Many thanks to Grace Duncan and Dreamspinner Press for sharing the beautiful cover of the upcoming book Acceptance (Forbes Mates #3) with us! Acceptance will be released on July 8, 2016.
Title: Acceptance (Forbes Mates #3)
Author: Grace R. Duncan
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release Date: July 8, 2016
Genre(s): Paranormal Romance
Artist: Reese Dante
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 accept 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.
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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 it—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 witched, 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?”
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.”
Forbes Mates ReviewsBelen’s Review: Devotion #1 Lili’s Review: Patience #2 Belen’s Review: Patience #2
Grace Duncan grew up with a wild imagination. She told stories from an early age – many of which got her into trouble. Eventually, she learned to channel that imagination into less troublesome areas, including fanfiction, which is what has led her to writing male/male erotica.
A gypsy in her own right, Grace has lived all over the United States. She has currently set up camp in East Texas with her husband and children – both the human and furry kind.
As one of those rare creatures who loves research, Grace can get lost for hours on the internet, reading up on any number of strange and different topics. She can also be found writing fanfiction, reading fantasy, crime, suspense, romance and other erotica or even dabbling in art.