Partners in Deed by Shiloh Hollis

Author:Shiloh, Hollis [Shiloh, Hollis]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Gay & Lesbian, Gay Romance, Paranormal, Fiction, Romance, Lgbt, Werewolves & Shifters, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Spare Words Press
Published: 2015-10-01T07:00:00+00:00

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Apparently it's not possible to die of embarrassment.

The mental health professional who spoke with me made it abundantly clear she was checking to see if there was sexual abuse or assault between myself and my partner — with me as the victim, of course.

"Where are you getting all of this nonsense? I — there's nothing like that!" I sounded scared and full of denial even to my own ears. My hands had begun to tremble. Not much, just a little, but surely it wouldn't get past a trained counselor. I thought of my whole career coming down around my head, and being outed to my family. It was terrifying.

She adjusted her glasses and looked at me severely. "That's not something you should hide, if there's anything like that going on. Sexual abuse is not going to be condoned by this organization."

"I — I'm not. Why do you think that's going on here? I can promise it isn't."

"You're around shifters now. They smell things. When your partner insists on spending the night in the same room as you, and smells extremely sexually frustrated in the morning, and you're reeking of sadness and hurt — add in the fact that one student, a shifter, reported walking past your room last night and hearing weeping. She wasn't sure what if anything to do about it last night, but eventually reported it to a teacher. As well she should. If your partner was attempting to coerce you in some way . . . we need to know. It needs to stop."

Nosy shifters. I didn't realize they sensed so much. Of all the abuse in the world that should be found out and stopped, why did they have to center on me, where there was no abuse at all, just a lot of confused feelings and a closeted relationship?

I took a deep breath, realizing I'd have to spill it all. "We . . . um . . . we've been avoiding having sex, because it might get us outed if anybody here figured it out. We're both in the closet. There have been . . . some issues. Not abuse, but just . . . it's hard. Okay?" I glared at her defiantly. "There's a lot going on. I wasn't crying because of abuse."

I was crying because a certain fucking partner couldn't keep it in his pants for a few days. I had really confused feelings about the whole thing, too — embarrassed about how much I minded, relieved it had mostly been me for him all along, with only the occasional other person once in a while. Possessive, embarrassed, frustrated . . . hurt. He'd said sorry. But it still hurt. It had ruined what might have been nice last night, although it could've still outed us.

I sighed deeply and looked away, drumming my fingers on my legs in an effort to hide their trembling.

She leaned forward, the couch creaking. "We're not in this business to out anybody. You affairs are your own — as long as there's no abuse going on.

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