnoxious jerk.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, Sabby.” Nischal held the shirt out to his brother. “Here. It’s yours, and Pres bought us each some shorts and shoes. Ugly shoes, but hey, they’ll do the job and they aren’t nearly so ugly when I think about the fact that Pres bought them.” As he spoke, Nischal pulled the items out of the bags.

“He’s a good man, my Preston. I hope his brother isn’t dead, inside, or literally. Preston should have a brother. He’s a twin, did I tell you that? From the same litter, like us, I guess.” Nischal looked around. No one but Preston was anywhere nearby. Nischal got the baggy shorts of Preston’s off and a pair of the new ones on. It felt good to have something that fitted right around his waist. “I want to learn to read and write so I can work and buy him gifts. Pull my weight. I don’t know how that works here in America. Maybe we can all go back to Nepal. I have to be where he is, though. I can’t leave him. Kapuk was so right. I am drawn to him like he’s the other half of my soul.”

Nischal looked out of the window at his mate who was gesturing with one hand while talking on the phone. “He’s the other half of my heart. I didn’t know it was possible…” He trailed off, his chest going tight with emotions he wasn’t ready to put into words.

Preston stopped gesturing and started nodding. Then his cheeks turned pink and he shot an embarrassed look Nischal’s way before talking.

A pained sound behind him had Nischal jerking around in his seat. Sabby’s eyes rolled back as he convulsed, his body taut as muscles, bones and tendons bent and changed in ways only a shaman could explain.

“It’s okay, Sabby. I know it hurts, I know it does,” Nischal murmured, gently stroking his brother’s body. “I thought I was going to die when I shifted, but I didn’t. You won’t either, and shifting after this time is easy as it used to be. I didn’t even think about it hurting, it just came naturally. Let it go, don’t fight,” he encouraged as Sabin made an agonised sound.

Nischal was vaguely aware of Preston opening the driver’s side door and getting in, then Preston was leaning over his seat and caressing Sabin’s back. “It’s going to be okay. If you do this, if you listen to Nisch, I’ll go back in and buy you a pound of chocolate walnut fudge. Oh my God, it’s so good, you’ll forget about how miserable you are now.”

“You didn’t buy me fudge,” Nisch said rather petulantly.

“Only because you didn’t even give it a glance,” Preston retorted.

“The dream catcher was distracting me. It was wrong.”

Preston sighed dramatically. “I’ll get you a pound, too, just because you’re such a hung sexy stud.”

Sabby chuffed and it turned into a dry hacking laugh as his body finally gave in and let his human form free. Sabby’s laugh turned into a pained groan.

“You don’t look alike,” Preston observed as Sabby lay panting.

Nischal grinned. “No, we don’t. Mom always said, and so did Kapuk, that they’d never seen a snow leopard shifter with white hair unless they were ancient.”

“Huh.” Preston pointed. “His eyebrows are black, though. Is he shorter than you?”

Sabby sat up enough to flip Preston off. “I’m not short,” he scraped out. “Taller than you.”

Preston looked at the roof of the car. “Men and inches. Get over it already. I didn’t call you short, and I’m aware of my own height, jerk. You’ll regret being so touchy if you only get a half-pound of fudge.”

“Sorry.” Sabby closed his eyes and moaned. “Everything hurts.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been in this form.” Nischal started crawling into the back seat. “Scoot over and I’ll work out some of the worst of it.”

“I’ll go get the fudge.” Preston all but bolted out of the car.

Nischal snorted. “Guess he couldn’t handle watching me give you a massage.”

Sabin opened one eye. “Was probably weird for him. He’d have felt like a pervert if he’d gotten an erection.”

“Yes.” Nischal began rubbing the knotted muscles in Sabin’s back. “So what do you think about being human again?”

“I think I can’t wrap my mind around being free.” Sabin propped his head on his forearms, and, a second later, he was asleep.

Chapter Thirteen

The creeper and his rig were nowhere in sight when Preston took the turn for the road leading them into Colorado. He listened as Nischal and Sabin chatted and ate their fudge. Sabin had taken a short nap, minutes only. Preston was glad the brothers had each other, but he really missed Paul something fierce.

And he hoped, despite his fears, that Paul was alive. Not hurt, alive. And if he was a slave to someone, that it was someone kind who didn’t abuse him in any way.

Preston knew how naïve such hopes were, but they were what he wanted for his brother if he couldn’t have Paul back immediately.

“I have to pee,” Sabin announced. “Can you pull over?”

Preston pointed at a sign. “That says there’s a rest area in about a mile. Pinch it until then.”

“Pinch what—” Sabin began, then, “Oh. No, I think I’ll just cross my legs.”

Preston held back a grin as he drove. The rest area wasn’t too crowded, with just one other car and two eighteen-wheelers parked at it. There was no sign of the creeper, which was a relief.

Sabin got out, looking sharp in his new clothes. His hair was really white, without a trace of any other colour in it, and unlike Nischal after his first shift, he had no beard. Preston had noticed that, other than eyebrows and eyelashes, Sabin had no other body hair save that on his head.

“He’s always been that way,” Nischal said as they watched Sabin jog to the bathroom with the picture of a stickman on the door.

