Knights of Stone: Gavin: A gargoyle shifter rockstar romance

by Lisa Carlisle

  “I am.” He rose. “But, no rush. I’d rather spend more time with you.”

  She smiled. His words warmed her as she headed into the kitchen. She’d have to search for a quick bite instead of lingering over a breakfast with Gavin. When she opened her fridge, the scents hit her like a cold slap. She gagged and ran for the toilet. Dry heaves followed. How horrifying. Talk about killing the mood. What the heck was that about? Did the offensive orange juice trigger her gag reflex? No, she hadn’t even seen it in there.

  She brushed her teeth and took a shower. Did she have food poisoning? What rotten timing. After she dressed for work, she found Gavin dressed in her living room reading her article on Nessie.

  He put the journal down. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Her cheeks warmed at the horror of him overhearing her wretched gagging sounds. “Maybe it was something I ate.”

  Events from last night returned to her. “Gavin, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “What?”

  She shuffled and averted eye contact. “I followed you after you left here. Something seemed off, and I trusted my instincts.” She pulled her gaze up to meet his and assess his reaction. “You headed into an alley and vanished.”

  He laughed as if she’d told a joke, but she caught the nervous edge. “Goodness, Fiona. You don’t seem like yourself. Following me? And seeing things disappear? It sounds like you’re hallucinating.”

  Were hallucinations a symptom of food poisoning? With her exhaustion last night and illness this morning, something was wrong.

  He kissed her. “I know you’re in a rush. How about I meet you here later?”

  “Sure. Can we have dinner before you go?”

  He gave her a devastating grin that left her unsteady on her feet. “Looking forward to it.”

  “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Let yourself in if I don’t answer.”

  After he left her flat, she walked to work. The sun peered through some clouds. A young boy darted in her path, and she stopped before she ran into him. The boy’s mother, who looked ready to pop with another baby, apologized.

  That’s when it hit Fiona. Shite. When was the last time she’d had her period? Her cycle was unpredictable, and she often skipped months, so she didn’t think much of it. But, she hadn’t had one since Gavin was last in town.

  With a nervous laugh, she pushed the notion aside. They’d always used a condom.

  Yet they weren’t one-hundred percent effective…

  Fuck!

  Damn it. She glanced at her phone. She had time for a quick run by the pharmacy. She chose one closer to the office and not her usual one near her house where she was more likely to be recognized. Her business was nobody’s concern.

  When she stood in front of the pregnancy test shelf, she swallowed. This couldn’t be happening. She wasn’t ready to be a mother. The only person who could be the father was Gavin, and he certainly seemed even less prepared to be a parent than she was.

  What would she do if she was pregnant? The various options looped around inside her head; decisions with life-changing implications. It was too heavy.

  Women found out they were pregnant every day, and they dealt with it. She couldn’t just stand and gape at the rows of test kits all day. First, someone might spot her. Second, hesitating wouldn’t change the outcome. And third, she couldn’t blow off her meeting with her editor over an inability to select a pregnancy test.

  But, why were there so many damn options? She picked up a box and read the features. Then she checked another one. Ugh, this was not the time to compare benefits, a simple yes or no would do. She selected one and shielded it with her purse on her way to the register.

  She greeted the cashier but kept her eyes averted. The last thing she wanted to do was make eye contact about her purchase and possible fate since she didn’t yet know how she’d feel about it.

  Finally, after the uncomfortable purchase was made, Fiona walked to the office. The presence of the test in her handbag weighed on her, and she glanced at it several times throughout the day. Should she take it at work? No, it was too monumental to do so in the ladies’ room at the office.

  When it was time to head home, the test in her purse seemed like a time bomb ticking down the seconds. It wouldn’t explode, but the news itself could be explosive. She played out the potential outcomes. Well, there were only two—either she was pregnant, or she wasn’t. That one fact would change everything.

  After she opened her flat door, she called out a greeting. Luckily, Gavin wasn’t there. She needed to be alone. No witnesses.

  “Ready?” How foolish to talk to herself, but she needed a pep talk. Her bladder was ready for the next step, so she couldn’t put it off too much longer.

  “Dammit, just do it. Take the test and find out for sure. And when it’s done, deal with it then.”

  She nodded and entered the loo. After the ungraceful act of peeing on a white stick, she paced across the tile floor awaiting the outcome.

  Seconds ticked past. She counted them in her head for the requisite duration. And then, she added another excruciating minute just to be sure.

  Or to delay the inevitable.

  She glanced at the stick. The telltale symbol was evident, declaring the news:

  Fiona was going to be a mother.

  She covered her mouth and let out a strange cry, a mix of surprise and—delight. Her breath quickened, and she felt her cheeks flush. Sure, she wasn’t ready for it and might never be, but knowing that a child was growing inside her changed everything. Everything. She was responsible for a human life.

  She put her hand on her stomach. It felt the same. The baby was probably not even the size of a pea.

