Silver-Tipped Justice(6)

His head still resting against the wall, Tim peered up at him through his lashes. “Do what?”

“Come in my jeans,” Kontra admitted, the smile still firmly in place. “You just smell so fucking fantastic, my mate. I can’t wait to strip these clothes from your body and find out if you taste just as good.”

The blood drained from Tim’s face, and this time, not in a good way. His heart raced for an entirely different reason and he pushed against the solid wall that made up Kontra’s chest. “Put me down,” he snapped harshly, panic giving his voice a hard edge.

Kontra’s dark brows creased, worry filling his expression, but at least he obeyed. “Hey, easy, Tim. What is it? What’s wrong?”

As soon as Kontra released him, Tim slipped sideways into the living room. He put the couch between them and struggled to control the trembling that wanted to consume him. Pictures of himself and Gil surrounded him and tears burned his eyes.

“You—you need to leave,” he murmured, pointing an unsteady hand toward the door. Guilt swamped him, making it hard to speak. How could he lose himself in another man that way, even if it was a sexy shifter who seemed bent on the idea that Tim was his mate?

At his order, Kontra frowned. “Wait a minute. You,” he paused, glancing around the room at the pictures of Tim and his deceased lover. “You’re in a relationship?”

A shocking amount of disbelief and pain filled the whispered words, like they’d been pulled from Kontra against his will. His dark complexion actually paled, making the edges of his tattoos stand out in stark relief against his skin.

Something in Tim made him shake his head. Surely a man that big should never look that hurt and uncertain. “No.”

Kontra looked even more confused, but at least he was no longer pale enough to appear ready to pass out with dread. He waved toward the pictures. “I don’t understand.”

“I was in a relationship,” Tim told him. “Gil passed away from cancer just over six months ago. I’m—I’m still in mourning.”

At that, Kontra straightened his shoulders and seemed to regain some confidence. “I see. So, you just need a few days to—to…”

He stalled, struggling for words. Kontra ran a hand through his long, dark hair. He shook his head.

“Please, please leave. I’m sorry about what happened between us, but I’m not your mate. I can’t be,” Tim blurted.

Kontra’s head jerked back up. “You are my mate, Tim. You’re a shifter. You know we don’t choose them. Fate does,” Kontra continued.

“No,” Tim said, wrapping his arms around his torso. “I’m not a shifter. I might have been raised with them, but I’m not one of you.” He fixed his gaze on Kontra, his body tense, ready to run in case his words angered the huge grizzly.

Kontra cocked his head. “I don’t understand. Your father…”

Tim glared. “I don’t know how you know this about me, and I can’t tell you why I can’t shift. I just can’t. I—” He shook his head hard. “Please, just leave.”

Kontra stared at him for the longest time. Tim fought back a shiver at the man’s intense scrutiny. His brows drew into a deep frown. One moment, Tim was staring at him from across the couch. A second later, Kontra was right in front of him.

The shifter grabbed the back of his head and laid one on him. His tongue slipped between Tim’s lips, demanding a response. Tim whimpered into the kiss, trembling as renewed lust slammed into him.

Kontra drew the kiss to an end, and stepped back. “You are my mate, Tim. There is no mistake in that. I’ll give you some time,” he added, backing away, his boots scuffing on the hardwood floors. “I’ll be back, Tim.”

Seconds later, the front door slammed and Tim knew he was alone, again. He wrapped his arms around his waist and looked around the room. He walked closer to the mantle and rested his hand on it. Staring into Gil’s blue eyes, he cocked his head. Lifting a hand, he touched Gil’s glasscovered face. “Oh, Gil, I miss you.” The cooling cum in his pants made itself known, tugging his groin hairs. He hissed and flushed with embarrassment, though no one was there but him. “What the hell do I do, Gil?”





Chapter Three


Kontra took the six steps leading down from Tim’s home two at a time. Frustration, anger, and fear coursed through him as he strode away from his mate’s home with ground-eating strides. He couldn’t, wouldn’t force the man to accept him. He needed time to think and plan his approach. Somehow, he’d woo his mate.