Page 29 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

“Oh, shut up,” I snap, letting go of him like he’s made of hellfire. “You should be thanking me.”

“For what, exactly?” His voice is a low rumble, the sound prickling along my skin.

I toss my hair, fighting the urge to stomp my foot like a petulant child. “For saving you from Hurricane Deandra. Trust me, you couldn’t handle her.”

Something flashes in his eyes, there and gone too quickly to decipher. “I can handle quite a lot, Ecco. More than you give me credit for.” The rough purr of his voice travels straight to my core.

I bite my lip, holding his gaze for a breathless moment. The air grows heavy, charged with a tension totally outside of the issue of my mother.

Then I force a laugh, breaking the moment. I’m not touching that claim with a ten-foot pole; it feels like we’re on the edge of a very dangerous precipice.

“I’m sure that’s true,” I say. “Now, can you just wait here for a minute so I can talk to Deandra alone?”

Graeme looks like he’s going to argue, but something in my face must convince him I need the space, because he nods instead.

I find my mother by the dessert table, doing indecent things with the frosting on a cupcake. Gods, she instantly sets my teeth on edge. Can’t she ever just be normal?

“Mother. You need to control yourself.”

She blinks at me. “What are you talking about?”

I scoff. “Don’t give me that little act. I know just what you’re doing, and I need you to stop. Graeme is off-limits!”

Deandra puts down her cupcake, rolling her eyes. “Oh please, Ecco. Don’t be so dramatic. I was just talking to him.”

My jaw drops, incredulous. “That’s not what I saw! You’re throwing yourself at my bodyguard at my best friend’s wedding. It’s completely inappropriate!”

I swear I see hurt flicker across Deandra’s face, but it’s gone before I can be sure, replaced by cool indifference. “Well, forgive me for being inappropriate. I didn’t realize I was such an embarrassment to you.”

Is it possible that I was reading into their interaction too much? That my motherwasn’ttrying to seduce Graeme?

Ugh.

She always does this. Makes me feel guilty, like I’m the one who’s out of line.

“That’s not... I didn’t mean it like that,” I say with a huff. “It’s just, Graeme’s here to work, not to be harassed by drunk divorcées.”

Deandra flinches as if she’s been slapped. “Message received,” she says coldly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

She brushes past me, leaving me confused and conflicted.

Just what she’s best at. Creating a mess.

I throw myself back into the festivities, determined to focus on anything but the brooding gargoyle at my back and my mother sending me frosty glances across the room.

I chat with Mariah’s cousins, gush over the adorable cake topper, and snap selfies with Snuffles and Minx, who’ve been let loose to revel now that their important duties are complete.

I’m cooing over the adorable photos, trying to decide which ones to share, when a charming elf with a cool ombre fade and a dazzling smile approaches me, his hand extended in invitation.

“May I have this dance?” the elf asks.

Just as I’m about to accept, eager for a distraction from my rioting thoughts, Graeme clears his throat behind me.

“Actually,” Graeme rumbles, stepping forward with a scowl, “Ms. Waverly’s dance card is full. Security reasons, you understand.”

The elf blinks, taken aback, but quickly recovers with a gracious nod. “Of course, my apologies.” He slinks back into the crowd, disappearing among the swirl of ball gowns and tuxedos.

I whirl on Graeme, eyebrows raised and anger sparking behind my breastbone. “Since when do I have a dance card? And since when areyouin charge of it?”

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