“Are you okay?”
Mace squeaked upon hearing the deep voice coming from the darkness. Jerking in his seat, he grunted as his arm once again jostled and he automatically tried to catch it. When pain spiked through his wrist, he pulled his arm down and reflexively held it against his chest.
“Who’s there?” Mace called. He hated hearing the slight waver in his voice.
“Hey, easy, cutie,” the deep voice replied. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
A shape appeared from the darkness—a big shape—and moved slowly toward him. The male’s outline firmed up as he drew closer, then paused and leaned up against a tree a few feet from the edge of Mace’s yard. He seemed to be wearing a calf-length trench coat. With the way he lounged, Mace thought maybe the man’s arms were crossed over his chest.
“Are you okay?” the man pressed.
Now that Mace could see the guy, sort of, he felt as if the deep tones of the man’s voice washed over him. Goose bumps broke out on his skin—the good kind—and he fought back a shudder. Nibbling his lip, he tried to come up with an answer that wasn’t an outright lie.
Mace had never been much of a liar, which was why he immediately responded, “Y-Yeah. I’m okay. Just sore.” He held up his casted arm.
“Ouch,” the guy rumbled. “How’d you do that?” he asked. “Skydiving? Trick riding on a bicycle? Mountain climbing?”
Smiling, amused at the ideas, Mace chuckled softly. “Uh, no, no,” he replied. “None of those things.” He scoffed, looking down at himself. “I’m not really athletically inclined.”
“Mmm, let’s see what else I can come up with, then,” the big man said, sounding as if he were truly mulling over the idea. “You stepped in front of a man running down the sidewalk, tripping him, sending you both tumbling,” he rumbled. “You broke your arm, but stopped a mugger.”
Mace snorted, finding himself grinning for the first time in... weeks. Even with that knowledge, he couldn’t stop his snickers. He found his body humming with pleasure at the kind man’s playful niceness.
“Unfortunately, no,” he admitted. “Not even close.”
The man hummed. “Well, you gonna keep me in suspense, cutie? Now my curiosity is piqued.”
Mace realized that was the second time the guy had complimented him. His smile faded as he muttered, “Cutie? You wouldn’t be calling me that if you could actually see me.”
“I have excellent night vision,” the man responded. “I can see you just fine, and I think you’re very cute.”
Unable to help himself, Mace gaped. “Huh?”
A low rumbling chuckle sounded from the big man deep in the shadows. “Oh, cutie,” the man said. “I can see the way your shaggy, light-brown hair falls across your forehead. I think it’s sexy that you hide behind your bangs, because it sets off your honey-brown eyes.”
Mace gaped in disbelief. “What?”
“You still haven’t answered my question, cutie,” the man persisted. “Would it help if I introduced myself? I’m Kort. I enjoy hiking in the woods and helping my friends recreate their gardens, although I have a brown thumb,” he admitted. “They don’t let me actually touch the flowers.” He curved one arm, showing off a large bicep. “But I’m big and strong and great at moving and laying paving stones where they tell me to.”
Smiling at the man’s admission, Mace murmured, “A brown thumb, huh?” He tried not to drool at the impressive curve of muscle on the shadowed arm.
“Definitely.”
Mace snickered. “I’m not much of a gardener either, but at least I don’t kill ‘em,” he murmured. “I stick with perennials.”
Kort grunted. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I can’t work for a few weeks, so maybe you should come by during the day,” Mace offered, surprising himself with his words. “I could show you.”
“Uh, I am sorry, Mace,” Kort replied softly. “I can’t do that. I’m not available during the day.”
“Oh,” Mace mumbled. “Not at all?”
For a long couple of seconds, Kort stayed quiet. His outline remained still and he didn’t make a sound.
Mace shifted on the bench seat, suddenly uncomfortable. He didn’t know why he pressed. Maybe he’d been reading too much into the man’s cutie comments. It wasn’t like he had much experience.
