by Mel Telshco
Chapter Five
Loretta watched the sun slowly sink behind the ocean’s horizon. It cast a blood-red path all the way to the shore, turning the creamy froth of gentle waves a luminous pink.
She let out a shaky breath, trying hard to concentrate on its beauty and maintain the numbness she’d embraced these last two months since Cray’s enforced leave, and then her father’s sudden death just three days later.
She hadn’t been completely insensate. She’d had the foresight to hire a professional to track down Cray—a satellite surveillance technician at the top of his game.
Like it or not, being the sole benefactor to an empire had its advantages.
It was truly unbelievable that Cray had only been a hop, skip and jump away—a twenty-minute drive south from the harbor mansion if the traffic was flowing.
The sun dipped fully behind the sea and she stepped back into the shadows, at last giving in to the shiver of excitement that evoked once more what it was to feel alive.
Finally she’d be reunited with Cray.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
She spun around, giddy with relief and wild optimism. Her heart thrashed in her chest as she grinned like a loon. She might not be able to see him but she heard the longing in his voice, the need. “You surely didn’t think I’d stay away?” she asked huskily.
At the silence, she took a few steps forward. Her night vision adjusted and she finally made out his looming silhouette just yards away.
Tingles shot down her spine, raising goose bumps along the flesh of her arms. She’d almost forgotten just how big he was. How charismatic. “You surely didn’t think I’d forget about us, did you?” she added in a whisper.
She brushed a hand over her belly. God willing, there was even more reason now for them to be together.
His eyes glinted. “No. No I—”
A sharp crack—a gunshot?—cut his sentence short. He grunted in surprise and staggered backward. An instant later he appeared to regain his bearings. Looking up, he said harshly, “Run!”
“But you—” She didn’t—couldn’t—move as the world suddenly spun crazily around her. She swallowed back the panicked waves of dizziness “You’ve been shot.”
A bullet thudded into the ground close by as another crack sounded, sending up a spray of sand.
With a fierce expletive, Cray charged toward her. Without breaking stride he scooped her into his arms. His wings curled forward, shielding her. Bending low, his mouth close to her ear, he hissed, “Stay quiet. Don’t do anything to regain their attention.”
Loretta bit back a sob. Emotions she’d kept locked away now spilled free, escalating and running rampant in her mind. She’d thought fate had dealt her its worst blow with her mother’s kidnapping, Max’s madness and her father’s death.
It hadn’t.
Cray had been hurt. And with his guardian instincts kicking into gear and shoving all self-preservation aside, he might very well not survive this night.
“Hold on tight,” he whispered urgently.
She did so without a word, twining her hands behind his neck, her legs around his waist. She felt his muscles bunch then he leapt high into the air, his wings unfurling wide.
In the darkness, she made out the blurred silhouette of a large tree and just yards away a huge house. Leaves quivered as Cray grabbed hold of a thick tree branch. When he swung onto it, she felt the strain in his body, heard his nearly inaudible gasp of pain.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
His mouth covered hers in a hard, desperate kiss, silencing her. Yet his voice was gentle, almost poignant as he whispered, “Stay here. Please.” His voice thrummed with tension and then a tinge of self-mockery when he added almost inaudibly, “Duty calls.”
He placed her on the branch, and even in the darkness she saw him wince, knew he was badly wounded. “You’ll be safe now. Just. Don’t. Move.” He looked at her hard, and then curved a hand around her head.
His touch lingered then dropped. And without a backward glance he hoisted himself higher into the tree. Something wet splattered onto her arm. She touched it, her hand coming away sticky and wet. Blood, she realized with a soundless moan.
Through the branches, a half-moon glimmered between parting clouds, enabling her to see Cray as he dropped into a crouch above. He paused then vaulted across the gap. Landing nimbly on the pitched roof ledge, he disappeared up and over its other side.
She sucked in a breath and released it. But panic suffused her from the inside out, making her teeth chatter and her hands visibly shake.
It was happening all over again. She was going to lose the one person who meant the world to her. Her stomach cramped, her skin felt hot, as if it were on fire, while she fought off a need to throw up.
Please…not again.
But her silent plea went unheard as she saw sudden movement in the shadows below. Three shapes materialized into men from out of the darkness. Dangerous, heavily armed men, she realized with a hastily covered gasp as moonlight glinted on one of the firearms.
Dizziness hit again and receded. She wanted to yell out, to warn Cray of the approaching danger. But no words could pass through the thick lump wedged in her throat.
Oh God. She couldn’t stand back and watch the one she loved die.
Not this time.
* * * * *
Cray dropped into the front courtyard. From there he could view the road and a small section of beach from where the bullets had been fired.
Clouds drifted over the moon once more but it mattered little. The radar of his gargoyle senses was attuned to Loretta—taking away his focus, distracting him from the life-and-death issues at hand.
His breath hissed. Damn it. He had to concentrate.
A sudden breeze cooled his skin, bringing a faint whiff of his attacker. His nose crinkled with distaste. Sweat. And fear.
He heard footsteps. More than one attacker, he realized with a flare of alarm. But it was an anxiety held for Loretta alone.
