Page 12 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

Graeme shakes his head, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “It got away. Whatever it was, Ms. Waverly was right, it’s not human. Definitely something magical.”

Irritation flares through me. I slam my mug down on the coffee table, tea sloshing over the sides.

“What’s the point of having a bodyguard if you can’t even catch the person threatening me?” I snap. “I thought you were supposed to be the best.”

Graeme’s icy blue eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. In two long strides he’s looming over me, his hulking frame seeming to swallow the room. I have to crane my neck to meet his steely gaze. My heart hammers in my throat at his proximity.

He smells like leather and petrichor, earthy and wild.

“My job is to protect you,” he says, each word deliberate and heavy as stone. “I shouldn’t have gone after them at all. That was an instinct I need to control—it left you unguarded, vulnerable.”

He leans in closer, his breath hot against my face.

“From now on, I’m not leaving your side. Day or night, I’ll be your shadow.”

I swallow, his words sending a delicious lick of heat through my veins. Having this imposing, stone-hued god-like male with me at all hours...

I mentally chastise myself as soon as I realize what’s happening.

This is just like me—mycrushes always come at the most inconvenient times, and I am constantly falling for exactly thewrongperson.

Graeme’stotally the kind of alpha asshole that has pulverized my heart again and again.

But that’s not goingto happen this time, because I’m not going to let myself feel those feelings. I can’t, not with a stalker onthe loose, my career just taking off, and Mariah’s wedding right around the corner.

“Fine,” I say, trying for breezy nonchalance and probably missing by a mile. “Just stay out of my way, okay? My fans know me as approachable, and I have an image to maintain.”

Graeme’s expression doesn’t so much as flicker. “Your image is the least of my concerns,” he says flatly.

Natalie turns to look at me, perfectly sculpted brows raised. “Well,” she says. “This should be interesting.”

I can only nod mutely.

My heart is still going a million miles a minute—and this time it’s not fear that’s making my pulse race.

Two days later,I’m a whirlwind of activity as I pack for the trip back to Elderberry Falls. Clothes in every color of the rainbow fly through the air as I dig through my drawers, dresses and scarves and floaty tops landing haphazardly in my suitcase.

Minx watches from her perch on my bed, her tail twitching lazily.

“What do you think, Minxy?” I hold up two nearly identical dresses, one in shimmering lavender, the other in glittering periwinkle. “Which one screams ‘supportive maid of honor’ more?”

Minx just blinks at me slowly, clearly unimpressed by my fashion dilemma. I shrug and toss them both in the suitcase.

Variety is the spice of life, after all.

I zip up my bulging bags and lug them to the door, Minx trailing behind me and meekly hopping into her backpack carrier bag. As I reach for the handles, there’s a now-familiar tingle on the back of my neck.

Graeme.

I turn to find him looming in the doorway, his expression darker than a thundercloud.

“No,” he growls, eyeing Minx’s carrier with blatant distaste. “That creature is not coming in my car.”

I hug Minx’s carrier to my chest. “Minx goes everywhere with me,” I insist, jutting my chin out. “She’s a part of the wedding ceremony. Mariah insisted, and I would never let my best friend down.”

Graeme’s jaw clenches and I can practically see the argument building behind his stormy gaze.

Then his eyes flick to my face and my pleading look must give him pause. He lets out a long-suffering sigh, the sound reminding me of rocks grinding together.

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