Comforting his Restless Stallion

by Charlie Richards

  While Baron heard a snort, a snicker, and a grunt, he didn’t bother looking toward the doorway. Instead, he leaned down and pressed another kiss to Conchlin’s lips, taking his time in teasing his mate’s elongated canines. He finally released his hold on Conchlin.

  Conchlin stared up at him, his green eyes large in his orange face.

  Still smelling the concern, the acrid scent of fear, Baron touched Conchlin’s jaw. “We will get through this, my sweet.” He narrowed his eyes, a low growl escaping him. “Even if that means fleeing this place, falsifying our deaths, and establishing ourselves elsewhere.”

  Conchlin’s jaw sagged open. “Y-You’d do that? You just got here.” He rose to his feet and stared down at him, twisting his fingers in unease. “Nolan and Ariana and Kimmie are here. I don’t want to take you away from them. I—”

  “Conchlin,” Baron cut in while sliding from the bed. Once he’d risen, biting back a wince, he wrapped his arm around his gargoyle’s shoulders as he urged him toward the bathroom. “You are my mate, sweet gargoyle. You come first.” He paused and pecked a kiss to Conchlin’s lips. “Always.”

  As Baron guided his wide-eyed-with-wonder mate into the bathroom, he vowed to remember that when the time came for Conchlin to claim him.

  Baron made a point of leaving a few flakes of cum on both their bodies... just because he knew how pissed it’d make another alpha male who was obviously trying to put a stop to their bonding. As an ex-enforcer, the idea appealed to him. After that, Baron rested his hand on Conchlin’s back and guided him back to the bedroom.

  Spotting the sweatpants on the bed, Baron remembered that he was naked. He honestly hadn’t given it much thought seeing as he’d been nude for... well... since he’d been captured and strung up. Once rescued, the only thing concealing parts of his body had been bandages.

  As Conchlin resettled his loincloth on his body, Baron picked up the clothing. When he held them up, he realized they weren’t actually sweatpants. They probably had been at one time, but someone had cut them off to make shorts.

  Once Baron had eased them on, he discovered they hit mid-thigh. He sure appreciated that they weren’t elastic waist. Instead, they were drawstring, and he tightened them just enough to keep them from sliding over his hip bones.

  Even that irritated his lower back a smidge.

  Dismissing the discomfort, Baron led the way out of his room and swept his gaze over the area, finding himself in a wide hallway. Doctor Perseus was waiting. Once the gargoyle confirmed that no stitches had been popped—even going so far as having Baron loosen his newly donned shorts for him—he cleared him and led him toward the exit.

  Chapter Eight

  Even with the support of Chieftain Maelgwn as well as the presence of Baron, Conchlin’s nerves were shot. He felt as if he was going to tremble right out of his skin. While he might have been interested in seeing his father or brothers again, under certain circumstances, the fact that no one had mentioned that his mother was there was a dead give-away.

  This wasn’t a family get-together.

  And gods! Try to stop my mating? Why would his father do that let alone care?

  Doing his best to draw reassurance from Baron’s hand on his back, Conchlin followed the chieftain and head enforcer toward the front of the estate. The salon was located halfway down the front hall, situated between the front door and the main foyer. The door on the opposite side led to a large mud room, washroom, and beyond that the massive garage.

  “Remember,” Chieftain Maelgwn murmured when they arrived outside the closed door. He rested his hand on Conchlin’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “You are part of my clutch, no matter what these assholes say. I won’t allow anything to happen to you... or your mate.”

  Conchlin nodded, trying to take heart.

  Chieftain Maelgwn returned his nod, then released him and led the way into the salon.

  After a light press to his back from Baron, Conchlin followed. He entered the room and would have frozen if his mate hadn’t been with him. His shifter managed to turn and slip into the room while wrapping his arm around Conchlin’s waist. In the next instant, he found himself urged to the left, which was toward the opposite corner of where the gargoyles from his old clutch were clustered—thank the gods.

  Family or not, Conchlin knew they weren’t there for anything good.

  “What’s going on here,” Chieftain Grecian asked gruffly.

