When A Gargoyle Dreams (Gargoyles Book 5)

by E A Price

“Now? But I…”

  “Do not leave this house.”

  “So you’re coming back?” she asked as she trailed after him to the back door, not quite seeming to believe what was happening.

  He nodded shortly.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Promise me you will stay here until I return.”

  Martha threw up her hands in exasperation. “But, what’s going on?”

  He ignored her questions and took hold of her. He pulled her to his body, his arm slipping around her waist, and his hand cupping her head. Beads of water still sparkled in her hair, her cheeks were still flush from their lovemaking and her lips still swollen from kisses.

  He had an urge to take her back to bed, to pretend this interruption hadn’t happened, to forget the name Blackthorne had ever been mentioned. The nights spent with her had been as close to bliss as he ever expected he would get. He had been waiting for something to happen, something to spoil their time together. He supposed it had arrived, though a part of him had still suspected that she would be the cause of their separation.

  Confusion and worry marred her sweet features. “How long will you be gone?” She didn’t understand what was happening, nor did he really.

  “Promise me you will stay here?”

  Frustration warred within her, but at last, she promised. “Okay, fine.”

  Drago was about to let her go when he thought better of it and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

  “Stay safe,” he growled, a warning as well as a demand.

  He left her then, swooping into the night. He should turn around, should stay and protect her, but he needed to speak to his clan mates. Needed to know who this Blackthorne was, what his interest could be in Martha, how he could destroy the man.

  Perhaps Martha truly was psychic – it would be a fitting explanation for her dreams. Unconsciously, she reached out to him. Why him he had no idea. Well, no he did have some idea, but he wouldn’t allow himself to believe it to be true. In what universe would any god of fate make the two of them mates?

  She could have any male she wanted, and he didn’t want a mate – gargoyle or human. Why would fate lumber her with him? In spite of the glimpses of happiness he felt with Martha, their time together was tarnished by his suspenseful belief that she would betray him in some way, cast him aside and pretend that the intimacies they had shared were nothing to her. Why wouldn’t she do that? He was hardly the companion a beautiful, lively woman like her could ever want.

  If he was so sure she was going to betray him, why was he so concerned about her safety? Why not just leave her to her fate. Even as he thought it, he knew that was never going to happen. Not because he was someone who cared about the plight of others – he wasn’t a damn hero. He was a broken gargoyle. But unconsciously he just knew that he couldn’t allow Martha to be hurt, he knew that his survival depended on hers.

  His wings flapped violently as he tried to ignore what that could mean.

  *

  “Holy shit, did you see that?!”

  Foreman didn’t bother looking up from his phone. “No.”

  “Something fucking enormous just flew out of her garden!” exclaimed Briggs, his jaw dropping as he swung his binoculars around, trying to find whatever it was.

  “Probably a bird,” dismissed Foreman.

  “That thing was bigger than any damn bird. Well, maybe not an emu… nah, still bigger than an emu.”

  “A bat maybe?” suggested Foreman with the lazy air of someone who could care less if it had been a flying monkey.

  “Bats are smaller than birds.”

  “Giant bat?

  “Oh, I’m sure it was Batman then!”

  Foreman started roaring with laughter, and Briggs ignored him.

  Briggs had too much imagination, probably why he was kicked out of the army – always fancying he saw things that weren’t there. Vampires, monsters, abominable snowmen – he believed in them all. Gullible fool.

  Foreman, on the other hand, got the boot for the attentions he lavished on the female recruits. Fucking teases, he thought bitterly. They wanted to be in a man’s world, and they couldn’t stand the heat. After the third allegation, his commanding officer and childhood friend couldn’t turn a blind eye anymore. Not given that she had DNA evidence. He’d fucked up with that last one, forgot protection. But he had been incensed. Saw her in training, grappling with a man, beating him, crowing over him – that was no way for a woman to behave. He had to show her who was boss.

