Acceptance

by Grace R. Duncan

  “Do you have a hospital preference?” the guy asked as they eased the board under him.

  He bit his lip to keep in the scream as they shifted him. No matter how gently or carefully they did, it felt like he was being ripped apart.

  Bastet, let me be doing the right thing, he prayed one more time, then, before he could change his mind, said, “Presby. My… partner. Dr. Miles Grant.”

  Chapter 2

  MILES FLOPPED down on the end of the couch in the tiny break room and rested his head on the back. His eyes closed on their own before he could tell them to. He didn’t have long—maybe twenty, if he was lucky.

  He was seriously regretting taking on so many shifts. But he’d been missing Quincy and needed something to occupy his mind, to distract him. It was ridiculous, he knew that; they’d met twice. But they were mates, destined, and their bond had already started forming. His wolf had been driving him crazy, pushing him to try to find Quincy and mate.

  The problem was, whether he liked it or not, he didn’t doubt for a moment Quincy spoke the truth about why they couldn’t be together yet. He’d talked to Chad and Jamie a little and got the gist of the problems Quincy was having, though Chad wasn’t in good enough shape to do much talking yet. He was still recovering from the change, still learning how to filter sounds and light, still learning how to be a wolf.

  But Miles’s wolf didn’t understand, didn’t give a shit about any of that. In fact, he was pushing Miles to protect Quincy, which was more than a little laughable. He’d been truthful—he wasn’t afraid of a cat—but he had no knowledge whatsoever of the jaguar world. It still killed him that Diana had given him a cat. He’d been ready for his mate to be either male or female; he would have been content with either, even if his family and former pack had other ideas about that. But no, he had to get a different species altogether.

  And a species he didn’t know a damned thing about. He didn’t know how far someone like Quincy’s father would go to get his way. And Miles was a healer, not a fighter. He could fight—all shifters learned how—but that didn’t mean he relished it, so he wasn’t as good as most others.

  He needed to see Quincy again, even for a little while. He could appease his wolf a little, make himself feel a little better, and maybe find some patience to wait more.

  Quincy had sent a few messages since he’d seen his mate last—in the emergency room waiting area two months ago—mostly texts and a couple of e-mails to let Miles know he was still alive and still in hiding. They’d exchanged little bits about each other, but Quincy hadn’t wanted to say a lot lest it was intercepted. It wasn’t much, but at least knowing Quincy was okay helped keep Miles from going completely insane. He’d like to think he’d know if Quincy was killed, but he wasn’t sure how far their thin bond went, for something like that. When he’d asked Chad how Quincy had gotten his contact information since he’d never had a chance to give it, Chad had told Miles not to wonder about it. But Miles knew at least part of what Quincy did and wasn’t worried. He didn’t think for a moment Quincy would use it against him.

  The last two months had been pure hell. He had no idea how Tanner had managed to keep Finley at arm’s length for two years. Granted, they’d been able to date, hang out together, that sort of thing, and he hadn’t so much as glimpsed Quincy in two months.

  So he’d spent most of it working. A few times he’d been told point-blank to go home, that he’d been working too much. Whether he’d liked it or not, they’d been right. He’d been so tired he’d barely been standing. But after getting a few hours’ sleep—filled with some very vivid dreams of Quincy—he’d needed to do something.

  Since he couldn’t go back to work, he decided to do the other thing he was good at: learn. He’d gone down to the Carnegie Library in Oakland and begun reading up on all things Ancient Egypt, starting with Bastet. He had no idea how much of it was accurate to the jaguars and how much was pure myth, but he figured having a basis to start from wouldn’t hurt.

  Miles sighed and sat up again, eyeing the coffee machine in the corner. It was clear he wasn’t going to get any sleep, so he might as well get going the only other way he could. But as he stood and turned to the counter, he got hit with a huge tangle of emotion that wasn’t his. Anger seemed the primary emotion, though there was fear mixed in. And pain. Too much pain.

  Quincy?

  Miles raced out of the room, not thinking about how it would look—not thinking much at all. If Quincy was close, something was very, very wrong.