  Conchlin noticed he hadn’t changed a bit. He was still the largest of the males. His black brow ridges were furrowed, and his black eyes stared out of his deep brown features. Even the cold sneer of distaste was familiar.

  The other trio was Conchlin’s father, Creasis, and his brothers, Festian and Kinsey. His father’s eyes were narrowed, and his gaze was stony. Festian, Conchlin’s older brother, wore an expression of smugness as if he was extremely pleased about something. Only Kinsey seemed concerned, and he even offered a slight smile to Conchlin before clearing his features.

  “Who is this male holding my clutch-member? And with his scent all over him?” Chieftain Grecian directed his question at Maelgwn. “Release Conchlin at once.”

  Baron didn’t wait for introductions. He snorted before saying, “I am Baron Vanern, and I have no intention of releasing my mate, for you or anyone.”

  Chieftain Grecian growled, the sound low and mean.

  Conchlin tensed, just managing to keep from hunching his shoulders. He’d heard that growl many times. It was usually followed up with an extremely painful cuff to the head or backhand to the face.

  He was super glad his ex-chieftain was too far away to reach him without crossing the room.

  “Conchlin does not have my permission to mate. Therefore you are not his mate.” Chieftain Grecian returned his scowling gaze to Chieftain Maelgwn. “Thank you for bringing my clutch-member to me. We will take our leave.”

  Grecian even took a couple of steps toward them, Conchlin’s father and brothers at his heels.

  “Hold it right there,” Chieftain Maelgwn ordered, lifting his hand. “That is not why I brought Conchlin here... and Conchlin is not part of your clutch.”

  “He is,” Grecian countered, crossing his arms over his massive torso. “I have no record of his acceptance into your clutch. Until recently, I thought he’d gone rogue or into hiding, a danger to our kind.”

  Conchlin’s jaw sagged open for all of two seconds. Self-righteous anger surged through him, giving him the confidence to shout, “That’s a lie! I left a copy of my acceptance on your desk before leaving.” He peered at Maelgwn. “I did. I truly did. I kept the original for myself because I knew he would destroy it.”

  “You calling me a liar, wingless one?” Grecian practically snarled the words. “Your word isn’t worth shit. You—”

  “How dare you enter my home and insult my people!” Chieftain Maelgwn roared. “Conchlin is not a member of your clutch, and if you persist in this ridiculous attempt at kidnapping one of mine, I will not only report you to the elders, I will declare war on your clutch!”

  Conchlin gaped once more. He hadn’t heard of a war between clutches since he was... hell, since before he was a hatchling. Gargoyles were known for their cooperation if for no other reason than the fact that there were only about two dozen clutches around the world. Their race was far scarcer than any other paranormal. Conchlin had considered maybe that was why they were so long-lived.

  Chieftain Grecian’s growl was low and mean-sounding.

  Maelgwn wasn’t the least bit intimidated, staring him down. Both gargoyle leaders stood at roughly the same height, although Grecian’s seven-foot-two might have had a scant inch. The dark blue gargoyle’s feral, angry expression sent a chill down Conchlin’s spine, however, and it wasn’t even directed at him.

  The presence of Vane in the room now totally made sense to Conchlin. The red gargoyle was larger than both chieftains, standing seven-foot-three, and he didn’t look friendly eve
n when he smiled. His face had an almost skeletal quality to it, with sunken eye sockets and nose bone and extremely thin lips that barely covered his sharp teeth.

  Along with Vane, Second Tobias stood bristling, having taken a threatening step forward. Enforcers Einan and Sapian were also in the room, and they were both impressive male specimens.

  The group was more than a match for Grecian and his enforcers... and the chieftain must have known it. He narrowed his eyes, took a single step backward, and flicked his fingers at Creasis. Conchlin’s father nodded once, then focused on Festian, who still wore that damn annoying smirk, and lifted both brow ridges.

  Festian took a step forward, drawing attention to himself. “As Conchlin’s older, unmated brother, I invoke First Rights to Mate.”

  Conchlin frowned.

  Huh? What the hell is he talking about?

  Evidently, Chieftain Maelgwn was a bit confused, too. He frowned and turned a questioning look toward Second Tobias. The dark green gargoyle was also scowling.

