Wisdom's Allegiance (The Shifter Chronicles 13)

by M. D. Grimm

  A couple of minutes passed before Orion chirped happily, trying to reassure the man that he wasn’t a danger. He snuggled deeper into the towel and chirped again.

  His savior slowly smiled, relaxing some of the tension in his shoulders.

  He had a nice smile.

  “Well, aren’t you a gorgeous one? Look at those eyes!” The man cautiously shut the bathroom door, and Orion squeaked in a funny way, hoping to make him laugh. If it worked on Talon, his stoic mate, then it might work on him. He twitched his wings, relieved nothing was broken or bruised. He was only a little sore.

  “You’re probably hungry,” he said.

  Orion perked up and mewled loudly. He had a nice voice—sweet and kind.

  The man laughed. Orion fell a little in love. His host had a beautiful laugh, and his round face lit up, his mouth stretching wide over his even teeth. Talon always said Orion fell in love at a drop of a hat, and perhaps it was true. This time, however, was different. He could feel it. Deep in his gut, he knew something was different about this man, about how he felt.

  Orion had a great love of people, humans and shifters alike. Their energy energized him, their happiness was his, and their sadness he tried to alleviate. He knew himself to be a dreamer. It was one of the things Talon once found irritating. However, after ten years together, they had accepted each other’s quirks and were mostly content.

  Yet they both knew something was missing. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, and they searched for years trying to find a compatible third to their partnership. Orion couldn’t help wondering if this kind man with chocolate eyes might be that perfect one.

  He had to be a snuggler. Anyone with that squishy body must be a great cuddler. Talon didn’t like to cuddle, and it was hard for Orion not to take it personally. But this man, well, Orion just bet he could curl his entire body against his, and then those strong arms would hold him tightly, securely, warming him. Orion fluttered his wings, excitement coursing through him. His owl was equally as enthusiastic. He and his owl were always in tandem.

  “You’re weirdly docile,” the man said, frowning slightly. “I hope you didn’t hit your head too hard. Maybe you’ve been around humans before?” He shrugged. “I don’t know if I have anything you can eat.” He sounded concerned. He scratched the back of his head, obviously thinking. “Well, I can at least get you some water.”

  He sedately backed out of the bathroom and shut the door. Orion stayed where he was, imagining wonderful, pleasurable things he and Talon could do with this human. The man wasn’t gone long, and when he returned, it was with a bowl of water. Orion happily scooped water into his mouth and tilted his head back, swallowing greedily.

  “I won’t feel right unless I get you some food,” the man said. He scrunched up his face adorably and Orion stared at his full lips. What did he taste like?

  “Be right back,” he said before stepping out of the bathroom once more, the door clicking shut behind him. Orion heard the front door open and shut and he twittered in concern. What was that silly human thinking? It was fierce outside!

  Several long minutes passed, and Orion mewled again, growing worried and impatient. He squirmed and rocked and finally managed to sidle out of the little towel nest. He spread his wings wide and tested them. Confirming that nothing was wrong, he launched into the air and landed on the shower curtain rod.

  Should he shift into a human and explore? No, too risky. Agitated, he launched into the air and flew around the modest bathroom, working out his frustration. He grew more anxious the longer he was alone. What happened to his host with the chocolate eyes and pretty laugh?

  The sound of the front door opening caught his attention, and only a moment later, the bathroom door opened. Orion trilled and darted out of the bathroom, zipping right over the man’s head.

  “What in the—?” The man ducked with a cry, dropping something in his hand. “Shit! Wait!”

  Orion spun around the large living room, taking in everything—the nice furniture in muted colors, the big TV, the landscape paintings on the walls. All those books! The shelves were fairly bursting with tomes of various sorts. Then he speedily returned to the man who held his gloved hands in front of his face.

  The man flinched as Orion circled his head. He warbled and, knowing he showed more intelligence and trust than he should, fluttered to the man’s shoulder and rubbed his head against his temple. Talon would be so angry with him if he knew!

  The man stiffened and shuddered out a breath. Orion continued to squeak and mewl, rubbing his head insistently against the side of his face. The man’s touch was gentle when he slowly stroked his fingers down Orion’s body. Orion shuddered and rubbed harder.

  “You’re welcome,” the man whispered. Then he cupped his hand around Orion’s body before squatting and picking up the bag he’d dropped. “Never knew a bird as friendly as you. Maybe you live with humans, huh? Not wild, are you? That would explain why you’re so far north. Colorado is no place for a little guy like you.”

  The concern and protective actions only further endeared him to Orion. He was falling helplessly in love. He just wanted to snuggle and cuddle and kiss and….

  Easy there, he told himself. He needed to calm himself, calm his owl, if he was going to do this right. He needed to be super careful.

  The man took off his jacket, a different one this time, soaked again. He kept on his gloves, which Orion approved of, and held out his hand in front of Orion. Understanding, Orion stepped on his hand, curling his talons around his fingers. He carried Orion back to the bathroom, and before he could return him to the damp towel in the sink, Orion launched into the air. He perched on the shower curtain rod again. The man shrugged and pulled a container from his bag. Orion chirped and bounced on the rod, making the man laugh again.