“Uh, never mind,” Mace mumbled.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t love to take you up on that offer, Mace,” Kort rumbled. “It’s just that I really can’t. I’m not... available during the day. I’m—” He heaved a sigh. “Gods, it’s hard to explain.”
“It’s hard to explain that you work long-ass hours?” Mace asked slowly, trying to understand the man’s cryptic words. “What do you do? Lawyer? Attorney? Some kind of executive business man that’s high stress? Is that why you wander these paths at night?”
Mace cocked his head, realizing he’d never actually seen anyone walking the paths this late at night before. He could see several patches of the path through his kitchen window. Hell, it was rare for him to see anyone on the paths at anytime.
“No, I’m here to keep an eye on you, actually,” Kort stated unexpectedly. He heaved a sigh. “I suppose I should have told you from the start, but I didn’t really expect to see you out this late. Your appearance took me by surprise,” he admitted.
“Wait, wait, what?” Mace countered, swinging his leg over so he faced forward. “What are you saying?” He rubbed his cast almost absently, as if by rubbing it he could ease the mild pain tingling through his arm. “You’re out here because of me?”
“I am,” Kort admitted. He pushed away from the tree, revealing just how massive his form truly was. His trench coat billowed around him as he moved sideways a few steps. Then, he lowered his impressive bulk to the ground. “I’m a friend of Wren Cleaver. He’s worried about you and wants to keep you safe.”
“So he sent you to watch over me?” Mace couldn’t believe the audacity of his boss. “Why?”
Kort growled—fucking growled—albeit softly. “Is it so hard to believe that your friends want to make certain your asshole ex doesn’t come back around?” he snapped.
Mace gaped. His heart pounded in his chest. Could he believe this man? He suddenly wished he’d remembered to pick up his phone. In fact, on instinct, he even patted his pocket. While he wasn’t surprised to come up empty—hell, he was wearing a pair of red and green flannel pants—Mace still felt his nerves spike.
A deep sigh echoed through the still air of the darkness. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Kort rumbled. “I’d intended to keep my mouth shut about my friendship with Wren, but I didn’t want to lie to you.” He actually huffed another sigh and, between the sound of scratching and the way his arm moved, Mace guessed he scratched his neck before saying, “I want truth between us. As much as possible, anyway.”
Resting his cast on his thigh, Mace tried to understand that. Huh? Remembering he still clutched his cup of tea, he took a healthy swig. The liquid was now luke-warm, but still tasted good. He rested his mug on top of the hard caster encasing his wrist.
“Um, you’re friends with Wren?” Mace whispered. His skin crawled just a little bit. “D-Does that mean he told you how I got in this situation?”
For some reason that Mace couldn’t put his finger on, he really wished his boss hadn’t told him about Jessup.
“He did.”
So much for that hope.
“Then you already knew I didn’t sky dive and stuff,” Mace muttered. “Why did you ask?”
“You seemed unsettled,” Kort stated, shifting a little on the ground where he sat. “I was hoping humor would relax you.” He scoffed softly. “For a while, it did. I’m sorry my inability to join you in the daylight hours for gardening caused you such tension. If I could, I most certainly would.” Kort’s shadowed head seemed to cock a bit to the side before he added, “I would enjoy spending time with you, Mace. I would like to g
et to know you... and you me.”
Mace nodded slowly. He wished he could see the expression on Kort’s face. Unfortunately, the big man kept carefully in the shadows. Still, he couldn’t help the little bubble of excitement that worked through him at the man’s words. He liked that Kort wanted to spend time with him. Hell, even his dick, which had remained dormant these last few days due to the pain he felt, gave a little twitch.
A hefty yawn hit Mace unawares. He lifted his tea cup before his mouth in a semblance of decorum.
Kort chuckled softly. “Go to bed, Mace,” he ordered softly. “Tomorrow evening, if you wish it, come out here and join me again, and we will chat some more.”
As Mace headed into his home and, after washing up, climbed into bed, he realized he finally had something to look forward to.
