When A Gargoyle Dreams (Gargoyles Book 5)

by E A Price

  “I’m surprised at it being Martha,” she admitted.

  Though, she never would have imagined Brom would find Joely and happily become a stepfather to her human daughter. Yet, as she saw Brom throwing Daphne in the air – and catching her to Joely’s relief – she saw that it was a role he filled with gusto. The gargoyles could still surprise her.

  “But I’m glad that Drago has found someone.” Martha could be bossy, but she wasn’t an unkind person, and she did try to help people in town as much as she could. The woman had a surprising amount of patience for even the most irritating person. Hadn’t she managed to persuade old Giles to not only lend the town his sled for the Christmas parade but also clean it up for her first and give it a fresh lick of paint? Giles was known for trying to shoot people who even tried to approach his front door – Kylie heard a rumor that it all started when there was an incident with a door-to-door vacuum salesperson – but Martha had managed through determination and patience to get what the town wanted.

  “I think she’s just what he needs,” she said.

  Kylie thought of the ill-advised and short-lived attempt to mate him to Ryia, and she smiled as she saw Martha slapping his chest, apparently outraged by something he said. No, she would be good for him.

  Luc grunted. “You think we can trust her?”

  Kylie looked up at her own mate through her lashes. “I think she’s already in love with Drago, so yes.” These gargoyles had no idea what they did to human women she thought in amusement.

  She started yawning, and Luc snapped to attention. “You are tired.”

  Kylie rolled her aching shoulders. “It’s been a long couple of days.” While uncertain of Drago’s whereabouts, Luc had been almost unbearable to live with. Not that she was about to tell him that, but it was true.

  A small smile graced his lips. “And you are also with child.”

  She pursed her lips sourly. “Which everyone now knows about.”

  His smile morphed into a remorseless grin. “True.”

  “You’re not even sorry, are you?”

  “Sorry you are carrying my child, or sorry for telling everyone? The answer is no; I am not sorry for either.”

  The other gargoyles had already started treating her differently – already more deferential and if she sneezed two of them appeared to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself. She wasn’t exactly complaining about their concern, but it was their scrutiny that bothered her.

  She still had all her concerns about the baby – what if she lost him or her? The thought of letting Luc down was bad enough, but knowing she could let the whole clan down?

  “You are tired,” said Luc a little more gently, and worriedly. “You should rest.”

  “But shouldn’t we talk to Martha? Fill her in on what’s going on. Plus there’s her father and that young girl, Danica? We need to deal with them. What if Blackthorne comes for them?”

  “Worries for tomorrow. For now, you must rest.” He splayed a huge hand over her stomach. “Both of you must.”

  She wanted to argue, but as she looked into his eyes and saw the love and concern there, she merely smiled and agreed.

  Tomorrow was the time to start worrying.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The door was barely closed before he found her lips.

  “Your injuries,” she mumbled against him.

  Drago growled and pressed her against the door. As if he would let the matter of a few gunshot wounds stop him from being with his mate. They had hurt hotter than hell, though. He had thought he was used to the pain after all the years he endured in the dungeons, but this was something new. But he hadn’t let it slow him down, not when his mate was in danger. It bothered him that he had passed out from the injuries, bothered him that he had shown weakness to his mate, but if anyone was allowed to see his weaknesses, it was her.

  “Drago, please,” she breathed as his lips made their way down her neck. But even as she said it, her legs wrapped around his body.

  She was worried for him, worried he would injure himself further, and while that warmed him, he needed her. Needed the comfort of her body, needed to feel her wrapped around him so intimately. She had been so close to the death in the last couple of days that he just wanted to take her over and over until he was exhausted. Plus, when she claimed him in front of her mother… well, that just sent his desire hurtling to the moon.

  Nothing could stop him.

  “No, stop!”

  Except that. He tensed as unbidden thoughts of Muriel returned. He would never force a female in that way. If Martha truly did not want him…

  His face twitched in frustration as he removed his lips from her shoulder and turned to look at her. “You do not want to,” he said flatly. “I will not force you.”

  She smiled at him and traced a finger over one of his ears, making him quiver in the most unexpected way.

  “I always want to, honey – after all, I’m only human! I just need to know it won’t hurt you.”

  Drago grunted with a mixture of impatience and delight.

  “And don’t say it will be worth it,” she chastised wagging a finger at him.

  He let out a small uncharacteristic chuckle and moved back from her slightly. She was pinned, her back against the door, her legs around his body, and only his hips and hands on her thighs holding her up, but she was relaxed and happy. He looked at her beaming face, her flushed skin and the curves of her lovely body, and mentally he disagreed – it would definitely be worth it.

  “I am fine; I wish to take my mate.”

  Her breaths became shorter. “I want that, too,” she admitted and opened her mouth again, but all that escaped was a squeak as Drago carefully but quickly sliced through her clothes.

  “Drago!” she wailed, and he chuckled again. Twice in one night had to be a record for him – at least in the last thousand or so years.