  Just as he rounded the corner near the ambulance entrance, one of the nurses ran up to meet him. “Dr. Grant! Your pa—”

  “Partner,” Miles interrupted, then stopped himself when the nurse simply blinked at him. He’d never told them about a partner—because he hadn’t actually had one, as far as he knew—but he’d deal with that later. “A friend called me,” he said, thinking quickly.

  “Oh. Okay. They’re bringing him in now.”

  “Thanks. How bad is it?”

  Just then the doors opened and the paramedics pushed Quincy in on a stretcher. He was naked except for a sheet, his normally pale skin way too light. He had long gashes on his chest and stomach, but the rest was covered by the sheet. It looked like the scratches—probably caused by shifter claws, if he was any judge—had already started healing, though plenty more still looked wrong with him.

  Miles had to take a quick breath, then a second as Quincy’s scent hit him hard—the hint of graphite and paper that overlaid a sweetness incongruent to Quincy’s outer personality. Miles had to shove hard on his wolf. He wanted out and wanted to go after whatever or whoever hurt their mate. Not now. We’ll help our mate, but not now.

  With another breath through his mouth, he went into professional mode, falling back on his training and knowledge so he could make sure Quincy healed properly and didn’t raise too many eyebrows in the process.

  IT TOOK quite a bit to reach a point Miles could safely get Quincy alone. Thankfully Quincy had apparently passed out on the way to the hospital. The emotions had all been subconscious, and Miles guessed that was why they’d been so strong. He suspected an awake Quincy wouldn’t let that much out. Miles would love to talk to him, but that would have to wait for now. It was much better for him to be out when they had to treat him, anyway. Painkiller—especially with a shifter metabolism—didn’t do enough.

  They’d had to set both legs, and he’d had to stitch the gashes on Quincy’s chest and around the open gashes on his legs from the breaks. The bruising around Quincy’s ribs told Miles at least six had been broken, and the X-rays—which didn’t normally provide proof of broken ribs—had confirmed it, telling Miles how bad it really was.

  Miles hadn’t liked doing any of it. He knew Quincy’s best bet would be nourishment and shifting, but he couldn’t very well explain that to the nurses and assistants.

  But now Quincy was in one of the treatment rooms, waiting for a bed in the main part of the hospital. Miles was going to be damned if he let Quincy check out in this condition. Quincy would probably be okay on his own, but Miles didn’t think his wolf would let Quincy out of their sight yet. At least with the set legs and stitches, he could pretend Quincy had to stay for the benefit of the rest of the hospital staff, giving him a chance to rest and heal better.

  The problem was, Miles also suspected Quincy had some internal bleeding. He hadn’t said anything to the rest of the staff and had kept it out of Quincy’s chart, not wanting to end up having to actually operate on Quincy. Oh, he’d look normal if they opened him up, but it wasn’t necessary, and Miles didn’t want to take any chances with Quincy in the weakened state he was in.

  Miles pulled the privacy curtain now, pushed the door all the way closed, and prayed no one came in as he approached the side of Quincy’s bed. Deep bruises marred his skin, making Miles’s blood boil. How could someone do this to their own child? He didn’t care who had actually carried it out. The order had been given—and he had no doubt who’d given i
t—and that was enough to make Miles want to punch something. He simply couldn’t understand it, and it was certainly not endearing him to his mate’s species.

  He put a hand gently on Quincy’s shoulder, leaned in, and called to him softly.

  After only two tries, Quincy opened his eyes. He blinked up at Miles, looking adorably confused for a moment. “What—? Where am I?” He blinked once more, then said, “Aww shit.” He went to move, but Miles kept a hand on him.

  “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time. I’m in here now, so we won’t likely be disturbed for a few minutes, but I don’t know how long that’ll last for sure. Do you think you can shift?”

  Quincy looked pensive for a moment, and Miles suspected he was checking with his cat. Quincy nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Why? And… is it safe here?”

  Miles nodded. “If you can do it quickly. I think you’ve got some internal bleeding to go with the ribs, the gashes, and the legs. I can take you into surgery, but—”

  Quincy made a face. “Yeah, no.” He frowned down at his legs. “What about those?”

