Believing in the Traitor
Page 3
Walter felt goose bumps break out on his arms at the aggressive display of protectiveness. While he’d never considered himself attracted to that type of person, he couldn’t deny the allure he felt to this one gargoyle. He found he appreciated the passion.
Still, Walter hadn’t received an answer. “Why?” he pressed. “Is it because I took a bullet for Maelgwn?”
“Because you saved our chieftain is part of it,” Tobias finally admitted. “A bigger aspect, though, is because you were with Bud Wallice and the hunters who kidnapped our people,” he explained. “We need information and Bud isn’t talking, neither is Ryker. Perhaps you could enlighten us.”
Walter felt his blood drain from his face. “So I’m a prisoner. Is that it?” He looked toward Treatise and noticed the gargoyle’s uneasy expression. “I’ll tell you what I know, but it really isn’t much.”
“That is good,” Tobias claimed, straightening from the wall he was leaning against. “And try not to consider yourself a prisoner.” The corner of his mouth curved into a wry smile. “I have a feeling you are different, human. You will understand why we value our privacy.”
Upon hearing the cryptic comment, Walter hurried to reassure the gargoyle. “Well, of course,” he claimed, rubbing his hands over his blanket-covered thighs. “I mean, no people want to be hunted just because they’re different.”
A jaw-cracking yawn overtook him, and Walter rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “All I’ve been doing is sleeping for months and still I feel tired.”
“That’s not much of a surprise,” Treatise commented. “Your muscles are acclimating to being used again.”
Tobias cleared his throat, then stated, “I’m off then. Keep me posted, Treatise.”
“Yes, Sir,” Treatise instantly responded.
Walter watched Tobias turn and leave the room. Awareness slithered through him, realizing he was now alone with Treatise. He didn’t understand his attraction, but he couldn’t deny what he felt. Not to himself, at least. He’d do his damnedest to keep the information from Treatise, though.
“Do you need to use the bathroom before your first massage?” Treatise asked, rising from his chair. “It will help stimulate your muscles, bringing them back to life more quickly.”
Walter focused on Treatise, opening his mouth to refuse the offer. Hell, he was having a hard enough time controlling his dick with the big male so near. If Treatise touched him, he feared he’d lose control of himself.
Except, before Walter could get the words out, he took in the look on Treatise’s face. Expectation, anticipation, excitement? Surely Walter was just seeing what he wanted to see.
Still, Walter hated to disappoint the male. Treatise was just doing his job, right? Not to mention there was one more reason to accept his help.
“The bathroom would be great,” Walter admitted. “If I never have to use this damn bed pan again, I will die a happy man.”
Treatise’s eyes widened. “Damn. I should have thought of that. Do you, uh—” Somehow, the gargoyle’s golden hide took on a pink hue at his neck, showing he blushed. He cleared his throat, then tried again. “Do you have a catheter? I can call Cosmo to remove it. He’s on duty right now.”
Walter quickly shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine,” he hurried to assure. “Doctor Perseus took it out when I woke this morning. Thank the creator for small favors.”
“Then let’s get you to the bathroom,” Treatise stated, stepping closer. “Arms around my neck,” he ordered as he reached for the blanket.
“Wait,” Walter cried, clutching the blanket tight with one hand while holding up his other. “I, uh, I’m not wearing much, um, much of anything.” He felt his face flush. “As in just boxers.” Walter didn’t add that he hated boxers, preferring to have his balls cradled and held in place by cotton.
Treatise just grinned. “I’m wearing a loincloth, Walter,” he pointed out uselessly, since it was a little hard to miss. “Most paranormals don’t have quite the same hang-ups about nudity and modesty as humans.” He shrugged as he reached for him again. “When we start walking outside, you might even see men naked.”
Shocked by that comment, Walter didn’t object again when Treatise eased the blanket down. “Naked? Why?” he couldn’t help but ask as he wrapped his arms around Treatise’s neck. “Is that normal?”