  Thankfully, there was always work for men like him. The security company he worked for had plenty of jobs they wanted doing quietly with a minimum amount of fuss and the maximum amount of violence.

  This current job wasn’t quite as satisfying as usual though. So far it had been quiet. They were waiting for some middle-aged guy to show up at the blonde’s house. Leggy, gorgeous creature she was too – the only perk of the job. He barely managed to get any glimpses of her, but the ones he had were enough to give him fantasies to yank himself off four times in a row.

  They couldn’t really get a good look at her. Her house was isolated, so watching her across the street in a van that said ‘Sal’s Pizza’ on the side was a no-go. They had to take over the nearest house and do the best they could with binoculars. They could only get the front of the house. The garden and her bedroom window were completely hidden.

  Foreman left Briggs muttering about giant bats and made himself a drink. He forewent the ice in his scotch. They’d stashed the body of the owner of the house in the freezer and every time he saw her it pissed him off. He had no problem killing her, but the old bitch had managed to swipe him with a poker, and his leg hurt like hell – he’d have a limp for at least a week. Usually, they buried the bodies immediately, but the ground was still hard and frozen, so they had to make do with the freezer.

  The blonde didn’t seem to do much and tonight was the only night they had seen her get a visitor – some old guy with a cane. Not the guy they were after, but he took a photo and sent it to his boss along with an update on what was happening. Nothing was happening, but blondie hadn’t opened her curtains in over a day – she was either really lazy or hiding something. He didn’t know how their target could have slipped in without them noticing, but Foreman wouldn’t rule it out.

  His phone chirruped in reply. His lips curled into a satisfied grin as he read his new orders.

  Bring the woman back to HQ immediately – alive. Use any necessary force.

  She only needed to be alive; the state of her when she arrived didn’t matter. His dick hardened. He doubted Briggs would have any objection to the two of them having a little fun with her. Things were looking up.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Where the hell have you been?” roared Luc, even before Drago landed.

  “We’ve been worried sick,” added Kylie, hurrying to stand beside her irate mate.

  Drago doubted that was true, but he didn’t exactly feel like he had the moral high ground at that moment.

  Luc gave his mate a reproving growl before rounding on Drago. Luc’s wings spread and his tail whipped through the snow. He looked huge and every inch the dominant leader he was. Drago was larger, but he was not a leader like Luc. Before his incarceration and torture, Muriel had once compared him to one of her father’s dogs. Big, friendly and easygoing. He had thought it a compliment at the time, but now he thought it to be an insult. Now, he was merely big.

  “Well?” Luc boomed.

  The others were gathering in interest and Gracchus joined Luc, glowering with equal fury.

  Drago probably did owe them an explanation, but he had more pressing matters.

  “Who is Blackthorne?”

  “You don’t get to ask questions! You abandoned your clan without a word. You could have been seen out there; anything could have happened. You could have endangered all the clan, including my pregnant mate!”

  “Luc!” exclaimed Kylie, her jaw dropping.

  “You�
�re preggo?!” squealed Maggie while the others murmured in surprise and interest.

  Even Gracchus softened. “Is it true?” he asked Kylie.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “We were supposed to be waiting to tell everyone.” She gave her mate an accusing look, but as everyone rushed to hug and congratulate her, her blushes and smiles took over.

  Luc, however, did not lose his furious scowl. Drago was surprised at his own desire to tell Luc the truth. When he first awoke, he wouldn’t have listened to any commands any gargoyles wanted to give him. But now he felt a trickle of desire to obey his leader’s command. How odd.

  “I… I was with a female.”

  “A human?” demanded Luc, his expression turning stonier.

  “I sensed she was in danger, and I went to her.”

  “You fool! How do you know she will not run to the human authorities? What have you told her about us?”

  “If she wanted to tell anyone she would have when… ah… we first met.”

  “You have seen her before?”

  Drago nodded. “On Christmas Eve.”