  “Guess you know what these are.”

  Crickets. He was holding a container full of crickets.

  Yes. It was definitely love.

  The man cleared off the top of the wire shelving above the toilet and opened the container before setting it in the empty space. Orion flew over and greedily devoured every single one, even the few that tried to hop away.

  “Glad to see you have an appetite.”

  You have no idea, Orion thought. He eyed the man, already imagining him naked, wondering what it would feel like to ride him. He could hardly wait to find out.

  “Thank God Beatrice has a bearded dragon, or you’d be out of luck.” The man suddenly yawned and looked at the clock. It was close to noon. “Hell. Glad you’re nocturnal. I need some sleep. And so do you.” He took away the empty container and dumped it in the trash. He paused and looked at Orion. “Should probably make you a nest.”

  He left for only a moment before coming back with a dry towel. He unfolded it before situating it on the shelf he’d put the crickets. He fluffed it and made an adequate nest.

  He looked at Orion and patted the towel. “There. Similar to a tree nest. You should feel safe.”

  Then he left, shutting off the light and closing the door once more. His consideration of Orion’s needs only made it harder for Orion to stay as his owl. It was painful not to simply shift and pounce and taste and take. The best quality a mate could possess was the ability to care and provide, and his host was certainly doing all that and more.

  Orion shuffled into the towel nest and snuggled down. He listened carefully to the man’s movements, the creaks accompanying his footsteps, and the cabinet and refrigerator doors opening and shutting. He was certainly tired and the darkness and safety urged his owl to sleep, but he struggled to stay awake.

  Orion opened his eyes and watched the clock on the wall. An hour passed before silence descended in the house. He waited another hour before landing on the floor and shifting into his human form. He squinted in the darkness, his night vision not as keen as it was as an owl. He kept his steps light and cautious as he opened the bathroom door and peeked out. All the curtains were drawn and the lights were off. He snuck into
the living room and took a closer look at the books. Hmm. Science books. Astronomy, astrophysics, theology, psychology, even ecology, and chemistry. And lots and lots of books on birds. There were also worn copies of the classics such as Dickens, Fitzgerald, and even Virginia Woolf, as well as some modern thrillers and sci-fi. The worn spines and scraps of paper sticking up from the pages told Orion the books weren’t just for decoration. They were read, the information devoured and retained. Well, that should make Talon happy.

  Psychology was Orion’s field of study, and it thrilled him to think of the conversations he could have with the man. Neuroscience was Talon’s field, and from the wide variety of books, Orion was sure they could converse about the hard sciences as well.

  His body certainly reacted to the thought of getting to know the man better. Orion smiled and shook his head. No matter how much he wanted to squeeze that full body and kiss those plump lips, he had to talk to Talon before he could make any move. That was the deal. So all he could do was look and want. He shivered slightly and his owl urged him to sleep. His eyelids drooped. Not quite yet. He looked around the room until his eyes fell upon a few envelopes on the squat table next to the couch. He moved over and squinted at the name they were addressed to.

  “Dexter Fortis,” he whispered. So cute! Dexter. Dex. Orion grinned and barely suppressed a squeal of happiness.

  His cuddle bear was named Dexter.

  Even as he returned the envelope to the stack on the table, a familiar presence brushed against his mind. He winced and knew he was due for a lecture. To keep Talon out of his mind would cause more problems later so he allowed entry.

  Only bird shifters had the ability to communicate telepathically and not every mind was receptive to such an invasion. The connection allowed a blending of their minds and thoughts and even images could pass between them. Orion opened his mind after the first brush and allowed his mate inside.

  Orion, where the hell are you? Talon asked.

  I’m safe. I promise. I’ll explain everything when I return home.

  What did you do now?

  Orion rolled his eyes. He heard and felt Talon’s concern, which softened Talon’s accusatory tone. He knew the anger was from fear.

  Trust me. Please.

  Don’t make me come find you.

  Orion smiled. You’re cute when you’re angry.

  A buzzing silence filled his head as Orion snuck back into the bathroom and silently closed the door.

  Why do I put up with you? Talon asked.

  I’m the best thing to ever happen to you. You know that.

  Talon’s sigh bled through their connection.

  I’m sorry I scared you. I will return soon.

  You had better.

  Their connection faded. Orion wanted to snoop further but he couldn’t risk frightening Dexter and destroying any chance he had in pursuing him. He saw no obvious evidence of another person in the house and only recognized Dexter’s scent. Good.

  Orion shifted back into his owl and returned to his towel nest. This time when he snuggled into the nest, he closed his eyes and let himself sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Dexter ended up getting the sniffles for two days, but it never manifested into a full-fledged cold, thank goodness. He let the owl go the same day he found him, in the afternoon before he went back to work. The storm was heading west, and it should be clear skies for the next several days. He debated with himself about hanging missing posters or inquiring if someone had lost an elf owl. But in the end, he simply let the owl go. He didn’t have the time or equipment to hold an owl, and there wasn’t an animal shelter nearby.