Chapter Four
As soon as Mace disappeared into his home, Kort rose from where he sat. He took a few steps deeper into the shadows before grabbing the trunk of a tree and digging in his claws. Climbing swiftly, he easily rose twenty feet into the air. Kort found where a pair of branches grew fairly close together forming a narrow V.
Settling in the crook of the tree limbs, Kort first inhaled deeply. He sighed happily as he enjoyed the lingering scent of his mate on the still evening air. Pressing the heel of his hand to his aching prick, he shook his head, trying to clear it of lust.
Kort had no desire to jack off right there outside Mace’s home, so he tried to ignore the lust burning through his system. It was difficult, as he’d never felt anything like it. While fellow gargoyles had described the intense need to hold, care for, and connect with a newly discovered mate, the description couldn’t do justice to how it actually felt.
Attempting to focus on doing his job, Kort watched first one, then another light in Mace’s home flick on, then off again. Soon, the light in the room he’d figured out was Mace’s bedroom flicked out, leaving the home in darkness save for a low light left on in the kitchen.
Two nights before, when the house had been shrouded in darkness, Kort had crept around the place. He’d been careful not to leave any unexplainable tracks or scratches. He didn’t want to alarm his young mate.
When Mace had exited his home the evening before, Kort had just watched in silence. He’d seen the young human settle on his wooden swinging chair. Mace had positioned a small pillow he’d brought with him behind his back. He’d held a mug of—according to the new scent on the breeze—chamomile tea.
Kort had imagined exiting the forest and settling next to Mace, pulling him onto his lap and cradling him to his chest. Considering how large Kort was and the size of the bench swing, he’d have to hold Mace just for them both to fit comfortably. He certainly wouldn’t mind that one little bit.
I wonder if the swing can hold both of us.
Then, of all things, Mace had pulled out his cellular phone and begun tapping on it.
It had taken Kort a few minutes to recognize what the man was doing. He’d almost snickered when the quiet squeaks, squeals, and whees coming from the machine finally registered. Instead, he’d just grinned in the darkness and watched the human he hoped to woo play Angry Birds.
Mace had sat out there for a good hour and a half. He’d alternated between sipping tea, staring into the woods, and playing his game. Finally, he’d risen and headed back into the house.
Kort had enjoyed watching him. It’d given him time to admire the young male’s shaggy, light-brown hair. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he liked the way it fell around his head. He really did think it brought out the honey flecks in Mace’s dark eyes. Every once in a while, when the screen’s light had shown on his face just right, Kort had been able to make out the glittering color.
So pretty.
Of course, Kort had enjoyed conversing with Mace so much more. He’d managed to ignore the tight lines around the human’s mouth the previous evening. Even the smell of discomfort hadn’t been as heavy on the air. Today, though, when Mace’s arm kept slipping, sending obvious pain through him, Kort had needed to do something.
Doing the only thing he could, Kort had distracted Mace with conversation. It had worked, too. Mace had seemed to settle, interested more in chatting with a stranger than focusing on his pain.
Kort had so wished he’d been able to say yes to his mate’s offer of gardening. He probably would have just watched and listened to the human explain perennials—whatever that meant. Still, Kort knew he couldn’t.
He felt—hoped, really—that he’d salvaged the situation. When Mace had gone inside his home, Kort had thought he’d scented maybe not happy, but relaxed, at least.
A musky scent tickled Kort’s senses. He stiffened and took a deeper whiff. Not recognizing the smell except as being from a male, he moved from his position and pushed to his feet.
Using his wings for balance, Kort crawled on hands and feet from one branch to another. He stuck to the shadows and made his way across the back of the property. Reaching the far side, he paused and searched the darkness for the source of the smell.
Kort spotted the shadow first. It stuck out from the side of a much larger shadow created by some bushes. He followed it to the source and made out the outline of a figure standing beside a tree behind the bushes. While the stranger was indeed standing in the darkness, he didn’t really look like he was hiding. Probably because the house was dark and he didn’t think anyone would be watching for him.
