by Mel Telshco
“Cray…” She went limp beneath him. Her crystal green eyes shimmered, bringing a lump to his throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.
No. Thank you. He couldn’t voice the words and didn’t want her to read anything in his face that would give her hope of something he couldn’t give.
He pulled free from the warmth of her body but was unable to mentally withdraw and leave just yet. He tugged her to him until her back rested against his front. His cock stirred, but for the moment he was able to ignore his physical demands.
He cradled her in his arms, watching with aching tenderness as she subsided against him before slowly giving in to sleep.
It took more effort than he wanted to admit to release her and dress. And still he didn’t leave. He watched, at once protective and fascinated, and yearned for so very much more as she sighed with dreams, her breathing rhythmic and steady, her pulse fluttering at her throat.
He had no idea how long he stayed there, the fire snapping and hissing behind them, while he drank in the flawless line of her beauty.
At last he forced himself to move, to carry her into the single adjoining bedroom with its rustic furnishings and queen-size bed with blue-checkered quilt.
It felt so right, the way she snuggled in his arms like a warm, trusting kitten, the feeling of completeness—two parts of a whole that had finally come together after a long separation.
He called himself all kinds of a fool as he jerked back the bedcovers. His muscles constricted, steely hard, when he laid her on the mattress. He stepped back. He wouldn’t join her. Wouldn’t reveal to her just how considerate a lover he could be, after all.
Self-control. Discipline. It was his safeguard, his insurance against depravity.
It was hell to face the crack of dawn each morning and know in seconds he’d become inanimate stone while every one of his senses went rampant—a visceral high-octane rush without an outlet.
Much of his restraint had been lost from the moment Loretta had touched him in his stone form. His dick might not have grown in her hands, firm and hot and pulsing, but he’d felt the spark leap within—the warmth—as clearly as if he’d been fully functioning and…human.
Then when he’d watched Loretta bring herself to orgasm, it’d been like withholding a meaty bone from a starving, feral dog. He’d wanted her with a ferocity that had been ravenous, unquenchable. He’d wanted to fuck her senseless, to replace her hand with his mouth and have her screaming his name.
He’d wanted her as he’d never wanted anyone in his life. And that hadn’t changed one bit. He may have taken the edge off his hunger for now but sampling her had only intensified the cravings.
He tucked the bedcovers high. A wry smile tugged at his lips. She’d bewitched him, made him forget for a little while who he was…what he was. Oh hell. His smile disappeared, a deep sadness engulfing his moment of joy.
He’d sworn to protect her. And there could be no excuse for breaking the oath he’d given Lincoln, her father. His identity as a gargoyle could no longer be guaranteed if he so easily dismissed the pledge which bound him.
If Lincoln revealed his secret to humans, none would idly sit back and allow him—a beast—to roam the moonlit streets or glide the velvet-dark skies. They’d sooner lock up his cursed gargoyle body than allow his freedom.
Besides, he fooled himself if for one moment he believed Loretta could love the stone gargoyle he became at daylight, or the twisted, disfigured monster any other time he wished, as much as the human form she fancied.
She deserved better.
Their night of passion would not be repeated.
* * * * *
For the first time in too many days to count, Loretta woke alone. She didn’t care. She was satisfied. Fulfilled. Replete.
She was happy.
She grinned and then winced as she rolled over. She’d fucked countless men over the years with little or no memory of the event. What she’d experienced with Cray had been unforgettable and had gone way beyond an extraordinary lay.
Oh, he’d filled her pussy to its very limits and had had her bucking and writhing beneath him. But it’d been so much more than that and now her aches were a physical reminder of the most emotional, joyful experience of her life.
With a little sigh, she sat up, rubbing sleepy eyes as the late morning warmth caressed her face through the open wooden slats on the window. The pungent scent of eucalyptus drifted in, the air crisp and mountain fresh.