  Walking around her flat, she gauged whether it was even suitable for an infant. She could move everything out of her study and into the living room to make a nursery. Sure, it would be a tighter fit, but she’d make do. It wasn’t as if she could move into a bigger place, especially now that she’d have more expenses. Oh, there were so many things she’d need—a crib, highchair, diapers, and all those things that a baby required. Where would she put everything?

  And, how would this change how she worked? She typically went into the office to interact with the staff or visited locations in Inverness to research or interview for articles. But, she did much of her writing from home. Perhaps she’d have to do more of that to accommodate raising an infant.

  And childcare. What would she do about that? Babies were expensive and demanding and requiring so much. She didn’t have family around here, and she wasn’t close to anyone yet in this city. Would she have any support?

  Gavin?

  How would he take the news? Would he want to play a role in his child’s life?

  No, no, no. Why would he? He was content as a bachelor with a rock star lifestyle. He’d never expressed any desire to settle down with a family.

  What was she going to tell Gavin—congratulations, you’re going to be a dad?

  What if he didn’t want to be one? No, he most certainly wouldn’t. Did she even have to tell him? Plenty of women raised children without a father.

  But he deserved to know, right? It wasn’t something small she’d be keeping from him, but his child. What timing. They had one more dinner together, and then what? They hadn’t discussed a future beyond that. Could she delay the news until he was ready to leave?

  Don’t be a coward. You need to do the right thing.

  Fine. She’d wait for the proper moment.

  Would there be one when it came to news as life-changing as this?

  Chapter 9

  Gavin found a smattering of moss-covered rocks nestled deep in the long grasses of the Highlands. He shifted to stone and rested as the sun warmed him, restoring his energy. He’d planned to fly back to the Isle of Stone with his brothers today, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Fiona just yet—even if she had followed him and had seen him cloak himself. She was too curious for his
comfort level, but he had to see her once more.

  And then what? Could he see her again and more often? The six weeks in between his visits to Inverness had been agony. Would she accept his explanation about her possibly hallucinating what she’d seen? He hated lying to her, but she did appear to be ill. Would she let him stay longer and care for her?

  When he returned to her flat that evening, she didn’t answer the door. He let himself in with the key code and found her sleeping in her bed. Her face appeared peaceful, and her red hair spread over the white pillowcase. She looked angelic. His angel. He longed to climb in and cradle her. The yearning to protect her had grown unbearably strong.

  Something was off. He sensed it. He knew little about human illnesses, but the tightness coiling at the muscles in the back of his neck couldn’t be ignored.

  Pacing around her flat, he contemplated the worst. Worry weighed upon each step over her living room carpet. If anything happened to her…

  No, he wouldn’t think it. That discomfiting sensation that now prickled his skin had no cause. He had no legitimate reason to believe she was ill simply because she was sleeping.

  What about the reaction to the orange juice? Her getting sick earlier?

  Perhaps she’d caught something. He entered the loo. Maybe he’d find some human medicine that would help her. He opened the medicine cabinet and fumbled through various bottles for all sorts of human ailments he didn’t recognize.

  As he was about to close the mirrored door, a curious object wrapped in tissues caught his eye. After a heartbeat of hesitation, he unwrapped it. It was an oddly shaped white stick with some markings on it. It had a word printed in pink:

  Pregnant.

  Fuck!

  His heart slammed in his chest. He dropped the stick on the bath mat. Impossible. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the counter. After blinking several times, he picked up the stick.

  Pregnant. The same word he’d just read. Pregnant. It echoed in his head like a heartbeat.

  Was it true? How old was it? He fumbled around in the rubbish and found a box also wrapped up in tissues. A pregnancy test.

  Shite, that meant it was recent. And for some reason, she’d tried to conceal it.

  A thousand questions swirled in his mind as if it had suddenly been swarmed by hornets. He tried to talk himself down.

  Maybe it isn’t hers.

  And whose would it be, bampot? She’s the only one who lives here.

  Fine, if it’s hers, that means she’s pregnant. The next question is, who’s the father?

  He swallowed. He was a likely suspect since he’d been with her—from, how long ago was it—about six weeks. That wasn’t soon enough for her to know, was it? Damn, aye, of course it was. Humans and their technology were always improving, and they could probably figure out when a human was pregnant these days and as quick as a blink.

  Shite, shite, shite.

  He’d used condoms. Gargoyle-human pregnancies weren’t common.

  It wasn’t necessarily his. She could’ve slept with other men.

  He growled at that nauseating idea. He didn’t want anyone else impregnating her. And when he was last in Inverness, she’d said she hadn’t been with anyone for a while. It didn’t rule out the possibility of another father, but it did look more likely that it was his.

  And, fuck. If she was pregnant, why the hell didn’t she tell him? She’d hidden the test as if she wanted to keep it from him.

  The next step was confronting her to get answers.

  He opened the door and stepped out. Fiona stirred and opened her eyes. She peered at him from under her hooded lids. “I thought I heard you.” She smiled.

  Without knowing what to say, he stepped into her bedroom and raised the white stick. Her eyes widened, and she scooted upright. She covered her mouth.

  “Yours?” He asked.

  She dropped her hand and avoided eye contact. “I, uh, I, umm. I can explain.”

