Page 96 of Bewitching Her Monsters

He doesn’t move or respond to me.

“Flint?” I call.

Nothing.

I’m worried he’s debating the merits of crushing me with his humongous arms. Heck, I think his pinky fingers could crush me all by themselves.

I tilt my head back to look at his face, but it takes some effort with my debilitating exhaustion.

Flint is solid stone.

His eyes are locked onto me but appear to be unseeing. They are no longer filled with their usual quiet inquisitiveness. His face looks as though he is frozen with fright.

Do witches scare this huge guy enough to defend himself like this?

He might scare me more if I didn’t get the feeling that he has a gentle soul under all his group’s talk of war and revenge.

I try to slip down and out of his hold, but his arms are locked tight enough around my waist that I can’t move.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my face still pressed against Flint's smooth marble chest.

Is this his true gargoyle form? He appears to be in his human form, but only now, made of carved marble. I was hoping he would have tusks and wings.

Oh, well, another fantasy bubble burst. Unless he has a shifted form since he said I would be turned off by his true form. But I see no other change than his solidity.

Back to the matter at hand… I wonder what could be wrong with him to make him turn. Has someone spelled him?

Can a witch’s mere touch do that? Did I hurt him? Accidentally cursed him?

The guys are going to think the worst of me… especially Calder. I hope he doesn’t discover us first.

I wiggle to break free, but it’s no use. I’m pinned to him. As it is, I can barely take a full breath.

“Arran?” I call to the empty house. I don’t know how I know it’s empty, but I feel it. “Maxum? Calder?”

I don’t know what they could do about this, but maybe they have some anti-statue spell.

Fatigue washes over me again. I tuck my arms into my body, lean my head against the gargoyle’s massive chest, and pass out.

“Jade!” I hear Arran shout from a distance.

I open my eyes and see him peering over Flint’s broad shoulder. He’s stuck on the other side of the bedroom door that Flint’s giant body is blocking entirely.

“Arran?”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he sighs. “I thought you might be…”

“Dead?” I finish for him. “No. But this might be my new life now, caught in Flint’s hold.”

Maxum asks, “What happened?”

“I was going to ask you that,” I say. “All I did was get out of bed to get some water, and Flint quickly came through the door. Since I could barely stand, I accidentally fell into him. He grabbed me and froze. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“He’s not hurt,” Maxum assures me.

“Thank goodness,” I breathe out.

“Did he hurt you?” Arran asks.

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