She peered at the bedside clock. In a couple of hours it would be midday. She’d never slept half the morning away before. Then again, her body had never hummed with such lethargic bliss, never felt so thoroughly fucked and sated.
She could get used to this. Used to finding pleasure in the darkness with Cray, then sleeping in daylight hours as most other humans went about their lives, completely unaware.
She kicked the bedcovers aside and climbed out of bed, the floorboards warm underfoot.
Cray would be stone now. But where was he? Delight dissipated. Her teeth gnawed the edge of her bottom lip. In the past he’d always managed to get her back to her father’s house before sunrise. He’d always ensured she was close by before he became an inanimate gargoyle.
She raced outside barefoot and bare-assed, wondering inanely how many birds, wallabies and koalas would appreciate the view.
She stilled on the veranda, her belly twisting into a tangle of knots. Beside the fierce gargoyle who safeguarded the steps leading to the veranda and front door stood Max.
Her gaze flew to the other four-wheel-drive vehicle that was parked beside Cray’s. No way. A slow burn filled her until she wondered if her skin might steam. Her father had obviously told Max about this mountain retreat!
Max didn’t acknowledge her presence. Instead, he stabbed a finger toward the gargoyle and snarled, “What is that thing doing here?”
Her vision narrowed. Damnation. Aside from her father, not one person had ever imagined that Cray, the bodyguard, was also Cray, the gargoyle.
Would he spot the similarities and make the connection? She had to distract him, and quick.
She swiped up the wet dress she’d left on the steps the night before and pressed it against her like a shield. “Good morning to you too, Max.”
He swiveled around. His eyes widened and then burned hot as he looked her slowly up and down. “You’re not dress—”
“Yes, I know.” She scraped a hand through the wild tangle of her long hair even as she fought a tide of revulsion. What had she ever seen in him? Or perhaps every man would now fall short beside Cray. She forced a smile. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
He shoved away from the lifeless Cray. His change in body language was dramatic as he fisted his hands, the veins on his neck and forehead popping. “Do you have any idea what seeing you like…like that does to me?”
She glowered. Fine! She dragged the still-wet folds of the dress over her head and snapped it into place. “Better?”
Ramrod straight, his eyes overly bright and his face mottled as if he’d glugged a bottle of poison, he rasped, “Better? No! In fact, things have been sliding downhill from the moment our relationship ended.”
“Relationship?” she squeaked, disbelief burning her face. “I never once led you to believe there could be anything more than—”
“What?” he snarled. “A week of unbelievable pleasure, a taste of what I craved for a lifetime.” He didn’t wait for a reply. His hard stare swept the area, clearly seeking further evidence of her apparent crime. “Where’s your lover? Who is it this time?”
Her teeth clenched. “That’s none of your business.”
The air vibrated with tension as he choked out a brittle laugh. “Let me guess—you don’t know his name, either?”
His contempt scraped her nerves dry. “You needn’t worry. I’ve known him for the longest time.” And had wanted him from the start.
Hostility darkened his expression. Suddenly he lunged toward her. His hand
curled like a vise around her arm and her breath hissed from the pain that speared all the way to her fingertips.
His face contorted with rage, bitterness lacing his voice. “He must have been good. You couldn’t even wait to get inside before getting your gear off.”
A chill shot down her spine. Dear Lord, no. She’d known deep down that he wasn’t a gentleman, but this? He’d become an unrecognizable stranger.
She struggled against his hold but his fingers bit harder into the soft flesh of her upper arm. “Let me go, you bastard.”
He hauled her down the steps. She stumbled, gasping alarm as he jerked her upright, past the gargoyle and toward his vehicle.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said, his voice now eerily calm.
Shit. She cast a frantic look over her shoulder to where her guardian remained immobile. Cray couldn’t assist her now. And she couldn’t help but wonder if the farther this lunatic took her, the less likely he’d be able to track her down.
“You’ll never get away with this.” But her avowal was undermined by the high-pitched quaver stealing her voice. “Where do you think you’re taking me?”
