by Eden Winters
“I want the truth. What happened to my parents? Nana told me they were hit by a car while crossing the road.”
Dustin winced. He’d hoped Seth wouldn’t ask. “Are you sure you really want me to tell you?”
“If you don’t, who will?”
Dustin shared the tale, matter-of-factly, though it ripped his heart out. At one time, he’d been as close to Seth’s parents as his own. “Carriers who can’t shift are posted as lookouts, to ward off stray dogs and keep the passel—that’s a group of possums—out of trouble. Your mother was a new shifter and somehow snuck past the guards and onto the highway. Your dad tried to stop her, and they were both killed by a car. Your grandmother told the truth.”
Seth narrowed his eyes. “I recall some comments from their memorial service. They’re not actually buried in the cemetery in town, are they?”
“No. Those who die in animal form remain in animal form. They’re buried down by the pond in the unofficial family graveyard.”
“What happened to Aunt Irene?”
“She turned one last time, too weak to survive the change. She’s buried beside your parents.”
Seth remained quiet for several moments, staring at the wall. “Dustin?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you do me a favor?”
Dustin stopped stroking Seth’s hair and clasped his hand. “Anything.”
“Would you get the fuck out of my house?”
No yelling: okay, not much. No flung breakables and no threatening of vital parts with sharp objects. Overall, not too bad, Dustin supposed, as far as revelations went.
He climbed into his truck, staring at the light in Seth’s window and wishing he’d been allowed to stay. Seth needed watching over tonight while he dealt with what he’d been told. In Seth’s state of mind, he wouldn’t appreciate Dustin’s fretting. Instead he drove to the Johnsons’ next door and parked behind their barn. Friends and passel members, they’d never even question the presence of Dustin’s Ranger.
He carefully folded his clothes, placing them on the driver’s seat, further evidence of his intentions should the Johnson boys get curious enough to investigate, and then slipped into possum form, ambling across the field back to Seth’s house to keep watch throughout the night. While most of the passel only used the kitchen entrance, more than a half dozen more existed. Dustin wouldn’t use them unless dire circumstance forced his hand.
Chapter 14
Dustin Livingston had not turned into a possum in the sitting room. Seth had simply averted his gaze for a moment and the creature that’d bitten him had found a way back in. Horror sank in. The possum might still be loose in the house! Grabbing the straw broom from its hook on the back porch, Seth steeled his resolve. He crept down the hall, alert for movement, though what he’d do upon actually encountering the animal he had no idea.
Room by room he investigated, stopping before he entered his aunt’s bedroom. He closed his eyes—the essence he’d noticed earlier in some of the townspeople was even more intense here. As he eased the door open, he breathed deeply, his olfactory senses leading him across the floor to the bed. He buried his nose in the quilt, catching the full scent. The beast had been here, evidenced by the hair Seth had found on the bed upon first arriving.
A pet, then. Instead of a cat, Aunt Irene had somehow tamed a possum, which explained everything: the hole in the wall, the food mess, the hair, the appearance of a full-grown possum in the sitting room tonight. Yeah, the neighbor woman had three tame possums, why couldn’t Irene have one? Or maybe the tame ones came visiting. Did the women time-share the creatures?
Dustin’s words came back to him. “Have you noticed lately that your sense of smell is stronger? Hearing?”
His grandmother’s words joined Dustin’s: “Your father’s family was… well, they weren’t natural.” She’d always changed the subject when pressed further.
“Dustin Fucking Livingston! I hate you!” Seth screamed at the room as he moved through like a tornado, sweeping vials and bottles off his aunt’s dresser and sending them crashing to the floor. He screamed and screamed and screamed, impotently releasing his temper before the pressure built to critical mass.
His bare foot connected with broken glass, sending pain shooting up his leg. Oh, fuck! That hurt!
His fury ebbed, leaving him empty inside, with an aching throat, and with his aunt’s possessions smashed upon the floor. He dropped to an area rug, carefully avoiding the mess. Staring in rapt fascination at his bandaged wrist, he peeled back the gauze to find the bite mark nearly healed. He buried his face in his hands, letting out the hurt, confusion, and bitterness in a relentless wail, unsurprised when strong arms wrapped around him, securing him against Dustin’s bare skin.
