Stone Prince: Gargoyle Shifter Paranormal Royalty Romance (Warriors of Stone Book 3)

by Emma Alisyn

  Her mind blanked for a bare second, due to the wine, before revving up to run a multitude of possibilities through her head.

  “I see you thinking,” he murmured. “An innocent woman wouldn’t be thinking.”

  She chose the best possible route of escape in that second, and her forehead creased. “Wh-what?” Rhina slurred her words, going limp in his hold as if both drunk and frightened. Which was close enough to the truth on both counts that it should work well enough. Ignoring her flinch of distaste, she collapsed against his chest. “I . . . I don’t understand. Bea hired me through the staffers. Bea’s the boss of me.” She poked his chest. “Not you. So, stop hissing. Not niiiice. Not nice at all.”

  Hard hands wrapped around her upper arms, and he shook her. Not hard, but hard enough to get his point across. That he could snap her neck with a shove if he wanted. Bastard.

  “Are you working with an enemy?” he demanded. “Are you spying on us?”

  Her knees buckled. “Oh, god. You think I’m a . . . a . . . shpy?” She clasped her hand over her mouth. “I’m shick going to be.”

  He cursed and released her.

  Rhina stumbled to a nearby wastebasket. She couldn’t make herself throw up at will, but the combination of stress, the wine, the sudden shock of his suspicions. It was enough that her body reacted to the hormones running through her veins and sought to purge her of the substance making her run her mouth.

  When she was done, a glass of water appeared under her nose. “Drink it,” he said shortly.

  “Gross,” she muttered. She swished a few mouthfuls of water and spit them out, then allowed herself to fall back on her butt, and stared up at him. Tears misted in her eyes. “They told me you weren’t a nishe male. Should have listened.”

  Geza set the glass on the desk, expression stony, and reached down to haul her back up to her feet, though not in his arms. “Whatever. I’m not a nice male. I’m an Ioveanu Prince. Which you already know.”

  She smacked his chest. “Not sharming at all.”

  He snorted, and Rhina realized he was taking her to his bedroom. He entered, approaching the bed and then dumped her, pausing to pull off her shoes before yanking the covers up to her chin. “Sleep it off, female. We’ll talk later. You aren’t ready, I shouldn’t have pushed so soon.”

  Rhina watched him stalk away shoulders stiff, wings ruffling with agitation. How astonishing. She pushed the covers aside and sat up, pressing her hand to her dizzy forehead.

  “I see you,” he yelled. “I said to sleep it off, damn you! That’s an order from your . . . from me!”

  Still feeling queasy, Rhina supposed if he wanted to kill her, he wouldn’t have tucked her into his bed, she scowled in his general direction but got back under the covers.

  She was in Geza Ioveanu’s bed. What the fuck?

  12

  “Did you believe her?” Malin asked.

  Geza grimaced. Belief. Such a tenuous concept. Did he believe Rhina knew something? Yes. Did he believe she was a willing assassin of the Mogrens? He wasn’t quite sure. He needed to get her to trust him, to talk to him. If she was working against the Prince, the council would demand she be tried and punished. He didn’t want to see that happen, and not just because he owed Alexa or because he’d cared about Moghrenna as well. He liked the female she’d become, as well. The dry, subtle humor and glints of familiar malice when she taunted him, thinking he didn’t understand her insults. The lack of hero worship when she looked at him. It was refreshing. He found he didn’t want to give it up.

  It almost reminded him of Surah. He must be mad.

  “She’s actually a decent employee,” he said, somewhat mournfully, hiding his deeper thoughts under his normal mask of flippancy. He wasn’t ready to tell Malin everything, not yet. “Do you know how hard it is to find competent, female labor?”

  “We have to know for sure if she is Moghrenna,” Niko said. “The slips are building up to a point where coincidence or being a groupie doesn’t explain them.”

  “Give her more opportunities to betray herself,” Malin said, eyes cool. “She could be the only direct lead to who is controlling things now that Lourden is in custody. Once we are certain, she can be questioned.”

