Page 21 of Gargoyle Reaper

Some things never change.

With a pained growl, he swept the food off the nightstand, the tray hitting the stone floor with a clatter that echoed throughthe room. Archer collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in his hands.

Sleep. I need some damn sleep.

He opened his eyes, groaning at the sight of the big mess he’d made. His temper never did him any favors. With a resigned sigh, he set about cleaning everything up. He also decided that in the morning, he’d confront Ezekiel about the claim of male pregnancy. If he could somehow prove it was a reality, then he’d deal with the repercussions of that knowledge.

But if it was all bullshit, then he was done. Maybe everything had been an elaborate illusion, somehow. Perhaps there was a hidden agenda behind the events of the day he wasn’t aware of. Regardless, he was determined to get some answers.

* * * *

Ezekiel’s stomach was in knots, his heart thundering as he walked at a fast clip back to the kitchen. He couldn’t remember where they kept the liquor in the Boston lair, but he was determined to find out.

Despite having no choice but to tell Archer the truth, his reaction had gutted him. Instead of spending a night in each other’s arms, his mate was upset and angry, and he was miserable and heartbroken. When he reached the kitchen, a startling, contemporary contrast to the rest of the lair, he flipped on the light switch and almost jumped out of his skin.

“Cassiel, why are you sitting in the dark?”

She was perched on a cantilever chair upholstered in a black fabric with colorful geometric designs. Ezekiel found the decor in the kitchen to be foul, but the Boston gargoyles seemed to appreciate the modern look.

She took a slug from a longneck bottle of beer. “Pondering.”

He pointed to the chrome fridge. “Any more of those in there?”

“Yup. Grab me another one while you’re at it.”

After he popped the caps off both brews, he took a seat across from her. She downed the rest of her first beer then started in on the second. He took a swig of his own, curious why she seemed so frustrated.

“What’s on your mind, Cass?”

“Don’t call me that,” she grumbled.

And he thoughthewas in a bad mood. “Why not? You call me Zeke even though you know I hate it.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s different when I do it.”

“How do you figure?” He smirked.

“Because I’m awesome.” She snorted out a laugh, and Ezkeiel joined in.

He grinned. “At least you’re humble.”

They laughed a little more, then Cassiel’s features darkened again.

Ezekiel sighed. “Come on. What is it?”

She glanced around the room as if verifying no one else was listening. “Something Ronen said before you got here to heal him. He was delirious, of course, not making any sense, barely conscious. At one point, he called me Lysander.”

“One of our defectors who came back to the fold?”

“Yeah. Him.” She shook her head. “At the time, I thought, wow. Ronen’s so out of it that he doesn’t even recognize me. But almost immediately after you healed him, Michael gave us our orders, so I pushed it to the back of my mind.”

“And now it’s back to the front again?”

She took another long pull of her beer. “Yeah. I started thinking, what if Ronen said Lyusander’s name because the little fucker was there while he was being tortured. Maybe that bit of telling memory didn’t get erased from his mind.”

Ezekiel let out a low whistle. “Ooh, that’s not good. Yet Michael seems convinced that the defectors are legit, that they can be trusted.”

“Ppph.” She made a jerk-off motion with her hand. “Whatever. I don’t trust any gargoyle who flipped like that. I think Michael’s gone soft. Doesn’t make sense that he’d let them infiltrate our lairs again.”

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