Neither man spoke. Seth sobbed into the crook of Dustin’s neck while Dustin crooned, soft sounds, not words.
Seth’s caterwauls gentled as he grew too tired to continue.
At last Dustin said, “You haven’t eaten. Can I get you something?”
“Not hungry.” The way he felt at the moment, Seth wondered if he’d ever be hungry again.
“No, I suppose not. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Though he’d been furious with the man a few moments ago, now Seth didn’t want to be alone. “Hold me until I’m asleep?”
“If you want me to. But first I need to treat your foot. You’ve cut yourself.”
As though Seth weighed nothing, Dustin lifted him and carried him into the bathroom, depositing him on the closed toilet lid. With gentle hands, he probed Seth’s wound before applying antiseptic and butterfly bandages.
Seth marveled at how familiar his childhood friend seemed with the inner workings of Aunt’s Irene’s home, and how unaffected he appeared by casual nudity. “You know your way around here.”
“Yes. I was Irene’s second-in-command. Even if I weren’t a doctor, part of the position’s duties included tending minor injuries.”
“And the vet?”
“We keep him around in case he’s needed. Sometimes it’s easier to treat a patient in animal form, and this being a farming community with lots of livestock is the perfect cover.”
“Oh.” Seth studied Dustin’s precise movements as he wound and neatly folded a strip of gauze and secured the ends without using tape.
“Keep an eye on that cut. We’re more resistant to illness due to the virus, but we’re still at risk of infections, other viruses, and ailments that exist in both species.” He handed Seth two ibuprofen tablets and a Dixie cup of water. “Here, take these to help with the pain.”
Seth obediently swallowed the pills. “Can I ask you something?”
An intense green-eyed gaze connected with Seth’s. “Unless you’re gonna ask me to leave again. I’ve already promised to stay, and I keep my promises.”
“Did you plan this? For me to be bitten?” Seth held his breath, hoping against hope for Dustin to tell him no.
Those sad eyes turned away. “No matter what you might think, I never intended this to happen. In a moment of distraction an elder let Tiffany slip away.”
Seth watched for signs of duplicity and found none, only what he believed might be shame. “Take me to bed.”
Once more Dustin lifted him, exerting little effort to haul Seth to the bed they’d shared. For now, Seth pushed aside the questions, doubts, and fears, determined to lose himself in the physical. His problems would keep until morning.
Dustin took great care in removing Seth’s jeans to avoid his injured foot, and the insistent throbbing slowly faded to a dull ache. Seth’s boxers followed the jeans down his legs and off.
When he returned to the bed, Dustin approached from the foot, slowly crawling up the covers, his gaze smoky with longing, tempered with concern. He stopped with his head near Seth’s crotch, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. “You smell amazing.” Dustin brushed his nose against the thatch adorning Seth’s groin. “Right now you’re scared, but when you learn to appreciate heig
htened senses….” He let loose a wicked grin. “Let’s say they have their uses.” Dustin whiffed again, and ran the flat of his tongue along the underside of Seth’s cock. “Ummm…,” he moaned. “Cock. My favorite meal.”
Sumptuous heat engulfed Seth’s rising erection, and he fell back against the pillows, closing his eyes. Dustin worked up and down Seth’s hardening flesh, humming, hand keeping time with his mouth. He stroked and fondled Seth’s balls, occasionally tracing farther below with a fingertip, trailing saliva toward Seth’s hole.
“Do you like that?” Dustin paused long enough to ask. “Want me in there?” Dustin the lover momentarily gave way to Dustin the doctor. “Is your foot okay? Need me to stop?”
“Stop now and I may never speak to you again.” Seth bowed his back off the bed, chasing the finger, willing it inside his body. A distraction. He needed a distraction, and he needed it now.
Dustin chuckled. “Patience.” Slowly he eased the tip of his finger into Seth’s opening, teasing more than penetrating.