Ignoring her, he manhandled her along the dirt driveway toward his SUV.
Why hadn’t she listened to Cray’s repeated warnings? The gargoyle’s face blurred, tears of shame mingling with fear as Max thrust open the door and pushed her into the vehicle with more strength than she knew he possessed.
He snapped the seat belt across her torso and between her breasts, the wet dress almost transparent. When it clicked into place, she felt like some helpless, disobedient child. He straightened and she flinched as he lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Escape is futile.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m taking care of you now.”
Over my dead body.
She shivered and something told her not to give in to the urge to make a run for it. If he caught her, she really would pay with her life. Of that, she was utterly certain.
She didn’t respond. Not yet. She had no doubt he’d gone right over the edge. But she wasn’t about to simply fade into the background. She’d never been some shy, retiring wallflower and Max understood that more than most.
She waited until he climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. “Look, if it’s money you want, my dad—”
He cut her off with an upraised hand. “Don’t dare debase what I feel,” he said disgustedly. Reversing with a spin of tires, he then ground the stick into first gear and sent them hurtling forward.
She twisted around in her seat, watching numbly while her gargoyle became a distant speck then disappeared altogether as the car took a corner.
She turned to the front. Oh God. Would Cray try to follow and rescue her out of a sense of duty, or would it be something personal this time?
Let it be the latter. Please God, let it be the latter.
Max turned to her with a look of cold amusement. “You were always mine,” he said. “I’ve waited so patiently for you, even while you defiled yourself, sullied yourself, became a slut.”
He dragged in a breath and let it out slowly, his soulless eyes raising the hairs on the back of her arms.
“I gave you a chance, my love, but even I can only take so much. This time you’ve pushed me too far. The only way I can help you now is to set you free.”
He looked ahead as he changed gears, a glacial cruelty revealed in every line of his profile. The vehicle lurched along the potholed road. Ahead she could see the ground on one side of the road give way to empty air.
“Max, slow down.” Please.
His lips thinned into a hard white line. “I’m no longer your employee.” His eyes sparked with menace and the engine whined as he pushed it even harder.
Icy dread crept through her, momentarily stealing her breath and making her shiver.
He threw her an annoyed look. With a disgusted snort, he motioned toward the backseat. “There’s a jacket in the back. Cover yourself before you catch your death with cold.”
Yes, I should be cozy and healthy when you kill me.
She forced her uncooperative limbs to move. Perversely, her mind worked furiously as she noted the embankments on either side of the road. She reached over and grabbed the fleecy overcoat which was laden with his cloying scent of mint aftershave.
She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. This was her chance to increase the odds of survival to better than nil.
Bunching the jacket in her fist, she hurled it at his head. He grabbed at it, and she seized the steering wheel, jerking it toward the rocky hillside strewn with stunted gum trees.
Max jammed his foot onto the brake pedal. Wrestling back the steering wheel, he slammed the car back onto the road, stones spraying from its wheels.
He spun to face her. Adrenaline had clearly unhinged him further, his face manic with rage. Eyes shooting fanatical wrath, he swung back an arm and raised a bunched fist. “You crazy bitch!”
* * * * *
Cray scanned the valley far below, his gargoyle vision detecting every shift and nuance of movement below as thoughts consumed him.
For so long he’d been an outcast. Ever since the curse he’d been unwanted. An intruder.
Only with Loretta did he feel differently. She didn’t hide her passion and feelings behind a coy smile and shy come-on looks. She was genuine. And so very precious.
He’d been young, foolish, arrogant and still human when he’d given in to his desire for the beautiful and very married Elizabeth Ardell. She’d lusted after him every bit as much as he had her. Until her husband had discovered them in bed.
Perhaps if he’d believed the dark whispers concerning Elizabeth’s husband, he’d have thought twice before sating his lust. But he’d never believed in mage craft, particularly that which was said to rival Merlin’s.
It had been a hard lesson to learn.
