Wisdom's Allegiance

by M. D. Grimm

  He started at the bottom and worked his way up. When he reached the third floor, one of the office doors was open, with a light shining through. He grimaced. Great, someone was burning the midnight oil. Okay then. Stiffening, Dexter rolled his cart over to the door and stepped inside, easily finding the trash can next to the desk. He barely looked at the occupant, though he got the impression of the office: books and papers stacked on the desk, and off to the side were two tall bookshelves filled to bursting. It reminded him of the state of his own living room. There was a comfy couch to the other side and a slightly ratty chair set in front of the desk.

  Dexter grabbed the can and deftly loosened the thin, clear bag, tying it off before laying in a new one. He set the can exactly where he’d found it and turned to leave.

  “Thank you.”

  Dexter froze. He hesitantly turned and finally got a good look at the occupant. He swallowed hard. The man was lanky and clothed in a gray suit. His lightly golden skin complemented the dark-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had a severe face, all points and angles, yet regal and stately. His eyebrows were thick and slightly angled in a vee shape, giving the impression he was perpetually irritated about something. His hazel eyes scanned something on his computer, and though the gratitude seemed to be habitual, he must have sensed Dexter’s continued presence.

  He looked up, blinked, then tilted his head. “You’re not the usual gal who comes in here. What happened to Leslie?”

  He knew her name. He inquired after her. Most academics considered custodians little more than servants, the figures in the shadows who kept the university running. This oddly attractive man, apparently, wasn’t that type.

  Dexter realized his continued silence must make him seem a simpleton. The man was beginning to frown.

  “Uh, sick,” he mumbled. “She’s sick.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear that.” His voice was as severe as his face, though not unkind. Instead of going back to his computer, he tilted his head the other way. “You seemed surprised before. When I said thank you. One would think you’ve never received gratitude.”

  “Um. Er.”

  He was saved from answering by the entrance of another man. He was slight of build, short in stature, and simply bubbling with energy despite the late hour. He bounced in, face bright and round, golden eyes flashing, curly brown hair waving.

  “Talon, are you ready to grab some eats—” The bouncy man stopped dead and stared at Dexter.

  Dexter stared back, unable to stop himself. He was adorable. Absolutely adorable. He was someone you just wanted to pat on the head and protect from the cruel world. His skin was a dark copper, making Dexter think he had some Hispanic heritage. His lips were full, his nose small. Yet his eyes… they were huge. They seemed too large for his face, giving him a perpetually surprised look.

  Wow.

  He also had a slight, charming accent, indicating English might not be his first language.

  “Hola,” he said, flashing a grin and fluttering his eyelashes.

  Dexter didn’t understand the change in tone and the new light that shone in the gold. He dragged his gaze away and glanced at the man at the desk…. Talon. Apt name.

  Talon winged an eyebrow, and his smile was one of amusement as he looked at the newcomer. “I’m almost done here, Orion.”

  But Orion was still looking at Dexter, his smile wide and his eyes…. What was that look in them? Heart jumping, Dexter gripped the trash bag as if it could protect him from his own wayward thoughts. Desire was cruel, and he didn’t stand a chance with either man in this office. Despite his primal reactions to both, Talon for his stolid composure, Orion for his bubbly enthusiasm and adorable looks, Dexter knew better than to even recognize his need.

  He looked at the floor, and even as his palms begin to sweat and his vision to spin, he managed to stumble out a “hi” before nearly running out the door. He gripped his cart and shoved it down the hall. He jerked into a random empty office and closed the door, pressing back against it. He slid down to his butt and dropped his forehead to his updrawn knees.

  I will not be sick. I will not be sick.

  Trembling, fighting through the panic attack, Dexter gripped his legs and hoped those two intriguing men didn’t see him nearly fall apart.

