by Rhonda Print
Her hands skimmed along his wings and the sensation was startling, as if he had waited for her touch for a millennium. Her slow exploration of his body was in her artist's eye, he knew. Yet it was torturously tantalizing to him. She let her hands trail under his wings and gently gripped the hard muscles of his back then slid them to his lower back.
He could take no more. Roman willed his body back to human form with her touch still warm upon his skin. Startled, she took a step back. Then her mouth pouted into a frown.
“Give a girl a warning, will ya?”
Roman tilted his head and looked at her with open curiosity. “Did it not disturb you to see me in such form?”
“Why should it?”
“Most humans are frightened of me as a gargoyle.”
She raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Other people have seen you like that? I mean, why doesn’t anyone know you exist?”
“I have erased their memories of me and whatever endangered them.”
“Why do I still remember?”
He saw Claire shudder and knew she flashed back to last night with her throat closing tighter and tighter until she could scarcely get any air at all. He watched as she took another sip of water to assure herself she was fine.
“You did not respond to Persuasion.” Roman kept his words soft.
“Persuasion?”
“I can erase the memory and replace it with something more pleasant.”
“You mean you can just wipe out my memories of the attack? Of you?” Roman nodded. “Only Guardians have the ability to destroy a Spirit and erase any memory of the transgression.”
If the invasion was in the early stages, he could spare the Host life, but he didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell her he may have had to kill her.
He had never dealt with the emotions of the aftermath of an attack. He had never had to. It was his job to kill the Spirit and erase it from the mind of the human victim. His job was done, the Spirit was dead and the victim was none the wiser.
Other than his daily visits to Bookworms he kept contact with humans to a minimum. He didn’t need or want any complications, yet fate seemed to have other plans.
Claire had always been an enigma. He was drawn to her like the proverbial moth to a flame, knowing he’d get burnt but unable and unwilling to stay away.
A woman who didn’t succumb to Persuasion, particularly Claire Stillwell, would definitely be a distraction.
He had known all along it was Claire that drew him to the bookstore each afternoon.
Hell, after last night he thought his senses were picking up on her. Yet if that were true, why did his heart still beat erratically in her presence and why did the soft touch of her hands exploring his Gargoyle body awaken such primal needs?
This could not happen! If he kept Claire in his life then she would be in constant danger. He had to erase her memory of him.
“You will need to stay here until your memory can be erased,” he said more gruffly than he’d intended, shaking off his thoughts.
Claire’s spine stiffened. “I will not be kept in a strange house with you. I have a life, Roman, a normal life. I can’t stay here.”
“It is not safe for you to be unprotected Claire. The Spirits have already had a taste of you. They will find you again. You do not want to be alone when that happens.”
“I watched you,” she waved her hands in front of her, “kill it, or whatever it was you did. It’s gone, right?”
“There was another. I could not get them both and save you. I chose to save you. It will search until it finds you again.”
“I don’t give a damn.” Roman saw the anger heat her veins. “I have work to finish, clients who are expecting me to complete their sculptures. I’ve been saving for years for my own gallery and I’m about to sign a lease for my own place. I won’t give up everything I’ve worked so hard for because some evil spirit has a target on my ass! I’m not staying,” Claire insisted.
She made quotation marks with her fingers as she said “evil spirit” and Roman would have laughed if the situation were not so dire. He noticed the way her cheeks flushed pink and she bit her lower lip as her anger rose. It was an appealing quality. She was a fighter. That was good, she would need to be.
“You have no other choice until I can figure out a way to erase your memories and eliminate the Spirit that wants you,” Roman said flatly.
“What gives you the right to mess around with my brain, my memories?” she demanded.
Claire turned on her heel and strode for the door. “Thank you for your help, Roman, really. But I have a life to lead and I will not be held captive by fear.” She pulled open the door then pinned him with a look. “Or you.”
He crossed the room and pushed the door shut before Claire could open it more than a couple of inches. His face loomed above her, his chest heaved and his brows were knitted in determination. “I have no desire to hold you captive. I am honor bound to protect you Claire. I am a Gargoyle, your Guardian, and I exist to protect humans from evil Spirits. It is what I have done for hundreds of years. You stay!” Claire blew out a breath. “Look, Roman. I have friends, family. I can’t stay.
Someone will notice I’m missing and then your life is going to become very difficult.”
“It does not matter.” Roman growled. “You do not seem to understand the danger you are in. It is my duty to protect humans from evil Spirits. That has never deviated even as time transcended, giving Spirits increasingly advanced and powerful tools to use in their quest to wreak havoc in the mortal world and sate their voracious appetite for chaos and build their ranks. Spirits need mayhem to survive; it is the oxygen of their race.”
“Ghosts, spirits, whatever…” she waved her hand in frustration, “are not even real, how the hell did it hurt me?”
Roman sighed. “A Spirit can invade a human body when it is in a weakened state and many things can weaken a human. Drugs and alcohol seem to be a favorite because they leave the body still strong, yet temporarily incapacitated.”
“So, great. I won’t get drunk and I don’t do drugs.”