  Oddly enough, it was Vane who stepped close to Maelgwn and muttered something into his ear. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Maelgwn let out a long, low growl.

  His dark eyes glittered as he slowly swept a contemptuous look over Festian. “You are Conchlin’s older brother?” After getting a nod of confirmation from Festian, Maelgwn rumbled, “And you would attempt to steal your brother’s fated mate?”

  Festian curled his lip, then managed to clear it just as quickly. He shrugged his wide, dark orange shoulders negligently. “I don’t believe Fate would offer a wingless one like my brother a mate such as that fine-looking shifter.” He turned a hungry gaze on Baron. “Clearly an alpha personality, what with the way he guided Conchlin when he froze in fear. He needs someone who can keep up with him.” Giving Baron a lascivious smile and wink. “Why are you interested in Connie, huh? Does he suck cock real good or something? I know I could please you more, pretty steed.”

  Baron snarled, his anger flowing off of him in waves. “I’ve only been in your presence two minutes, and I already know you’re a bully,” he declared. “I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten-foot pole even if you were the last man on earth.”

  “You will when I win,” Festian replied, his expression hungry. “Once you give me that obligatory fuck, so I can go through molt, I will have your tight ass every fucking day. I’m gonna watch you swell with my egg over and over, and you’re gonna give me strong hatchlings. I’ll be the envy of—”

  “You’ll never touch my mate!” Conchlin roared, vibrating with rage. He lunged toward his brother, incensed beyond all reason. Never before had he felt such aggression, the need to rip and tear coursing through his veins.

  A thick arm around Conchlin’s middle arrested his forward momentum. He snarled and twisted, attempting to break free. Hearing a grunt from behind him and a deep voice murmuring, “Relax, my mate. He won’t ever touch me. I’m all yours,” finally broke through his haze of rage.

  Conchlin settled, the realization that Baron held him soothed him. That didn’t stop him from glaring ferally at his brother.

  How dare he attempt to steal my mate!

  The bastard.

  Festian just smirked and crossed his arms over his wide torso, flexing his arms to show off his bulging muscles.

  Maelgwn placed his hand on Conchlin’s shoulder, although his attention remained on his antagonist. “Very well,” he rumbled slowly. “My Second Tobias and my Enforcer Einan shall show you to rooms where you can rest.”

  “I don’t need rest,” Festian countered, his smug smile turning into a scowl. “I’m ready to fight Conchlin now. Where’s your arena?”

  While Festian’s belligerent demand caused Maelgwn to growl softly, it sent a chill down Conchlin’s spine. He didn’t understand what was happening. Surely a gargoyle couldn’t try to steal a mate. That made no sense.

  “Our clutch does not have an arena,” Maelgwn told Festian. His expression appeared calculated as he turned his attention to Chieftain Grecian, his smile cold. “I have no need of one. There is no infighting in my clutch.” Grecian hissed at the obvious insult, but Maelgwn didn’t give him a chance to respond. “I will look up specifications to create a proper place to hold this sort of... fight.” He practically snarled that last word. “Once everything has been set up, then I will give you a time for it to take place.”

  “Very well,” Chieftain Grecian replied, casting a scowl on Festian. The look was obvious, telling the gargoyle to shut the fuck up. “But I wish refreshment. We can see our rooms after we are served food.”

  Chieftain Maelgwn exchanged a look with Tobias.

  The second stepped forward. “I’ll show you to the dining hall, but we don’t have servants, so I’ll point out the open buffet when we get there. You can help yourselves to whatever you like.” His words were curt, brokering no argument. He lifted his arm, palm up, and indicated that Grecian should lead the way out of the room.

  “This way,” Enforcer Einan encouraged when it looked as if Grecian would say something else.

  Enforcer Einan tipped his head to Chieftain Maelgwn, then headed out of the room. He held the door open, peering behind him, obviously checking that Chieftain Grecian and his people were following. Once the four gargoyles began moving, Einan released the door and kept going.

  Kinsey caught the door and held it open for the rest of the group, including Second Tobias. He even offered the gargoyle the respect he was due by ducking his head. The second lifted a brow, nodded in acceptance, then held out his arm, urging Kinsey to release the door and get moving.

