“Uh, wow,” Sumak whispered. “Never seen the doc so upset.”
Grateman glared at the smaller gargoyle. “Never seen him that upset? He’s the one insulting my mate.”
Sumak set the tray down on the bed, then placed his hands on his hips. “Look, you’ve been spending just about every waking moment in here,” he pointed out, his tone placating. “You haven’t heard the comments, the opinions, the others giving Perseus shit for taking care of the hunters. Maelgwn’s orders or not, he’s under a lot of stress.”
Grimacing, Grateman didn’t want to feel bad for Perseus. Unfortunately, he did. In fact, now he even wanted to apologize. Grateman nodded.
“Thanks for telling me,” Grateman mumbled, then he scowled. “And all that animosity is going to be directed at Jeremiah the second he gets out of here.”
“Not everyone is upset,” Sumak offered.
Grateman nodded. “Thanks again, Sumak.”
“Can I meet your man, then?”
Rolling his eyes at Sumak’s hopeful expression, Grateman shook his head. “You just want to see him naked.”
Grinning widely, Sumak didn’t even bother trying to deny his claim. “I haven’t had sex in a while. I just want a little eye candy.”
“Get out of here,” Grateman growled, taking a swipe at the smaller male.
Sumak laughed as he danced out of reach, then left the room.
Grateman turned back to the bathroom door and tapped lightly. “Jer, you ready for that shower?”
“Yeah,” Jeremiah responded, his voice so quiet it barely came through the door.
When Grateman pushed the door open, he smiled at the sight of Jeremiah seated on the toilet. He had his head tipped back and his eyes were closed. While his knees were splayed, he had his forearm across his lap, hiding his crotch. His chest rose and fell slowly, as if he dozed.
“Hey,” Grateman rumbled. “You have enough energy for that shower?” he asked, closing the distance.
“They’re right, ya know,” Jeremiah stated, not answering his question. “Your people will not accept me.”
“They will,” Grateman countered. He knelt before Jeremiah, resting one hand on his knee. “It will just take time.” Rubbing the warm flesh under his palm, he added, “But they’re not the only one who needs to come around.”
Jeremiah pried open one eye and gave him a tired look. “What does it mean that I’m your mate?” he murmured. Grateman knew he hadn’t kept the surprise off his face when Jeremiah admitted, “Ya’ll were a bit loud. I heard the whole thing.”
Grateman had hoped he’d have more time allowing the man to get to know him before having this conversation, but wasn’t about to lie to his human. “You’re fading fast, Jer,” he murmured. “Let’s get you on the seat in the tub and cleaned up.”
“Stalling?” Jeremiah murmured even as he struggled to straighten. “Does it mean you own me or something?”
Scoffing, Grateman shook his head. “No,” he assured. “Quite the opposite, actually.” He rose to his feet and leaned over to start the shower. “Come on.”
Grateman turned back to Jeremiah, slipping an arm around him. Helping him to his feet, he supported most of his weight. With his other hand, he gently gripped first one calf, then the other, moving Jeremiah’s legs into the tub. During the process, his mate kept one hand in front of his groin.
Once Grateman had Jeremiah settled, he adjusted the shower head to the side, then moved the chair under the spray. “Tip your head back,” he urged, picking up the bottle of shampoo. “I’m going to wash your hair.”
“I can do it,” Jeremiah mumbled.
Grateman chuckled. “You can barely hold your arms up, handsome,” he stated, pushing the man’s hand aside. “Now, a mate to a paranormal is their special someone, their soul mate. Most paranormals live a long time,” he explained, ignoring the stricken look on Jeremiah’s face. Instead, he sank his fingers into Jeremiah’s thick hair and began massaging in the shampoo. “I’m over six hundred years old, Jeremiah. A gargoyle will often live upward of a couple thousand years, while shifters and vampires can live around five hundred years. It’s a long time to be alone.”
“Holy shit,” Jeremiah whispered. “Is that why sometimes ya’ll go feral?” he asked. “Is it because you are alone?”
“Go feral?” Grateman repeated softly. “What do you mean?”
“Attack humans.”