  ORION SPUN around and squealed. “That’s him! The one who cared for me! Isn’t he adorable? Like I said earlier, his name is Dexter Fortis, and isn’t that the cutest name you’ve ever heard? And don’t ask me again if I know he’s gay or not, you smelled his arousal like I did just now. He couldn’t get two words out, he was so shy! So sweet.”

  He said a few more poetic things in Spanish that Talon vaguely understood, but they were certainly sexual and filled with passion.

  Talon blinked at his mate before looking at the open door. Interesting.

  “Huh.”

  Orion frowned. “What? What’s with the face?”

  “No face, just surprised. He’s not your usual type.”

  Orion looked confused. “I have a type?”

  “Our last few thirds have been tall and lanky like me or small and bubbly like yourself.”

  Orion shrugged. “Well, apparently our type isn’t working. Guess there’s only room enough for one lanky dude and bubbly boy in this relationship.”

  Talon snorted.

  “Time to shake things up,” Orion said. “I have a really good feeling about him. You know you can judge a person’s character by how they treat animals.”

  Talon nodded slowly, considering.

  “And,” Orion said, clearly pushing his point, “I want a cuddle bear, and I just know he can give me that. Plus I told you about the books I saw on his shelves, right? He’s intelligent. You like intelligence.”

  Talon smiled slightly. “If that’s true, then what am I doing with you?”

  “Hey! You jerk!”

  Talon laughed as Orion scowled cutely. Orion couldn’t hold the expression, though, and grinned, rolling his eyes. “I’m serious.”

  “I can see that.” Talon leaned back in his chair. Orion was right when he said Talon valued intelligence above anything else. Certainly he could admire pretty people, but physical attractiveness was finite and merely the shell for the person inside. Many of their thirds didn’t last long because they didn’t stimulate him mentally, which made it hard to be in their company for extended periods.

  Could shy Dexter be right for them? Talon wanted to approach this possibility cautiously, and he couldn’t shake his doubts and reservations. However, it had been a long time since Orion showed such desire for another. It had been six months since they tried their last third, which was an utter disaster. Talon wondered how many times Orion could be burned before he gave up altogether. They needed a third because he couldn’t give Orion all that his little elf wanted. Talon didn’t show affection in public since it made him acutely uncomfortable. He also didn’t cuddle or enjoy such intimacy unless it was during sex, and then he couldn’t get enough of physical contact. He knew Orion needed more. He was about physical intimacy at all times of the freaking day. It was one of the reasons their relationship had been so rocky in the beginning.

  Talon had always let Orion pick their third. Orion wore his heart on his sleeve, and Talon suspected if they ever found their permanent third, he would learn to love him just as much as Orion would. Many would label Talon cold and aloof, and they wouldn’t be wrong. Yet when he loved, it was with his entire being. The depth of his love for Orion was incalculable despite their striking differences.

  Dexter was certainly different from the other men in their past, and he could only hope that would benefit them.

  “Are you sure you want him?”

  Orion hopped up to sit on his desk. “You know I am. I told you all about him, didn’t I? He’s the one. I know it.” He pressed a fist to his heart.

  Talon frowned. “You’ve said that before.” He gentled his voice, something he’d learned during his years with Orion, a skill he had to practice
. “Don’t get your hopes up. Please. I hate to see you so sad when they shatter.”

  Orion let out a long breath. “This is different, Talon. He’s different. Trust me. You know bird shifters have a true mate. I think he’s mine. Ours.”

  Talon raised an eyebrow again. He knew the legends of such “true mates.” He never believed them. Still didn’t. Orion was such a romantic.

  “So are you saying we aren’t true mates?” He kept his tone teasing.

  “No, we’re not.” Orion shrugged. “We were adversaries, then lovers. Now mates. I felt something special with him. Trust me, please. Give him a chance.”

  Talon leaned forward, and because they were alone and Orion needed it, he patted his hand, then left his on top for a moment.

  “I do trust you. Our third has always been left up to you. If you want him, I will help you capture him.”