  Luc bared his fangs, though Drago felt that his mood was slowly turning to disbelief rather that outright rage.

  “First Brom, now you,” he muttered.

  “Well, first it was you, actually,” murmured Kylie. She disengaged herself from an enthusiastic hug from Twenty-Six and placed her hand on Luc’s twitching chest.

  Drago could tell that Luc wanted to plant his fist in his face – it was the least of what Drago’s father would have done if it had been one his gargoyles who behaved as Drago had. But Luc demurred because he knew his mate did not like violence, and undoubtedly he would do everything in his power to ensure his pregnant mate was happy.

  Luc’s tail twitched and his muscles bunched as he reined in his temper. “How did you even meet this female?”

  “Martha…”

  “Martha?!” cried Maggie. “My Martha?”

  Drago huffed, feeling a strange sense of possessiveness. “I do not know that she is your Martha,” he said coldly.

  “My cousin, Martha?”

  Knowing his luck, she would be.

  “Blonde?” asked Joely pursing her lips. “Huge blue eyes, pink pouty lips, and legs up to her armpits? Looks like a real-life Barbie doll – only prettier?” Brom gave her a curious look at her irritated edge. “What? She’s gorgeous, and I kind of hate her for it.”

  The human women – including Maggie - agreed with that sentiment.

  Drago looked uncertain about Joely’s description. “She does have blue eyes and her hair is indeed blonde.” Her legs were fairly long as well; it certainly took him a while to kiss his way up them. He had no clue what a Barbie doll was supposed to be.

  Luc rolled his eyes in frustration. “How did you meet?”

  Drago growled. “It is a long story, but now I fear she is in danger from this man Blackthorne.”

  “Why would Martha be in danger from him?” asked Kylie, she pulled one of Luc’s arms around her and with a grunt, his hand splayed over her hip. Drago suspected she did it to discourage her mate from going for his throat, though she probably enjoyed his touch as well. He wouldn’t deny that human women could be very responsive. Hadn’t Martha virtually cooed every time he touched her?

  “That is also a long story.”

  “Tell it quickly,” snapped Luc.

  Maggie tapped her foot. “I also want to know what your intentions are toward my cousin.”

  Drago groaned. Martha better be keeping herself safe because he wasn’t sure leaving her was worth this.

  *

  Okay, so apparently psychics did exist, and it was likely she was one.

  Plus her dad had been kidnapped for nearly two decades and was possibly still alive.

  Also, she may or may not be falling in love with a totally infuriating, grouchy gargoyle.

  Martha dug her spoon into the ice cream. Most people probably wouldn’t have been able to eat at a time like this. She wasn’t most people. She needed ice cream – stat. She’d donned her sweats and was now trying to eat her way through a pint of salted caramel.

  She couldn’t help the smile as she remembered Drago’s face when he tried it. It was right up there with his first bath.

  His reticence and reserve drove her insane, yet the sparks when he showed some warmth more than made up for it. He wasn’t particularly cold to her, but there was a lot of himself he kept away from her. But when he kissed her, when he stroked a claw down her cheek and gazed at her like she was the only person on earth that mattered, she almost swooned.

  Being normal was completely out of the window. Had been ever since she initiated that first kiss. Though she wondered how long their time together could last. She couldn’t imagine taking Drago to meet her mother.

  “Mother, this is Drago – he’s a gargoyle.”

  “Oh, my dear, who are his parents? Where does he come from?”

  Yep, her mother probably would still worry about those things when faced with a seven-foot gargoyle.

  What would her mom say if she knew there was a chance her first husband was still alive? Was there a chance? Why kidnap him just to kill him – they could have easily killed him at the hospital. Surely that was what all her damn dreams had been about.

  Her stomach roiled. The funeral had been closed casket, and there was no wake – she’d never seen her father’s dead body. But surely, there had to have been a body in the casket? Ugh, who was buried in her father’s grave?