  Miles nodded. “It’s going to hurt, but I can take them off.”

  Quincy considered it, then shook his head. “No, I don’t think my back paws will break them.” He took a breath and reached for the tie at the back of his neck. Miles hurried to help him, untying and peeling the gown down, then stepped back. Quincy looked up at him. “On the bed?”

  “Unless you want to put weight on those broken legs.”

  With a grimace Quincy nodded. “Right.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and in only a few seconds, Miles was looking at a beautiful solid black jaguar.

  Miles stepped up and tilted his head. “May I touch you?”

  Quincy dipped his head in something of a nod, and Miles gave a few short strokes of the fur at Quincy’s neck. Miles somehow hadn’t expected it to be so soft, but it was. Quincy’s tail twitched, and he blinked a few times, then raised his head. Miles took it as the indication that Quincy wanted to shift, so he stepped back and nodded. A moment later he was looking at the once-more-human-shaped Quincy.

  “Welcome back. How do you feel?”

  “Aside from exhausted, better. I need food, though.”

  Miles nodded. “I don’t doubt it. Listen, are they going to come after you here if I keep you?”

  “Keep me?”

  Miles didn’t answer, just waited.

  Quincy sighed and shook his head. “No. They’ve left their message for now.”

  Miles raised an eyebrow. “Message?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Suffice it to say, they won’t bother me for a while, at least.”

  “Okay. Let me admit you—it’s going to look really weird if I don’t for a couple of days, anyway—and we’ll get you meat and rest.”

  Quincy frowned again but nodded. “Yeah. That’s probably best. Gods, I’m exhausted.” He yawned.

  “Lie back. Let me resettle the leg braces and see about that room.”

  Quincy more flopped than lay back into place, wincing as he did. “Ouch. Note to self: takes more than a couple of shifts to heal broken ribs.”

  Miles chuckled. “I’ll remember that.” He helped Quincy get resettled and readjusted the braces over both legs. It looked like the bones were a lot better, but the gashes were still open enough that the stitches didn’t look out of place yet. Miles covered them with the sheet, helped Quincy with the gown, then looked back up at his mate’s face. “I’m really glad to see you.”

  Seeing Quincy blush—someone normally so serious and aloof—made Miles grin. Quincy narrowed his eyes, but the effect was wasted by a slight smile. “Yeah, well… so not how I planned to see you again.”

  Miles grinned wider. “There are definitely better ways to meet up.” He chuckled when the red on Quincy’s cheeks darkened. “Let me check on your bed. Try to rest.” He leaned in and kissed Quincy’s forehead, smiling to himself at the stunned expression. “Back soon.”

  MILES COULDN’T seem to tear his eyes away from the man in the bed next to him. He had a book in his lap—more on Egyptian gods and goddesses—but he’d barely read more than a few sentences. He was still in too much awe over the fact that the man was his mate. And that said mate was here.

  There were better ways for him to be able to see Quincy again, but if it meant he could hold on to Quincy for at least a couple of days, he’d take it. Not that he wanted Quincy to ever go through that again—he could only imagine how horrible that had been. Of course, after all he’d seen come through the emergency room over the years, he had a very good imagination.

  He shook his head, closed the book, and set it aside, then leaned forward, slipping his hand into Quincy’s. As he ran a thumb over the smooth skin on the back of Quincy’s hand, he thought of all the things he didn’t know about Quincy. It could fill volumes. He had so much he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to do, and that didn’t even count actually mating and claiming.

  That would have to wait, and as much as Miles didn’t like that, he understood why. Until Quincy could get his father to back off, bonding would only cause bigger problems, because once bonded, mates didn’t do well apart. It was why he’d been so nuts when he hadn’t even managed to so much as kiss Quincy yet.

  But they could talk, and once Quincy woke and had food, he planned to do just that.

  As if on cue, Quincy’s eyes opened, and he blinked, then yawned. Blue eyes met his for a long moment, and they just sat there, looking each other over. “We don’t believe in destined mates.”