Seth shoved back, trying to capture the tantalizing digit.
“Is this what you want?” Dustin’s rumbling murmur sent a shot a pure lust straight to Seth’s groin. Dustin slipped his finger inside and then out again, only to drive past the protective ring of muscle on the next thrust, delving in to ignite a fire deep within.
“Oh God!” Seth exclaimed, writhing on the patchwork quilt.
With Dustin’s finger massaging inside and lips stroking him outside, Seth hovered on the edge, passion rendering him incomprehensible. Inanities tripped off his tongue, growls and groans and not quite words. He whined when Dustin withdrew.
“I thought we were immune,” he asked, surprised to see Dustin donning a condom and slathering on lube from their stash in the bedside table.
“Not to everything.”
Seth spread his legs, welcoming Dustin into his body. They merged on a shared moan, the glide of Dustin’s cock through Seth’s sphincter muscle an ecstatic combination of pleasure/pain that slowly gave way to pure pleasure.
“God, I love how you feel,” Dustin murmured near Seth’s ear, descending to scrape his teeth along Seth’s throat.
Seth tilted his head back, giving Dustin more room to explore before their mouths met in a flurry of tongues and teeth and heavy breathing. They rocked together, desperation in Seth’s faltering motions. He was close, damned close. A few swift stokes of his cock would send him sailing over the edge.
Harder, faster they slammed together, Seth’s cock riding a slick of sweat and precum between their bellies, but needing more direct attention.
They grasped randomly at arms, buttocks, and backs, fingers scrambling for purchase as they fought for closer, deeper, more. The bedstead screeched and squalled, the headboard rapping a sharp beat against the wall, keeping tempo with their impassioned coupling.
Deep within the pressure grew, and Seth wrapped his legs around Dustin’s thighs, careful of his injured foot, following Dustin’s punishing rhythm. Mouth to mouth, Dustin buried inside Seth’s body, they crested and plunged, unintelligible cries filling the room.
Out of his mind with lust, Seth slipped a hand between their bodies, frantically stroking himself and using his legs as leverage to force Dustin’s cock against that one perfect spot.
“I’m gonna come!” he cried, too far gone to stop himself even if he wanted.
“I’ll be right there with you,” Dustin replied on panted breaths, never breaking stride.
“Ahhh…. Oh, oh, oh… Damn!” Seth tilted over the edge, hardly noticing when Dustin plunged in deeply and held his position.
Dustin’s shouted “Seth!” was lost in harsh inhales and exhales, the bed stilling and quieting. Dustin collapsed on top of Seth, bracing his weight somewhat on his arms.
Silence, save for the huff, huff, huff worthy of marathon runners and the incessant twin beats of Seth’s and Dustin’s hearts.
“That was… that was….” Seth couldn’t quite form his thoughts into words.
“Yeah, it was.”
“Is it always like this?”
“Excuse me?”
“Me being… infected. Is that what made it so good?”
Dustin raised his head and stared down at Seth. Sweat had turned his hair a deeper auburn, plastering it to his forehead. “The virus has nothing to do with us now. This….” He shoved his hips against Seth, dragging his flagging erection once more over Seth’s prostate. “This is pure us.”
“Oh.” Seth closed his eyes, shutting out the things he’d earmarked for dealing with later.
Dustin slowly slid out, tidied up, pulled the lamp string, and turned off the light.
Seth wriggled into a more comfortable position beneath the covers, resting his head on Dustin’s chest.
No matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn’t come. He lay awake, rolling all he’d been told and all he suspected over and over in his head, occasionally glancing over at Dustin’s sleeping form. He wanted to believe his lover and somehow manage to stay here forever, but his life was in Chicago. Wasn’t it? He wished once more that his Aunt Irene had fought a little harder to keep him as a child.
Recollections of Junior’s visit struck him hard, his newly acquired knowledge adding heightened dimensions to Timmerman’s suggestions.
