Into the Paranormal World: Putting your faith in the unknown can be terrifying, but the rewards can far outweigh the fears.
Kort is a gargoyle and known as the friendly playboy of the clutch, while nothing could be further from the truth. As much as he flirts with almost every available male that enters the gargoyle’s estate, he’s never taken any to his bed. Kort is waiting, just as he has been for over three hundred years. After watching a number of his buddies be blessed with their mates, he has faith that Fate will soon reveal his own other half.
When Kort smells something wonderful on the clothes of a fellow gargoyle’s mate, he is quick to question the human. He suspects the other man has been in contact with his mate. Learning that the owner of the scent, a human named Mace Capston, was just in the emergency room, Kort locates the human’s home and takes up a vigil. He waits impatiently for his opportunity to speak to the human. The first time he has a conversation with the injured man, however short and in the darkness, leaves Kort eager for more.
When Mace’s attacker returns, Kort whisks the cute human to safety... too bad his mate passes out from fear in the process. Can Kort convince Mace that the creature from the dark is not the real monster?
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Kort’s Treasure
Copyright © 2015 Charlie Richards
ISBN: 978-1-4874-0441-3
Cover art by Carmen Waters
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Kort’s Treasure
A Paranormal’s Love: Book Thirteen
By
Charlie Richards
Dedication
To the runaway muse—it’s the fuel that keeps the train rumbling steadily down the tracks.
Chapter One
Mace Capston felt shards of pain shoot up his right arm and fought back a whimper. Biting his lip, he met the gaze of the nurse. “Right there,” he managed to gasp out.
Nurse Lowman offered him a commiserating smile. “I’m sorry, Mister Capston,” she said. “I really do recommend an X-ray. I think it’s broken.”
Grimacing, Mace sighed. So much for the optimistic idea that his wrist was just sprained. “Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s get this over with.”
As Mace allowed the nurse to help him slide off the bed, then followed her down the hospital’s hallway, he realized he’d been kidding himself. He’d had broken bones before. It had been a few years, but there really was no mistaking the sensation. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it.
Who wanted to admit that his boyfriend—ex-boyfriend now—would grab his arm in a tight enough hold to break it?
Mace sure as hell didn’t. Too bad that had been what happened. Just something to add to all the other aches and pains the man had caused.
Jessup Santiago.
When Mace had first seen the man at the gym, he’d admired his strong arms, his broad shoulders and back, and his thick legs. His short blond hair and roguish good looks had certainly not been missed. The thing is, Jessup knew it, too. It was clear in every sly look and the tilt of his full lips that he knew people, both men and women, were looking at him.
Mace had just about fallen off the treadmill he’d been walking on when Jessup had approached him. When the handsome man had greeted him with a hey, Mace had immediately replied, “I’m almost done, but I can get off now if you need it.”
Jessup had winked and replied huskily, “Oh, I’d like to get off with you, sweetie, but here might not be the best place for that.”
As Mace had gaped at the man, Jessup had continued to talk, asking him out on a date. Somehow, Mace had gotten his tongue to work well enough so he could answer. They’d gone out to dinner and Jessup had been attentive and charming. When he’d dropped Mace off at home, he’d asked him out on a second date.
By the third date, Mace had been completely charmed by the man. After the fourth date, he’d given him his virginity. He couldn’t say it had rocked his world or anything, but it had been enjoyable enough.
That had been three weeks ago.
It had taken Mace less than a week after their first sexual experience to realize he didn’t want to be dating Jessup anymore. When the man didn’t get his way, he got mean...and physical.
The first time Mace had needed to hide bruises had been the morning after they’d first had sex. He hadn’t thought anything about the painful bruising around his wrists. He’d just thought Jessup liked the idea of pinning him down. It hadn’t taken long for Mace to realize differently.
“I need you to do your best to lay your arm flat,” Nurse Lowman urged. She gripped his upper arm and hand as she gently tried to help him place his arm just so. “Can you do that?”
Mace cried out as agonizing spikes rolled up his arm. Black spots clouded his vision. He felt his body sway as he struggled to take a deep breath.
“Easy, easy,” Nurse Lowman crooned. She rubbed his back, probably trying to soothe him. “Sorry. Here, sit,” she urged, pushing him back into a seat that came from somewhere. “Put your head between your knees.”
Doing as the nurse ordered, Mace tucked his right arm to his chest and bent over. He focused on the simple effort of drawing in one breath after another. It felt like forever, but finally his vision began to clear and he no longer felt every pulse of his blood through his arm.
“O-Okay,” Mace whispered. He never had been very good with pain. It sucked all the more that he’d ended up with an asshole who seemed to relish in dishing it out. He should have known Jessup was too good to be true.
Nice, hot guys don’t go for pudgy, wallflowers like me.