His new guardianship status hardly registered.
He had no time to ponder this inconceivable development. Adam, the criminal lawyer he’d guarded since he’d been forced to leave Loretta, would be close to pissing his pants right now.
He grimaced. The sooner he rescued the unlikable little man, the sooner he could get back to Loretta and make certain she didn’t get hurt.
Cray turned around and faced a large wooden door. Its delicate carvings didn’t fool him into doubting its solid construction but with no time to key in a security code, he raised his foot high and lashed out.
The door burst open, splinters of wood skidding into the entrance foyer. A high-tech alarm screamed to life.
He hoped the noise would distract the attackers—even give them good reason to withdraw but knew it was unlikely. What they had planned would be completed before any police or security guard checked out the disturbance.
He raced up the stairs. The wound in his shoulder burned like fury. Blood freely spilled, splattering the fine cream-colored wool carpet.
He didn’t need to use his refined senses to find the man the thugs were really after. The fancy criminal lawyer was blubbering and hysterical, cowering beneath his four-poster bed in a rumpled business suit.
Cray dragged Adam out with his good arm, the other one now almost useless. “Quiet,” he snapped.
“But…they’re coming for me. I heard the gunshots outside!” The lawyer’s face was blotchy red as he stumbled forward. Arms pinwheeling, he grabbed hold of Cray and one hand curled like a vise on his guardian’s injured shoulder. “You have to help me.”
Cray almost howled with pain and when Adam’s fingers dug even deeper into his wound he gritted his teeth and carefully extracted the lawyer’s torturous grip. With a well-aimed strike, he cracked him a good one across the skull.
Adam crumpled to the floor without another word and Cray murmured without remorse, “It’s safer this way, for both of us.”
He ga
thered the unconscious man into his arms, wincing at the searing agony in his shoulder. He moved toward the window and peered through. No one below. He stepped back. The glass was thick but breakable. And they were high enough to glide to safety.
He paused, adrenaline surging at the light tread climbing fast up the hardwood stairs. He had seconds to escape—
“Cray, wait!”
He turned, hardly able to believe his ears—his eyes—as he faced the woman who haunted his every thought. “No!” He sucked in a breath. “Hide,” he rasped.
“Not without you.” She took a few steps through the doorway, eyes fierce and head held proudly.
He shifted Adam’s weight with his good arm. A vein in his temple throbbed, his heart jumping like a jackhammer on full speed. “You must.” Didn’t she understand? He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t live without her.
At the thought, he lost touch with reality, lost touch with everything around him so that when his head cleared and he finally detected the muzzle of a gun pointed at him from the doorway, it was too damn late to react.
Too late to realize Loretta’s intention as she turned and leapt toward the attacker with a shrill cry.
And like someone watching their own worst nightmare, he saw her jerk to a stop at the muffled crack of the gunshot, heard her breath catch as she fell with infinite slowness to her knees.
Chapter Six
Loretta knew she was in the hospital. The smell of antiseptic hit her nostrils and as she moved an arm, hot pain tore through her body like barbed wire jerked backward.
But it was her gargoyle she sensed above the burning agony and she strove to push through the last heavy layers of consciousness to force open gritty eyes.
The bustling sounds of activity immediately receded as she focused on Cray. Half-open curtains framed him in a halo of sunlight, its warmth caressing his whiskered cheeks, his brow and its white puckered scar…
Impossible! A strangled cry burst from her lips. And in human form, Cray jerked awake from where he’d slumped in a chair that was too small for his large frame.
“I don’t…believe it,” she choked out.
He was by her side in a nanosecond. He reached over and pressed the nurse-call button. “It’s true,” he said hoarsely, brushing a cool hand over her fevered brow. “You saved my life…and broke the curse.”
All thoughts jammed and then bounced around her mind like the steel orb in a pinball machine. She wished she could rejoice and shout for joy. She couldn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes and weathered an overwhelming swell of anxiety.
Her greatest wish had now become her greatest fear. He was a free man now. Free to stay…or go.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly.
Everything. Nothing.
She opened her eyes. “So…what happens now?” she asked, wincing at the searing pain in her shoulder that trapped her immobile on the hospital bed.
“Shh.” He pressed a gentle hand to her lips. “We’ll talk later,” he murmured. “For now, you need to rest.”
“But what about those men with guns?”
“Don’t worry, they won’t ever hurt you again.”
She sighed, weariness pressing around her. “You…killed them?”
“No.” She heard an edge of regret in his voice. “All three are in the hospital too, under police guard.” His chair creaked. The pad of his thumb drifted over one side of her face. “I’m betting the officers don’t quite know what to make of their tale,” he murmured, darkness coloring his dry amusement.
A nurse came in and they fell silent while her wound-free arm was cuffed to check her blood pressure. Loretta’s eyelids fluttered closed, and even before the nurse had finished, she felt herself drifting back into the folds of sleep.
* * * * *
Loretta shifted in the passenger seat as Cray keyed in a code to activate the security gates guarding a tall, luxurious apartment building.
Her breath caught in her throat as she watched his somber expression. Was this where he’d gently break the news and tell her that he wanted his freedom?