  She had complained about him ruining all her clothes, but he didn’t think her being naked all the time was an issue. His old clan only ever wore clothes in front of humans. Though, he was not sure he would like others to see Martha in her glorious nakedness – the imagined leers of his fellow gargoyles was infuriating.

  “You are beautiful,” he blurted, his thoughts escaping him.

  Martha flushed in delight, the clothes clearly forgotten as he scented the honey weeping from her sex. He pressed a thick digit to her opening, rumbling contentedly as he found her slick and eager for him.

  “I think you are too,” she whimpered as her channel tried to clutch at his invading finger.

  Drago snorted as he removed his finger and pushed his loincloth away. His member nudged against her body, seeking entrance. Perhaps her lust had made her delusional.

  “You are,” she insisted breathlessly, arching her back, trying to take him inside.

  “You are the only one who could think so.”

  “Good,” she said more than a little smugly.

  His chuckle returned on seeing her self-satisfied expression. Though it did not last for long, as he stroked his length inside her, her expression turned blissful. Drago groaned as her body tightened and trembled around him.

  He allowed himself the briefest of moments to just enjoy the feeling of being connected to her, of taking this radiant creature as his own.

  Martha brushed a kiss across his lips and settled her hands on his shoulders. He retreated and pushed inside her, gently at first, relishing the undulations of her body around him. But soon Martha was mewling with impatience, wanting more, demanding more, and his movements became faster, harder. He was taking her freely, roughly and she returned his passionate fervor with glee.

  Her back bowed, pressing her breasts against him and she rocked her hips, pushing herself against him with equal ardor.

  At first, he had worried she was too delicate, that he would have to be careful, but Martha was made for this, made for him. His mate.

  All too soon, he felt her tensing around him, and he drove himself inside unt
il he exploded. Drago howled, damn near shaking the whole house as Martha screamed her completion. They clutched at one another. It was a perfect moment, better than anything he had ever dreamed.

  *

  “I’m surprised you told my mother you were my boyfriend," Martha said as she peered at Drago’s wounds. They had finally made it to the bed and were relaxing, for a few moments at least.

  He had grumbled that he was fine, but she would not listen until she had seen them herself. She carefully discarded the bandage Annis had applied. He did not seem to need it – he was all but healed. Though, he would scar.

  “I did not think that your mother would understand the term mate.”

  She had talked to her father since they arrived and reassured him she was okay while letting him know that she had seen her mother – and that one day they would need to tell her that he was still alive. Vaguely, she wondered whether her mother could actually be considered a bigamist, but that was hardly her fault. Officially, her father was dead. Course, she didn’t get long to discuss it as Drago whisked her away to what was apparently their new bedroom. She would have to discuss the fact that she wouldn’t actually be living at the mansion permanently later. People in town were already curious as to why Kylie was living there, and why Chris spent so much time there – things she had wondered herself a week ago. She didn’t want to add fuel to the gossip flames.

  “Not sure I understand the term mate.”

  He cupped her chin and raised her gaze to meet his. “It means you are mine.”

  “I am?” Her heart fluttered.

  “Yes,” he growled in a way that suggested arguing would be pointless.

  “Don’t you think you should ask me first?” She tried to work up some outrage at his high-handedness, but there was none to be found. She wanted to be his, wanted him to be hers. Part of her had since the first dream.

  He frowned. “No. You are mine. There is no doubt. Asking would be a waste of time.”

  She raised her eyebrows, but she wasn’t exactly surprised. “You didn’t seem to think so before,” she teased.

  Something flickered across his face, and she thought it might have been fear. She doubted he would admit to that, though. “Before tonight I did not think you wanted me to be yours.”

  “What made you realize I do want you?”

  “When you told your mother about us. Why did you? You could have lied to her.”

  “I could have,” she admitted. It wasn’t like she wasn’t already lying to her mother about a few other things – lies by omission anyway. “But I didn’t want to. I was worried she would look at you and see a monster.”

  Drago’s wings twitched, and he gave her a toothy smile. “What am I then?”

  Her eyes took in the wings, the tail, the horns, the charcoal skin and the red eyes. “You’re a man,” she answered quietly.

  “A special man,” she added on seeing his frown. “One in a million, billion, trillion, but you’re a man – my man.”

  Drago gave one of his half-smiles, the closest he came to outright joy “I knew you were mine when I first dreamed of you.”

  Martha gave up on trying to look at his wounds and snuggled against him.

  “You didn’t seem keen to admit it.”

  “I was…”

  He paused, and she supplied. “Afraid?”

  “Humph. Being with a human ended badly for me last time.”

  Martha thought of the woman he mentioned – Muriel. “Tell me about her,” she whispered. His expression hardened, and she nuzzled his face. “Please.”

  Drago groaned and started to speak.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “From what I can tell Martha is at the mansion with the gargoyles,” said Dr. White, her breathless tone echoing out of his phone.

  Blackthorne stared out the window, half expecting to see a gargoyle there, coming for him. There was nothing, just a few clouds in the distance, and the round, brilliant moon.

  “One of your men attacked her in her home,” continued Casey. “The police chief claims he stopped him, but I believe it was one of the gargoyles.”

