Page 13 of The Night Vision
“What in the almighty…?” Silas stared at the ceiling, shaken and severely aroused as another dream about the stream faded.
He had been laying on the sandy bank, his feet in the water and the bright blue sky above them. Silas’s mystery man had swallowed every inch of his cock before riding him. No one had ever ridden Silas that hard. But thebestpart of the dream happenedafterSilas came. His faceless partner dismounted and turned around so he could sit on Silas’s face. Silas happily licked him clean before sucking him off.
Silas whimpered in frustration. “I swear, I can still taste him!” He scrubbed his face with both of his hands, aching and worried that they were running out of time, that he’d be too late. “Fuck!”
He threw the covers back and yanked down the front of his pajama pants. His hard-on sprang free, throbbing in time with his pulse. Eyes closed and mouth watering, Silas went back to the soft, wet warmth ofhisass, remembering how sweet it tasted and the beautiful sounds they made as they got off.
Sex was supposed to be tender and pleasurable and fun but Silas felt possessed and like he had claimed everything he’d touched and tasted in his dreams. Coming alone—withouthim—barely took the edge off and Silas was still frustrated and worried when he stumbled into the shower.
“Rough night, lad?” Merlin asked when Silas stomped into the kitchen, already pouring him a cup of coffee.
“Rough morning,” Nox corrected in a suggestive whisper, grinning at Silas over his cup.
Silas pulled a face, his mood punchy. “Rough morning,” he mimicked before taking a cranky gulp.
Merlin clicked his teeth at Nox. “We shouldn’t give him a hard time. Poor Shelby has had a lot to absorb in just a few weeks and he’s spent far too long with that vision.”
“I’m fine,” Silas muttered. “Where’s Nelson?” he asked and Nox grinned.
“He went into work early. Forensics came back with a banger of a reconstruction late last night and he sent pictures to every field office, ranger station, sheriff’s office, and police department within fifty miles of the Appalachian Trail. He told them to be on the lookout for a missing hiker or outdoorsmen and that he could be injured or in danger. Nelson wants to be there when the calls start coming in so he can run with any strong leads.”
“That’s great!” Silas said, his mood quickly lifting.
He was in higher spirits when they moved to the study. As usual, there wasn’t much for Silas to do so Nox gave him some homework. Silas was reading about the fianna and gallowglasses when they heard the front door open.
“We found him,” Nelson said as he strode into the study, holding up his notepad.
“Are you sure?” Silas asked, setting aside the tome Nox had given him and rising.
Merlin nodded in agreement and Nox raised his brows expectantly. “In less than twenty-four hours? There have to be a lot of hikers matching his description,” Nox said, earning a peeved look from Nelson.
“We had the picture of the reconstruction and Shelby gave us a strong profile to work with. I had four messages by the time I got to the office and they all said it’s the same guy.”
“Brilliant work, you two!” Merlin declared and waved. “Give us the name!”
“Right…,” Nelson checked his pad. “His name is…Tighe Ossor.”
Merlin let out a shocked yelp and Nox swore and shook his head. “An Ossor? He’s definitely our man but that’s…bad.”
“Bad?” Silas asked as Nelson frowned at Nox and Merlin.
“Why is it bad?” Nelson asked warily. “I did a quick background check and there isn’tanythingon a Tighe Ossor. He doesn’t have a criminal record so I looked into the motor vehicle databases and he doesn’t have a license. Or a social security number attached to that name.”
Silas’s neck craned. “How is that possible?” he asked and Nelson pushed out an exasperated breath.
“Three rangers and a volunteer firefighter identified him as Tighe Ossor and described him as a little odd—possibly Amish?—but harmless. Apparently, he’s a bit of a legend on the Trail but he doesn’t exist anywhere else.”
Nox and Merlin traded concerned grimaces before the older man went to the rolling board and picked up a piece of chalk.
“I strongly doubt that he is Amish and it would probably be more accurate to call him Tighe of the Ossors, as it is likely that this lad doesn’t have a surname. They are all called Ossor.”
“No surname?” Nelson frowned as he scribbled in his notepad. “Who are they and what’s an Ossor?” he asked andNox whistled at the board as Merlin wrote and underlinedWerewolves of Ossory.
“The Ossors are a secretive and extremely primitive group,” Nox began. “They keep to themselves in the wilds of Maine and New Hampshire. They live as they did in the old world andno onehas ever seen an active pack of American Ossors. Dad and Clancy took me up to Maine one summer, to see some of the women. They stick together in a few predominantly female communities, scattered around rural Maine and New Hampshire.”
“The men don’t live with the women?” Nelson verified.
“Not until they’re too old to live in the woods with their pack. The boys are sent off into the woods to learn to hunt and fight, as soon as they begin to grow hair on their balls. If they survive and live to be old men, they’re allowed back into the community and to father children,” Nox explained, causing Silas and Nelson to flinch and rear back.
