So he had done himself some harm. In a spur-of-the-moment, she-wasn’t-really-thinking-about-what-she-was-doing move, she glanced down and started to reach for the split and sagging material of his jeans.
Gregory moved at the same time and Lillian jerked back. Her face heated in a fiery blush, thinking he was going to push her hands away from a place they had no business being in the first place.
“Sorry,” She rushed on, “I don’t know what I was…it’s not like I still have any healing powers…it was some knee-jerk instinct….”
“It comes naturally to us,” Gregory’s voice was deeper than normal, velvet and sinful. “We would commonly inspect and heal each other’s smallest injuries. It was one way we could show our love and passion without breaking our oaths to the Divine Ones.” Gregory enfolded her hands in his and drew them back to his body, curling them gently around the slight protrusion of his hip bones. “There is no shame in this.”
He tucked his muzzle against his chest and closed his eyes, but made no other move. Clearly, he was leaving the next move to her. Even motionless, he was still an imposing wall of muscle and sinew. His bulk of wings, horns that brushed the ceiling, and broad shoulders that dwarfed her smaller frame, all added to his overall air of menace.
Yet, as different as they might be in body, they were one soul.
And right now, her other half needed her. Touching him, she could feel what he felt, his bone deep terror she would fear him and turn away, that she would not be, could not be, what he needed.
She took one step into him, pressing her cheek to his chest as she sealed the length of their bodies together. “No shame,” she whispered against his chest. “None ever between us.”
Gregory released a deep rumbling sigh as all tension melted out of his body. His arms encircled her shoulders and his tail wrapped possessively around her lower legs. They stood there not moving for several moments. Gregory seemed willing to simply stay like that, but Lillian knew she had a little more to do in order to be what he needed.
She unwound her arms from around his waist and hooked her fingers in the top of his ruined jeans. It was easy enough to push the torn denim down his hips. Gregory shifted his weight for her, making it easier to shove the pant legs on down. When it was low enough, he kicked free of the shredded material and then went still once more.
Almost done, she thought. Giving herself silent orders seemed to be the only thing holding her confidence in place. If she was standing in front of anyone other than Gregory doing this…
“I would do them serious injury.” Gregory’s voice rumbled over her head.
“There is no one else I would do this for.” Her voice had steadied, but when she reached out and pushed against one hip to urge him to turn toward the light flooding from the bathroom, she couldn’t hide the trembling of her fingers.
It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Gregory completely bare. He had little concept of human modesty. The other two times had been when he’d been in the shower. Both those times she’d adverted her gaze within seconds, but had still been left with the knowledge Gregory was impressive in every aspect. He was completely hairless, but had the correct number of parts to be mostly human-shaped, which wasn’t so strange, since gargoyles and dryads did interbreed upon occasion.
She arched an eyebrow in thought. If Gregory was an average example of his species, dryads were made of sterner stuff than she’d credited them with. Lillian might be of dryad blood, but she wasn’t sure if she possessed the courage to tackle a gargoyle. Even at rest, he was larger than what a similarly proportioned man would have possessed.
Gregory’s body language was still relaxed, but his thoughts hinted at an underlying sense of anticipation. She moved the hand that had been resting on his hip and stroked her fingertips across his belly, and was rewarded by the subtle flexing of his abdominal muscles. He shifted his stance as he grew semi-hard at her touch. It was one of the sexiest things she’d seen. She had to remind herself this was supposed to be an inspection not a seduction. Though, she imagined, she was the one getting seduced by Gregory’s undeniable virile nature.
Inspection.
“It’s just an inspection.”
Gregory laughed, his voice a dark caress along her overheated body. “Then by all means, inspect me, my Sorceress.”
His baiting had her blood rushing to answer his challenge, and she made herself take a lingering look. “Everything looks…in order. You have fully healed?”
“Yes.” It was more growl than word.
“You’re in no pain?”
