by Rhonda Print
“This is where I’m going to set up the register,” she indicated a corner of the small front room, “and the glass showcases will line this entire wall.” She could envision it all.
“I’ll set up a workroom back here,” she moved toward the back then startled as a shadow of a man filled the doorway before her.
Without a moment of hesitation, Roman jumped between her and the shadowy figure, his fist flying and making contact with the man’s jaw even as his other hand pulled the spiral blade from its sheath.
It took Claire a second to realize the man was an associate of Margaret’s.
“Stop!” she yelled, horrified as Earl Harbinger tried to free himself from Roman’s grasp. “I know him!” She grabbed onto Roman’s arm. “He works with my realtor.” Roman used one arm to sweep her behind him protectively then froze Earl with Persuasion.
“Are you sure?” he growled.
“Yes, yes. Oh my gosh, look what you’ve done to him!” Earl Harbinger’s shirt was clutched in Roman’s fist. His face was already starting to bruise and a trail of blood flowed from his nose.
Roman watched him carefully, looking for any sign he was Host for a Spirit. When he was apparently convinced Earl was not a threat, he used Persuasion to convince the man he had slipped and fallen, hitting his head upon the counter.
“He won’t remember this,” Roman assured Claire. “He’ll think he fell. That is all.” Before she could respond he released Earl. The stunned man brought his hand to his nose. “How clumsy of me, I’m so sorry,” Earl stammered.
Claire pulled some tissues out of her purse and thrust them at him, scowling at Roman. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Just a nosebleed, not to worry.” He held the tissues to his face. “But if you don’t mind, perhaps we can sign this contract so I can get home and clean up a bit.” Claire hastily signed the contract and accepted the keys. As soon as Mr. Harbinger was safety on his way home, she turned on Roman. “Are you crazy?” she demanded.
“I will not apologize for protecting you.” His voice was as calm as if they were discussing the weather.
“You can’t go around hitting everyone.” At his blank stare she continued. “This isn’t going to work…”
“I will be more cautious.” Roman held up his hands in surrender.
Claire shook her head slowly and took in a calming breath. “So he really just thinks he fell?”
“That is the memory I gave him.” He shrugged.
“Just like that?”
“I have had a long time to practice,” Roman reminded her.
“Will I be able to,” Claire waggled her hand in front of her, “you know?”
“Female Hybrids do not usually gain powers.”
“Why not?”
Her indignant response made him grin. “It’s not a sexist thing. Have you ever seen a female gargoyle?”
“No, I guess I haven’t. So I won’t,” she swallowed hard, “change?”
“No, you will not change form,” Roman assured her.
Claire raked both hands through her hair and blew out an exasperated breath. “We have a hell of a lot to talk about, Roman. How ’bout we do it while we clean up this place?”
* * * *
Roman trudged out to the car and retrieved the supplies she’d had him stash in the trunk. Once inside, he lifted and moved the heavy showcases into position while she attacked the dust in every corner of the shop. Roman noticed she was just as meticulous about cleaning as she was about her sculpting and he couldn’t help but wonder how those slender fingers would feel running along his skin.
“Roman?” Claire snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. “Earth to Roman.” He blinked out of his thoughts. Damn, this was the very reason he didn’t need a woman in his life. Claire was a distraction. “Sorry, what did you need?”
“Would you mind wiping the top shelves?” Her hair had come out of its band and hung loosely around her face. A dark smudge of dust streaked across her cheek and the excitement that shone in her eyes warmed something deep within him.
“So I won’t change forms and I have no power.” She made little quotation marks with her fingers on the word power. “What good does it do me being a Gargoyle?” she asked as she continued cleaning.
“Hybrid,” Roman corrected.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Gargoyle, Hybrid, whatever.”
“Your children will possess the powers. Your sons, your grandsons and so on, will all grow into the ability to change forms.”
“My … my sons?” Her voice rose an octave in surprise. “Even if I marry a human?”
“Hybrids do not usually mate with humans.” He moved to the next shelf and continued cleaning. He didn’t want to see the look in her eyes. Damn it! This was all information she should have had by now. She was of age, her father should have told her.
Of course, her father couldn’t have told her. He was dead before he had the chance.
“Well this Hybrid mates with human males!” Her anger quickly turned to embarrassment, flushing her face pale pink. “I mean… I don’t have kids but…” Her voice wavered. “Oh hell! I could have.”
Roman tensed. The thought of Claire with another man set his nerves on edge and he had to force his jaw to unclench.
He removed his own emotion from his expression, set down his cloth and turned toward Claire. He then took her hand and set her on a small stool. “No, Claire. You couldn’t.”
Confusion lined her face, her mouth hung partially open and she clung to the dust cloth like a lifeline.
“I am sorry but Hybrids are not capable of having children with humans. The DNA is not compatible.”
“I can’t have children?” Her voice was a horrified whisper.
“Not with a human, no. I am sorry.” Roman didn’t want to be the one to cause such pain on her beautiful face.