Grateman paused in his ministrations for an instant, then slid his hands down to his neck and eased his head under the water once more. Swallowing hard, he admired the line of the man’s throat. His mouth watered, and he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into his mate’s flesh and mark it.
Pushing away those thoughts, Grateman focused on the question. “It’s an interesting possibility, but I don’t think that’s it,” he stated. “That would be like saying a human who remained alone had a higher probability of being a killer. There are plenty of married or attached humans that kill their spouses or their bosses or perfect strangers for messed up reasons.”
Jeremiah’s brows furrowed. “Yeah. Okay. Then why?”
Grateman threaded his fingers through Jeremiah’s hair, making certain all the soap was out. Then, he picked up the soap and started working up a lather. He noted Jeremiah had reopened both eyes.
“I just think there are assholes in the world,” Grateman replied honestly. “Just like I think some people become soldiers as a legal excuse to kill, I think some paranormals use the fact that they can hide in the shadows or the trees to do the same.” He settled his hands on Jeremiah’s shoulders and began to massage gently, working down his good arm. “I’m assuming you’ve run into a few of them.”
For several long moments, Jeremiah remained quiet.
Grateman let him, taking his time to clean his body. He worked around the wound on his other arm, appreciating that the stitches were waterproof. When he moved his hands down his chest and over his scars, he took his time mapping the man’s puckered flesh.
Skipping past his groin, since Jeremiah still rested both arms across his crotch, Grateman worked up one leg, then the other. Finally, he nudged his fingers under his arms. He slipped his digits the rest of the way to his upper thigh, then the grooves of his hip.
“Wh-What are you doing?” Jeremiah asked, his voice hitching. “You shouldn’t—”
“Hush, Jeremiah,” Grateman urged. “You are my mate. The man I want to please. I can smell your arousal. Let me take care of you.”
In truth, kneeling at the side of the tub, his head so close to his human’s groin, was like torture. Grateman could smell his growing need. While some embarrassment was mixed in there, mostly there was only the heady scent of arousal.
“Will you let me please you?” Grateman asked roughly, urging Jeremiah’s arms away from his groin. Finally, after token resistance, Jeremiah moved his palms to his thighs as Grateman pushed his thighs wider, revealing his long, thick erection. “Such a pretty cock,” he whispered, scraping his fore-claw up the thick red vein of Jeremiah’s prick.
Jeremiah groaned. “S-So mates are lovers?”
Damn. Hadn’t I said that already?
Grateman had said soul mates, but he figured he’d need to be more explicit.
“Yes,” Grateman whispered. “Lovers. Partners. Standing together. In pleasure and life.”
Jeremiah groaned. “But I’m not gay.”
Grateman paused, lifting his gaze to meet Jeremiah’s eyes. Huh. He hadn’t seen that one coming. Still, this was his mate, so gay or not, the human was his.
Chapter Five
Even as Jeremiah said the words, he knew how ridiculous they sounded. He lay sprawled on a chair, in the shower, and had just allowed another male to wash him. Having enjoyed the gargoyle’s touch so much, his boner bobbed in the air, calling him a liar.
“Gay or not,” Grateman growled. “I gave this to you.” He wrapped his large hand lightly around Jeremiah
’s shaft. “And I plan to be the one to take care of it.”
When Grateman had gripped his erection, Jeremiah had just held in his moan. Feeling the man jack him, holy hell he’d never felt anything like it. Maybe it was because his fingers were calloused and rough, or perhaps it was the thrill of knowing his claws were so close to his genitals. It could also have been because he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year. Any way he looked at it, he never wanted it to end.
“Don’t stop,” Jeremiah pleaded. “Damn that feels good.” He even tried to rock into the touch. Even the pain in his chest didn’t diminish the ache.
“I won’t,” Grateman promised. “I am going to lean over the side of this tub and suck you off.”
“Oh, fuck,” Jeremiah whined.
When the hell was the last time he’d gotten a blowjob? He couldn’t remember.
“Yes, please.”
Jeremiah could barely catch his breath as he watched the gargoyle lower his head to his lap. Even seeing him open his mouth and reveal his impressive teeth didn’t cause alarm. Instead, he just managed to keep from begging the gargoyle to hurry the fuck up.