  Geza stopped pacing, and turned to glare at his brother. “You mean tortured.”

  “That bothers you?”

  Bother him? Yes. Did he want to see those cool, hazel eyes filled with pain, the plain, narrow face beaded with blood and sweat, her messy, highlighted hair in a tangle around her shoulders? Of course, by that point it would be silvery hair and slanted eyes, pearl-gray skin with a blush tinge underneath.

  “Surah could do it,” Malin added.

  That was even worse. His sister would be vicious if she thought her family threatened, and the kinds of tools the Princess had at her disposal made even Geza uncomfortable. She could inflict the kind of pain, without leaving a single mark on a body, that would have a subject tearing her eyes out and begging for death.

  “If she deserves it,” Geza said, “I’ll turn Rhina over to you with my blessing. I have to be sure.” He frowned.

  “You like her,” Malin said, watching him closely. “That’s unfortunate.”

  He shrugged.

  “What I don’t understand is why she’s so sloppy,” Niko said. “A child could piece together the signals she’s leaving with enough background knowledge.”

  Geza kept his tone even. “Either she doesn’t like her assignment, or she’s afraid.”

  “If she’s conflicted, that may work in our favor.” Malin smiled, the expression chilly. “Be strategic, brother. If she loves you instead of hates you, we’ll get more out of her.”

  “You aren’t suggesting I seduce her?”

  “She may be susceptible—what female isn’t?”

  “You’d better not let Surah hear you talking about that.”

  “Surah knows what I am, and there are distinct kinds of seduction. With the Mogrens soon to come to justice, perhaps your Moghrenna will see that her best interest lies with us rather than them.”

  He’d said ‘your Moghrenna’. Which meant elder brother had guessed more than Geza had wanted him to know.

  Geza pinged Surah on their private comm line. “Do you have a blood sample for Rhina?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “No, but I could get one.”

  “Do it.”

  She paused. “What for?”

  “I want to rule something out, and I need a blood sample to do it.”

  “It would help if you were more forthcoming, Geza.”

  Breath rattled through his teeth as he sighed. “I want to know if she is Fae.”

  “You don’t need blood for that, hair would do as well, or nail clippings.”

  “Whatever is easier and won’t make her suspicious.”

  Surah nodded and signed off.

  “I need you to meet with the client,” Prince Geza rapped out, striding through the office past Rhina’s desk.

  She snapped to her feet, hurrying after him. “What do you mean meet with the client?”

  He whirled, glaring. “I’m busy. Go through the initial match selection with her.”

  “. . . I’m not a matchmaker, you are.”

  Geza ran a hand through his hair. “Are you, or are you not, my employee?”

  Rhina stared at him. “I think that technically the agency signed the contract through Prince Malin, with Bea as my official supervisor.”

  As she spoke, a hiss escaped his lips. “I do not have time for this. Either do what you’re told, or you’re fired.”

  Rhina huffed. “Well, fine. This isn’t exactly in my job description! And you accused me of being a spy, anyway!” She yelled the final words at him as he stomped into his office, the door sliding shut.

  It opened again, and he snarled at her. “Your job description is what I say it is. Consider yourself on probation for insubordination. And spying.”

  The words were a match to the flame of her normally coo
l temper. How dare Geza Ioveanu yell at her. “You can put me on probation if you want, but then you can do the match interview yourself!”

  They glared at each other. “I’m telling Bea on you,” he said, and stepped backwards, so the door slid closed.

  “Uh . . . Rhina?” one of her co-workers said hesitantly.

  “What?”

  “I think your client is here.”

  Rhina’s head swiveled towards the office entrance. A female gargoyle stood, wings tight against her body, dressed in the trainee uniform of the royal guard. Rhina plastered a smile on her face.

  “Yeseca? Welcome, this way please.”

  The female eyed her, glanced towards Geza’s office and said, “If this is an inconvenient time . . .”

  “No, no. The Prince is a little cranky, that’s all. He missed his nap.”

