Acceptance Read online

  Acceptance

  By Grace R. Duncan

  Forbes Mates: Book 3

  Dr. Miles Grant acknowledges that his destined mate could be either gender even though his bisexuality cost him his family and his pack. Luckily he found the Forbes Pack, who happily accepts him just as he is. What he never counted on was finding his mate in Pittsburgh or for his mate to be another species entirely—a cat!

  Quincy Archer isn’t just any jaguar shifter. He is the heir to the leadership of his pride. Destined mates are nothing but legend to the nearly extinct and generally solitary jaguars, and Quincy certainly never expected to find one for himself, much less a male… or a wolf.

  However, finding each other and coming to terms with their species is the least of their worries. Quincy is expected to select a proper female mate, father a cub, and take his place as heir to the pride. Except Quincy refuses, having no interest in women or leadership and knowing he isn’t right for it. But his father will stop at nothing—not even attempting to kill Miles—to get his way. Quincy and Miles must overcome many obstacles to stay together as the destined mates they’re meant to be.

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  More from Grace R. Duncan

  Readers love the Forbes Mates series by Grace R. Duncan

  About the Author

  By Grace R. Duncan

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright Page

  To everyone who stuck with me so far, I hope you like Quincy as much as I do.

  To Joe, for his continued love, support, and encouragement. I truly couldn’t do this without you.

  Chapter 1

  QUINCY KNEW they were there. It didn’t take a preternatural sense of smell or hearing to pick them out. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended they thought his senses were that dull, amused because they seemed that inept… or perhaps annoyed because they were so sure of themselves and their abilities that they didn’t have to hide.

  He wondered why they weren’t suppressing their scent. He was fairly certain everyone in the jaguar world knew Pittsburgh had a pretty big number of wolves. Did that mean they were willing to fight—and possibly kill—any wolves they came across?

  That thought brought a scowl to Quincy’s face. Entirely aside from his new… appreciation… of the wolves, picking a fight with them would cause all sorts of problems, not the least of which might actually involve starting an interspecies war. And while he might still feel rather disdainful about most of the wolves out there, there were a choice few he didn’t want to see anything bad happen to.

  Quincy sighed and took another sip of his latte. He really was not interested in getting into a fight. Since there were only two of them, it would be pretty easy to give them the slip. He needed to do it carefully, however, because he wanted to draw them away from Pittsburgh, if at all possible.

  For one thing, Miles was still working in the Presby ER. Chad and his new mate, Jamie, still lived in the Oakland apartment—though they’d been away for a while. With any luck Quincy could get the two jaguars out of town before any of his wolves got dragged into a fight because, for reasons Quincy didn’t quite understand, they’d come to his rescue. And while he’d hang himself before admitting it out loud to them, he liked them and didn’t want them hurt.

  He downed the last of his latte and stood, gathering his laptop and stuffing it in his messenger bag, then packing the rest of his things. The idiots loitered across the street, in front of the Primanti Brothers, trying to appear inconspicuous and failing. Neither of them looked even remotely like a college student or medical professional, which was what made up the biggest chunk of people in Oakland.

  Shaking his head, Quincy hitched his bag over his shoulder, tossed out the coffee cup, and stepped out of the Panera he’d taken over for the better part of the afternoon and evening to get work done. Going to ground didn’t mean he could completely disappear. He had money, but he had a reputation to maintain, and that included finishing jobs he’d started.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb stepped away from the shop and started across the sidewalk. Quincy sighed, pushed his glasses farther up on his nose, and turned down Forbes, grateful for the twilight. With any luck the dark would help him lose them. He kept a reasonable pace, not willing to give them the satisfaction of letting them know he was aware of them. They wanted to scare him or take him in to his dad, now that Aubrey Archer knew the private detective he’d hired—Chad—wasn’t going to turn him over. And it would only feed their ego if they thought he was scared. But they looked like they didn’t care about what might get in their way in the process, and Quincy had no wish to break the secrecy laws or get others hurt.

  He took a quick left and did some bobbing and weaving through the alleys and side streets, leading them away from the hospital and in the opposite direction of Chad and Jamie’s apartment. Despite masking his own scent and making enough turns that they shouldn’t have been able to keep up with him, they seemed to be having no trouble.

  His annoyance level rising, Quincy took another turn into an alley, then a left to go around the back of the building. He loved that Oakland had so many of those. It made for plenty of opportunities to stay off the street and keep them moving.

  He did want to lead them away, but he’d rather have the chance to lay a false trail first. They were too damned close for that this time. He shouldn’t have even been in Oakland in the first place, but he’d just had to get a glimpse of Miles.

  Scowling, he moved faster, jumping fences rather than trying to run around. He cut across a few yards, scaled some chain-link this time—grateful his cat’s grace translated to his human form—and took another alley.

  And stopped dead when he was staring at a smooth wooden fence even he couldn’t scale. He spun around, already sure he wasn’t going to be alone, already sure it was too late to go back that way, and he was right. He saw black metal out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see if he could catch the ladder of the fire escape above him, but damned if there wasn’t a third cat up there.