  Miles nodded, noting that, despite what Quincy said, he hadn’t let go of Miles’s hand. “You said something like that when you came to the ER.”

  “There are legends, stories. But I’ve never met a destined pair.”

  “I suspect it might have something to do with the fact that you’re both solitary and very few in numbers,” Miles said, smiling.

  Quincy chuckled and nodded. “I’m sure that has something to do with it.”

  “Do you feel our bond?”

  Quincy hesitated but nodded again. “Yeah, I do. It’s like a string or… something tying us together.”

  Miles nodded. “Yes, very much so. We have many more destined pairs. Most are opposite-sex couples, but there are a few same-sex.”

  “Are Jamie and Chad destined mates?”

  “Yeah, that was fun to watch.” Miles chuckled again. “Every time they got close to me, Chad about went crazy.”

  “Oh?” Quincy raised his eyebrows.

  “Um, Jamie and I used to, uh, well, we….” Jealousy spiked over their bond, surprising Miles a little.

  “You fucked Jamie?”

  He couldn’t resist a small smile. “A few times, back before he and Chad mated. Only a few… and I never felt anything for him.”

  Quincy blinked at him, but the jealousy eased. “Oh. That was….” He scrunched his eyebrows. “That was weird. My cat did not like hearing about that.”

  “No, I imagine not. If I heard about any of your former, um, acquaintances, I’m sure my wolf would be rather unhappy about it.”

  “Weird.”

  Miles nodded. “I’ll give you that. How are you feeling physically?”

  “Hungry,” Quincy said, making Miles laugh.

  “I can well imagine. I have steak—I hope that’s okay. The wolves tend to default to that when we’re healing.”

  Quince nodded. “That’s a safe bet. Is it cooked?”

  Miles smirked. “I didn’t think the natives would want to see you eating bloody steak.”

  Quincy laughed and sat up. “Yeah, I guess not.”

  Miles retrieved the thermal bag he had on the floor and pulled out the Styrofoam container he’d put inside. “It’s not really hot anymore, but—”

  “I’m not going to care even a little,” Quincy said as Miles set the container on the table and rolled it over to the bed.

  “That’s good.” Miles retrieved a knife and fork and handed them over next. “You can still
order a meal for dinner, but I figured this would help more than the hospital food would anyway.”

  Quincy wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. I’ll force it down.” He smirked. “For you.”

  “Awww, thanks, sweetie.” The wrinkle got worse, making Miles laugh again. “Let me go check on a few things while you eat, update your chart and such.”

  “Shouldn’t you be down in the ER?”

  Miles shook his head. “No. They kicked me out. The ER chief found out you were my partner and called in another doc, then took me off rotation for the next couple of days. Then he told me to get up here and not come back until you were discharged.”

  Quincy smiled. “I think I like your chief.”

  “Well… I’ve been working a lot the last couple of months, so I suppose I’ve earned the time off.”

  Quincy raised his eyebrows. “Working a lot?”

  Miles shrugged one shoulder. “Couldn’t have you.” He leaned over and kissed Quincy’s temple, then stepped back to see his mate looking pensive. “We need to talk.”

  Quincy nodded. “Go take care of what you need to. Let me eat. We can talk later.”

  “All right.” Miles kissed him again and left.

  JUST AS Miles was finishing up at the nurse’s station, he overheard someone say, “Archer?”

  He looked up to see a delivery person with a basket and frowned. “Who?”

  The guy looked at the card again. “Quincy Archer.”

  “That’s my partner.”

  “Oh good. Here you go,” he said, handing the basket over, then taking off before Miles could say anything more.

  The nurse next to him, Sara, raised an eyebrow. “Partner?”

  Miles grinned. “Yeah. Quincy’s my partner.”

  “I didn’t even know you were gay,” she said, shaking her head.

  Miles laughed. “I’m not. I’m bi.”

  “Huh. Well, maybe that’s why.” She shrugged. “Congrats, hon. I’m glad to see you’ve got someone.” She patted his shoulder and peered into the basket. “He have a cat?”