His daily entombment in stone had given him plenty of time to rue the day he’d yielded to the temptation of Elizabeth’s peachy mouth and sultry bedroom eyes.
All his hopes and dreams for his life would never become a reality. And a family, children? Never. In his human form he’d shot his seed into enough women to know he couldn’t reproduce. Perhaps it was a good thing. His gargoyle DNA wouldn’t be passed along to another victim of his own making.
Loretta…I’m so sorry. I can’t ever give you what you want.
Faraway branches swayed, leaves shivering in the twilight breeze. A colony of gray-headed flying foxes winged through the air, searching for nectar, pollen and fruit.
He paid little heed. His focus centered on one thing—Loretta.
He breathed in, long and deep. Thank God. He’d caught a drift of her scent, vague and abstract, but nevertheless within radius of his gargoyle senses. He needn’t rely solely on his radar instincts. Max had a huge head start and Cray’s internal antennae told him the madman wasn’t taking Loretta back to the city. He was heading even farther into the mountains.
He’d felt helpless, impotent, when he’d watched Max kidnap Loretta. Fury and fear like none before had burned within and grown with every passing minute of his frozen imprisonment.
Damn his inability to move and his curse with its weight of obligations that seemed heavier with each passing day.
Somehow he contained the burning rage, forced a deep calm the moment he unlocked from stone. His rationale would not be compromised, not at the expense of Loretta’s life. Even so, his pulse lurched at the constraint. Some undeniable sixth sense prickled his senses.
Time was of the essence.
He unfurled his wings. Stretching them wide, he leapt from the post and rail security fence and into the sheer drop on its other side. An updraft snatched him skyward. He wheeled to the right and dropped his wings to counterbalance, soaring high.
Stars whitewashed the horizon, the air fresh, crisp and unpolluted by the smog of the city, some three hours’ drive east.
From this vantage
point, the road’s descent cut through the green foliage like a rust-colored vein. Wattle and huge gum trees at times yielded on one side to a jagged cliff face.
Twice, his weight and thinning air currents forced him to ground. Scrambling and climbing his way back up the nearest summit, he dove off its cliff face, once again able to soar through the sky and steadily gain on his prey.
A tightness in his belly receded as he pinpointed a faraway, thinning plume of dust. Airborne, it would take just minutes for him to catch them.
He smiled when he spied them far ahead, where Max’s SUV hurtled down the twisting, steep road.
Headfirst, arms back and wings tucked by his sides, he dropped from the sky like a stone missile. Wind whistled past, disabling any ability to scent, to hear breath or heartbeat—to know if Loretta was safe and sound—alive or, God forbid, dead.
With a sudden shift of motion, he snapped his wings out and lifted them back. The force jerked him upright, and pivoted his legs beneath him just a millisecond before he landed on the hood of the moving car.
Blood trickled from Loretta’s nose. One eye was puffed closed and throbbed like hell, but suddenly she didn’t much care.
Cray had found her.
She peered through her good eye and watched in awe as Cray settled onto the front of the SUV. Max shrieked in horror, curses tumbling from his mouth.
With wings outstretched for balance, Cray looked like some glorious, avenging angel. Her throat dried. He looked up. When he saw her bloodied face his head jerked back. His stare narrowed, and then turned crystalline cold.
Wild-eyed and disbelieving, Max swerved the vehicle left and right. Cray didn’t budge. “Tell me that thing isn’t real.”
“No can do.” She swiped blood from her face. “Say hello to my guardian, Cray Diamond.”
He gaped, his gaze glued to the gargoyle on the hood who had murder in his eyes. His breath wheezed. “Cray?”
“Yes.” She grabbed the jacket from where it’d tumbled onto the floor. Unsnapping her seat belt, she thrust her arms into the jacket’s sleeves and pulled its edges tight around her then clipped her seat belt back on. She turned to Max. “The one and same you’ve met at countless dinner parties.” And felt intimidated by.