“I-I’m ready to try again. Just, um, don’t pull. K?”
Nurse Lowman gave him a kind smile. “Sorry about that. Why don’t you grab the side of the table there for support, then you can lean over,” she urged. “That way we can get your arm flat without twisting your wrist at all.”
Mace nodded. Doing as she said, he grabbed the side of the table. He kept his breathing slow and deep as he held out his arm. Leaning over, he used the tilt of his body to get his wrist in the correct position.
“Just hold still right there,” the nurse encouraged as she draped a heavy pad over his lap. “As still as can be.”
Nodding again, Mace asked, “How long until I know how bad it is? How long will it take to heal?” He watched as the machine whirred.
“That really depends on the break, Mister Capston,” the nurse told him, offering him another sympathetic smile. “It could be as few as six weeks or as many as twelve. That’s just if it’s a broken bone.” After refocusing on the machine, she added, “If tendons, ligaments, or muscles have been damaged, there could be physica
l therapy after that.” She paused, then ordered, “Okay, go ahead and sit up.”
Mace did as he was told, again. As he watched the nurse take the lead-filled pad, then do something else with the machine, his mind drifted. Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he followed orders too readily.
Heaven help him, it’d been brow-beaten into him by his parents often enough. His own desire to give instruction always had to be pushed to the back burner. Maybe he should start putting his own needs first. Except, standing at five foot eight and attracted to men a hell of a lot bigger than himself, who would want to submit to him?
“Okay,” Nurse Lowman said. “Let’s get you back to the waiting room.” She stopped before him and offered her hand. “It shouldn’t take long to get these X-rays printed up.”
Mace ignored it in favor of tucking his arm back against his chest. He gripped the side of the chair with his other arm and pushed to his feet. Giving her a wan smile, he tried to control the slight swimming sensation of his senses.
After giving him a concerned look, the nurse turned away and headed out of the room.
Following slowly, Mace focused on taking one step at a time. As he did so, he tried to pay attention to what the nurse was saying. Still, it wasn’t until she said there was an officer waiting to see him that he focused on her words.
“Wh-What did you say?” Mace whispered. “Who’s here?”
“Detective Collin DeSoto,” Nurse Lowman replied, leading him back into the exam room he’d been in earlier. As she waved Mace back to the bed, she continued, “You did say the guy you were dating did this to you when you said you wanted to stop seeing him.”
Mace grimaced. Shit. He had said that. “Great,” he muttered. “Just what I need.”
Nurse Lowman frowned down at him. “Now, Mister Capston, there are too many assholes in the world. If someone is hurting you, and he’s not stopped, think about who he could hurt in the future.” She placed her hands on her ample hips and shook her head. “If he’s willing to break your arm just for not wanting to see him anymore, what’s he going to be willing to do to the next guy?”
Fighting back a sigh, Mace nodded. He’d seen the police shows where wives wouldn’t leave or press charges against her husband. At the time, he hadn’t understood it. He’d certainly never thought it would be him.
With the nurse’s words ringing in his ears, Mace nodded, again. “Yeah, I get it,” he whispered. His face flushed hot as embarrassment flooded him. “I-I’ll press charges.”
“Good.” Nurse Lowman smiled widely, clearly pleased with his words. “Now, there isn’t a next of kin or emergency contact on your file. I don’t think you’re going to be able to drive home while in such pain and with your arm in a sling or a cast, so who should I call for you?” She smiled brightly at him, her pen poised over the clipboard she held.
Mace opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His words stuck in his throat. Who should he say? He didn’t have anyone... not since his family had disowned him a couple of years before when he came out.
Okay, so I didn’t actually come out. My brother, Parson, caught me kissing another guy in my own damn rented cottage. Damn him for not bothering to knock and just using his key to walk inside.
Unfortunately, Mace had seen his life go up in flames. Well, his family life anyway. His brother had immediately clocked him upside the head, called him an abomination, and left. Mace had received a phone call from his father not thirty minutes later telling him never to call and never to contact any of his siblings.
Mace had obeyed... for a few months, anyway. He’d been too afraid not to. His father, Rogan, had always ruled their family with an iron fist. It was his way or the highway. Mace and his two brothers had always towed the line. By the time Mace had tried to contact his younger brother, Andre, it’d been too late. His brother’s cell number had not only been changed, but he’d changed schools, too. Mace didn’t know if that was Andre’s doing or his parent’s influence over him. Andre had still been in high school at the time, after all.
“Mister Capston?”
The nurse’s voice drew Mace’s attention. He swallowed hard as he drew his brows together worriedly. He didn’t have any family, so... wait, family?
“Wren Cleaver,” Mace whispered.
Nurse Lowman scribbled the name on her paperwork, then glanced up and asked, “Do you know Mister Cleaver’s number?”