  “For the love of Bastet,” he muttered, then sighed. “Knew I should have stayed in the hotel today.” His calendar had said today was an unlucky day—he and many of the other cats still kept that old Egyptian custom—but he hadn’t heeded its warning. At least a third cat explained how they’d kept up with him so well. He cursed himself for not looking for another, then let it go. He had a bigger worry right then.

  Quincy set his bag down, cracked his neck, took a deep breath, then started the shift. His claws came out, his eyesight turned to grays, and his teeth dropped almost at the same time. He stopped there, hoping he wouldn’t have to shift completely, though he somehow doubted it. He turned to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb, studying their movements, the way they stalked toward him, parting to flank him at almost exactly the same time.

  He narrowed his eyes, considering his options and not liking the lack of them he came up with.

  “We’re just here to deliver a message,” Tweedle Dee said.

  “I’m not interested. I don’t eat Girl Scout Cookies, I donate anonymously to the Humane Society, and I already have a timeshare.”

  Tweedle
Dee snorted. “You’re funny.”

  “I’d say I’m here all week, but I doubt that.” Quincy flicked his eyes up to the fire escape, but Tweedle Dumber hadn’t so much as moved a muscle. It irritated Quincy to no end to conclude that, while he could have bested Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb in a fight—either human or cat—Tweedle Dumber would be just a little too much. He really wished he hadn’t left his SIG Sauer back in the hotel room.

  If Quincy had one thing going for him, one thing he could usually count on over others, it was patience. He flicked his eyes from one to the other to the third—still on the fire escape—then back again. Dee and Dumb had stopped a few feet away, just out of reach. Dumber still hadn’t moved.

  He took slow, deep breaths through his mouth since the alley stank, keeping the best outward calm he could project. He was actually glad to be mostly human right then, because despite himself, if he’d been in cat form, his twitching tail would undoubtedly give his anxiety away. And he’d be damned if he gave them any advantage.

  There was nothing specific Quincy could point to that was a signal of any sort. But one second all three of them stood frozen—including Dumber on the balcony—and the next all three had moved in.

  Quincy might have been an information broker and artist. He might have preferred pencils and Wacom tablets to weapons and claws. But he was tepey-sa, heir to the leadership of his pride, which he wouldn’t still be—whether he wanted it or not—if he wasn’t worthy of it. So he could fight when he needed to.

  The three of them obviously hadn’t expected him to fight back. Quincy didn’t know what his father had told them, but clearly he’d caught them by surprise. It allowed him to get a good kick in on Dumb, rake his claws over Dee’s chest—slicing open the shirt and leaving a nice set of deep scratches—and bite down on Dumber’s arm when he moved in to punch Quincy.

  Unfortunately, now that they knew he could fight, he was out of surprises. They regrouped, surrounding him but approaching him a little more carefully. Quincy wasn’t dumb enough to believe for one minute they were going to leave him alone.

  “I’m not going back,” he growled, his cat itching to take them out, pissed at being held back as much as he was.

  Dee shrugged one shoulder. “No skin off my nose.”

  Quincy was too focused on Dee, so when Dumber moved, it was too late to react properly. He took claws to his back, then a punch to his kidney from Dumb before he could retaliate. He still attempted a swipe, though it missed, and instead of landing the kick he’d hoped for, he ended up slightly unbalanced.

  He’d need to shift fully. His only hope was that these cats would take longer and give him a chance to get a few hits in on them midshift. He tried to take a breath, but the solid thud to his back knocked it out of him, and he knew if he didn’t shift now, he might not be able to.

  So he let go of the control on his cat.

  Solid black fur erupted over his skin, and a few seconds later, his perspective changed as he landed on four paws. He shook his tattered clothes free and took advantage of the seconds of shock from his shift. He aimed for the neck, but Dumber recovered too quickly and dodged, so the claw swipe only grazed the skin instead of causing the damage he’d hoped.

  All three backed up briefly, moving around him, obviously reevaluating. Quincy’s tail twitched and ears flattened as he considered the cats still in human form in front of him. He couldn’t hold back the growl in his throat completely, but he managed to subdue it a little. He didn’t need to alert the entire neighborhood and bring humans into the fight.

  The only warning he got next was a quick glance Dee gave to Dumber. It wasn’t quite enough—or they just worked together too much and too well—because though Quincy managed to dodge the worst of their fists and feet, he couldn’t avoid them entirely.

  In jaguar form, however, he could jump better than them, so he managed to leap clear, though the only direction he could go was farther into the alley. Not that he should be going out of the alley in that form, or naked if he shifted back. Damn the secrecy laws, right then. Damn them to the underworld.

  With a soft growl, he prowled to one side, then the other, looking for any opening he could. But it seemed they’d had enough of waiting for him. It did take them longer to shift than it took Quincy, just long enough for him to get a good swipe at all of them, but not enough to do any more real damage. And before he was ready for it, he faced three huge spotted cats.

