Page 28 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

Memories of last night flood back—the way he manhandled me out of the rehearsal dinner, his hard body pressed against mine, that dangerous gleam in his eye...

No.

I wrench my eyes away, my heart pounding. I can’t think about Graeme right now, about the confusing whirlwind of frustration and desire he stirs in me.

Instead, I focus on my dad. His silver-streaked hair shines under the lantern light as he leads the wedding band in a soft, lilting melody. I raise my hand in a small wave. He sees and winks back.

Gruna and I reach the altar, removing the bracelets from our furry charges and handing them to Robert Kingsley, the officiant. The music reaches a crescendo and Mariah appears at the end of the aisle on her father’s arm, a vision in shimmering ivory lace and golden orc jewelry.

“Oh my gods,” I breathe, tears pricking my eyes.

Mariah is radiant, regal. The enchanted beadwork on her gown casts her in an ethereal glow as she makes her way towards us. When she reaches the front, she takes Thorak’s hand, her smile brighter than all the floating lanterns combined, and I swallow around the emotion rising in my throat.

My best friend is getting her happily ever after. And as Robert begins the ceremony, his voice rich and resonant, I can’t help but wonder...

Will I ever have that? That once-in-a-lifetime, against-all-odds kind of love?

Instead, I’ve just had a string of disappointments, men who wanted something from me, or were jealous of my success, or tricked me into thinking that we had something real.

My treacherous gaze strays to Graeme again, his stony features inscrutable.

I have a sinking feeling that even if I did find that fairy tale ending with some gorgeous guy at the wedding tonight… Graeme would never let me out of his sight long enough to enjoy it.

The reception isin full swing inside the grand ballroom of Rosewood Mansion. Enchanted lanterns float above us, casting a warm glow on the revelry below. I weave through the crowd, taking my maid of honor duties seriously, making sure everyone has a drink and a smile.

“Ecco, this is amazing!” Laurelle gushes, pulling me into a lavender-scented hug. “You and Mariah have outdone yourselves! And your song for Mariah and Thorak was so gorgeous, honey.”

“Aww, thanks Auntie,” I beam, my heart full to bursting. I pull back and watch as her eyes clock the shadow standing behind me.

Graeme has followed me every step of the reception, refusing to let me get even five feet away from him aside from when I sang Mariah and Thorak’s surprise first dance song.

Laurelle’s smile grows. “Is this your boyfriend?”

“No,” Graeme and I say loudly at the same time, and then scowl at each other. I’m officially in need of a break from his presence.

I make excuses to use the bathroom, which finally gets me a few moments alone. Locked in the powder room, I take the opportunity to breathe. Process. And get my game face back on for a bunch more socializing and small talk.

But as I make my way back into the hall and over to the bar for a much-needed glass of champagne, I stop dead in my tracks.

Because there, draped over Graeme like a designer scarf, is my mother.

“Deandra,” I say through gritted teeth, my nails digging into my palms. “What are you doing?”

She looks up at me through lowered lashes, a feline smile curving her lips. “Oh, hello darling. I was just getting to know your delicious bodyguard a little better.”

My blood practically boils. Irritation flares hot and bright, pulsing behind my eyes like a headache. They met yesterday, I’m her daughter, this man has to be practically glued to my side… yet nothing is off-limits for Deandra’s avaricious talons.

The spicy-tart taste of jealousy blooms in my mouth as I watch her fingers trail over his chiseled arm.

I don’t even like him, but he’smine, damn it.

My… my employee.Mypain in the ass gargoyle.

I paste on an expression so saccharine it could melt teeth. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Graeme. Wedding stuff, you understand.”

Without waiting for a response, I grab his elbow, my fingertips sparking at the contact, and steer him away from the bar. Away from my mother and her wandering hands.

Graeme arches a granite brow. “Wedding stuff?”

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