Walter couldn’t imagine running around an estate full of people naked.
Wait!
“Is this a nudist colony?”
Treatise barked a laugh as he carried Walter to the bathroom. “Not at all,” he stated. “But I can see why you’d think that.”
“Then what?” Walter asked, needing something to focus on other than the interesting feel of Treatise’s hide under his palms. He wanted to slide his hands over his skin and revel in the odd differences of the thick mottled skin. The fact that Treatise easily carried him was also impressive, since he stood six foot. Even with losing weight while in a coma, he still figured he had to weigh in around two hundred pounds, but Treatise didn’t seem to have any trouble carrying him across the room, then maneuvering him through the bathroom door.
Impressive.
“There could be a couple of reasons they are nude,” Treatise explained. “Should I place you on the side of the tub or the toilet seat? Put the lid up then set you on the seat? What would be easiest for you?”
Walter couldn’t help but smile at the gargoyle’s suddenly uncomfortable-sounding ramble. Still, he had a valid point. “Um, just let me lift the lid here and place me on the toilet seat, please,” he ordered.
“Right,” Treatise agreed.
Treatise leaned over, allowing Walter to open the toilet lid. He settled Walter on the seat, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you want me to help you with your boxers?”
“No, thank you,” Walter instantly replied. “One way or another, I will handle it.”
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Treatise rumbled soothingly. “I’m here to help.” He waved his hands at Walter’s practically lifeless legs. “And it won’t always be like this. Your muscles are just weak. There’s no reason to try to go this alone.”
Walter felt his face go beet red. At least his embarrassment caused his dick to soften completely.
“I’ve said something wrong. I apologize,” Treatise stated, somehow picking up on Walter’s unease. “Just holler when you’re ready to return to bed.”
“Thank you,” Walter whispered, watching the big male retreat from the bathroom. He found his gaze riveted by the tail swishing back and forth over his loincloth-covered ass cheeks. Eyeing the unfamiliar appendage was almost as interesting as the tight globes hidden by the brown fabric. “Nice.”
Walter noticed Treatise’s gait falter for just an instant. For a few seconds, he feared the gargoyle had heard his whispered word. Fortunately, Treatise pulled the bathroom door closed behind him.
Shaking his head, Walter placed one hand on the lip of the toilet seat. He pushed up, putting just a smidge of space between his ass and the porcelain. With his other hand, he gripped the waist of the boxers and wriggled them down.
He had to switch hands a couple of times, but he managed to get it done. Sweat trickled down his temple as he relaxed onto the toilet seat. After positioning his dick so he’d piss in the bowl, he let his bladder go.
Focusing on breathing slowly, Walter tried to control his racing pulse. He suddenly wished he had the ability to turn the bathroom fan on. His body felt flushed and his skin clammy.
Walter grabbed some toilet paper and used it, then realized there was no way he had the energy to pull his boxers on by himself.
“Shit,” he muttered, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Biting back his pride, he knew what he had to do. “Treatise?”
Instantly, the door opened a crack. “Yeah, Walter?”
“I, um, I need help,” Walter admitted. “I can’t, uh—”
Treatise slippe
Walter bit back his initial knee-jerk reaction to say no. Instead, he thought about how wonderful it would be to feel hot water cascading over his body. He could almost feel the sweat being washed from him.
“Yes, please,” Walter whispered. “I’d love that.”
Treatise smiled and nodded, his green eyes twinkling. “Good choice. You’ll feel better once you’re clean and the heat will help relax those strained arm muscles you’ve been overworking.”
Walter didn’t bother responding as he watched Treatise approach. He left his arms crossed on his lap, hiding his hardening prick. Staring, he found himself fascinated by the ripple of muscles under hide as the gargoyle leaned over and started up the shower’s water.
Chapter Four
Treatise did his best to ignore the fact that his mate was naked, aroused, and seated only a foot away from him. Bathroom be damned, he wanted the human. His own dick strained against his loincloth, and he had to make certain to keep his hips turned just a little to hide it.
