Kort’s Treasure

by Charlie Richards

  Maybe he was worried about his home?

  “Your place is safe.”

  His lips curved at the corners, Mace murmured, “I talked with Detective DeSoto. I understand he’s mated with a shifter who lives here.” He chuckled and added, “There are so many of you around. I never would have guessed.”

  “Anonymity is our ally,” Kort told him, wondering where Mace’s mind was at. Figuring there was no better way to find out than ask, he questioned, “Is there a question in there somewhere?”

  “I just thought—” Mace paused, his brows furrowed. “You mentioned moving in here, but I wondered if you could move in with me instead.” After an instant, he continued, blurting out, “The owner is an older lady and she’s been living with her daughter, and now she’s talking about selling the place. She offered it to me first, changing my contract to rent-to-own and I really love my home and I—” He seemed to run out of steam, snapping his jaw shut with an audible click.

  Kort smiled upon deciphering Mace’s rushed words. “I think we could live at your place most of the time,” he told him. “You have work in town,” he reasoned. “I have work here, but because you live right next to the forest, it will be easy for me to fly here.”

  Seeing Mace’s hopeful look, Kort smiled. He liked being able to ease his mate’s worries. “I will have to check in with my clutch leaders several times a day,” he warned. “There are hunters around and, between them and being a paranormal, I can’t not be in touch.” He shrugged. “Safety in numbers and knowledge and all that.”

  Mace nodded eagerly. “Okay. Thanks.” He smiled, clearly pleased. “I really love my own gardens, my own house.” He cocked his head and added, “I’d love to share my space with you.”

  Kort couldn’t be happier. “We’ll talk to Chieftain Maelgwn about it,” he said, referring to his clutch’s leader.

  Chapter Eleven

  Helping Kort through his molt had been about the scariest thing Mace had ever done. Fear had flooded him just watching it. He sure was glad he never had to experience it. His big, sexy gargoyle had sounded like he’d been in so much pain!

  Kort had told him that his lying on him was helping him, that it dulled the pain. The gargoyle had even said that they’d only recently discovered that being touched by your mate helped ease the pain of molt. Mace thought that was pretty crucial information, because he couldn’t imagine the pain a gargoyle experienced without their mate there. Not if Kort’s clenched jaw, his rigid posture, and the jolts that coursed through his body were any indicator.

  Mace now sat on the bed, watching his big lover examine himself in the mirror. The gargoyle turned this way and that, trying to look at himself from every angle. He even checked out his fingers and toes, then ran his hand over his now tail-less ass.

  Unable to help but smile at Kort’s antics, Mace did a little admiring of his own. While the gargoyle was stunning in his natural form, he found him extremely handsome in his human form, too. His red hide had darkened to a bronze tan and coupled with his high cheek bones, he looked like he was of Native American descent.

  He had wide shoulders and a barrel chest that Mace wanted to run his hands all over. Kort’s chest tapered to a narrow waist with the sexiest six pack abs and V-delineation that pointed to what Mace knew was a massive package hidden beneath his loincloth. His thickly muscled legs led to feet that were perfectly proportioned to his body, just like his toned arms and big hands.

  In a word, Kort was perfect... except for, perhaps, his shock of white hair and lavender eyes. The shortly cropped white hair he sported as a gargoyle remained in human form as did the unusual eye color. It was eye-catching and definitely stood out.

  Either way, Mace knew Kort was so far out of his league it wasn’t funny. A niggle of unease slithered through him. He could think of so many people who’d try to catch this sexy male’s eye. Wren had told him that mates don’t stray, but he hadn’t had the balls to ask Kort about that.

  Is it true?

  Kort finally turned to face Mace. He offered a hesitant smile as he held his arms out from his sides. “Well?” he asked softly. “Do I make an acceptable human?”

  Mace spotted the uncertainty in Kort’s eyes, he just didn’t know from where it stemmed. How could that be? Surely he must know how sexy he looked. Seeing Kort shift from foot to foot, Mace realized he must not.

  Huh.

  Rising from the bed, Mace smiled and crossed to him. He rested his hands on his lover’s chest. Unable to help himself, he rubbed over the firm pecs appreciatively.