  Orion smiled sweetly. “I want to pursue him for you, too, you know. Just think, with him with us, you’ll be able to watch again.”

  Talon’s smile was sharp, and his great horned owl hooted with need inside his mind. While Talon enjoyed sex, he greatly enjoyed watching Orion having sex with someone else. That was his foreplay. And Orion enjoyed being watched. The last six months had been hard on both of them. Talon wasn’t one given to hope or false wishes, but if Dexter filled the void at least for a short time, then the pursuit would be worthwhile.

  “THANKS AGAIN,” Dexter said as he slid into Stacey’s powder blue Nissan Frontier. The lack of mud splatter told him she hadn’t gone to the Rockies for the weekend as she’d planned.

  “No problem, sweetie.” She flashed him a bright smile and pulled onto the street. “It’s becoming so hard to see you nowadays, I’ll take any excuse I can get.”

  He flushed. “Sorry. Holidays, you know.”

  “Oh, I know. My students are getting itchy feet and wandering minds.”

  “I’ve also had to cover for others,” he said. “There’s a bad bug going around.”

  “Tell me about it. My TA has it.”

  Dexter winced. “Perfect timing.”

  She sighed. “Tis the season. Got any plans for Christmas?”

  He thought of his parents. “Work.”

  She eyed him. “So you’re not visiting your family this year?”

  He squirmed in his seat and stared at his feet.

  “Dish.”

  He blew out a breath. “Family politics. Not sure if I’m up for it this year.”

  “You could just go and tell them to kiss your ass. Then come back in time for me to take you with me to visit my family.”

  He chuckled. “The looks on their faces would be priceless.”

  “Make sure to take pictures.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

  She patted his hand as they neared his mechanic’s shop. “Listen, Dexter. Sometimes you have to sever toxic relationships for your own sanity and well-being. It doesn’t matter if they’re family or not—that doesn’t give them the right to make you feel like crap.”

  Dexter stared at her profile. She’d come a long way from when he first met her. That moment wasn’t something he could forget.

  “How are you doing?” he asked gently.

  She smiled. “I’m great. My therapist is gold and I don’t have night terrors anymore. Crossing fingers it lasts.”

  Dexter held her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back.

  “I still can’t go down that flight of stairs, though.” She let out a strained laugh that cut off abruptly. “I still see him there, trying to toss me down them.”

  Dexter didn’t know what to say as she pulled up in front of Lindsey’s garage. Stacey took a deep breath and let go of his hand.

  Last January, Stacey’s abusive ex-boyfriend had tried to toss her down a flight of stairs. Dexter was in the right place at the right time and ended up using his cart to separate the two of them, sending Beau down the stairs instead. He then called the police while Stacey sobbed against his chest.

  Some friendships were formed hard and fast.

  “You’re strong,” Dexter said. “You’re going to get through this because you can’t stand anything less than perfection.”

  She gave him a watery smile. “And that’s why we’re besties for life.” She kissed his cheek. “Think about Christmas with my family, okay?”

  “I will.” He gave her hand another squeeze before getting out of the truck and trudging through the cold to get his stubborn car.

  Chapter Three

  DEXTER NORMALLY had Friday and Saturday nights off but got called to come in on Saturday—that nasty bug dropped another custodian. Everyone else had to pick up the slack. He figured with the extra pay, he might be able to finally invest in his car and keep it running for more than two months at a time. At least he had it back and could avoid the bus for a while and not bother Stacey for a ride. No matter how often she insisted, he still felt bad about relying on her.

  He started at the Norlin Library, prepared for a full night with minimal breaks. The clouds threatened snow, but his weather app predicted a slight pause before the snow fell again with a vengeance.

  It was a little past nine in the evening when he reached the top floor of the library. He was about to set up the vacuum cleaner when he heard the distinctive sound of someone crying. Frowning, he followed the sound and came upon a young woman curled up on a chair in the corner, sniffling, her eyes red and puffy. With a heart filled with pity, he pulled out a pack of tissues he habitually kept in his pocket and quietly set them on the table in front of her.