“You do not understand! Once a Spirit has targeted you, it will not stop. It will hunt you, terrorize you if necessary, until you willingly give your body to it. Then it will use you to do unspeakable things. Serial killing and the destruction of your own family and friends by your hand is not unheard of amidst the evil Spirits.” He saw the indecision in her eyes and the slight trembling of her hands as they ceased reaching for the door. “Is my family in danger? I mean…” she swallowed hard,
“will it attack my family?”
Roman could take no more. She looked so small and vulnerable, her hands shaking ever so slightly as the first real traces of fear etched her delicate features. Fear didn’t belong on her face. Claire was meant for joy and laughter . Love, a part of his brain insisted. He reached his hand out to her and brushed a small strand of hair from her cheek. “No, your family is not in jeopardy. Evil Spirits are single-minded creatures; their only intent will be you,” he assured her softly.
She let out a shaky breath, her long lashes glistening with tears. “Good.” She nodded. “I cannot give up all I’ve worked for though, Roman. I am to sign the lease for my gallery,” she checked her watch, “in about two hours. If I’m the only one in danger then I accept the risk.” She raised her chin defiantly and reached for the doorknob.
“If you feel you must watch over me,” the side of her lip curled up into an almost imperceptible grin, “you’ll have to come with me.”
“Fair enough,” Roman allowed. If she would not stay with him, he would go with her.
He led Claire through the house toward the garage. He noted her curious nature as she looked in every doorway they passed.
“There are no photos,” she commented, almost to herself.
“Photos?” Roman stopped.
“You know, pictures of family, friends?”
�
��I don’t have any,” Roman said simply and started walking again.
“You don’t have any pictures?” She gripped his arm to stop his movement.
He kept his eyes averted from hers and answered, “Family.”
“Wait.” She turned his face toward her with a gentle hand on his cheek. “You don’t have any family?”
Roman took in a deep breath, filling his lungs. “I have existed for hundreds of years, Claire. Any family I may have once had are long dead now.” He knew a woman like Claire couldn’t imagine a life without her family or her friends. Family wasn’t always the ones you were born to. Often they were the family you created through friendship and love. Gideon had told him that on many occasions.
Suddenly, not having anyone at all to share his life with seemed just … sad.
“What about the man who comes with you to Bookworms occasionally?” Claire asked, her head tilted in anticipation of his answer.
“He is like me,” Roman said in a tone that ended further discussion on the matter.
Claire followed Roman into the kitchen. He watched her as she scanned the room. It was all stainless and granite, modern and cold. There was no whimsical cookie jar or hand-drawn pictures or notes covering the refrigerator door, the normal things found in almost every human home.
A door on the far side of the kitchen was ajar and exposed a large room. The walls were lined with various exercise equipment and a hot tub was placed in one corner of the room. Again, there was nothing to personalize it, no photos to make it his own, only the sweat that poured out of him each day as he ran through his workout routine.
“So this is what you do with your free time?” Claire motioned toward the room.
“I also read and watch a little television,” Roman defended himself.
“All solitary activities,” she commented as she made her way into the weight room.
“Yes.” He followed her in. “With the exception of Bookworms…” He trailed off the last word.
Claire wheeled and pinned him with her eyes, her delicate hand on his arm. “The only contact you have with anyone is the coffee shop?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” He walked past her and stared at nothing out the window.
Claire came up behind him and rested her hand on his forearm. “You’ve lived for hundreds of years, Roman. Why do it alone?”
He turned to her and tried to find the words to explain that it was easier for him to avoid personal ties than to suffer when the ones you cared about died … or left. He sounded like a coward even to his own ears.
Had he let fear keep him alone?
Gideon had implied as much on an occasion or two but would never come right out and say it. Not and leave without a few bruises and enough harsh words to remind him to mind his own business.
“An enemy will use any advantage to destroy a Guardian. What good would it do for me to have emotional attachments? Those I cared about would be targets for my enemies.”
Roman Hunt was one of the oldest and therefore the most powerful Guardians in existence.
“Maybe that’s not your choice to make.”
* * * *
The ride to Claire’s was silent except for the few directions she had muttered to him, directions he didn’t need. He had been there many times, observing from the shadows, placating his need to see Claire, always wanting to close the distance and touch her. Now that need intensified ten-fold as he struggled to keep both hands gripped upon the steering wheel, purposely preventing him from clasping her tiny hand that rested close enough to his he could feel the heat coming from her.
Claire slid out of her seatbelt and pushed open the door, almost before his car fully stopped, and ascended the few stairs leading to the high-rise building. She punched the elevator button and boarded, with Roman just a step behind her. The tension built between them as the elevator rose, a mechanical “bing” announcing each new floor until they finally reached the top.
Claire had chosen the penthouse apartment as her home and Roman was silently grateful. The floor-to-ceiling windows highlighted the nearby mountain ranges, adding insignificance to the constant motion of humanity below. He saw Claire’s face soften the moment she stepped into her home; the tranquility she felt there was obvious. This was not only her home but her sanctuary as well.