  “You look amazing, Kort,” Mace assured him. “You’re stunning as a gargoyle and look just as fantastic as a human.” He held his gaze and grinned. “Your white hair will catch some attention, but you’re so big no one will mess with you.”

  Kort wrapped his arms around Mace’s body, palming his back. He massaged his thumbs into his shoulder blades. Lowering his head, he nuzzled Mace’s neck with his cheek.

  “We don’t recognize aesthetic beauty the way humans do,” Kort revealed before licking a stripe up Mace’s neck, making him shiver at the sensation. “Gargoyles are driven by scent,” he told him. “And you smell so fucking fantastic, Mace. It doesn’t matter what form I’m in. I will always want you.” Kort slid one hand up Mace’s back and cradled his neck as he lifted his head and met his gaze. “Only you, my mate. No other... for either of us.” His words ended on a soft growl.

  Mace wasn’t certain what had given his uncertainty away, but he forced a smile as he warned, “There are plenty of hot humans that are going to hit on you. How do you know you won’t want one of them?” He shrugged. “I know I’m not big and sexy like Wren or flamboyant and sexy like Cornelius or funny and sexy like—”

  “Stop,” Kort ordered.

  Kort slid his hand around Mace’s neck and pressed a thumb to his lips, silencing him. His brows furrowed as his jaw clenched. Even his eyes darkened with obvious displeasure.

  “I don’t know where you got the idea that you’re not cute or handsome or funny or sexy,” Kort rumbled gruffly. “But I’d be happy to kick their asses for you if you just tell me who.”

  Mace snickered and looked away, pulling out of Kort’s grip. “I’m your mate, so you have to say those things,” he mumbled.

  Snorting, Kort replied, “I don’t have to say any damn thing I don’t want to.” He cupped Mace’s jaw and urged him to refocus on him. “I say those things because they are true.” He leaned down and pecked a kiss to his lips before continuing, “I find you sexy and cute and hot and kind and sweet and funny, not to mention understanding and brave.”

  Rolling his eyes, Mace nuzzled into Kort’s hold. “I think that’s the mate pull talking,” he murmured. Peering through his lashes at his lover, he whispered, “Do you really think those things?”

  “I do,” Kort confirmed softly. He lowered his head and nibbled on Mace’s lips, sucking and nipping. When he put a couple of inches between their mouths, he murmured, “And I’ll tell you every day of our lives together until you believe it.”

  Mace opened his mouth, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t sound trite. Then, he remembered what Kort had said the evening before. “Centuries,” he whispered. His brows furrowing, he asked, “Do you really live for centuries?”

  Kort opened his mouth, then focused his gaze on the floor and grimaced. “I apologize,” he said, surprising Mace. “I should have asked if that had been explained to you before we bonded.”

  Suddenly uneasy, Mace took a step backward and wrapped his arms around his torso. “What are you talking about?” Had something been hidden from him? Was this where the too good to be true shoe would drop? “What should have been explained?”

  Taking a step forward, Kort grabbed his hand. He tugged it away from Mace’s body and held it between his own. Giving in to his lover’s urging, he followed him to the bed and sat down next to him.

  Kort wrapped his arm around Mace and pulled him a
gainst him. “You remember I told you I was a three hundred plus year old virgin?”

  Mace nodded. How could he forget? He’d been blown away by that revelation. Three hundred years old and never indulged in sex? Mace wasn’t quite certain he actually believed it.

  “Well, it isn’t out of the realm of possibility for a gargoyle to live a millennia.”

  Gaping, Mace leaned away from him so he could turn and look up at him. “What?” he gasped. “A millennia? As in, a thousand years?”

  Kort nodded once. “Yes.”

  Mace couldn’t seem to find words. That was... that was... holy shit!

  “As my bonded mate, you will live as long as I do, Mace,” Kort murmured. “I should have asked if Wren and Perseus explained that part.” A concerned look furrowing his brows, he nibbled his bottom lip for an instant before saying, “Your life is now linked to mine, Mace.”