  Her breath hitched and she looked up, surprised at his presence. He didn’t smile, only nodded at her before turning away.

  “Have you ever had your heart broken?” she asked, her voice shaky.

  Dexter stopped and turned back. He had an easier time talking to women since he wasn’t physically attracted to them, and though his heartbeat sped up slightly, he managed to keep his cool. Besides, she really looked like she needed someone.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She sniffled again and grabbed a tissue from the pack. “It sucks. Jerk.”

  “Their loss. They’re the one who couldn’t hold on to someone special.”

  She hiccupped and gave him a wet smile. “You don’t know me.”

  Dexter shrugged. “My point still stands.”

  She sighed, her breath steadying out. Seeing her gain composure relieved the tightness in his stomach.

  “He said I was clingy,” she said.

  “Maybe he was distant.”

  She smiled again. “I’m Janice.”

  “Dexter.”

  She wiped her eyes. “Thanks.”

  He smiled and nodded before walking away. He returned to his vacuum and was about to start it when he heard muttered curses nearby. Curious, he once again followed the sound and came upon a young skinny man with large glasses, messy hair, and panic in his eyes.

  “No, no! Come on!”

  Dexter looked at the printer and easily guessed what happened. He took a deep breath and approached.

  “Did it jam?” he asked, consciously keeping his voice steady.

  The man jumped and looked over, eyes quickly skimming the ID clipped to Dexter’s shirt, a shirt that also bore the university’s logo.

  “Damn right it did. And the damn professor won’t take digital copies of papers. It has to be physical. It’s due at midnight and—” He pulled back his fist as if to punch the printer.

  “Hey, hold on. Let me take a look-see, okay?”

  The man huffed and stepped away. Dexter knew the infamous printer and proceeded to commence the usual jiggling of cords and opening and shutting certain doors and trays, seemingly at random but actually in a specific pattern. It only took a second for the printer to get the idea and do its job, printing the pages the student needed. It cost students money to print anywhere on campus, and the computer would claim the job had gone through despite the printer’s behavior.

&nb
sp; Dexter turned back and offered a small smile. “There you go. Maybe don’t print on this printer anymore.”

  “I sure won’t. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Feeling good about himself, Dexter returned to his vacuum and finally managed to finish that task.

  Before he left the library, he had to clean up a coffee spill from a sleep-deprived business student who apologized profusely, close to tears, and assist a PhD student in finding his phone, which had been in his jacket pocket the entire time, but due to his panic, he hadn’t thought to look there.

  The library was always an interesting place, especially heading toward final exams.

  He entered the break room in the next building on his route and stopped short. Stacey sat at the table, head in hands, not moving. Her bright red hair fell unbound over her shoulders, stark against her black blouse.

  He abandoned his cart and hurried to her side. He sat in the seat next to her and touched her shoulder.

  “Stacey?”

  Without a word she spun around and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. She didn’t cry, but the comfort she needed was obvious. He held her tightly, rocking them both.

  “You’re safe,” he whispered, heart aching. “I’m right here.”

  She took several hitching breaths before tension eased from her body. “Sometimes I just can’t… alone I can’t….”

  He rubbed her back. “You don’t have to explain. Do you want to stay with me for a few days?”

  She heaved a giant breath and pulled back. Her skin was paler than usual, her freckles sticking out more. “No. I need to be alone. I need to learn to be alone.”

  “Baby steps.”

  “Yeah, yeah. That’s what my therapist keeps saying.”

  “For good reason.”

  “It’s been nearly a year. I need to get over this.”

  He nodded, not knowing what to say. Stacey would find her own way, the one right for her.

  She cleared her throat and stood up, smoothing out her clothes. “So, have you given any thought to hanging with my family for a few days? We’re loud and obnoxious and sufficiently awkward. Never a dull moment.”