“No, but…” he groaned and stepped closer, “I need to hold you.” His arms and wings settled around her, their warm weight a reassurance.
“It’s all right.” She hugged him with a fierce strength, knowing he needed the reassurance. And it soothed a hunger in her body and soul to hold him so close. “Would you like to shower with me?”
His muzzle dipped down to nose past the neck of her tank top. He pushed the fabric out of his way until he encountered the black lace of her bra. His lips caressed the valley between her breasts. “You’re wearing too many layers.”
“I am,” Lillian agreed.
****
Gregory stood, hardly daring to breathe for fear the slightest movement would startle Lillian into bolting from his side. But her confidence held, and she took his right hand in her much smaller one and tugged him in the direction of the bathroom.
She was doing this for him. He knew it. He also knew she wasn’t emotionally ready to take their relationship into these new dangerous waters. He doubted he was any better equipped to deal with this part of their relationship. He should stop this before it went farther.
Oh, but her smaller hand felt good in his, as did the weight of her eyes every time she looked at him with a mix of innocence and desire. More than a few times in their past lives, they had played this dangerous game, caressing each other as lovers when the loneliness of being separated outside the Spirit Realm became too much to bear.
Always before, when they took turns giving and taking pleasure, it was with their duty and its restrictions held firmly in their minds. Without the strong, disciplined mind of the Mother’s Sorceress overseeing him, he wasn’t sure if he could trust himself not to go too far. And Lillian, as much as he loved her, was not the Sorceress of old. She could not hold him back by the sheer strength of her mind alone.
Yet all the same, he would not crush her fledgling courage, which led her to come this far, to strip him bare, to study and accept him and all his fierce differences. He’d craved her acceptance for weeks now. He would in no way endanger it by rushing Lillian into something she wasn’t ready for, so he let her choose when and how events would unfold.
Lillian led him into the master bath, and after fiddling with the shower taps and adjusting the water temperature several times, she hesitated.
Sensing her confidence about to flee, he playfully tapped the spade-shaped tip of his tail against her nearest arm. She startled at the contact, and looked over her shoulder with a wide-eyed gaze. With a gentle nudge of his muzzle under her chin, he sighed with contentment and whispered against her skin, “Little dryad, this need not be anything more than a shower.”
The tension in her shoulders eased visibly, and a warm smile brightened her expression to something truly beautiful. “I know. That’s why I love and trust you so much.” She worked loose the strange fastenings of her human garb and disrobed quickly and then took his hand and tugged until he stepped in the shower with her. “However,” she said, with a mysterious little smile. “I do hate personal cowardice and would use this opportunity to work upon my own underdeveloped confidence.”
“So very formal,” he said as happiness swelled in his heart.
“Formal? Ha! It’s all your fault. Your archaic way of speaking is infectious.” She stepped into him, raised herself up onto her toes, and placed a kiss along the underside of his jaw, effectively taking any sting out of her words.
“Mmm,” he rumbled softly, backing farther into the shower at her gentle insistence. He did so enjoy her method of apology. “I would be honored to offer up myself as a means to help you become more comfortable with our relationship.”
In answer, she poured soap on what she called a shower sponge and applied it to his shoulders and chest. Mild disappointment flooded him. It was her hands, not an indifferent sponge, he wanted on his flesh.
Her free hand suddenly came up and caressed the curve of his hip, tentative at first and then with a bit more boldness. His eyes drifted closed as she ventured farther afield, her delicate touch gliding lower. Belatedly, he realized his private wish had made his control slip and she’d picked up the thread of his thoughts, but he didn’t feel guilty about it, especially not when she dropped the sponge and brought her other hand into play. A deep, rumbling purr escaped him. He wanted to return the caresses, but he held himself passive. It was more important for his other half to learn him and the limits of her courage.