  His mind reeling, Mace lifted his right hand and knocked his mouth with his cast. He shook his head at himself and switched hands to rub his face. Being right handed and having a broken right wrist sucked. It hadn’t been the first time he’d smacked himself with the cast and probably wouldn’t be the last.

  “Is faster healing a perk of bonding with you guys, too?” Mace asked softly. “I know I did a lot of freaking out yesterday, but I’m pretty sure I remember Perseus telling me that at some point.”

  “You freaked out?” Kort asked softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

  Kort gently stroked Mace’s back as he pulled him back against his body. A soft, lyrical noise sounded from the gargoyle. At the same time, his chest vibrated pleasantly.

  Mace couldn’t help but snuggle against him. It felt really, really... nice. “Yeah, I freaked out.” He whispered the admission as he settled his cheek on Kort’s chest. “We should make a rule,” he mumbled absently. “No shirts in the bedroom.”

  The pleasant vibrating ceased to be replaced by a rumbling chuckle. “Only if it applies to both of us,” Kort replied. “And, yes, you will heal faster now. How long did the human doctor say you’d need to keep the cast on for?”

  “Six weeks,” Mace admitted, grimacing. He slipped the fingertips of his left hand under the edge of the cast and rubbed the skin on the back of his right hand. “Damn thing itches.”

  Kort released him and rose from the bed. He grabbed a bottle of lotion from the nightstand, squirted a dab on his fingertips, then returned the bottle to its place. Gripping Mace’s cast, he slipped his own fingers underneath as far as he could and rubbed the lotion into his skin.

  Immediately, Mace felt relief, and he smiled at his lover in thanks.

  “Yes,” Kort confirmed. “You will heal faster. Over twice as fast as you normally would,” he explained. “So between two and three weeks and we’ll be able to get this off of you.”

  Mace barked a laugh. “Wow. That’s amazing.” When Kort pulled away, he grabbed his lover’s hand with his good one. “Thanks, and I’m sorry I pulled away for a few seconds there. I, uh—” He paused and felt his cheeks heat. “I’m not used to good things happening to me.”

  “We’ll have to change that,” Kort vowed, leaning down and settling his lips over Mace’s.

  Opening instantly to his lover, Mace felt Kort’s tongue slide into his mouth.

  A pounding knock caused Mace to tense.

  Kort ended the kiss, then pecked one more butterfly kiss to his lips. “Let’s go see who that is,” he said, urging Mace to his feet.

  Mace had only followed his lover a few steps when he glanced down at the sweats he wore, then at the loincloth Kort wore. “Uh, shouldn’t you put on clothes?”

  Glancing over his shoulder at him, Kort stated, “What do you mean? I’m wearing a loincloth, just like always.”

  “Uh—”

  Mace could think up nothing to counter that logic. Hell, gargoyles wandered around their estate in nothing but loincloths all the time. Why should Kort do any different just because he was in human form?

  Kort chuckled as he reached the outer door. “I get your discomfort,” he said, smiling at him. “But you should see shifters. They strip in front of just about anyone.” He winked. “Don’t want to get caught in their clothing when they shift into animal form.”

  “Still haven’t seen that, yet,” Mace admitted, mumbling the words.

  “You will,” Kort assured. Then, he turned his focus on the door and opened it. “Collin, Tristan,” he greeted, swinging the door open wider as he stepped backward and invited them inside the suite.

  Mace leaned against the arm of a large, reclining chair as he watched a pair of men enter. The first he recognized from his short stay at the hospital as Detective DeSoto. The second was a shorter, wiry male with pale skin that offset his light-brown hair.

  “Mace,” Detective DeSoto greeted with a nod. “Good to see you up and around.”

  Giving the detective a smile, Mace murmured, “Thank you, Detective.”

  “Call me Collin,” the detective responded, smiling. “This is my mate, Tristan,” he added, nodding toward the smaller male. “I just came by to give you an update on Jessup.” He settled on a sofa, Tristan easing down next to him. “Are you up to that?”

  “Uh, sure,” Mace responded. He tucked his arm closer against his chest instinctively. “Did you find him?”