Pulling his phone from the strap over his shoulder, Kort tucked his arm behind a tree trunk. He tapped a button to wake it, then pulled up the text he’d received from Raymond, their clutch’s technical guru, and pulled up the picture of Jessup. Carefully shielding the screen to keep the light from giving away his position, he compared the license photo with the man standing outside his mate’s house.
Growling softly, Kort realized it was a match.
What the hell is he doing here?
Even as Kort thought the question, he knew it was ridiculous. He knew exactly what the bastard was doing there. Anger surging through him, he just caught himself before he clenched his fist... and destroyed his phone.
Kort kept half his attention on Jessup while he tapped out a text message to Einan. He reported that Mace’s ex-boyfriend was standing outside the home. Asking for direction, he waited impatiently for his leader’s advice.
Just as his phone’s screen lit up—good thing he’d turned his phone’s back light all the way down—Kort spotted Jessup reach forward and part the bushes. Seconds later, he pushed through the gap he’d created. Tension thrumming through Kort’s body, he watched as the man crept toward the small home.
Swiftly glancing down at his phone, Kort spotted Einan’s response.
Protect your mate or you’ll never forgive yourself. Treatise is on his way by air. Perseus and Wren by car. I’m calling Detective DeSoto. Keep me posted.
A surge of relief filled Kort. Einan had essentially given him free rein, which he appreciated. Kort knew the silent rule—don’t do anything to jeopardize the secret of paranormals.
Kort returned his focus to Jessup. Seeing the man standing at the sliding door, he tucked his phone back into its holder and began moving toward the house. He paused on the last branch that gave him cover, trying to decide what the man was doing.
Knowing he shouldn’t interfere unless Jessup did something illegal, Kort dug his claws into the wood. He needed something to keep him from flying to the roof of the cottage. From there, it would be so easy to leap down on top of the human, grab his head, and snap his neck.
Kort didn’t think Detective DeSoto would appreciate having to figure out a way to play that off to authorities. The detective had recently mated with the albino alligator shifter Tristan. DeSoto had learned of the silent war the paranormals fought against humans who knew about gargoyles and wanted to capture them for monetary gain... or kill them. They’d discovered it depended on the hunters.
Still, DeSoto frowned on proble
ms that involved dead humans... even if said human was an abusive asshole.
With that thought in mind, Kort waited. As soon as his sensitive ears picked up the soft click of a latch catching, he curled his lip in a snarl. He watched Jessup slowly slide the door open, obviously doing his best to avoid making noise.
Kort glanced down and tapped out a quick message to Einan. Jessup is entering Mace’s house. I’m going in. Leaping from the tree branch, he hit the ground in a sprint.
Reaching Mace’s window, Kort took a quick peek through it. The light was off and he saw no movement inside the room. He lifted his hands to the upper window casing and gave a sharp shove. With a groan and a pop, the old-style locking mechanism gave way.
After opening the window just a couple of inches, Kort flattened himself to the wall. Not wanting to be seen, he resisted the urge to peer through the glass. Instead, he listened.
Kort could hear the nearly silent creak of floorboards as someone, probably Jessup, moved through the home. He narrowed his eyes and tried to visualize where in the home the man could be. It was difficult, since he’d only looked through the windows.
Clenching his hands, Kort heard the squeak of a hinge. It sounded suspiciously close, as if it came from the bedroom door. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard the creak of a floorboard.
His body tensing, Kort tucked his wings around him. He crouched as he tried not to visualize what the man planned to do to his sweet Mace.
Over my dead body!
Kort just managed to stifle a growl.
“Come on, Mace,” Jessup crooned softly. “Time to wake up, sweetheart.”
Gritting his teeth at the endearment, Kort thought quickly. It wasn’t like he could just leap through the window into the room.
“Wh-What are you doing in my house?” Mace squeaked.
“Aww, don’t be that way, darling,” Jessup returned, his tone throaty as if he were trying to be seductive. “I had a long, stressful day. I want to relieve some tension by fucking your tight little hole.”
Kort’s Treasure Page 3