  Yeseca’s eyes widened. They were lovely eyes, large and dark with gold rims. Her dark hair was bound in a long braid over one shoulder, a frame for a sweet, heart-shaped face. “Alright. I’ve never seen a human yell at one of our Princes before.”

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything. This way please.”

  She led Yeseca to a partially cordoned-off seating area in a corner of the office. A couch, coffee table, and a chair for the interviewer were clustered over a rug in shades of blue, arranged in front of the only set of windows not in Geza’s separate area.

  Rhina took the chair and faced the female, a determined smile on her face. She’d killed diplomats, warriors, politicians. How hard could it be to go through a few files to find a female a mate?

  She was exhausted. Yeseca left the office hours later, having thoroughly tried Rhina’s ability to defend her choices. Each male had been subjected to a level of scrutiny usually reserved for master torturers examining traitors to the crown. By the time the female left, she had three choices. The next step would be for Rhina to contact each male and arrange a date.

  She let herself rest for a few minutes, then tackled Bea’s workload from the ball arrangements, diving in to complete each task with a grim thoroughness. The minutiae drove her insane, especially when the tension in the tower literally floated in the air.

  By the time the first tendrils of dawn began peeking through the window and the humans had all cleared out, Rhina’s head was on her desk. The sun tugged at her, causing drowsiness and a desire to release the glamour and just rest.

  “I was listening the whole time,” he said.

  Rhina groaned and straightened in her chair. “I didn’t imagine you weren’t.”

  He frowned at her. “I want to apologize for calling you a spy. For frightening you.”

  “Who said I was frightened?”

  He ignored her. “I am going to favor you with my company in recompense.”

  “What?”

  “A date. One of those . . . platonic . . . dates. Dinner, relaxation, but no sexual favors because it is platonic.” He made a face. “I hope you recognize the significance of my sacrifice of sexual favors.”

  She stared at him. “Are you hinting you want me to sleep with you?”

  His eyes widened. “Certainly not. I don’t sleep with my employees.”

  “You don’t need to take me out to apologize for calling me a spy.” Especially since it was true.

  He’d already turned away, though. “This evening. We’ll do something fun.”

  What was wrong with him? Her suspicions stirred.

  She turned multiple ideas over in her mind, by the time of the date that evening, she couldn’t figure out what his motive was.

  He wasn’t attracted to her, he didn’t behave like a gargoyle male who was attracted. He didn’t appear particularly sorry for his treatment of her, either. Could he be suspicious? What Ioveanu took a female out on a date if he was suspicious she was a traitor? None of it made any sense.

  So, the only thing she could do was go along with it.

  Rhina wore fitted jeans, flats, and a silky blouse, tying her long hair back into a loose braid. She hadn’t bothered with makeup because really, what was the point of putting makeup on a glamour.

  Since this was her primary glamour and not a secondary like when she had pretended to be the maintenance person, he would be able to touch her without it dissolving. She would have to stay in human form the entire time because if he touched her back, he would feel wings, and her disguise would be ruined.

  She arrived at the office because he hadn’t told her anything different and worked through her shift. His only acknowledgement was one swift, approving glance of her attire.

  “Let’s go,” he said five minutes before she would have clocked out.

  “I have five minutes left,” she replied, not looking up from her work.

  “I think the boss will be okay if you clock out early.”

  The dryness of his tone was delicious and she nearly smiled, glancing up, and then stopped, staring.

  She’d seen pictures of Geza Ioveanu cleaned up. She remembered him from her days skulking in court. She knew he was a handsome male . . . but it hit her in the gut. She’d never felt physical attraction before. Rhina realized the reaction stirring must be the beginning of it.

  He’d dressed in leather pants tucked into boots with a medium-stacked heel. A white dress shirt of some silky material was half open revealing a chiseled, smooth chest. His dark hair was styled behind his ears in a rakish, windswept look, and he’d lined his eyes.

  With kohl.

  Only Geza Ioveanu could line his large, dark eyes and look devastatingly masculine. Sexy.