  “When did you talk to Collin, Mace?” Kort asked, crossing the room to Mace’s side. He settled into the chair, then pulled Mace onto his lap. “I know Wren and Perseus boarded up the window... along with Treatise’s help,” he added, naming a gargoyle Mace remembered getting congratulations from in the dining hall.

  “Yesterday,” Mace admitted, looking down at his hands. “Wow, was it really just a day and a half ago that you burst through my window?” He scoffed and shook his head as he tipped his head back and met Kort’s dark-eyed gaze. “Kind of a lot has happened since then, huh?”

  “I suppose it has,” Kort agreed, smiling back at him. “A lot I’m happy about.”

  “Congrats on your mating,” Tristan commented, cutting into their moment. He waved his fingers and stated, “It’s a good look for you, Kort.”

  Kort grinned widely. “Thanks.”

  “Right, right, mazel tov,” Collin stated. “Anyway, we took a few fingerprints for the record, proving that Jessup was in your place and that he broke your restraining order,” he told him. “Unfortunately, Jessup is in the wind. We have an APB out on him, so we’re hoping he’ll turn up soon.”

  “In the wind?” Kort asked gruffly. “That means he’s not in custody, right?”

  “Afraid so,” Collin confirmed. “But we’ll find him.”

  Somehow, Collin managed to scowl and look reassuring all at the same time. Maybe it was a cop thing.

  “In the meantime,” Collin continued. “You should stick around here.” He offered him a smile and a wink, adding, “I’m sure Kort would enjoy holing up with you for a few days while we track the fucker down.”

  Tristan grinned widely, sliding his hand along Collin’s inner thigh. “Hmm, maybe once Jessup is tossed in the clink, you and I should hole up for a few days, Detective.”

  When Tristan’s wandering hand slid up and up, the detective grabbed it and growled. He turned his attention on the man, frowning at him. “Behave, or I will get out the handcuffs.”

  As Tristan narrowed his pale brown eyes and whispered, “Promises, promises,” Mace felt his face flush. Looking up at his sexy gargoyle, he wondered if he’d be amenable to being tied to the bed. That’d definitely be a fun way to spend a few days...

  Chapter Twelve

  “You have a lovely home, Mace,” Kort stated, looking around the living room.

  Kort hadn’t really seen the inside before... and certainly not in the daylight. Peeking through the window hadn’t given him much of an idea of décor. His lover’s home was done in warm earth tones, and he used nature pictures and—of all things—a few old farm implements as
accent pieces. There was even a winter scene painted on a circular saw blade hanging to the left of Mace’s entertainment center.

  Stopping in front of a small collection of pictures on a roll top desk tucked out of the way, he glanced over them. He looked around and realized these were the only pictures of people in the place. Focusing on them again, he saw what appeared to be a younger Mace surrounded by family members. There were two brothers—one older and one younger, from the look of it—as well as his parents.

  Kort cocked his head as he stared at them. In one picture, Mace stood between his two brothers, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. There was a lake in the background and all three of them wore swim trunks. Mace peered at the camera with a smile so big and happiness shown from his eyes. He appeared around twelve, the older boy had to be three or four years older. The younger child was probably about that same age gap, too.

  “Is this your family?”

  When Kort didn’t hear Mace respond right away, he turned and looked for him. He spotted his lover standing at the end of the little hallway. He held a small, old-fashioned, suitcase-like satchel with his good hand as he kept his cast pressed to his chest.

  While Kort hadn’t known his sweet human long, he did recognize his stance as defensive, uncertain. Holding out his hand, he beckoned Mace with his fingers. To his relief, his lover lowered his bag to the floor and crossed to him.

  Kort wrapped his arm around Mace’s shoulders, tucking him against his side. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he rumbled, bowing his neck so he could kiss the top of Mace’s head. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

  Mace rested his head against his chest, shaking it against the t-shirt Kort wore. “It’s not that,” he told him. “Parson, my older brother—” He paused and sighed. “He caught me making out with a guy and, well, my family is ultra, old-school religious.” He shrugged, the move jabbing into Kort’s under arm. “You can imagine that it didn’t go over well.”