  Owls were smart, and this one was smarter than most. He was also the strangest raptor Dexter had ever encountered. Far too docile yet he couldn’t be upset about it—he didn’t want the bird to attack him or anything. The owl would find his way home. Dexter dressed for work, remembering the way the owl had stared at him with those big hypnotizing golden eyes. So adorable and fluffy. The owl had rubbed his head against Dexter’s cheek again before launching into the air and then swiftly flying away. The pain of separation was one he was all too familiar with, and he knew it would gradually fade. The owl wasn’t his to hold.

  He grabbed his backpack as his phone pinged with an incoming text. He checked it and smiled.

  Sure you don’t want a ride? Stacey. His closest friend besides Beatrice. She was an adjunct professor specializing in medieval romance.

  Are you still on campus? he replied. It’s nearly seven pm!

  Soooooo?

  He snorted. And you say I don’t have a life.

  You don’t, sweetie.

  He couldn’t argue that. I can take the bus. Don’t put yourself out.

  It’s not putting myself out when it’s for a friend.

  Warmed by her sentiment, Dexter smiled and left his house, locking it up. He trudged to the bus stop and texted back with, I get my car after work.

  I can drive you to your mechanics. She wouldn’t stop insisting.

  Deal. I should get off around eight. Meet at my house.

  She sent a heart with a smiley face emoji.

  He primarily worked the custodial night shift for the university. When his car was on the fritz—which was becoming more frequent—he caught the last bus of the day and the first bus the next day, putting in a solid twelve. Like Stacey observed, he didn’t have much of a life outside the job, so what were a few more hours? And the university frequently needed it. People with lives often wanted to live them.

  He showed his EcoPass to the driver, and she nodded with a smile, his face familiar to her. He nodded back before shuffling to the rear of the bus and sitting on the seat near the window. But he couldn’t manage to squeeze all of himself onto that seat, and part of his body invaded the other one beside him. He sighed. No matter how hard he tried, from his super-healthy diet to his job that required him to be on his feet for hours, he could never shake the weight.

  He looked out the window, not feeling like reading as he often did when he had an hour before arriving at work to look forward to.

  Christmas wasn’t too far away and he needed to decide if he would visit his parents in Indiana or stay in Colorado. He visited them for their anniversary and major holidays, but he had missed Thanksgiving this year. They weren’t too pleased by that, and his father had let him know all about it during their call on his birthday, the Sunday after Thanksgiving weekend.

  He’d always known what a disappointment he was to his parents. They let him know, especially when his younger, perfect brother came along. Athletic, handsome, and more than willing to follow along with his father’s plans, Thomas was the ideal son who made their parents proud. He got a football scholarship to Notre Dame University and majored in business marketing, using those skills to promote their father’s construction business. Thomas didn’t quite get into the majors, but the fact he played football for their parents’ alma mater satisfied them. He was now married with two spoiled children. It didn’t seem to matter that Dexter had applied and received several scholarships that paid for most of his schooling, and that he’d also gone to Notre Dame. If not for his rough freshman year, he might have been valedictorian. He’d majored in English with a minor in History, and his mother called them useless with a dismissive sniff.

  Dexter sighed again and shook his head, blinking back the tears. Stupid to think of such things. But how could he not? Did he really want to return to Indiana only to have Thomas boast and look at him with that insufferable smug smile? Did he really want to hear those snide fat jokes? Or to hear his mother ask once again why he wasn’t married to a nice, quiet woman and given them grandchildren? He couldn’t count how many times he’d reminded her that he was gay. She would just sniff and change the subject, blatantly ignoring him.

  But did he want to spend Christmas, his favorite holiday, alone?

  Thirty-nine years old—no, wait, forty, Jesus—and he was still hoping his parents would accept him. Pathetic and pointl
ess. He cleared his throat and decided to pull out his book after all. It made it easier to forget his anxiety when he had a book to distract him. People hopped on and off the bus. Most were quiet business folk with briefcases and tired eyes. A few were university students in pairs or alone. He recognized some faces, and when anyone sat next to him, he tried to squeeze his body as close to the side as he could.

  He finally arrived at his destination and pulled on the string that indicated a stop was desired. He and five others shuffled off the bus. But before he left, he caught the snickering of two teenage boys.

  “You think he swallows babies to get that fat?”

  “Dude, he’d have to. He’s a moon on his own.”

  “Better make sure his gravity don’t get you.”

  Dexter clenched his jaw. They spoke loud enough for half the bus to hear. He knew they wanted him to hear them. He pretended to ignore them, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He didn’t do confrontations.

  He was glad he’d be getting his car back after work. He exited the bus and took a deep breath, urging his stomach to unclench and his heartbeat to slow. He slung his bag over his shoulder again and trudged to the main facilities office to clock in.

  Only two hours into his shift, and he was radioed to handle a building not on his usual rotation. The custodian for the building went home sick, and Dexter didn’t mind picking it up. It meant overtime, and he was fine with that. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his cleaning abilities. He was damn good at it. It might seem pathetic to most, but he liked his job. He had limited interactions with people, especially strangers, and he was mostly left alone. He texted Stacey to let her know he’d be late.

  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.