Though it pained him to do so, he’d been solo for so long that he needed some alone time to get his head straight and decide exactly what to do next. The last thing he wanted was to make an impetuous decision, or worse, allow someone else to make it for him. He’d allowed others to dictate most of his life. Time to take a stand of his own.
Quietly, so as not to wake Dusty, he tiptoed from room to room, viewing the house with a fresh perspective. Each family photo held new meaning, and he gazed at graying photos of McDaniels past, wondering who were what Dustin called carriers, and who took animal form.
He stared long and hard at his parents’ picture, stroking a finger over his mother’s curls, down his father’s nose. “Why couldn’t you be here for me? I need you.” They didn’t answer, and he placed the picture frame back on the mantel before taking down another that showed two young boys, shirtless, wearing cutoff jeans. Arms around each other’s skinny shoulders, they grinned for the camera, one missing his two front teeth.
For hours, he lay on the uncomfortable settee, contemplating running back to Chicago in hopes of waking from this nightmare. Every time he thought about buying a plane ticket, however, his heart ached. For better or worse, Dustin Livingston was all Seth had left, but he couldn’t let that color his decisions. He had to decide his future on his own.
Toward daybreak, he gave up the house for the front porch and sat wrapped in a quilt, drinking coffee and watching the sunrise. Not long after, footsteps treaded down the hall. The screen door screeched open, and Dustin slowly approached the porch swing. Gaze studiously fixed on the mug in his hand, Seth forced out the words, “I don’t think we should see each other for a while.”
Chapter 15
Dustin left without saying good-bye, but Seth found a note on his bed listing a multitude of phone numbers, e-mail addresses, and other forms of communication, with admonishments to keep an eye on both his bite wound and his cut foot. Instructions for care were included. Seth rolled his eyes. Doctors!
Dustpan in hand, he entered his aunt’s room, heart heavy at the destruction he’d wreaked, only to find the room immaculate. Somehow Dustin had managed to clean up the wreckage. Maybe Seth had slept some and simply didn’t remember. His anger, or whatever ill feelings he might harbor for the bearer of bad news, clicked down a notch. Relief rushed through him when he found the dog figurine intact; he’d been afraid he’d broken it during his fit of rage.
Determined not to let the bomb Dustin had dropped define the course of his life, Seth returned to the task of setting the house to rights with a vengeance, finding pen and paper and making a list of necessary materials. He avoided Possum Kingdom, driving his aunt’s truck to nearby Clayton i
nstead for lumber, paint, caulk, and wood stain, and using the trip to justify his long-overdue visit to the offices of Clooney, Anderson, and Gentry to discuss the finer points of his aunt’s will. They said she’d left him “everything,” hadn’t they? What more did he need to know?
The offices were situated in an eye-catching structure on the edge of town, an old-style plantation house that surely must once have been the grandest in the land, now neatly divided into offices. He wondered, while climbing the steps to the front door, how many of his ancestors might have trod the same path. With his fondness for old architecture, he immediately fell in love with the entryway’s soaring ceiling, spiral staircase, and burnished oak handrail and floor, imagining how the structure might have appeared in its heyday. Had any of his relatives attended a party here, maybe, back when the impressive dwelling had likely been the abode of some prominent citizen?
A sign on the wall listed the locations of the various offices, disappointing Seth that he didn’t have a legitimate excuse to climb the stairs to the upper floors. He did so anyway, to soak up the ambiance. His explorations brought home exactly why the place held so much appeal—it reminded him of the farm. Niggling guilt took root, admonishing him for wanting to sell something that had held such importance for the family he barely remembered.
No time for self-doubt now. He had enough to worry about at the moment. The staircase effectively hid the entrance to the offices of Clooney, Anderson, and Gentry, but eventually Seth found what he sought.
“Do you have an appointment, sir?” the receptionist asked, taking in his stained Pink Floyd T-shirt and paint-splattered ball cap with obvious disdain the moment he stepped through the door.
Appointment? Seth mentally kicked himself. Why hadn’t he bothered to make an appointment? “No, ma’am. Sorry, I didn’t realize I’d be in town today and hoped to talk to Mr. Clooney about my aunt’s estate.”