  Blackthorne. A name Drago knew though he wouldn’t say how. Big surprise he wasn’t sharing.

  Martha glanced out the window into the garden, where he slept during the day. Where the hell was he?

  She felt an ache without him around. They barely knew each other yet being apart felt painful. Well, not really barely. She had known him intimately for months in her dreams.

  She wondered how many more of his kind there were – he had been fuzzy on some details. Maybe that was where he had gone – home, to be with the other gargoyles.

  But he was coming back.

  Martha wandered into the living room and grabbed her phone. She searched for the name Blackthorne. Far too many came up, but she did note that one prominent Blackthorne lived in Portland and owned a security firm.

  Why would he want her dad though?

  She froze as she heard a noise on her front porch - footsteps approaching. Maybe Dr. Crawley’s husband, maybe her neighbor…

  It sounded like two men murmuring. She thought of the doctor’s letter, of her fear that Martha was in danger, and ice seemed to trickle down her spine.

  Automatically she looked in the direction of the window – the garden – hoping to see a giant gargoyle crashing to the ground. No such luck.

  The bangs on her door made her jump, even though she was expecting them.

  Surely if they were here for her, they wouldn’t bother knocking first? Unless they realized how isolated she was and knew they didn’t have to take many precautions.

  She didn’t answer. She suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable.

  Softly, she padded upstairs, slipped into her bedroom and rolled under the bed.

  What the hell was she doing? Under the bed was the first place they would look. It hadn’t worked out for the daughter in Taken, and there was no way it would work out for her either!

  It might not be anyone yet – maybe it was just Girl Scouts selling cookies… in the middle of the night. Probably a bad example, but it could be someone who had broken down and just needed help. Except the house was at the end of a cul de sac – no one but her came down there. Still could be her neighbor, if middle-aged Jackie had taken to wearing combat boots and speaking in a male voice.

  She was better off ignoring it.

  Martha sucked in a breath as she heard someone rattling the front door handle. She needed a better hiding spot. A thought that dribbled away as a loud bang indicated the door had been kicked open.

  She could ba
rely hear anything over the thunder of her own heartbeat, but surely that was the squeak of the floorboard as they started coming up the stairs…

  Martha remembered having a similar dream to this. Drago always turned up to save her. The squeaks on the stairs continued, and slowly, hope that the dream was going to come true died.

  Some fricking psychic she was!

  *

  Drago howled as the vision of Martha being taken flowed to him. He should never have left her, how could he have been so damn foolish!

  “Drago!” hissed Luc.

  While the clouds may hide their flight to some extent, Drago’s loud snarls were not so easily masked.

  Drago ignored him and pushed himself on. Martha was in danger, and he could not get to her fast enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She was in danger; she could feel it. Actually, she felt it half an hour ago when the men dragged her kicking and screaming out from under her bed.

  Martha wished she were a different kind of woman – like the heroes she saw on TV. A woman who could whip out some kung fu style kicks when she needed them, a woman who could be brave and sneering in the face of danger. But she wasn’t a warrior princess or a power ranger or even a vampire slayer. Up until a few months ago, she had been an ordinary woman, and frankly, she was terrified and panicking.

  She’d scratched and slapped at them as they grabbed her, and received a punch to the face for her troubles, but she hadn’t been able to do much more than that.

  The men were huge – not Drago huge – but big for humans, and the punch left her woozy. Through a haze she sensed the two men arguing while she was slung over one beefy shoulder and hauled away.

  She was now in a trunk, a gag in her mouth and her hands and feet tied. Judging by the way her head kept banging against the floor of the trunk, they were going over rough terrain.

  She strained against the zip ties holding her captive, but all that did was cut into her skin and bring tears to her eyes.

  Martha felt a sob bubble up from her chest. She really ought to be the kind of woman who could plan an escape. A better kind of woman, braver, smarter – the kind of woman that Drago deserved.