Remaining on his best behavior sucked, but Treatise did it. Besides, Walter wasn’t in any condition for fucking. He also didn’t want to scare his human mate by coming on too strong and so out of the blue. First, he needed to expand on whatever Doctor Perseus had explained, because he doubted the doc had told Walter about mates.
Giving himself a mental shake, Treatise checked the temperature, then asked, “How hot do you like it?”
“Let me feel it.”
Treatise straightened and took a step backward, so he could face Walter. He noted the boxers on the floor, still wrapped around his feet. The human also kept his arm positioned across his lap in a vain attempt at modesty.
Kneeling, Treatise lifted Walter’s feet, first one, then the other. He removed the boxers, pushing them aside. He slid his arm under his knees and wrapped his other arm around his back.
With his face inches from Walter’s own, Treatise inhaled the human’s scent as he lifted him. He fought back a groan. The male’s musky base scent tickled his senses, causing a bead of pre-cum to ooze from his prick. Even after losing control such a short time ago, he was still close to the edge.
“Sorry,” Walter muttered. “I know I must stink. I can’t wait to shower.”
Treatise chuckled softly, unable to help himself, as he eased Walter down on the molded chair in the shower stall. “Actually, I find your scent extremely pleasurable, Walter,” he admitted, his need to assure his mate overriding his good sense. Maybe having all the blood in his little head had something to do with it, too. “Gargoyles, like many paranormals, are attracted by smell, not by sight, and you, Walter...” He let his voice trail off as he straightened and took in Walter’s shocked expression.
“Well,” Treatise muttered, turning to the shower’s handles. “Hotter or colder?”
“H-Hotter,” Walter responded almost absently sounding. Then, he added, “Much hotter, please.”
Treatise obeyed, slowly increasing the temperature. Once Walter sighed and muttered, “Perfect,” he released the knob. He grabbed the shampoo, conditioner, soap, and wash cloth, putting them all within easy reach of the man. “Take your time, Walter,” he stated, drawing the curtain closed. “I have all the time in the world.”
Putting the toilet’s lid down, Treatise settled upon it. He took in a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. The scent of cucumber melon reached him, telling him that Walter had opened the shampoo.
“You asked why you might stumble across a naked man outside,” Treatise said, needing to think of something other than his naked mate. “We are not a nudist colony. It could be one of two reasons, actually.”
The sound of scrubbing—probably from washing his hair—paused. “What reasons?”
“Well, first,” Treatise rumbled. “Some of the paranormals here are shifters. Do you know what that means?”
“Uh,” Walter mumbled. “A shifter is a person who shares their soul with an animal. They can change at will and are fully cognizant in that form.”
“Correct.”
“Why would I see them naked?”
Treatise smiled, liking how calm Walter sounded. Even his scent remained aroused instead of uneasy or upset. Finding out about paranormals didn’t seem to be alarming his mate at all. He wondered if that was due to his Native American heritage. Perhaps Walter had been brought up on stories of things other.
“Because for most of them, shifting while wearing clothes would be uncomfortable or destructive,” Treatise explained. “Imagine changing into a wolf when wearing clothes. Awfully binding, don’t you think?” He grinned at the thought of an unhappy canine wearing ill-fitting clothes. “Or a rhino shifter would shred their clothes, bursting the seams and destroying them. So, they get naked first.”
“Wow! A rhino?” Walter murmured, sounding a bit winded. “What’s the other reason?”
Treatise smiled. “It’s one or both of a mated pair and they’re thinking only of the pleasure they find in each other’s embrace as opposed to who might happen to walk by and see.” He heard the gasp of surprise from inside the shower. “If that’s the case, just keep walking. Paranormals might fuck anywhere, but that doesn’t mean they actually want an audience.”
Walter sounded as if he choked.