Opening his mouth to do just that, Jeremiah moaned instead. Right then, Grateman stuck out his tongue and lapped across his head. The creature hummed, obviously appreciating his taste, then swallowed him to the root.
Jeremiah thought Grateman’s mouth was the hottest, most amazing thing he’d ever felt. The heat, the suction, even the slight scrape of teeth—he moaned loudly. How had the gargoyle known he liked a bit of sting with his pleasure?
Embarrassingly fast, Jeremiah felt his balls roll and tighten. He groaned, digging his fingernails into his thighs against the nearly undeniable urge to grab the gargoyle’s horns and fuck his mouth to completion. That didn’t stop his body from shuddering, hard, as his orgasm crested, throwing him into the best fucking release of his life.
Grateman didn’t pull off as Jeremiah came. Instead, he continued to suck. He even scraped a nail over the sensitive skin of his sack, causing an extra squirt of seed from his dick.
Gasping, Jeremiah struggled to catch his breath. Even though his chest hurt, he felt so damn fantastic. “Shit,” he gasped. “I should have had a guy suck me off years ago. That rocked.”
Lifting his head, Grateman grinned at him, showing off teeth far sharper than anything in a human’s mouth. “So glad you enjoyed yourself,” he rumbled. “I’ll do that for you any time you like, handsome. You taste damn delicious.”
Jeremiah barked a laugh, then hissed in pain. He rested his head against the shower wall and breathed slowly, all the while grinning. “Guess a guy who sucks cock as well as you do is gay, huh?”
Grateman lifted one of the ridges that curved overtop his eye. Is that his eyebrow, then? The gargoyle shook his head. “Actually, most gargoyles consider themselves bisexual. We couldn’t give a shit if our mate turns out male or female, as long as we find him or her.” He ran his palms over Jeremiah’s thighs again, dislodging his hands and rubbing the marks he’d made on his skin, clearly appreciating the feel of his skin judging by the way he hummed. “And I’ve been looking for you for a long time, handsome.”
Hearing that, Jeremiah cocked his head. “So, if I hadn’t been your mate, you would have killed me in the warehouse? Or let that red gargoyle do it?”
“That red gargoyle is Vane,” Grateman told him. “And perhaps... if you had shot at him. He has a bit of a temper, actually.” He grimaced. “After some of the things that have happened to him, well, he’s a bit... volatile.” His brows furrowed. “And while we hadn’t intended to kill so many, that’s why we’d snuck in at night and on a weeknight, hoping some of you had regular jobs,” he explained. Looking a little guilty, he added, “I can’t say what would have happened to you.”
Jeremiah scoffed. “Well, then,” he whispered. “I guess I’m damn glad you think I’m your mate.”
Grateman stood and turned off the water. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he shook it out. Finally, he wrapped it around Jeremiah’s body as he easily hefted him into his arms.
On instinct, Jeremiah grabbed for the huge male’s neck. Gaping, he met the other man’s heated gaze. “I do not think you are my mate, Jeremiah,” Grateman stated, his tone serious. “I know you are. Gargoyles recognize their mates by scent.”
“O-Okay.” What else could he say?
Before Jeremiah knew it, Grateman had carried him out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He carefully set him down, mindful of the tray on the bed, positioning him so his back rested against a couple of pillows propped up against the headboard. That was when Jeremiah saw it.
Grateman wore only a loincloth. Why Jeremiah hadn’t noticed that before, he wasn’t certain. Still, now that he had, he also spotted the thick shaft clearly outlined beneath the fabric. The gargoyle was hard... and damn big, too!
Jeremiah remembered the fantastic blowjob he’d just received. Would Grateman expect him to return the favor? His ass clenched as another thought occurred to him. Did Grateman think Jeremiah would let him fuck him?
“Relax,” Grateman crooned. “Something that caused anxiety just entered that brain of yours.” He smiled kindly as he rounded the bed, picking up the tray. “No harm will come to you.” He settled the tray on the side table, then removed a cover from a bowl. After he set the lid aside, he picked up the dish and turned back to face Jeremiah. “I would die before allowing anything to happen to you.”