  Kinsey obeyed, and the door closed.

  Immediately, Maelgwn turned to Vane. “Where did you hear about this First Rights to Mate challenge?” Instead of waiting for an answer, he looked at Sapian and asked, “When is Elder Bodb arriving?”

  Sapian answered first. “Tomorrow, mid-evening. He’s supposed to be roosting at a Denver cathedral, so if he flies swiftly... maybe by midnight.”

  Maelgwn hummed as he turned back to Vane and lifted one brow.

  “I was bored,” Vane told him, shrugging his massive shoulders. “I was reading through old gargoyle laws for a laugh. Most have been updated due to not only modern times, but due to us learning how to best care for our secrecy as a species.” Shaking his head, Vane crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s a law I thought was foolish, the ability to steal a younger gargoyle’s mate, since I didn’t think we could breed unless we bonded with a mate provided by Fate.”

  “We can’t,” Chieftain Maelgwn confirmed. He heaved a sigh and crossed to a sofa, flopping back on it. Blowing out another slow breath, he tipped his head and peered at Vane. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “The last challenge that I could find record of was back in the twelfth century,” Vane revealed. “It was over a female who was cared for equally by two gargoyle brothers. The report stated that while she was leaning toward the younger gargoyle, she was having trouble choosing. The older issued a First Rights to Mate challenge, forcing the brothers to fight over her.”

  “Long before my time,” Maelgwn grumbled, sitting forward.

  “Women are a little different than mating with a man,” Sapian stated. He swept his gaze over first Conchlin, then Baron. “Can you even sit down, yet?”

  Baron, who still stood behind Conchlin with his arms around his torso, moved his arms in a manner that felt like a shrug. “Not so much.” He nuzzled Conchlin’s temple as he murmured, “What about you, sweets? Would you like to sit down?”

  Conchlin immediately shook his head. “I’d like to stay right here in your arms,” he admitted, peering over his shoulder at Baron.

  He didn’t know if it was due to fear of losing his mate, but he didn’t want his shifter to let him go.

  Smelling pleased by Conchlin’s words, Baron hummed and nuzzled his temple, then kissed his way down his neck and across his shoulder. His muttered words, “Fine by me,” were almost to
o garbled to make out.

  A fissure of arousal surged through Conchlin, and his body began to warm with his rising desire.

  “No biting until we get this sorted,” Maelgwn warned, but his voice was warm as if he was pleased by the affection Baron showed Conchlin. “And, Sapian,”—he rested his forearms on his thighs, leaning forward—”what are you talking about?”

  Sapian shrugged. “Hell, it’s a woman. A female. If she’s willing to have unprotected sex with a paranormal, gargoyles included, there’s a chance she could end up pregnant.” He flopped onto a love seat, sprawling to take up most of the space.

  “A woman can get impregnated by a gargoyle, but it doesn’t mean she’ll give him an egg, a male,” Sapian explained, waving his hand absently. “That’s a fifty-fifty thing, ya know?” His smile turned wry. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughter just as much as my son, but having a son carries on our species, our bloodline. It’s damn important.” He pointed at Conchlin and Baron, continuing, “Fate offering her blessing by giving a male mate to a gargoyle, however, that means if the gargoyle convinces his mate to carry his offspring, he’s guaranteed a male.”

  Maelgwn nodded, still frowning. “Okay. I get it, then.”

  Conchlin didn’t. “Then why would my brother try to take my mate? He can’t bond with him, which means he can’t produce offspring.” He grimaced and shivered, remembering Festian’s words about forcing Baron to carry his children. After glancing over his shoulder, seeing Baron’s frowning expression, he returned his focus to his chieftain and the couple other members of the clutch’s inner circle. “What’s the point of this, then?”

  “He’s an asshole?” Vane grumbled, crossing his arms over his massive torso as he leaned against the wall.

  Sapian snorted, nodding. “Most definitely that, but I wonder if he doesn’t actually understand that there’s a difference. Maybe Chieftain Grecian lied to him, or he’s withholding information from him.”