When A Gargoyle Dreams (Gargoyles Book 5)

by E A Price

  His heart started rapping against his chest, panicking at the thought of being pursued by this female. He was not a male who was easily scared, and certainly not one who would ever admit to being scared, but the thought of Ryia trying to pin him down and mate him sent some very worrying shivers through his body.

  “I will not make a good mate,” he rasped.

  Ryia snorted in disdain. “If you can see that fact then, of course, it is obvious to me.”

  Drago said a silent thank you to any deity who happened to be out there and tried to force his heart back into its rightful place. It appeared to be trying to climb out of his throat at that moment.

  “You already have a mate in mind,” she declared giving him a knowing look.

  “No,” he denied quickly, even as the image of Martha, pink-cheeked and flush with pregnancy sprawled across his mind. His dreams had taken a strange turn in the past few days.

  “I will never mate.”

  He would never trust a female – human or otherwise enough to mate them. But then, what female would want him for a mate anyway?

  “You say that, but there is a female on your mind.”

  With that, Ryia stomped away, probably to find another victim to spar with. Drago hoped it would be Ric.

  He flashed to Martha. Not one of his remembered dreams, but something new. He saw her dropping a glass, it shattered in her hand, and startling red blood poured from her.

  Drago felt the same agitation he had when she crashed her vehicle. The female was incapable of keeping herself safe! The thought vexed and disturbed him in equal measure.

  One thing he did know was that he would not allow her to be hurt, would not allow her to die. While confused about just what this female was doing to him, he knew he didn’t want anything to happen to her.

  As Drago pushed off the roof, soaring into the night. There was a yelp from down below. Drago would have been pleased to know that a dislodged roof tile had hit Ric.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Idiot,” muttered Martha, washing her hand under the water. The cut stung, but she would be fine.

  Serves her right for holding the wine glass while she was falling asleep. She dropped it, it smashed, and she cut herself while picking up the pieces. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep just tender.

  Her eyes flickered up to the garden, and she screamed as the gargoyle thunderously landed, barely pausing before striding toward the house.

  As her screams died, her heart banged like a drum. He was here; he had found her. Should she be scared? Even if she should, she wasn’t. If he had wanted to hurt her, he could have done so last time they met.

  No, the only thing tingling through her body at that moment was anticipation.

  She gaped at his looming figure for a few moments before scrambling to pull the door open. He crowded the entrance, ducking to get through the doorway and she gulped as she backed into the kitchen.

  “You’re here,” she murmured, her whole body warming to his nearness.

  She had talked to him, kissed him and made love to him dozens of times in her dreams, yet she found herself tongue-tied at his overwhelming presence.

  Martha remembered the last dream she had of him when she told him she loved him. Her cheeks burned in… what? Embarrassment? A little maybe, but perhaps she blushed because she was wondering if he had dreamed of that moment too.

  His red-eyed gaze stroked up and down her body, making every inch of her feel exposed. She felt more naked than last summer when she had dared wear a teeny-tiny bikini on the beach. But even the penetrating leers of the college boys that summer didn’t compare to this – and they were really trying to find a way to see through the material of her bikini. Though, she didn’t really mind the gargoyle’s stare.

  He finally fixed on her hand. “You hurt yourself?” The words seemed to struggle to escape him.

  “I’m fine,” she replied breathlessly.

  She’d spent nearly every night with him for the past couple of months, but none of them had been like this. None of them compared to seeing him in person.

  He let out a low grumble and slowly reached out to her. Even though he was moving slowly, waiting to see if she might scream or run away – which she didn’t – she was still shocked when he caught her hand in his.

  Martha gasped and his gaze shot to her face, searching for something, but whatever he was looking for, he apparently didn’t find it. He looked back down at her hand, inspecting her small wound.

  “Hmmm, you will live,” he declared after several moments.

  “Glad to hear it,” she giggled nervously.

  His eyes rose to her face in almost an accusing way. “You do not take care of yourself.”

  “It was an accident,” she murmured as he traced her palm with a clawed finger.

  He could do some serious damage with those things. Hell, the guy looked like juggling cars wouldn’t be too much of a chore. But that didn’t worry her. She knew deep down that he wouldn’t hurt her. He made her feel… safe.

  His nostrils flared in irritation. “That is no excuse, were it not for me, you would not be here.”

  Martha frowned. “It’s just a small cut.”

  His huge wings flared, becoming a canopy in the kitchen, darkening the entire room. “I am speaking of your accident with your vehicle. Were it not for me you probably would have frozen to death.”

  “I’d have been fine,” she argued weakly, though even to her the words sounded doubtful.

  He snorted and dropped her hand. He began pacing the kitchen, but, given his size, it only took a few steps from one end to the other.

  “Do you think I will always be here to rescue you?” he demanded angrily. “You think you can ensnare me to be no better than your obedient lap-dog? You humans have not changed. You think you can take whatever you wish from us, use us for your own ends and then discard us. Well, I will not be behooven to you!”

  Martha glared at him as disbelief crept through her. “Behooven? Behooven?! Who the hell asked you to behoove yourself to me?”

