Page 12 of Stolen By the Gargoyle
I definitely should have stayed in the cave…
The thought burst through my head loudly, and I threw a look over my shoulder, regretting the action immediately when I saw how close those things were now. They gained on me, close enough where I could make out their every detail.
Up close they were ugly, with rows of sharp teeth, flat snouts, and four sets of yellow eyes. My heart slammed up to my throat as I pictured one of those little creatures sinking its teeth into me. I was dead.Fuck,I was so fucking dead.
I cried out in terror, my arms flailing as my legs pumped faster than I’d ever moved them before. It still didn’t feel fast enough. The creatures were gaining on me, their snarls chasing me and their acidic breath hot on my back. Tears flowed freely from my eyes, but I didn’t want to give up… I couldn’t give up. My life couldn’t end here. I wouldn’t let it.
I tripped, skidding to my knees on the sand. Rock and grit rubbed me raw, and I felt my exposed skin tear open. I screamed, turning and scrambling back as one of those things lurched for me–
And then a blur tore in between me and it.
Snarls and chaos rained down around me. The other creatures skidded to a stop, yapping and barking as that giant blur of a figure tore through the one that lunged at me. There was a hot spray of warmth that splattered against me, making me gasp.
And then the terrifying screeching stopped for a moment as the blur ceased to be. The gargoyle stood in front of me, his back arched, facing off against the demons.
He let out a roar that rumbled the ground beneath me. My nails dug into the sand, as if searching for purchase to steady my trembling body.
He roared, and the creatures issued battle cries of their own. And within the next second, they were attacking. I screamed, scrambling back on the ground away from the melee of the fight.
Look, I could get down and punch a bitch, when the occasion called for it, but I wasn’t about to get caught up in all of that. They had teeth like razors that tore into the gargoyle’s rock-hard skin like it was butter. I could only imagine what they would have done to me.
The things were small, but they converged on him as a unit, corralling him in a way that made my heart pound and had me fearing for his safety.
When a creature lunged for his wings, I screamed, “Behind you!”
But the gargoyle seemed to have been waiting for that to happen. His wings snapped closed tightly against his back and the creature clamped down on empty air before falling to the ground close to me. It got up, disoriented, shaking its head. When its vision cleared, it saw me and made an attempt to pounce…
The gargoyle skewered it with the pointed end of his tail, the hard flesh piercing the demon’s chest and lifting it into the air. He shook the thing like a rattle and then tossed it amongst its comrades, sending them toppling over.
The death sent them into a tizzy. They came at him at once. Everything was a cacophony of snarls, claws, and teeth. He ripped through them like they were bugs, though he sustained his own injuries in the process.
His skin split open and red-black blood dripped across his flesh. The sight made me ache. Everytime their teeth sunk into his flesh, cries ripped past my mouth. I wanted to rush in and help, but I knew I’d be more of a hindrance, so I stayed where I was as he picked them apart one by one, until they were nothing but slumped bodies already being buried beneath the sand.
For a moment, everything stilled. Time. Space. My heart.
But the gargoyle’s chest heaved up and down, his entire body tense. He faced away from me, but the set of his wings were sprung tight against his spine. His black claws dripped blood onto the sand, the three claws on his feet vicious and curved and standing in blood and guts.
I was almost too afraid to speak, fearing what it might bring, so I pushed quietly to a stand.
He snapped around to look at me. I almost expected anger on his features, perhaps some of that violent rage aimed and reserved for me. But… there was none. His features had smoothed over. Yes, while they were still very much grave, his black orbs were soft on me, assessing. It felt like they were roving over me, searching for any sign of injuries.
I waited with bated breath for him to berate me, for him to be angry that I’d left… Wasn’t that what kidnappers did in situations like this? They grew upset, locked up their captives?
He stepped forward, confident, straight, every glorious inch of him wide and bloody, like a warrior who had just come out of battle in a story.
He stopped in front of me, staring down from his tall frame.
“You are hurt.”
I barely felt my bloody knees and palms. How could I pay them any mind when his wounds seemed more prominent and he wasn’t even wincing?
There was a gash on his chest, a diagonal, deep wound that ran between his two pectorals.
Blood slid from it, down and over his navel-less belly.
He didn’t have a fucking navel.
Why my brain chose to grasp on that little detail was beyond me, but it did. My eyes couldn’t tear themselves away at first, but when they did, I latched onto his face, sprayed with dark blood. Even his long, black hair dripped blood. He sported gouges across his body, and though he barely flinched, I wondered if they ached.
