Page 31 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

And when that elf asked her to dance, I responded entirely with jealousy. I can admit that to myself.

The idea of another man’s hands on her… unfathomable.

Ecco fits so perfectly in my arms, her head barely reaching my chest as we start to sway. I breathe in deep, letting her sweet, intoxicating scent wash over me—vanilla and jasmine with an undercurrent of something headier, like a hint of the ocean.

It’s all I can do not to bury my nose in her hair and inhale.

“You’re pretty light on your feet for a big, bad gargoyle,” Ecco murmurs, tilting her head back to look up at me throughlong lashes. Her violet eyes glitter with mischief and something darker, more heated. I swallow hard.

“Years of martial arts training,” I rumble, my voice rough even to my own ears. “Agility is key in close combat.”

“Tell me more,” Ecco says. “I want to know more about you, Graeme. We’re together twenty-four seven. Let’s not be strangers.”

I consider her request as we drift across the dance floor, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Remnants of my clan’s teachings whisper in the back of my mind—never let an outsider get too close, never reveal our secrets.

Ecco gazes up at me, genuine interest plain on her face, and those old rules suddenly seem meaningless.

“Growing up in the Grigori clan was… intense,” I begin haltingly. “From the moment we could walk, we started training—hand-to-hand combat, aerial maneuvers, stealth tactics. Weakness wasn’t tolerated.”

Ecco tightens her grip on my shoulder. “That sounds so harsh.”

“It’s our way of life,” I say with a shrug. “The Grigori clan has guarded the Black Mountains pass for as long as gargoyles have existed. It’s our sacred duty, and in order to perform it, we must be strong. Ruthless. Emotions are a liability.”

Ecco frowns slightly, a flicker of sadness passing through her expressive eyes. “But emotions are what make us alive, Graeme. They’re not a weakness—they give us purpose, connection. Make us whole. How can you control emotions?”

Right now, I’m finding it hard. Every fiber of my being wants to crush this woman against me, to thread my hands in her silky blue hair and kiss her until she can’t breathe.

Instead, I spin her out and then back into me, moving in time to the music.

“We practice a gargoyle technique called stoneheart meditation,” I say. “It grounds us, reminds us to bury any part of ourselves that doesn’t serve the clan.”

Ecco hums, pressing herself even closer. I feel every lush inch of her, all soft skin and dangerous curves.

“Well, I can’t say that I agree with that part of your training. But I love watching you move,” she says, fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of my neck. “So powerful and controlled.”

Her warm tone and wandering fingers fuel the inferno already raging in my core. I tighten my grip on her waist.

“Careful, siren,” I growl. “Keep this up and I might just lose that famous control you admire so much.”

Ecco’s breath hitches. She trails a hand down my chest, fingertips dragging over hard ridges of muscle. “Is that a threat or a promise, Graeme?”

Her scent spikes with arousal, filling my nose, my head. I’m drowning in her, drunk on pheromones and need.

It would be so easy to give in to this undeniable spark between us. To let my hands roam, discovering all the secret places that make her gasp and moan. Eight days I’ve wanted her, dreamed of her, craved her with every cell in my body.

And now here she is, pliant and willing in my arms, ripe for the taking.

But I can’t. I’m her bodyguard, sworn to protect her. Anything else would be a betrayal of that oath. And a betrayal of my own code.

I don’t do attachments, don’t do feelings. A quick, anonymous fuck is one thing, but with Ecco… it could never be just physical. She’s already worming her way under my skin, past defenses I’ve spent a lifetime building.

“Ecco,” I warn, even as my disloyal hands stroke down her sides to grip her hips. “We can’t. It would be… unwise.”

Ecco looks up at me through her lashes, a hint of self-consciousness creeping through as she bites her lip. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, does it? Haven’t you ever had a one-night stand? It can be fun.”

My jaw clenches. “You have no idea what I’m capable of in one night,” I growl at her.

Her arousal spikes higher, sweet and intoxicating.

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