She lifted her chin but the quiver in the move was still visible. “I’m a Hybrid Gargoyle with no power and a society of evil Spirits is trying to kill me, or barter with me,” she waved her hand dismissively, “whatever. Is there anything else I should know?” In the space of a few hours her entire life had changed. Or at least come into focus. What she thought she’d been was a lie.
“When you find your Gargoyle mate, it will be a bond that lasts forever.”
“Is that all?” She snorted a shaky laugh.
“Only that I will not allow any harm to come to you,” Roman said firmly.
“Why?” Her eyes challenged him.
“I am your Guardian,” Roman said simply.
Chapter Eleven
In the days that followed, Claire kept herself busy with the details required to open her gallery. She even called her mom, as they both knew she would. Claire wasn’t one to hold a grudge.
“I’m so glad you called me, honey,” Katherine crooned through the phone line. “I know this has been difficult and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself.”
“It’s okay, Mom, I know you were just trying to keep me safe. I just,” she took a shaky breath, “I just wish I had known him.”
“Your father?” Katherine asked.
“Yeah.”
Claire could hear the smile in her mother’s voice. “You are a lot like him. He was stubborn too.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“And he was artistic; you definitely get that from him. He used to come and visit, but I guess you were too young to remember it. He gave you your first sculpture kit. You must remember that. It was the first gargoyle you created. He was so proud.”
“You gave me that.” Claire sucked in a breath then realized her mom was not alone when she gave it to her. “He was tall,” she said almost to herself. “His hair was the same color as mine.”
“That’s right!” Katherine exclaimed. “That was the last time he visited you when you were awake.”
“Why?”
“You were just about to start school. It was the first time
you would have been alone and he thought it would be better,” Katherine sighed, “no, safer, if he left before you realized who he was. Oh, Claire,” her mom sobbed, “he loved you so much.”
“And you loved him,” Claire stated softly.
“Yes, very much so.”
“And you stayed away from each other to protect me.”
“Oh, he came by every now and again, when you were asleep.” Katherine’s voice turned wistful. “At night he would show up and…”
“Okay, okay, I got it. Please don’t go into any of those details,” Claire pleaded.
Katherine was laughing as she said her goodbye.
* * * *
Claire couldn’t sleep. She’d been lying in bed thinking about her father and struggling to remember him. It seemed so unfair she’d only just found out who he really was yet he was gone to her forever.
Her mother loved him though. And they both loved her. That thought comforted her as she crept across her bedroom floor. She had avoided leaving her room at night for fear of disturbing Roman but she was in no mood to be polite so she pulled open the door and nearly tripped on Roman who lay sprawled across the tiny hallway. “What the? Roman!
Why are you sleeping in the hall?”
Roman clasped both hands behind his head and smiled up at her. His hair was tousled from sleep and angled features were still a little lax as he stretched the kinks out of his legs then rose to his full six-foot-plus height. He was still fully dressed.
“I am guarding you,” he said simply, his voice still rough and drowsy.
“On the floor? I thought you were sleeping on the pullout sofa?”
“It was too far away.” He swept a hand through his hair.
“It’s right…” she extended her arm toward the couch that was not more than twenty feet away, “there. Have you slept here every night?”
“I’ve slept in worse places than this.” He followed her down the hall and into the kitchen.
Claire was astounded, and she reluctantly admitted to herself, flattered. “All this time and you’ve been sleeping on the floor in that cramped little hall.” She pulled open the fridge and grabbed a small container of juice.
Roman took the bottle from her hand and popped open the cap she’d been fumbling with. “I did not want to risk not being able to get to you quickly enough.” He handed her the opened bottle.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters! This is ridiculous! We’re both adults. If it’s that important that you be close, then you may as well stay in there with me.” Roman raised his eyebrows as if to say “Oh really?”
Claire flushed.
“Are you not afraid to have a monster sleeping in your room with you?” Claire set the bottle down on the counter and moved close enough to Roman their bodies touched. She took her hand and gently ran her fingers along the side of his face, smiling when he closed his eyes and took in a deep shaky breath. “You’re not a monster, Roman.”
Claire turned away and walked back through her room and into the bathroom.
Roman followed a few moments later.
When she came out, still dressed in her sleep tank and shorts, she found Roman sitting on the edge of her bed. His back was to her and he bent at the waist, setting aside the short black combat-style boots he always wore. While she admired the quiet strength of his muscles as they flexed with his movement, her eyes fixed on the tattoo spanning his back.
Wings. Not the wings of an angel, but the wings of a Gargoyle, stretched across his shoulders. They were the exact replica of the wings he possessed in Gargoyle form, black with silver edges, intricately tattooed across his back.
Claire found herself moving toward him, her fingers trembled with the need to touch them, to trace their outline and burn them into her memory. She wanted to sculpt them and for a fleeting moment thought of asking him to pose for her.
He wouldn’t do it. She knew he was far too serious to indulge her. Serious yet concerned, with just a small hint of humor showing in his eyes on the rarest of occasions.