  “Like what you see?” he crooned. “There’s more if you want.”

  Rhina blinked rapidly. “My dates are bound to be prettier than me, so . . . .” she shrugged.

  His eyebrow quirked. “If you wouldn’t work so hard at being bland . . . .”

  If only he knew. Her real form was just as striking as his, though she wouldn’t call herself beautiful. A moment of feminine vanity was banished, crushed into oblivion. She was not going to forget who her ‘date’ tonight was.

  “Let’s go,” he said, watching her.

  She rose, and he indicated the balcony with an arm. “That’s not an exit.”

  “It is if you have wings.”

  Rhina paused, ignoring the possible hidden meaning in his words, then shook her head. “You are not carrying me.”

  “I’m strong. I won’t let you fall.”

  His voice was unexpectedly serious, rather than playful. Him carrying her would put her directly in his power. No gargoyle female was ever carried by a male except her father, brother, uncle, or husband. Maybe her son. But, a human woman . . . she chewed her lip and sacrificed comfort for cover and preceded him to the balcony, standing stiffly as he came behind her, arms wrapping around her middle.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t wear a skirt,” he said in her ear, breath warm. “Everyone would see your panties.”

  “Not wearing any,” she muttered.

  He froze. “Excuse me. Don’t say things like that. I am only a mere male, after all.”

  His wings flared, and he lifted off. She felt the surge of gargoyle magic that aided him, but it was still impressive.

  “You aren’t attracted to me,” she said.

  “You’re female, and not ugly. That’s enough.”

  “You're that indiscriminate?”

  “Not really, but I seem to like your personality. It’s incongruous, I know.”

  They’d cleared Ioveanu grounds and entered the residential air around the city, heading towards downtown and the towering Needle.

  Rhina considered his statement, baffled. “Are you insane?”

  “I am Ioveanu.”

  Yes. That did explain it.

  He took them to a rooftop adult play land, and when they landed she realized it was empty except for attendants and a few guards in the air. He’d rented the entire amusement center with various rides and games and a bar. Mini golf, a giant slide, and other adult toys.


  Rhina glanced around, surprised and not surprised. He’d said they would go somewhere to play. Maybe he really did just want to relax and have fun with an undemanding female who wouldn’t expect anything of him.

  She considered what it was like to be Geza Ioveanu. A male who, from the time of puberty, was highly esteemed as a prize for any female, young and old. He would have had to learn games of seduction very early. His sexuality had likely been compromised, twisted, from all the attention. Maybe he’d never had a chance to just have a normal, fun relationship with a female and not have his aspirations clouding the relationship. Alexa, if they hadn’t been lovers, would have been a balm. A beautiful, intelligent, courtly female who wanted nothing from him but offered her company to a male who was a self-described adorer of the opposite sex.

  She’d never had fun with a male, either. It was shocking. They apparently had something in common.

  “Do you bring dates here often?” she asked.

  He glanced at her. “Of course not. Can you imagine a court female playing mini golf?”

  She was right.

  “Well, let’s grab balls,” she said, leering at him as she passed.

  Geza blinked at her, then grinned. “I just knew you would be fun.” He hurried towards the counter where a human waited with clubs and a basket of brightly-colored balls.

  She trounced him, of course. There was no way she could let an Ioveanu beat her at anything. He seemed more interested in drinking and appraising her golfing form and prancing around the court lobbying insults at her misses.

  “I’m letting you win,” he informed her. “It is the courtly thing to do.”

  “Ioveanu,” she said without looking at him, “you will never beat me in any game.”

  There was a small silence, and she realized her mistake, straightening and plastering an alarmed look on her face. “Uh, what I meant was . . . .”

  He approached, cocked a hip, and stuck his face in hers. “Do you want to bet?”

  His voice was a delicious, silky, dark purr. With the alcohol and adrenaline of competition; the sheer oddness of having . . . fun . . . sent all kinds of conflicting cues through her blood, she was genuinely at a loss for words.