  “You humans always…”

  “You humans?!” she spluttered. “I didn’t ask you to save me that night, and I definitely didn’t ask your grumpy butt to come over and kiss my booboo either. I have no idea what you’re even doing here! I didn’t ask you for anything, and I have no intention of using you.”

  His chest puffed out indignantly. “Were it not for me…”

  “I said thank you, what more do you want?”

  “I do not know!” he roared. His eyes blazed as his body and wings seemed to grow even bigger. “I do not know why I dream of you every night. I do not know why the mere sight and scent of you drives me insane. I do not know what any of this means. I only know that when you are in trouble or hurt I cannot breathe until I am sure you are okay. You have invaded my senses and I… I…”

  He faltered, looking slightly ashamed of his outburst. But if he were expecting fear or disgust from Martha, then he would be surprised by her reaction.

  “You dream of me?” she asked, staring at him with wide eyes.

  He didn’t reply, merely went back to his usual wariness.

  “You know I dream of you,” she continued, taking an experimental step closer to him. He didn’t move away, merely kept watching her. “What do you dream?”

  His eyes shuttered; he didn’t want to tell her anything. It didn’t matter. She could already guess what he dreamed about. He probably dreamed the same things she did. She wasn’t going to pretend she understood why there was a connection between, or how it was possible, but there was a connection. She understood what he meant about her invading his senses. In her dreams, she could think of nothing but him, of how happy he made her, of the affection she had for him. In wasn’t quite the same in person. There wasn’t the older feeling of affection that can only be born of falling in love, but there was something.

  Martha wet her lips making his nostrils flare and his tail thump against the floor.

  S
he took another step towards him, putting her in front of him. Martha looked up at him. “Do you want to know what I dream?”

  He didn’t answer, but his chest heaved.

  She’d tried to cling to her normal life, tried to tell herself it was what she wanted. But it wasn’t. She didn’t know about the future, but she knew what she wanted at that moment.

  “I dream of us.”

  Martha placed her hand over his chest and found his heartbeat. He groaned, and his body shuddered slightly under her fingers.

  “You are bewitching me,” he muttered.

  Martha traced her fingers over his muscles as he watched her intently. “The feeling’s mutual.”

  She stopped at his loincloth, and her eyes flickered to his. Something within him roared to life, and he let out an impatient growl as he scooped her into his arms, pulling her against him and crushing her mouth to his.

  His kiss was forceful, strong and unforgiving. For something she had done over and over in her dreams, she was in no way prepared for the real thing. She gasped as his sharp teeth nipped at her lip, demanding entrance and he took the opportunity afforded him to deepen the kiss, plundering her mouth and taking her in a way no other man had. It was no gentle kiss, no careful, perfunctory embrace as a means to an end - sex. No, this was all encompassing. He demanded everything from her and god was she willing to give it. He kissed her like he might never get the chance to again, like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years. It was hungry and desperate, and hell if she wasn’t starving too.

  The lights in the kitchen flickered, and for a second Martha thought she was about to faint. But no, there was a storm off the coast and the electricity there was apt to go out. She wasn’t so surprised when the house descended into darkness, but he pulled his mouth away from her, searching the room for explanation.

  Martha mewled, trying to capture his lips again to no avail. For the briefest of moments, she would say he looked panicked.

  “Sorcery,” he growled, and Martha giggled.

  She cupped his face as he huffed. “Just the electricity,” she murmured. “It happens from time to time.”

  “You have candles?”

  “Somewhere, but I don’t think we need them.”

  Even in the darkness, she could see a little confusion on his face.

  “Come with me.”

  She grasped one of his hands – the huge appendage swallowing hers. But even though she could sense his strength, he was infinitely gentle in his touch. She led him through the house.

  “Watch the…” He let out an ‘oof,’ and she winced. “The doorway. Sorry.”

  He was perhaps a bit too big for the house.

  He stopped, and given that he did not let go of her hand, she was forced to stop too. “Where are we going?” he asked suspiciously.

  Martha took a deep breath and was glad that he could not see her blush in the darkness. “My bedroom.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Martha inhaled, wondering if he would laugh at her, or snort and dismiss her. But she hoped he wouldn’t. She wanted him – the kiss just affirmed that. She had no idea who he really was, and maybe she was just going insane, but she wanted, even needed him. She was done trying to repress her dreams, her desires. He was there, her attraction to him was overwhelming, and she was sick of fighting. Maybe for once, even if it only lasted a night, she could have something she wanted, rather than something she thought she should want. Maybe she wasn’t thinking completely rationally, her sleeplessness addling her thought processes, but really, she didn’t care.

  He looked at her for what seemed like an age, his red eyes glinting in the darkness. She honestly thought he was going to walk away without saying a word until he let out a long, shuddering breath.

  “This is not a good idea,” he said slowly.

  “You don’t want to?” She would be surprised if he couldn’t see her hot cheeks – which had been hot with embarrassment and were now working their way up to flaming with mortification.

  Being rejected wasn’t something she had ever encountered before. With a certain degree of displeasure, she realized that she never had to make any effort when it came to attracting men. Her looks had always done the hard work for her, and unhappily she wondered whether he actually found her attractive. Would he prefer a female gargoyle? Did female gargoyles even exist?!