He drove the car down a steep ramp and into underground parking.
“Where are we?” she asked, a lump in her throat.
“I thought you might like to see my home.”
“Oh…yes.” He had his own place?
He parked the car and got out. His footsteps were a muffled staccato on the concrete as he walked around and opened the passenger door before bending low and gathering her close.
“I’m fine…to…to walk,” she said, sounding breathless and more than a little unsteady as he hoisted her effortlessly into his arms.
“Humor me.”
“But what about you? I saw the blood…so much…”
He shrugged. “What can I say? The bullet went clean through muscle and bone…and we gargoyles heal fast.”
“So you’re still gargoyle?”
“Yes. But it’s no longer involuntary. I can change at will.”
“I’m glad.”
“Really?” he asked with a raised brow, clearly unconvinced.
“Yes! Even with wings, you’re more human than many people I know.”
A sigh shuddered from him. “I’m pleased you think so.”
A little thrill arrowed down to her toes. “So, you’re a true shapeshifter now?” At his nod, she probed, “Are you aware of any other changes?”
He managed a shrug. “Not that I’m aware of. Though whether or not I age now, or am still immortal, remains to be seen.”
He paused at a wall with huge shiny metal doors. On a keypad he entered identification and it dawned on her that they were at a private elevator.
“I own the building,” he said before she could formulate the question. The doors swished open and he stepped inside. “I lease it out but the penthouse suite is all mine.”
The doors closed and little red numbers flashed as the elevator shot them smoothly skyward. She lifted a hand and smoothed her hair, oddly self-conscious. The close confines of the elevator heightened the simmering awareness that was a constant between them.
She closed her eyes and absorbed his heartbeat, profoundly grateful that she was in his arms as giddy anticipation filled her.
There had been so very many men in her life but none like her gargoyle. With Cray, she wanted to scratch far below the surface, uncover the real Cray, the man and everything in between.
But could he forget her past? Her lashes flicked up. “All those men, they meant nothing—”
“I know.” He wound a piece of her hair around his finger and tucked it behind her ear. “You had many lovers,” he agreed. “You were seeking affection but in all the wrong places.”
Emotion welled in her chest. A single tear trickled down her cheek. He brushed it away with the pad of his thumb and added huskily, “You used sex to fill a void. I understand.”
“Why do you care now?” she asked thickly. “You made it clear you were nothing more than my guardian.”
“I do care. Very much,” he said quietly.
The elevator stopped, the doors opened. But they didn’t alight. Her pulse skittered but she quickly banished wishful thinking. So why this jagged hole in her chest where her heart should be?
“I cared that you were hurting. I cared that every time your father saw you, he was reminded of the wife he mourned. Lincoln abandoned you at a time when you needed him most,” Cray said, his expression resolute beneath the dim overhead light. “But it’s time for you to move on, accept that what happened to your mother was never your fault.”
Breath wheezed in and out of her lungs. “How can I? I did nothing to help her. Nothing.”
He stared at her hard. “You were a child. It was nobody’s fault but the kidnappers.” His face softened. “Your father focused on work to erase the pain. He didn’t consider your hurt too.”
A strangled sound tore from deep in her chest. Cray was right. She’d shouldered the brunt of her mum’s disappearance, and not one per
son had ever told her it wasn’t her fault. Until Cray.
Another whimper escaped. His words had liberated the shackled piece of her, freed the constant, dull ache trapped deep inside. It seared through her mind, tearing at the foundations of her belief.
His arms were hard and strong around her, propping her against the solid safety of his chest while she heaved gut-wrenching breaths.
“Dad blamed me for…for not looking out for M-Mum.”
Cray’s chin rested on her head, his breath warm on her scalp. “No. You blamed yourself, sweetheart. Lincoln was so full of his own guilt for not protecting his family, he couldn’t comprehend how you felt.”
She wrapped her good arm around the back of his neck. Her fingers twined through his thick hair. “I know…I know you’re right,” she whispered.
“Then let the past go,” he said huskily.
She drew in a heavy breath then gave a shaky nod and looked up. “What…what about you? You must miss your family?”
His eyes darkened. “Yes.”
His cheek rasped beneath her palm. “Yet you’ve been alive so long…”
Did the pain of loss never disappear?
His eyes flashed, revealing the emotional wounds that ran deep. Another shadow veiled his gaze. “I’ll never forget my family. I can’t lie—I still miss them very much.”
“I hope you…you at least had a chance to say goodbye.”
His shoulders bunched. “No. I wasn’t able to.”
“The curse?”
“Yes. I was forced to leave England, compelled to guard an apathetic, European prince. Not long afterward, my parents and little sister died from diphtheria.”
Emotion clogged her throat. She’d endured much death too. But to lose a whole family while bound to protect someone you didn’t care about? No wonder he understood her, understood her guilt and pain.
“Cray, I’m so very sorry.” She meant it with every shard of her being.
Something passed between them, a shared understanding. Then, as if collecting himself, he strode through the elevator doors. Automated lights flooded on, dazzling them, and the moment was gone.