  Fucking hell. I really should have stayed in the hotel.

  He briefly considered trying to jump for the fire escape, but he’d have to shift back first, and as fast as he was, he didn’t think he had time.

  Dee, Dumb, and Dumber apparently were tired of playing with their prey. They moved in at once, and despite his best defense, Quincy knew he wasn’t getting out alive. He didn’t understand why they’d kill him, had been so sure they were there to take him back, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

  He swiped, used his teeth and claws—front and back—dodged, did everything he could think of, but three against one—even against a tepey-sa, was too much. He lost track for a moment of claws and teeth and flying fur, of growls and the alley. He could fight, but he didn’t like to, and right then, he sincerely regretted not practicing more.

  He also regretted not spending more time with Miles.

  A final harsh set of claws nearly slicing open his underbelly sent him crashing to the ground. He tried to stand, but one of the cats—he couldn’t tell them apart in that form—stood on his hind leg, and the excruciating pain nearly drowned out the loud crack! of his leg breaking. They weren’t satisfied with one, though. They made sure there was no way he was getting up anytime soon.

  As Quincy lay struggling to breathe through wetness in his lungs, they shifted back. Dee crouched over Quincy, reaching out, and petting his head. “This was just a warning. You will come back. You will take your place. And you will cooperate. Or next time we won’t go so light.”

  Quincy was glad he was in cat form and unable to speak. He didn’t know what he’d have said back, but whatever it was would only have earned him more broken ribs or something possibly worse. He could do nothing but lie there, fight to breathe through the pain, and watch them climb the fire escape and disappear over the rooftops.

  He stared at the moon, struggling for the strength to shift, which would start his healing. He was positive they hadn’t left him for dead. They knew he’d heal. It would be excruciating until he did, but he’d heal. No, they wanted him scared.

  All it did was piss him off.

  HE DIDN’T remember closing his eyes, but he wished he had. He might have avoided a whole mess of trouble when he opened them again.

  He couldn’t have been out too long. The moon hadn’t gone very far; maybe an hour at most had passed. He struggled to move, and that’s when he realized he was back in human form. Better if someone found him, at least as far as secrecy was concerned, but he healed better in cat form. Shifting once to human, then back to cat would have been even better, but that obviously wasn’t happening.

  Quincy took a quick inventory. His legs were both still broken, as was one of his arms. He was sure at least half a dozen ribs were broken as well. He groaned as he tried to move again, but nothing seemed to be obeying his orders.

  A siren’s wail split the night, much too close for comfort, bringing a curse from Quincy. If someone had seen him and called an ambulance… how the fuck was he supposed to handle this? He needed to get going, get away.

  He closed his eyes and tried to summon his jaguar, but he was too injured and they were both too exhausted. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. With a long groan, then sharp cry, he managed to get himself onto his back, only to see the huge still-bleeding gashes across his chest and stomach. He couldn’t even look at his legs. He could feel well enough how bad they were.

  Bastet, give me strength. Thoth, I need your wisdom.

  Neither deity seemed willing to listen. Unlucky day, indeed.

  A moment
later, the lights from the ambulance filled the tiny alley as it came to a stop at the end. Paramedics Quincy couldn’t quite make out—his glasses, he was sure, were shattered and lost by now—jumped out of the vehicle and ran to the back. Bastet, what do I do?

  But no wisdom came from his patron deity, and before he could come up with anything on his own, the paramedics approached him.

  “Hey, what happened here?”

  Oh, I don’t know, I just got jumped by three jaguar shifters intent on taking me back to my father to take my place as heir to the leadership of our pride, which I didn’t want to do. So they beat me up and left me like this.

  Instead, Quincy croaked, “Fight.”

  He had to give the paramedic credit. Despite the “duh” he could see on the man’s face, it was kept unvoiced. “And what—or who—did you fight?”

  “Um… don’t… know.” It was getting harder to speak, and the pain threatened to pull him under again. “Don’t… don’t need help. I’ll be—”

  “Don’t even try,” the paramedic said, shaking his head.

  Quincy was oddly and momentarily transfixed by the lights reflecting off the dark, shiny skin of the man’s bald head. Fuck. Not good. Bastet! Really could use some help about now….

  “Can you give me your name?”

  Quincy thought fast, though he guessed it wouldn’t matter if he gave his real name. The assholes weren’t going to do more to him yet. They’d left their message and would leave him to heal and follow orders—or not. And if he was going to have to go to a hospital… but was that the right thing to do? Shit. Did he have any other choice? Aside from Dee, Dumb, and Dumber, he was the only cat in town. The only one he knew of who had knowledge about shifter physiology was the one person he shouldn’t see, should not draw attention to.

  “Quincy,” he spat out, though his ribs hurt like hell and he was pretty sure he’d punctured a lung. He didn’t think he had many more words in him, at least for now. He’d heal, even in human form, but it would take a while and be a bitch in the meantime.