  “I do,” he rasped, albeit reluctantly. “But I fear it will be a mistake.”

  “It never felt like a mistake in any of my dreams.”

  He snorted. “They were just dreams.”

  “That felt real,” she insisted. She tried to lead him upstairs, but he was as immovable as a mountain.

  He growled, though his hand still firmly held hers. He made no move to leave and seemed to be struggling with something. Martha could not really blame him. She had been struggling with coming to terms with her dreams for months, but now she had finally let go, and she felt better than she had in a long time. Still tired, but better.

  It appeared they were at an impasse, one that lasted for what felt like an eon but really could not have been more than two minutes.

  Finally, he groaned and tugged on her hand, pulling her into his arms.

  “Which way?” he murmured.

  Martha put an arm around his shoulders - as far as she could manage around his hefty muscles - and used her other hand to point to the stairs. “But watch out for the…”

  “Ugh!”

  “Couch,” she finished. “Watch out for the…”

  Some more bangs, and crunches as he demolished furniture and muttered curses followed. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad were he not moving so quickly. Though nothing seemed to slow him down.

  “Why don’t you move a little more slowly?” she suggested, hanging on for dear life as he took the stairs three at a time.

  “Your room?” he demanded.

  “Second on the left.”

  Since she was the only one there, she took the master bedroom – the one with the Jacuzzi bathtub big enough for a horse.

  With a few more grunts and thuds – for which she closed her eyes, they finally made it. He held her in his arms, standing in the center of the room, uncertain how to proceed.

  Gently, she pushed against him until he let her go and placed her back on her feet. In spite of her keenness, she was assailed by a few doubts. He was right; they were just dreams. What if she didn’t measure up in real life? What if he found her wanting? She’d never really had doubts like these before. The men she’d previously been with had just been grateful for any attention she’d given them. It nearly blew their minds when she slept with them. It was sad, and she felt a pang of guilt, but maybe she’d always felt a little disdain for them, and a little for herself, too because she had so readily accepted the attentions of men who only cared about how she looked.

  This male wasn’t like this. She could see it in the way he looked at her. There was lust there, but he was proud. He didn’t look at her as if she was a trophy, or as if she was doing him a favor. Honestly, she didn’t think she’d felt ever more desired or more in danger of losing her heart.

  She wanted to ask him about his kind, whether there were females, but she held her tongue. She didn’t want to distract him or accidentally offend him in some way.

  Instead, she pulled her sweater off and let it flutter to the floor. His eyes hooded and his tail gave a violent twitch.

  “Have you ever been with a… I mean, do you…” she stumbled over her words, and he remained staring at her fixedly until she started blushing again.

  “I have been with a human,” he admitted finally in clipped tones.

  For some reason, she felt a flicker of disappointment.

  “I haven’t ever been with a gargoyle,” she said lightly, trying to joke.

  “No.” He said it so definitively that she wondered how he could have known for certain.

  Martha bit her lip. “You will tell me if I do anything wrong?”

  “You need not
worry,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “Take off the rest of your clothes.”

  “Oh, ah, yes!”

  Her fingers fumbled as she tried to pull off her jeans, and they stilled completely as in one swift movement he removed his loincloth. Her jaw fell open. She’d heard of men being large, but when it was staring her in the face…

  He grunted impatiently. “You are taking too long.”

  Martha squeaked as his claws tore through her remaining garments, bearing her to him. She didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath as he took her in.

  Feeling nervy she tried to cover her breasts. “You ah, you’re a lot bigger than I’m used to,” she admitted shyly.

  “I will not hurt you.”

  “I believe you,” she said immediately.

  His eyes found hers, and again he gave her that searching look. She smiled at him, and his eyes flared, and faster than she could give him credit for, she was crushed against him and in the middle of another mind-altering kiss.

  She wrapped her arms and legs around him, enjoying the dizzying sensations of his touch. She barely even noticed when she felt the bed against her back.

  His mouth left hers, and he rose above her, his wings spread around them like a protective shield. He kneeled between her legs, her ass resting on his thighs, her sex brushing against his huge, swollen manhood. He clutched her wrists, pressing them into the bed as he trailed kisses over her chest and he laved attention to her breasts. Her back arched against his questing tongue and teeth.

  His movements were almost rocking, meaning the blunt tip of his cock pressed against her over and over, not enough to enter, but enough to tease her and send her half-crazy with want, to make her wet and oh so ready for him.

  “You are sure you wish to do this?” he panted in between licks.

  “Yes, yes!” she mumbled through gritted teeth as his member pushed against her again.

  Even if he hadn’t been driving her wild, she wouldn’t want to stop. She may have been nervous, but since the moment he dropped into the garden, she knew she wanted this.

  He let her breast go and freed her wrists. His hands clutched her ass cheeks, lifting her slightly. He looked down at her again for a brief moment with an unidentifiable expression, but whatever he was feeling at that moment, it wasn’t a lack of lust because the next moment, he pressed inside her. He was hot, thick and what felt like impossibly hard.