Upon hearing the vow, Jeremiah swallowed hard. “Uh, not that I don’t appreciate the, uh, sentiment but—” He paused and waved toward the approaching male’s massive tool. “When I said I wasn’t gay, I meant it. While I don’t have a problem with men loving each other, and I get that my body responds to you, I have no experience with—” Cutting off his flow of words, he waved a hand toward the gargoyle’s groin once more.
Grateman licked his canine before a feral smile curved his lips. Holding out the bowl, he rumbled, “When the time comes, I will show you the pleasures to be had.”
Jeremiah took the offered bowl, setting it on his thigh. “Uh, spoon?”
Chuckling, Grateman turned back to the side table, grabbed one, then returned to him. He handed it over.
“Thanks,” Jeremiah murmured. He tried to keep his gaze averted from the male’s blatantly outlined cock, but it was tough. Now that he’d noticed it, it was just—“Doesn’t that hurt?”
Jeremiah dipped his spoon into the soup, then shoveled a bite into his mouth. At least that way, he wouldn’t say any more embarrassing shit. The amazing flavors of the best chicken noodle soup he’d ever tasted burst across his tongue. He quickly swallowed and took another bite.
Grateman chuckled softly as he once again crossed to the table. He removed the lid from two more plates, placed the rest of the silverware on one of them, then carried both to the bed. Easing onto the mattress beside Jeremiah, he placed one plate near his calf, then another on his lap. The one next to his leg was filled with potato salad, potato chips, and Doritos. The plate on his thigh nearly overflowed with sandwich wedges, probably egg salad judging from the yellowish filling.
“Yes,” Grateman admitted. “It hurts a little. I won’t lie, but I can wait.”
“Wait for what?”
Shit! Why do I keep asking personal shit?
“For you to be ready to help me with it,” Grateman responded. He didn’t seem uncomfortable with Jeremiah’s prying at all. “For you to fall back to sleep, then I’ll go into the bathroom and take care of it myself.”
Jeremiah choked on the bite of soup he’d just taken. Coughing and sputtering, he struggled to clear his throat. Grateman gently rubbed his back, causing warm tingles to spread through his body. After a few seconds, he sucked in a harsh breath, which caused his chest to hurt instead of feel better.
Better than not being able to breathe.
“How can you just admit that kind of shit?” Meeting Grateman’s gaze, Jeremiah took the san
dwich triangle the gargoyle handed him. “Do you always say what’s on your mind?”
Grateman shrugged as he popped a potato chip into his mouth. While chewing and swallowing, he picked up another sandwich triangle. That he finished off in two bites.
After swallowing, Grateman admitted, “I guess I am pretty blunt most of the time. Couple that with you being my mate, all the blood is in my little head, so it’s making it a little hard to think.” He scoffed, offering him a wry smile that showed off a whole lot of teeth. “I don’t mean to embarrass you or anything. We’ll just shut up and eat for a few minutes. In the meantime, you can decide how much of your life as a hunter you want to tell me about.
“Here,” Grateman added, holding out a pair of small, white tablets. “Pain pills from the doc. A note on the table says to have you take them with your food.”
Jeremiah took the pills and downed them with a gulp of warm soup broth, lapsing into silence. He definitely needed a few minutes to think. Eating next to the big gargoyle, sipping soup, eating another sandwich triangle—they were egg salad sandwiches, and they were damn delicious—he realized he wasn’t scared at all. His only discomfort was caused by his tight chest and the pain from the stab wound in his left arm.
Once Jeremiah had eaten his fill, he decided to ask a few questions of his own. “Guess I should have asked the doc how long I’ll be laid up,” he commented. “Do you happen to know?”
“Humans that are bonded with paranormals heal faster than usual,” was Grateman’s surprising answer. “If we were to bond, you’d be up and around in days, fully healed in a couple of weeks. Healing like a regular human, well, your rib was broken, but it was a clean break, so a month or so.”
Jeremiah couldn’t hide his surprise. “Huh,” he mumbled. “That’s quite the incentive, isn’t it?”
Grateman shrugged. “Well, while I don’t have a problem bonding us just to give you that ability, you should know that we wouldn’t be able to be separated for any length of time after that,” he warned. “And it wouldn’t just be me that would suffer. Before long, you wouldn’t even want to leave me or our home.”
Claiming the Hunter Page 4