Very little furniture cluttered the wide open space. A small sofa was angled to take advantage of the magnificent view of the outside world and still allow a comfortable setting to watch the television mounted on the adjacent wall. A wood table sat next to the sofa and a well-worn, dog-eared book sat alongside an empty coffee cup, presumably left over from the day before.
Sculptures in various stages of completion lined each wall, some on pedestals and well-used work tables, many others upon the floor.
There was no doubt she was talented, yet above that, her passion showed within her work. Each piece, whether of stone or clay, radiated with the love she bestowed upon it, and for just a moment Roman allowed himself to wonder what that type of love would feel like.
No matter. Love was not for him.
Chapter Seven
Claire watched as Roman’s eyes wandered around the room, his warmth thawing the icy tendrils of loneliness that had been the only shadow cast upon these walls. Her life was full of love; love for her family, her friends and most definitely her work. But heart-stuttering love had always eluded her. Sure there had been close calls, moments when she thought she may actually be able to commit her whole self to another, but it had always escaped her grasp like smoke through her hands.
Damn. It had been a lifetime since she’d had a man in her home and it was messing with her head to have Roman here now.
Annoyed with the direction of her own thoughts she stomped to the kitchen counter and picked up the crisp white sheet of paper that had not been there before. Scrawled in her mother’s neat handwriting was a note: Cassandra called and said you were sick.
She groaned aloud but before Claire could think of a plan, the metallic crunch of the elevator ground to a halt just outside her door.
She saw Roman tense, his stance widening as he prepared to battle whatever lay beyond that door. His eyes turned to Claire. “Is it a threat?”
“More than you know,” she said on a sigh.
Roman reached out and swept Claire behind him.
“Oh Geez! Relax, it’s my mother.”
A look of confusion crossed Roman’s face before the door flew open and a small woman with a shock of red hair stood in the doorway, hands perched on her hips and an unpleasant look upon her face.
“I was worried sick about you, Claire Elise Stillwell! You could have at least let me know you were…” her eyes flicked to Roman. “What exactly were you doing?” Her voice grew suspicious as her eyes narrowed.
“I am sorry I monopolized her time.” Roman slid his arm around Claire, startling her.
“It is selfish of me, I know.” His grin reeked of mischief. “I just cannot seem to help myself.” He placed a kiss on Claire’s cheek and gave her a conspiratorial grin.
Claire was speechless. Her mother flushed as she locked eyes with Roman. She swept Roman to the side and took his place beside Claire.
Claire was too shocked to move for a long ten seconds. Then realization slammed into her and she turned to Roman, her hand upon her hip and wearing an expression she knew was very similar to the one etched onto her mother’s face. “Did you just use,” she waggled her hand, “you know,” her eyes darted toward Katherine, “on my mom?” she asked in a tone of astonishment.
Roman shrugged. “It seemed the easiest way to avoid a confrontation,” he continued before she could interrupt.
“What are you talking about?” Katherine demanded to know.
“Mom, there are things about Roman that you don’t know. That you probably shouldn’t know.”
“How much did you tell her?” Katherine hissed at Roman.
“
Tell me what?” Claire hedged.
Roman moved his hand toward Katherine but she batted it away. “Don’t try the crap on me. I know what you are.”
Claire’s jaw dropped. How could she know?
Katherine started dragging Claire toward the door. “We have to leave, Claire. Now.”
“Wait. Mom, at least let me introduce you to…”
“I don’t care what his name is, Claire. He’s not human, we have to leave.”
“How did you… Mom?” Claire’s voice rose an octave. “How do you know?” She saw the frustration on her mother’s face. It was the same look her mother had always given her when she realized she’d said too much.
Claire stepped back from both of them. “What the hell is going on here?” Claire’s mother’s shoulders sagged in defeat, then, with a long-suffering sigh, she turned to Roman and extended her hand. “My name is Katherine, I was the mate of Persidian,” she turned an apologetic look to Claire, “Claire is our daughter.” Claire was too stunned for words. She stepped back until she bumped into a chair then collapsed into it, her eyes shifting from her mom to Roman.
Katherine rushed to Claire. “I’m sorry, baby. There are reasons I did not tell you; things you shouldn’t know.” She turned toward Roman and lifted her chin. “Tell Persidian that he cannot have her. Is that understood? He. Can’t. Have. Claire.” Chapter Eight
Roman was impressed by Katherine’s determination. If she truly was the mate of Persidian then she would know that if he had sent him, there was nothing she could do to stop him from taking Claire. On the wings of that thought came another, this one lying in his gut like a flaming lead ball. Claire was half-Gargoyle. That made her a…
“She is a Hybrid?” His voice lost a little of the ferocious tone it had moments ago.
“She’s my daughter,” Katherine raised her chin, “…and Persidian’s.” Claire finally found her voice. “What? My dad is dead. Car accident…” Katherine turned to her. “No. I’m so sorry for the lies but I had to keep you safe. We had to keep you safe.” She turned back to Roman. “Why does he want her exposed now?”