Mace started to shake his head, then said, “You can reach him at Goldy’s Burgers and Bites. He’s the owner and he’s always there.” After nibbling his lip, he admitted. “Wren is my boss.”
The nurse paused in her scribbling. She looked up at him, her brows drawn together. “Your boss? Don’t you have—”
Irritated and in pain, Mace scoffed, cutting her off. “Family? Don’t I have family? No,” he snapped. Lowering his gaze to his pain-filled arm, he felt his cheeks flush. “My family disowned me when they found out I’m gay. My coworkers are my family now.”
From the corner of his eyes, Mace saw Nurse Lowman’s pinched lips and understanding nod. “I see. I’ll go give Mister Cleaver a call while we wait for your X-rays to develop.”
“Thank you,” Mace whispered.
Nurse Lowman patted him on the shoulder. It reminded him of what his father would do. As the nurse disappeared out of the door, Mace thought about his family. If his mother had been there, she would have been doting over him, offering him a pillow to rest his arm or to shove behind his back. Hell, she probably would have smuggled in his favorite ice cream, too—mint-chocolate chip.
If she’d had the time, anyway. She spent most of her days working with his father’s charities, being the supportive wife. All that time with his plans seemed to make it hard for her to fulfill the role of mother, too.
Still, what he wouldn’t do for a little mint-chocolate chip right now. The tasty treat made any problem seem smaller, easier to handle. His love for the iced treat was also the reason he’d started going to the gym.
He’d wanted to get rid of his jellyroll, belly fat so he could get a date.
Well, that plan had backfired.
Give me ice cream over a psychotic boyfriend any day.
“When I get out of here, I’m getting myself a tub of mint-chocolate chip,” he mumbled.
“That wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” a man said as he entered the room. Of average height and build with medium brown hair and eyes, the guy—doctor, according to his badge—was pretty much average. He smiled at Mace. “Not only will you be able to use the pint as an ice pack, but it will taste delicious, too.”
Grimacing, Mace hazarded, “Not good news?”
The doctor patted him on the shoulder lightly, probably trying to console him. “I’m afraid not.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Mace listened as the doctor described the cracks in his radius and ulna bones. He explained how he’d have to have a hand to nearly shoulder cast for the next eight weeks. Then, he’d have to have new X-rays to ascertain how he was healing.
Hearing Wren’s deep tones in the hallway, he turned his head in that direction. Unfortunately, that jerked his shoulder, which moved his arm, which caused pain to radiate through him. Grunting, he sucked in a harsh breath.
“Ah, Mace,” Wren rumbled as the big bear of a man paused in the doorway. “Damn it, man. Why didn’t you ask for help before?”
As Wren closed in on him, his bearded expression showing his concern, Mace realized he really did have family. He had the best kind of family possible... people who chose to care for him... no matter what.
When Wren took over and made plans to take him home, Mace didn’t mind one bit.
Chapter Two
Kort stretched his arms over his head. Arching his back, he felt the nice pull of his muscles waking up after a long roost. As an unmated gargoyle, Kort slept in the form of a living stone statue during daylight hours. Summer days were long, making him appreciate every minute of the evening.
Still, Kort took a moment to appreciate the colorful streaks radiating up from the western horizon. He smiled, his hands on his hips, as he stared. In his mind, it was the simple things that made life worth living—food, family, and waking up each day with a new opportunity to meet his mate.
Over the past couple of years, Kort’s hope had been bolstered by watching a number of his clutch-mates find their other halves and bond with them. For almost a decade, no one in their clutch had found a mate. Then, Chieftain Maelgwn had headed north to help a friend and had ended up staying for a few weeks to woo his mate. Like ripples in a pond, many others of their kind had stumbled across their special someone. Fate seemed to be smiling down on their clutch.
Just like every morning before, Kort sent up a silent prayer that his time would be soon.
Feeling his stomach grumble, Kort pulled his gaze away from the view. The last brilliant colors were about to fade anyway. Kort knew that soon he’d only be able to see the tree line due to the soft lighting amidst the garden’s hedges.
Spreading his wings, Kort glided down to his patio. He pushed open the French doors, leaving them open to the evening air. Instead, he drew a gauzy curtain across the space, knowing it would keep out most of the bugs, but still let in the heady scent of the nearby gardens. Kort loved the smell of flowers, not that he knew the names of most of them.
He had discovered he had a brown thumb. The couple of gargoyles that tended the gardens kept him away from the beds. He often helped move the paving stones around, though, when they decided to change the garden’s configuration.
Heading into his bathroom, Kort took a piss, showered, and brushed his teeth. He grabbed a clean loincloth from his dresser and tied it into place. Then, he hustled out of his room in favor of searching for some food.
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