They were both adults, she reminded herself. Consenting adults. She had felt his attraction toward her and since she was unable to restrain her own emotions from being displayed, she would no longer deny herself.
“They’re just like your actual wings,” she whispered to herself.
“It is the mark of what I am,” he replied huskily.
“They’re beautiful,” she breathed.
He turned toward her. “They are wings and when I need them they become real. My face transforms and I look more dog than human. I have never considered them beautiful.”
She saw the pain behind the anger in his eyes. They were like deep swirling pools hiding the layers that made the man before her.
Without thought she brushed her lips against his and had the pleasure of seeing those eyes widen in surprise. She kissed him again, deepening it this time, and watched Roman’s eyes go from surprise to need. She slid her arms up his until she brushed the back of his neck and tangled her fingers into his hair.
It felt right.
It shouldn’t have.
They hadn’t known each other for long, hadn’t even dated in the normal sense of the word, but his constant presence made her feel safe and more than that, it opened up something inside her, something warm and wonderful.
Chapter Twelve
He felt her touch like a spark of electricity piercing straight to his groin. The slightest of touches as she trailed her finger across his back. He sat perfectly still. She was an artist, a sculptor and of course she would be curious as to the design of the marks upon his back. Yet her touch was sensual, full of need.
He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled away from her. “Claire.” Her name was like a promise on his voice. “You have to be sure.” His heart beat against his chest like a battering ram. Roman had watched her for so long, always in peripheral, and while he never admitted it to himself, he’d wanted her from the first moment he saw her. Yet his world was full of dangers humans could not comprehend.
Hybrid, she was Hybrid, not human, he reminded himself.
Now it seemed as if his entire future lay in the hands of the beautiful woman before him, the woman with the sea green eyes and hair the color of sand kissed by the sun.
“I have been sure of many things in my life that were not real, Roman,” she whispered. “I have watched you come into Bookworms for months and wondered what if would feel like to wrap myself around you.” She traced a finger along his jaw. “I want to find out.”
He covered her mouth with his. The kiss was all need and surrender.
Roman shifted and rolled so he hovered above her. She was more stunning than any of the angels he had met through the ages and she was about to become his.
Claire wrapped her hands around his head and pulled his mouth back to hers. His lips roamed over her cheek, her chin, feathering kisses down her neck, each kiss igniting a tiny spark between them. She arched into him for more and he felt her surrender.
He swirled his tongue over the nipple of her breast until she cried out. Roman gave her other breast equal attention before he moved lower, his tongue searing a trail of heat toward her navel.
Roman slid his hand between her thighs and his body throbbed when he found her wet and eager. He slipped one finger in her and watched with a delighted smile when his name escaped her lips on a sigh. He looked into her eyes, glazed over with ecstasy as he gently stroked her. He put his mouth back to her body and slid his tongue around her navel. He withdrew his hand and his body hardened even more when she gave a cry of protest.
He was hard to the point of pain yet he had to have a taste of her, a taste from the pearl that lay between her legs.
He let his mouth trail lower and feasted on her, his tongue dipping and stroking, swirling around the treasure that was now his.
Clair
e molded her body with his and cried out her pleasure as his skillful mouth devastated her. Roman knew she was no longer in control of her own body as her head thrashed from side to side and her hands fisted in the soft sheets of the bed. He knew she’d surrendered herself to her fate, her new life as a Hybrid, and nothing had ever felt so right, so complete, in his entire life. It was as if his body had been waiting just for her.
For Claire.
When he slid himself inside of her, his own moan joined hers. He had wanted to go slowly, to savor each thrust of pleasure. She met him stroke for stroke until he felt her nails rake down his back and heard her scream of release. He slowed his pace but didn’t stop and after she cried out again and her body constricted and vibrated around him he finally let himself go.
* * * *
Claire lay limply below Roman. He’d shifted so his weight was off her but he doubted she’d have the energy to complain even if he was crushing her. Her body was limp and sated. Roman had loved her with his body and gentle murmurs while he seduced her body and mind. He knew he had coaxed her body into surrender. Sweet, sweet surrender.
Roman was in awe. This woman, beautiful inside and out, had seen him for what he truly was, watched him destroy an evil Spirit and accepted him anyway. He brushed his hand along her hair. “Are you okay?”
“I’m wonderful. I’ve never felt so loved in my life.”
“I am yours now, Claire.”
“As I am yours.”
Chapter Thirteen
Claire floated through the next weeks. Each day spent preparing for the grand opening of her gallery and each night spent within Roman’s arms. Neither had seen an evil Spirit and Claire was beginning to think they had simply passed her by. She was almost grateful for the attack in the alley. It brought us together, she thought as she slid into the dress she’d chosen for the opening.
Local celebrities and members of the art community along with Claire’s mom and friends would be there tonight to sip wine, nibble hors d’oeuvres and hopefully buy a sculpture or two. If Claire was really lucky she’d get a good write up in the local paper and maybe even a mention on the broadcasting networks. It was the beginning of a new life for Claire, personally and professionally.
