Page 6 of Honorable Convictions
How could Pierson explain that it wasn’t the sexual act itself but the recipient of the woman’s efforts that was the problem? In his short life, he’d already learned that his memory was proving to be infallible. As the tableau inside that room played through in his mind, Pierson cursed it. Rage rushed through him, softening his hardened dick, and Pierson wasn’t sure who he wanted to hurt, but someone should pay for ruining the moment he found his immortal partner.
The spell that created him had reinforced the idea that there was nothing more glorious than finding a mate. Pierson was lucky—a mere three days after his resurrection and he discovered the one person many shifters and sorcerers died without meeting. But instead of crystallizing into a profound instance that he’d cherish forever, Pierson would carry with him the image of his mate being sexually gratified by another.
For someone grateful to have a second chance, Pierson wondered what he’d done in his previous existence that had led to the cursed one he was experiencing. First, he’d suffered through too many hours of illness to count while the others were enjoying themselves, only to be followed by this harrowing incident. Once he returned to his dorm, Pierson banged the door shut behind him and stood in the middle of the space, trying to control his ragged breathing.
Hands locking into fists, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Please go away,” he whispered to the endless cycle of seeing the gorgeous brown-haired man who’d ruined their initial meeting by getting his cock sucked. Pierson was in disbelief that he’d been so nonchalant about doing it in front of everyone else. Was that what he’d missed while he struggled with his health? Were the last few days an exploratory trip of each other as a group? Until the moment Pierson reacted to his other half, he’d had no concept of sexuality. The knowledge that he now had the answer to the question of who’d attract him was cold comfort to the horrific movie still playing in his head.
∞∞∞
Mitchell was living a nightmare. If he’d stuck to his wants and hadn’t allowed himself to be talked into experimenting, meeting his other half wouldn’t have happened with Trista sucking him off. It was going to take time to forgive himself, but he had to concentrate on how to remedy the situation.
Helplessly hard and with his eyes locked with a gorgeous blond, Mitchell was lost. Once the wooden panel had slammed closed, Mitchell had simultaneously emptied his load into Trista’s mouth while puking over her head. His stomach was roiling, and Mitchell was happy he didn’t have to push her away. When she recoiled as if she were struck, Mitchell’s misery grew.
“What the hell happened?” Wade demanded as he entered the room.
“I’m so sorry,” Mitchell whispered, yanking his pants up.
“It’s okay,” Trista managed; then she got to her feet. “I think we discovered why you were having problems with sexuality.”
Mitchell was on her heels as she rushed into the bathroom. “I really didn’t mean to throw up.” Not positive he could prevent it from happening again, his body was still reacting to the enormity of the situation.
“It’s really fine,” Trista said. Reaching into the shower, she turned on the water. “I think you’ve been putting on a brave face and not letting on how sick you’ve been. It explains why you didn’t have any interest in sex, but hey, at least my theory was right, and we got things working for you.”
“Can I help you?” Mitchell asked. For some inexplicable reason, he was happy no one had figured out yet that the mysterious Pierson was his mate.
“Not unless you want to hop in with me and scrub my back,” Trista replied, whipping off her top.
“I think I’d better go see if the new guy is okay.”
“Yeah, three days of being sick and the first thing he sees is a blowjob. Poor guy is probably wondering if we’ve spent all that time going at it,” Trista remarked. After she pulled off the rest of her clothing, she slipped into the shower. “Wash your hands first, and make sure you clean up the vomit that got on you.”
“Good idea, thanks, Trista. And I really am sorry.”
“I keep telling you it’s okay.”
Mitchell hoped it was, because he had more important things to worry about. His palms were scrubbed; then he quickly slapped water on the dirty parts of his T-shirt and uniform pants. Once he was reasonably cleaned off, he rushed out and ignored the people arguing, though he noted on some level that Darcie was lecturing Wade about not calling Pierson names. They’d been resurrected as a team, and she was not going to allow Wade to speak poorly of anyone.
It was imperative that Mitchell get to Pierson as soon as possible. Jogging down the hallway to the dorm farthest from the dining hall, he drew in a deep breath and knocked with a firm touch. There was no sound or any other kind of response as he allowed a few minutes to tick by. His senses told him Pierson was inside, so he rapped against the wood louder.
“We need to talk.”
“Go away,” a muffled voice demanded.
“Please, Pierson, we need to discuss things.”
“What did I just say?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t care if you rot in the hallway.”
“You must know who I am and since you do, you’re aware of how important it is that we talk about what you saw.”
“I don’t know your name, and I don’t care. I need to think.”
“I’m Mitchell. Mitchell Brooks.”
“Great. Now, Mitchell Brooks, I’d appreciate it if you would go away.”