  Blackthorne remained silent as he worked overtime on his stress ball. Not bothering with a goodbye, he slammed the phone down.

  Given the fire and the deaths of his men, he would say it was more than a little likely that Danica and Allen had found Martha, and she was apparently part of the gargoyle clan now. That wasn’t so much of a surprise. Allen had dreamed of his daughter mating with one and becoming pregnant. The man’s visions were rarely wrong.

  Foreman and Briggs were gone. They had been useful, but they were easily replaceable. He regretted sending them in to pick up Martha, but when he realized Dr. Crawley’s husband paid her a visit, he figured she had found out about her father. That fucking bitch Crawley probably thought he was going to kill her and had made provisions beyond the grave. He snorted. She’d died in a car crash of her own volition – it had nothing to do with him, it was just bad timing. Though, he had been considering having her executed anyway. But if it had been at his hand, he would have made sure to take care of her husband as well. He disliked loose ends, and at that moment, everything seemed to be unraveling.

  Losing Danica was a blow. She was the only real pyrokinetic they had ever found. Creating a spell to make fire wasn’t an uncommon ability, but starting it with just her mind and controlling it the way she could was impossible. Sure, they had a few with telekinesis, but all they’d ever been able to do was levitate fruit about a foot off the floor. Danica had been a real find, though unmanageable and difficult. Every attempt they had at turning her into a weapon had failed. Would serve the gargoyles right if she burned them all to hell.

  But losing Allen was the real problem. His visions were integral to their future. He had been the one to tell them that Luc would be woken in Devil’s Hang. He was the one who saw the female Kylie giving birth to the child. He was the one who showed them how wonderful their future really could be.

  Maybe Allen’s usefulness had run its course. They already knew of the importance of Luc’s child, but having a psychic was always useful. Maybe they just had to wait. When Martha had her child, the infant would be gargoyle and psychic, and that child would follow Luc’s child – ergo the child would be in their power. Maybe they just had to be patient.

  But both Allen and Danica knew of the gargoyles they already had – the drones incapable of thinking for themselves that they used as guards. They had been successful experiments in some ways – they had certainly taught them where they were going wrong, but were still forced to sleep during the day and no good for further breeding.

  No, they needed gargoyles that could be awake during the day, and they needed to hurry. Perhaps he had been too hasty in allowing Twenty-Six to remain free. She had been one of the few successes – pain in the ass though she was.

  It wouldn’t be long until Kylie did have a child, and when they took it, they needed to know they could keep her from her parents.

  *

  “I’m sorry, Drago, I had no idea.”

  Drago clutched Martha a little harder. Telling her had been difficult, but she had shown her sympathy, shown anger, and compassion in all the right places, and he knew it had been the right decision to tell her everything.

  “It is not your fault.”

  Her eyes stared at him with watery sadness. “No wonder you always looked like you wanted to be a million miles away from me. I’d hate humans, too.”

  “That is not true,” he denied gruffly. He never wanted to be away from her; he may have thought he should be, ought to be, but never wanted that.

  “I’m saying I don’t blame you for not wanting to be with me.”

  “I always wanted you, but I could not help wonder if…”

  “If I would do the same thing to you that she did.”

  “Indeed.”

  His nostrils flared in anger as his tail thumped the bed. Martha caught his tail and ran her hand up and down, making h
im shiver slightly. He’d never thought of his tail as erotic before, but…

  “I won’t,” she interrupted his growing lust.

  “I know,” he said quickly while trying to decide how he would like to take her next. She seemed to relish their lovemaking the time that she was above him.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be too harsh on her.”

  Drago froze with one hand about to cup one of her breasts. “You feel sorry for her?”

  “I feel sorry for both of you. Mainly you,” she added on hearing his unhappy rumble. “I’m not saying I’m happy that she lied, or that what you went through is forgivable, but I understand why she did it. I don’t agree, but I do understand that she was afraid.”

  He shifted against her uneasily. “Were you not afraid of your mother’s reaction?”

  “Yes, but I knew my mother wouldn’t beat me or try to hurt me. I was scared of her running to the cops and telling them about you, but I know that the worst she would ever do to me would be the silent treatment, and I doubt that would last more than a month. Seriously, she’s such a chatterbox.” Martha rubbed her cheek against his. “I know it’s asking a lot, but try not to judge her too harshly, the world is a very different place now, especially for women.”

  “I cannot forgive her!” he hissed.

  “I don’t expect you to – no more than I could ever forgive those men for kidnapping me - just try not to dwell on your anger at her.”

  “It does not seem to matter anymore.”

  “No?”

  She looked up at him with huge blue eyes, and he wondered how he could have ever thought he could resist her. Just a look and he was ready to obey her every whim. He’d conquer the world at her request.

  “No. Your life will not be easy if you mate me.” While she soothed him, made him want to forget his suffering, the memories would always bubble at the back of his mind, threatening to erupt in angry, violent outbursts. But he would try to control them for her, try to be the gargoyle, nay – man, she deserved.