“Huh.” Preston looked around the rest area as the other car was started. He waved at the people in it and they waved back before driving off. “You know, I can’t tell you how many stories I’ve heard about rest area quickies.” He was bored, and horny, or getting there. He tended to almost always be horny around Nischal. More proof in his mind that what Nischal had said was true—they were mates.

“What kind of stories?” Nischal asked in a rough voice that made it clear he had a good idea of what Preston was referring to.

Still, Preston gave him a lascivious look. “Well, supposedly lots of gay men went looking for a good time at rest areas once upon a time. They’d leave messages on the stall walls that other men like themselves understood, and hook up to get off.”

Lust shimmered in Nischal’s eyes. “Sounds interesting. We should—”

Sabin came bounding out of the restroom. “Can I get something from there?” He pointed to the vending machines behind a kind of pull-down security fencing. “It’s food, right?”

“And drinks,” Preston agreed, trying to nonchalantly cover his erection with his hands. Sabby glanced down at his hands and rolled his eyes before darting over to the machines.

“He ate all the fudge I bought him. How can he still be hungry?” Preston muttered.

Nischal touched his elbow and answered in a voice so quiet Preston had to strain to hear it. “Years of starvation, and being fed only a leopard’s diet. I’d say he’d make himself sick, but I’ve eaten all of the fudge you gave me, too, and I think something salty would be perfect right about now.”

“I’ve got your salty,” Preston huffed. “Can’t give it to you in public.”

Nischal snickered and nudged him. “We could sneak off behind the building.”

“While Sabby sits and eats everything he wants from the vending machines. Hmm. I like the way you think.” Preston took out his wallet and removed several one-dollar bills from it. “Here, Sabby. You want to put the money in?”

Sabin only hesitated a second before taking the money. “Thanks.” His cheeks turned ruddy, but he bounced on his toes with obvious excitement. “I don’t know what’s what.”

He seemed less embarrassed by that fact than Nischal was about not being able to read or write, but Preston put it down to the promise of more food to come.

“You want some potato chips?” Preston asked Nischal. “They’re fried, salty potatoes.”

Nischal licked his lips. “I have something else in mind.”

“I want some, please,” Sabby said. “Which ones are they?”

Preston explained the way the machines worked, showing Sabby how to find the matching letter and number that corresponded to his choice. It was a good learning experience that Sabby and Nischal both paid attention to.

Once Sabby had his snacks and a few cold drinks to wash them down with, Preston and Nischal left him sitting at one of the covered tables. “Holler if you need anything,” Preston told him, feeling more than a little weird about Sabby knowing what he and Nischal were going off to do.

“Or if you even think there’s anything suspicious going on,” Nischal added. He wiped at the sweat sheening his brow. “It’s really hot here.”

“I will, and yeah, it’s sure not home,” Sabby said as he ripped open a bag of Cheetos. “Ohhhh,” he sighed as he licked one. “Gods, this is worth living in this heat.”

Preston laughed and Nischal eyed the orange snack. “I’ll have to try one—later.”

They left Sabby munching away happily. Preston waited until they were almost to the backside of the building to ask, “Is it like this with all shifters and their mates, do you think?”

Nischal shrugged. “I think so. Kapuk tried to explain it to us, but we thought he was full of it, you know. He was so old, and we were fools, I can see that now. Youth lends itself to egos that it in no way can justify. We thought we knew everything, and our mother never had a mate. She bred, yes, but not a mate. She would have told us.”

“I wonder if, thousands of years ago, regular ol’ humans had mates like shifters do. If…” Preston paused as they stopped behind the building. He looked out over the desert land, taking in the stark beauty of it. “Wow.” He shook his head. “This is just beautiful.”

“It is,” Nischal agreed, but when Preston glanced at him, Nischal wasn’t looking at the land. He was looking at Preston with an affection that warmed Preston more pleasantly than the hot sun was doing. “You are.”

Preston could feel the blush tinting his skin. There was the usual instinct to play down the compliment, but Preston didn’t. He wouldn’t refuse to accept praise from Nischal. “Thank you.”

Nischal cupped his jaw and Preston went up onto his toes to receive the kiss that was coming. Preston looped his arms around Nischal’s neck and moaned as soon as he got a taste of Nischal.

Nischal nipped at his lips then licked into Preston’s mouth again. At the same time, he palmed Preston’s ass. Preston grunted and pushed his butt back eagerly. He wanted Nischal to fuck him, but if all they managed were hand jobs, that’d work too.

“I’ll fuck you,” Nischal rumbled against his lips. He trailed kisses down Preston’s neck, sucking up marks here and there as Preston tried not to make any noise in case someone decided to take a walk. They were decently hidden from anyone who might come around the left side of the building, but on the right there was nothing to hide behind.

“Let go so I can turn you around and get to this ass.” Nischal squeezed Preston’s bottom.

Preston let go and was quickly spun around. He slapped his hands to the wall as Nischal immediately went to work on Preston’s belt. While working the fastenings for it and Preston’s shorts afterwards, Nischal licked and kissed the bite mark he’d made when he’d claimed Preston.