Chapter Twelve
A soft, persistent knocking registered on Lillian’s senses. She tried to ignore it and burrowed deeper under the covers—wanting to escape the noise and the bright light flooding in the windows that declared it was morning. Gregory seemed to have a similar idea and attempted to bury his muzzle underneath her hair. She was draped over his chest, with one leg sprawled over his powerful thighs. One part of her mind said this was probably inappropriate, but another part liked it rather too much to move.
Besides, she didn’t feel like moving. Gregory didn’t seem inclined to either—well other than one part. His tail was flicking lazy caresses up and down her side. The knocking at the door had finally stopped. Lillian smiled.
“What if I’d been a team of commandoes?”
Gran’s voice jolted through Lillian’s sleepy mind. She jerked awake, but Gregory replied first.
“I’d have spread their ashes across the three Realms.” His chuckle shook Lillian’s entire body. “You’re lucky I’m fond of you. Besides, you feed me.”
Her face burning, Lillian rolled off him and buried herself under the blankets. Gregory had no such concerns, or modesty. She peeked out in time to see him throw off the blankets and stretch, before leaning toward the plates Gran held out to him.
“My goodness,” Gran gave an approving purr. “Now, I know why dryads have a preference for gargoyles.”
“Gran!” Lillian bolted upright, but kept hold of the blankets not wanting to flash the room.
“Don’t be a prude, darling. I’m old, not dead. I still have hormones enough to appreciate a fine-looking specimen when one is laid out before me.” Gran then turned her attention back to Gregory and bestowed a smile on him. “I brought breakfast for the both of you.”
Lillian tried another angle. “You could have just called through the door. What if we had…we’d been…”
Gran started to chuckle again, a full belly laugh this time. “If you had, the whole house would have heard. Gregory has a tendency to roar. Besides, I didn’t hear any headboard cracking last night. And the house is still standing—no stray flares of creative Avatar magic.”
Lillian collapsed onto her pillow and tossed the sheets back over her head.
“No time to hide.” Gran tugged on the blankets. “You need to eat and then get dressed. The Fae council arrived in the night. We need to discuss what to do about the military problem. And Gregory, dear, you need to pretend to be human. No more dragging your feet about it.”
He grunted around a mouthful of food, but nodded his head.
“Good. When you are both presentable, come down to the kitchen. We have work to do.” Gran patted Lillian’s blanket-covered leg and placed a plate of food in her hand.
Lillian eyed the plate of bacon and eggs. Not exactly a romantic breakfast in bed, but she was hungry, and it would be a waste of perfectly good food if she didn’t eat it. Picking up a fork, she started to work her way through breakfast.
****
Gregory stood before her and gave her his best annoyed gargoyle scowl. Strange how well the look transferred to his now fully human form. Another minor feat she wouldn’t mind mastering was his ability to look equally noble and stern in nothing but a pair of silky black boxer shorts. Perhaps it had something to do with him being comfortable in nothing but his own skin.
Lillian admitted it was a little disconcerting having a nearly naked human man in her bedroom. On one hand, she knew it was Gregory, and yet on the other, she could see very little of her guardian in this tall, swarthy-skinned man with his brown eyes, dark hair, and serious expression. Somehow, this felt different than when Gregory wandered around half-naked in gargoyle form. Maybe it was because her eyes kept telling her she was standing across from a stranger she’d only laid eyes on a couple times before.
She held out a pair of black jeans, then gave them a little wiggle when he didn’t take the bait.
“Oh, come on—you’re worse than a two-year-old. They’re just jeans, not a viper about to bite you.”
He frowned at her tone, but stepped forward and snatched them out of her hand. “I thought the worst thing about the Mortal Realm was its lack of magic,” he jerked on the pants, though was cautious about doing up the zipper, “but I was wrong. There is one thing worse—it’s fashion. Humans wear so many layers even their clothing has clothing. It snags, it rubs, it bites, it pinches…”
It seemed her gargoyle needed a little incentive.
