Graden’s Huzza orders him to meet a psychic who may be able to help them locate the missing McDarmund tribe. He’s pleasantly surprised to discover that the small human is his mate, especially since he’s spent the last two centuries searching for her. It doesn’t bother him that her eyes are violet, she’s only eighteen, or that she has visions. But Kumiko’s mother doesn’t believe he’s a gargoyle or that her daughter is his mate. The first is easy to prove, the second is a bit harder.
Kumiko’s never been attracted to big, bad biker types, even if she does like motorcycles. But because she normally suffers from a vision any time she touches an object that isn’t her own, she believes Graden when he tells her she’s his mate. After all, if she can’t get a vision from her own stuff, it makes sense that she doesn’t get a vision from the man who’s destined to be a big part of her future. But her mother doesn’t believe and gives him an ultimatum, one a two centuries old gargoyle will find incredibly difficult to follow. No sex for two months, while suffering from the intense mating attraction? Will Graden agree to her mother’s demands? Or wash his hands of Kumiko?
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Mating Kumiko
Copyright © 2011 Charlie Richards
ISBN: 978-1-77111-001-3
Cover art by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Mating Kumiko
Gargoyles of Cuchulian Four
By
Charlie Richards
To my fellow authors at eXtasy Books. Your friendship, feedback, and gentle ribbing mean the world to me!
Chapter One
Graden tossed the gargoyle over his shoulder, slamming the smaller body to the mat. He dropped down next to him, wrapped his legs around the man’s torso and wrenched his limb into an arm-bar. The gargoyle he held growled, but tapped Graden’s thigh with his free hand, signifying his defeat.
He released the hold, swung to his feet and reached out a hand. His opponent took it, and he hauled Lebanon to his feet. He grinned at the smaller gargoyle’s grimace. “You’ll get it, Lebanon. You’ve only been with us six months. You’re learning quickly,” Graden said, his deep voice echoing through the gymnasium.
Lebanon nodded. “Thanks, Graden.”
Graden nodded back. He knew the young gargoyle had received some rudimentary training from someone, but even after living with their tribe for half a year, Lebanon remained wary of opening up to anyone. He took care of his sister, performed his rounds as a guard, and trained, but that was it. He wasn’t making friends and rarely interacted with others unless required. Graden couldn’t figure out how to get the gargoyle out of his self-imposed shell. “Let’s go one more round and then hit the showers.”
“Graden,” a voice interrupted.
Graden turned and found Terence standing outside the practice ring. “Yes, Terence?”
“Maximus needs to see you and Lebanon. Kai, too. He asks that you clean up and report to him in his study immediately,” he said.
Nodding, he turned to Lebanon and slapped him on the back. “Saved by the bell. We’ll do this again Wednesday evening. Same time.” After a nod from the young gargoyle, he said, “Get cleaned up. Head to the Huzza’s study.” Turning away, Graden had to hide his amused grin at Lebanon’s relieved expression. The young gargoyle definitely had potential. Once he built up muscle, gained a lot more experience, the fledgling would make an excellent warrior.
He hustled through a shower, pulled clean jeans and a white t-shirt on to cover his six and a half foot human form, and hurried to Max’s study. Graden made it there in less than fifteen minutes. He heard Max call out after he knocked and opened the door. Inside he spotted his Huzza, Maximus, as well as Tyron, the clan’s main doctor and Tyron’s demon mate, Santos. Serena stood at the bar.
Max indicated a large chair, and he folded his massive frame into it. Serena brought him a tumbler of Johnny Walker Red, and his brows lifted. “This must be serious,” he said, holding up the scotch. “What’s going on?”
“Santos was just telling us that he has a psychic friend who can help us track down descendants of the McDarmund tribe,” Max started slowly.
Graden’s brows lifted. “That’s great! How can I help?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink. It burned all the way down.
“It turns out we’ve already found a couple descendants,” Max said.
Straightening in his chair, Graden put his glass down on an end table. “Who?”
“Your young protégé and his sister.”
“Lebanon?” Graden choked out. No wonder the kid kept to himself. He was afraid of being found out. Why didn’t he notice that the young gargoyle had become even more withdrawn with the appearance of Santos?
Even as he choked out the fledgling’s name, a knock sounded on the door. After Max shouted enter, in walked Lebanon followed by his sister, Kai. As soon as the slender, green gargoyle noticed the room’s occupants, he nudged Kai behind himself. Brother going into protector mode, Graden realized.
Max rose from behind his desk and maneuvered around it. He leaned against the large, oak furniture and crossed his arms. “How long have you been with the Cuchulian tribe, Lebanon?” he asked.
From his tone, Graden knew his Huzza was irritated. Lebanon must have realized it, too, because he glanced frantically around the room, his gray eyes falling on Santos. “Six months, Huzza,” he whispered. His sister picked up on Lebanon’s angst and huddled behind him.