  He didn’t dare blink while he waited for her to do exactly that. Seconds passed, and she still said nothing.

  Once again, he repeated, “Yours?”

  She sighed. “Aye.”

  His heart thundered. A sheen of perspiration covered his skin. He shuffled from one foot to the other, gripping the stick.

  Now that he had the answer to his first question, he had to man up for the second one. Her response might change his life.

  He sought the appropriate words to ask this monumental question. The only one that came out was, “Mine?”

  She gazed at him with eyes wide and stark with worry. Her eyes remained glued on his.

  She nodded. After clearing her throat, she said, “Yours.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  Gavin ran one hand through his hair and paced over her bedroom rug. What the fuck could he do with that information? Fiona was pregnant—with his child.

  No, it couldn’t be. But, she’d just confirmed it.

  The hornets in his brain stirred up with more aggression as they fired more thoughts. He couldn’t get a solid grasp on any. Some swarmed with denial, others anxiety. Buried beneath the shock, he sensed a flicker of excitement. They darted about like insects entranced by illumination.

  “Gavin? Gavin, are you all right?”

  He was sitting at the end of her bed, clenching the stick. How did he get there? He didn’t remember sitting down.

  Gavin lowered the object onto her comforter and stared at it as if it had contained all the secrets to life. Funny, it did in a way. He should say something. Do something. He couldn’t be a giant knobhead and think about himself, even though he couldn’t put two damn words together into a coherent thought.

  Think of her. She’s pregnant.

  “How are you feeling?” He asked.

  Her concerned eyes softened as she tilted her head. “I’m fine. It explains the mysterious symptoms recently, like morning sickness and exhaustion. They should pass.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” His voice sounded strained, nothing like his own. It was like some stranger had invaded his body and used it to communicate.

  She pulled the covers off her and stood. “Listen, Gavin. If you’re freaking out, don’t. I don’t have any expectations.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can hardly ask you to jump into the role of being a father.”

  Being a father. Words he never thought he’d hear. And now that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Hold up, Fiona.” He raised his hand. “I just found out that you’re carrying my child, and you’re ready to push me away. Just give me a minute to let the news settle in, all right?”

  “Sorry.”

  Gavin leaned forward, elbows on knees. He plopped his heads into his hands and stared at the pattern in her throw rug. It was some sort of intricate design with rich reds and deep blues. Each swirl didn’t have much impact on its own, but pulled together, it completed this impressive work of art. Two opposites that appeared vastly different coming together to create something beautiful.

  Why was he thinking about a rug when he could barely come up with words a moment ago? While he sought clarity through his racing thoughts, one question rose above all the rest.

  He straightened and faced her. “How long have you known?”

  “Since I got home today.”

  “Were you planning on telling me?” The hurt accusation in his voice rang clear.

  Fiona let out an audible sigh. “Can I sit down next to you?”

  He waved his hand. “It’s your bed.”

  Her scent wrapped around him as she sat. He resisted inhaling deeper, no matter how calming the effect would be.

  She placed a hand on his thigh, and he lost the battle. Her touch stirred him, and he yearned to lean closer to her. Instead, he drank in her scent and let it work its magic.

  He closed his eyes. They were going to be a family.

  “Gavin, I just found out and am trying to come to terms with it, myself
.”

  He opened his eyes and stared at her. “I have a thousand questions and don’t even know where to begin. When? How far along are you?”

  “I’m guessing about six weeks along.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “It must have happened the last time you were in town since there was nobody before you for many months.”

  Ah, damn. That was a hot weekend. He’d had no clue what a long-lasting impact it would have.

  After a deep exhale, she added, “And no one after you.”

  As it should be. He couldn’t bear the idea of any man touching Fiona.

  He didn’t know how to ask the next one without sounding like a callous dick. She had options. She could keep the child or not. She could raise it herself or give it up for adoption.

  “Are you—happy?” he asked.

  She smiled. The anxiety vanished from her face for a moment and, in that second, he witnessed her reaction—she beamed with joy. The hopeful excitement of a mother-to-be.

  “I think I am,” she admitted.

  Gavin never wanted to disturb the contentment she seemed to feel. What should he do now?

  Would she still be optimistic if she knew her child wasn’t completely human?

  Gavin soared over the Highlands as he headed north back to the Isle of Stone. Although flight often calmed him, it would take many miles of the breeze caressing his wings to smooth over the shock of Fiona’s news. He was going to be a father.

  He passed majestic peaks that sloped to valleys, lochs that shimmered under the setting sun, and several sheep and deer. The world around him hadn’t changed, but his world had changed entirely.

  He soared past the rugged cliffs of the north coast and headed over the Atlantic. When he landed hours later, even the isle appeared different. The familiar forests, fragrant moors, and pebbled shoreline where he and his brothers had grown up now ushered in the next generation. Mason and Kayla had started it with their son, Andrew. Would Gavin’s child ever visit? If he admitted his identity to Fiona, a human, would she be repulsed and run from him in fear? He might never meet his child.

  Gavin retracted his wings and communicated to his brothers. Can you meet me at the amphitheater?