Page 26 of Stolen By the Gargoyle
He probably didn’t, but that was okay. I took his hand anyway. “I’m going to shower,” I told him. “You can go in after me. Okay?”
He nodded.
“And then I want to take you to this cafe I like and buy you a mug of hot chocolate.” Perhaps it would give people a shock to see a gargoyle. His was a rare species, even among the supernatural beings that walked freely.
“I know of this chocolate.”
I smiled at him, patting his hand tenderly. “Once you taste it, you’ll see why I was desperate to come back.”
He nodded once, features hardening like a soldier prepping for battle. It was a funny thought, I mused. That this demon gargoyle who had tortured, maimed, and killed was mentally preparing himself to have a cup of hot chocolate with the human woman he’d kidnapped. Maybe he was feeling as anxious as me.
Hell, maybe we weren’t so different after all.
The human world wasa confounding and uncomfortable place–and obviously not meant for a creature like myself. It was made all too clear from the moment Dolores sat me down on her small couch to ready herself for breakfast. It was unsturdy and collapsed beneath my heftier weight, and when I had stood up, my horns poked a hole through her ceiling, raining debris over her pristine carpets.
Then, when she had ushered me into her bathing room–which had smelt deliciously of her soap–I cracked the porcelain of her tub with my claws.
She had not minded that I had dripped water onto her floors, though. She had smiled at me, softly, warmly, and it was more than I wanted, more than I deserved.
Even when I had squeezed my lower half into pants fit for a human man, they had been too constricting, pinching at my skin with the strange material. I had wanted to rip it clean offthe moment I had zipped them up, but Dolores’ eyes were alight with glee. I could not bring myself to care that it was at my expense, because she was smiling the way she had smiled before I had taken her. Before I had swept into her life at all.
And yet, she had not asked me to leave. She wanted me at her side, and while it bred hope, I dared not hold my breath when hope was a fickle thing and could easily burn like paper-thin skin of a sinner smoldering in hell.
Still, it would be remiss not to admit the way my heart pounded a war beat inside my chest when she threaded our fingers together and pulled me out on the street to walk to her cafe.
My spine itched, wings pulled taut at my back as I surveyed the area. I knew it from watching her, but here I could not discern the threats that could potentially hurt her. Besides, every instinct within my body roared. We were walking, and she did not wear my scent, was devoid of my mating mark.
Others would look upon her. They would try to take her. They would–
“Nazzar?” Her voice pulled me back to reality and out from my own dangerous thoughts.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
It was then that I realized the fires of the Underworld had come to life beneath my chest. Purple flames flicked and fluttered just under the surface of my skin, making my body glow. I pressed my palm over the spot, smoothing my palm and claws over it, passing the new scars and wounds, pushing the magic down.
“I am well,” I assured her.
My tongue forked out over my bottom lip, savoring the lie.
She took in that movement and looked away. The pounding of her heart matched mine in tempo, a fast paced drum that beliedher nerves, the scent leaking from between her legs hinting at her desire.
My wings flared–
“We’re here!” she announced, pulling away from me. Her fingers slipped from my own as she stepped in front of me. “Look, there’s my sister and some friends!”
My attention snapped to her kin. There was a woman wearing similar features as Dolores; the same structure in their face, the curve of their cheeks. The only difference was this woman appeared older, and instead of tight curls, her hair was long and twisted into thin ropes.
They approached one another and embraced. More people came around Dolores, females and males alike.
When a human male leaned close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her cheek, a growl rose up in my throat, bursting past my lips and causing them all to turn in my direction.
I snarled at the human male. His arm was still settled against Dolores’ shoulder, invading her with his scent.
I wondered if I should snap his fingers or tear the offending limb off first.
Dolores cleared her throat and slipped from beneath his touch, walking towards me with no more fear. “Guys, this is Nazzar,” she introduced, placing her palm against my chest, on the space just where my heart beat. “He’s my…” She broke off, looking at me and I stared back, wondering what word lived poised on the tip of her tongue. “Friend,” she said.