Lillian stretched up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “If you wear the clothing today, I’ll help you out of them tonight.” His lips parted and his eyes widened ever so slightly. Secretly, she was pleased she could still surprise him. The kiss had the added benefit of stilling his tirade.
“I’ll play at being human—but I only do it for you.” Gregory held out his hand for the T-shirt she still held. “Though, you are welcome to kiss me whenever you want if you think it will make me more malleable to your diabolical plans.”
A pearl of laughter escape her. “You’re such a terrible actor—though I like your sulk. It’s cute.” And she also liked this new playful side of Gregory; seeing him happy warmed her heart, and she wanted to do whatever was required to keep him happy.
He pretended to sulk at her words—but his expression was so off, she laughed even harder. “Enough, you great ham. We have a Fae council to pacify and a large military problem to resolve.”
Gregory sobered and nodded.
Lillian held the door and motioned him forward, wanting to make sure he didn’t try to ditch some of the clothing on his way down. When Gregory frowned at her, she knew she had hit on the correct plan.
With a huff, he stomped past, still pulling at his T-shirt and the waist of his jeans as if trying to make them more comfortable. Halfway down the stairs, he gave up and fisted his hands at his side.
When they reached the bottom, Lillian could hear the voices drifting from the kitchen. By the sound of it, the council meeting was already underway. Gregory shoved the kitchen door hard enough to make it groan in complaint. If there had been anyone on the other side, they’d have been laid out by the blow.
“The door’s not to blame for you having to wear clothing,” Lillian stated under her breath.
Gregory stopped, turned swiftly and smiled what could only be called a devilishly handsome grin. “Keep it up and I’m going to revert to my true form, march over to the human military compound, and strut naked past Major Resnick. Twice. In case he misses it the first time.”
“That’s sure to stir the hornet’s nest.” A great gruff hoot was followed by a hand slapping a thigh. “If you do, make sure to let me know in advance. I want to be there to witness it.”
Gregory grinned and nodded to the stranger. Lillian froze, her mind trying to place where she’d seen the older man before. He was familiar but she didn’t know from where. Or why he was in Gran’s kitchen. He was dressed in faded and patched jeans, an old flannel shirt, and his feet were encased in rubber
boots. Upon first glance, Lillian might have taken him as a farmer.
But she could ‘feel’ the power hidden inside him.
“The council members are using glamour to hide themselves,” Gregory replied to her unasked question. “If you look with more than your physical eyes, you will recognize them.”
Lillian scrutinized the man. “Greenborrow?”
He gave her a courtly bow. “In the flesh, great lady.”
Gregory skirted the table and took one of the seats beside the leshii. While Lillian made her way around to sit in the other chair, she cast subtle glances at the other three people already seated.
Gran wasn’t presently in the kitchen, so she couldn’t look for hints there. And while by Gregory’s easy manner, it was clear he knew everyone in the room, Lillian was still annoyed enough with him she wasn’t about to ask him for information.
Two of the occupants were women in their forties. A third was a tattooed and pierced young man with spikey black hair and a black leather jacket and worn blue jeans. He looked to be in his early twenties—not much older than Lillian herself, if she was to go by her eyes alone.
She focused on the man first, not because she was ogling his tattoos and piercings—though they were something to behold—but because she expected the sidhe lord, Whitethorn, to be at this meeting. She couldn’t imagine him not being there. Unless he was running late. She narrowed her eyes again trying to see something of the sidhe in the young man sitting at the table.
His smile was neither overly friendly nor outwardly cold, which was very much the sidhe lord’s personality. Ah, she was right. “Whitethorn?”
A regal nod greeted her question.
“Hmm, isn’t the whole idea of the glamour to blend in?”
“Yes,” Greenborrow laughed, cutting in before the sidhe lord could reply. “But we make do with what humans we can take unsuspecting. Whitethorn lost the bet and won the ‘honor’ of taking on the little drug-lord’s seeming.”
Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2) Page 8