Smirking, Treatise lowered his gaze to the tiled floor. He had stumbled upon a pair copulating a time or two. While it had been oh-so-tempting to stay and watch, he’d respected their... not privacy, really, but their intimacy.
“So, uh, mated pair,” Walter murmured, probably looking for a subject change. “Is that like a husband and wife?”
Just the opening I need.
“In a way,” Treatise responded. “Because paranormals live so long, Fate grants them a mate.” He hesitated, searching for the right words before adding, “For us, it’s like finding our soul mate... that special someone that completes us. It doesn’t matter if we find that person in a male or female, we will do everything to please them and make them happy.”
Pausing for a moment, Treatise waited for a response. It took longer to come than he thought it would. He almost felt lightheaded from holding his breath.
“S-So, your chieftain doesn’t have a problem with, uh, gay couples?”
Treatise closed his eyes in relief, his heart speeding in his chest. “Actually, Chieftain Maelgwn is mated with the human male, Bobby Truman. They are even expecting their first child.”
“How does a gargoyle adopt a child?” Walter asked. “Or do your kind use surrogates?”
“Uh—” Whoops. Maybe he shouldn’t have dropped that bombshell. “Actually, once a gargoyle and his mate complete their bond, a couple of things happen.” He cleared his throat, trying to find the best order. “Well, first, to complete a bond, male mates will fuck each other, sharing their seed. They will also exchange blood, either in the form of a claiming bite or sometimes if with a human, the paranormal will cut himself and offer his blood.”
Rubbing his hands over his thighs, Treatise glanced toward the shower. He could only guess at what Walter was doing in there. Perhaps he was just sitting, resting, letting the hot water cascade over his naturally bronze skin.
Shaking his head at his distracting thoughts, Treatise continued, “Anyway, once the bond is complete, both parties go through a change. A gargoyle goes through molt, which is a transition that gives him a human form, that way he doesn’t turn to stone during the day.”
“You turn to stone during the day?”
Treatise grimaced, realizing that had been missed as well. “Yes,” he responded bluntly. “When a gargoyle turns into a stone statue during daylight hours, it is our version of REM sleep. We cannot survive without it, even after bonding and gaining a human form.”
“Okay.” Walter drew the word out. “And the human mate? What change does he go through?”
“Well, they go through a few, actually,” Treatise admitted. “First, because paranormals are so long-lived, their aging slows to almost nothing. Their healing speeds up, it’s tougher for them to become sick, and their bones and muscles become stronger.” He paused, gathering his courage, then admitted, “And a human male that is bonded with a gargoyle can become pregnant.”
A thump sounded followed by a thud. The shower curtain was jerked aside to reveal a shocked-looking Walter. The shock turned to panic as he began to topple forward.
Treatise lunged forward. He just managed to catch him around his torso before he cracked his forehead against the wall. Tightening his arm around him, he pulled him up close to his chest.
“Easy,” Treatise soothed. “I didn’t mean to, uh,” he peered down at the human he hoped to make his lover, meeting his gaze. He smiled reassuringly. “Shock the shit out of you, would probably be the appropriate phrase. Hmm?”
“Hell, yeah,” Walter responded. “Your people can impregnate men? Truly?”
Treatise tightened his hold on his human with one arm, holding him in place at the waist. With his other hand, he slid it up his spine. Cupping Treatise’s jaw, he peered into the man’s eyes.
“We can truly impregnate our mates. Yes,” Treatise confirmed. He struggled against his desire to claim Walter’s lips. They were so close. “But birth control is easy enough. A piece of toast, sprinkled liberally with cinnamon, will render any seed infertile.”
“Uh, if you say so,” Walter mumbled, but his eyes were wide as he stared up at him. He blinked once, twice, perhaps trying to focus, for he whispered, “How is that possible?”
Treatise took a chance. He lowered his head and pressed a chaste, close-mouthed kiss to Walter’s lips—barely more than a peck and not nearly enough. Lifting his head, he smiled at the human.
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