Accepting His Human(5)

By: Charlie Richards

he didn’t. He kept his arm wrapped around his shoulders, nodded at Bernice as he called, “I’ll be back with info on this one.”

The woman lifted a brow in obvious curiosity, but she waved a hand in acknowledgement and went back to her typing. Doctor Carmichael pushed the stretcher into a large room. “Have a seat, little mate,” he said. “Grady lives in Stone Ridge, but I’m sure he’ll hurry.” He nodded, watching the bigger man for several minutes as his mind whirled with questions, like what he’d landed in the middle of, because he couldn’t imagine this was normal procedure. The man, Lyle the doctor had called him, hadn’t even been checked in, and the doctor didn’t call for nurses or anyone else to help him. Instead, he shut the door and started cleaning up the man and hooking up IVs himself.

Was that normal?

“You called him Lyle. Do you know him?” He figured that was a safe question.

Doctor Carmichael glanced at him before returning to his work. “Yes. I’ve met him a couple times.”

“Who is he?”

This time the doctor’s honey-brown eyes stayed on him 12

for a bit longer. He seemed to be assessing Drake, and he flushed under the man’s scrutiny. His skin still tingled from where he’d pressed him close to his side. He wanted to shift in his chair and find a more comfortable position for his cock, which had gone hard from the contact. Drake couldn’t remember the last time someone had turned him on so much so fast. But he knew that would be inappropriate and a dead giveaway to his orientation, and he didn’t want to offend the nice doctor.

“His name is Detective Lyle Sullivan.” Well, one thing could be said for Doctor Carmichael, he sure didn’t volunteer information. “What happened to him?”

“He went missing two weeks ago. From the looks of things, someone held him captive and tortured him,” he replied bluntly.

Drake sucked in a breath, his eyes widening in his head.

“That’s terrible,” he whispered.

Doctor Carmichael lifted his head and nodded. “Yes, little mate, it is.”

He frowned, wondering why the man kept calling him that. He’d used that term several times now, and he wondered what meaning it held. He knew he was little, but they weren’t friends, not that he didn’t want to be. But he couldn’t imagine the doctor wanting to be friends with someone like him, an eccentric, poor, skinny professor.

Before he could ask, a light knock sounded on the door.

Doctor Carmichael paused and took a deep breath, before saying, “Come in, Grady.”

Weird. How did he know?

A large muscle-bound blond man strode into the room followed by a shorter, slightly heavy man with long, steel-gray hair. The bigger man frowned and muttered an explicative under his breath.


The doctor smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I said upon first sight.”

He watched the shorter man rest a hand on the blond’s shoulder and whisper, “Easy, Grady.” To Drake’s surprise, Grady, the detective, wrapped his own hand around the other man’s, holding it in place. Huh, are they a couple? Impossible. The detective oozed testosterone!

Family, then? If so, Drake couldn’t make out any parental markers between their features.

“Is he going to make it?” the detective asked.

Doctor Carmichael grimaced. “I’m not sure yet. He seems stable, but I still need to run some tests. Check for internal bleeding, concussion, broken bones, blood work, that sort of thing. You got here awful quick, so I haven’t had time yet.” Grady turned toward Drake, and he wanted to cringe.

This man’s calculating gaze made him feel like prey in the presence of a hungry lion.

“Are you Professor Drake Whitton?”

Drake nodded.

Grady looked back at the doctor. “Think you can run your tests while I chat with the professor, Ailean?” The doctor, Ailean, nodded. What an exotic name. He wanted to ask it’s origin when the man spoke.

“Sure.” Ailean’s gaze fixed on him, removing the chill he’d gotten from Grady’s stare. “You’ll be fine with Grady, little mate. He just needs to ask you some questions.” How did Ailean know he’d been nervous? Drake looked down and realized his twisting fingers must have given him away. His head snapped back up. “Why do you keep calling me little mate?”

Ailean left the bed and headed toward him, his body moving with sensual grace. “I didn’t know your name,” he said, stopping in front of him. “Would you prefer I call you handsome? Maybe sweet baby?”


Okay, so the doctor did seem to swing his way, but why would he be interested in him? He wasn’t attractive by any means.