Perfect Misfits

by Mackie, Lawna

  The hairs stood up on Ryder’s neck.

  He hurts her? We’ll see about that.

  “Well, Rogue, this needs further discussion, but right now, I suggest we get out of this blasted blizzard and into the cave. You need to let me help her.”

  The poor creature stood slowly, whining like he was unsure what he should do.

  “I’ll be sure not to touch her skin.”

  Rogue’s cries continued, but he agreed. “Okay, but be careful.”

  Ryder knew he was too large in gargoyle form to properly share the cave with the two of them. “Rogue, I’m going to change to my male form. I’m far too large to fit in the cave with the two of you. You may wish to turn away from me. The transformation can be disturbing.”

  “Rogue thinks not. I will watch your moves,” he declared.

  “Just wanted to give you a warning.”

  Ryder stood with his back to the entrance of the cave, away from the girl and Rogue. He’d prefer a more private setting, but that wasn’t possible at the moment.

  He knelt down on one knee, bowed his head, and softly spoke the special words.

  “I give thee rest, from the wings of a gargoyle to the body of man. We ask for strength both in body and mind so we may coexist to defend out land.”

  Spreading the large leather-like wings wide, he wrapped them around his body, shielding himself from the outside world. Already, he could feel his body shrinking in size. Bones reformed and contracted. Thank the gods the process was no longer painful; five hundred and fifty-five years ago, the transformation had been excruciating.

  Inside the sanctuary of his wings, he flexed his large paws allowing the talons to reshape into fingers. Skin stretched tight, molding to his smaller frame. His face and wings were next in the process. His coal-black eye would change color to dark, velvet brown, with the patch remaining to cover the other, empty, eye socket.

  His wings were the very last to go. He could hear them fluttering as though they were fighting the process. They shriveled in size rapidly. A chill crept up his spine. His wings would be gone, leaving only the giant gargoyle tattoo in their place. The process was complete.

  Still crouched on one knee, he took a deep breath, allowing a moment for this body to adjust to the change. He didn’t always have time for this.

  The gargoyle form allowed him to be resistant to temperature and weather changes, but in his male form, he instantly felt the cold. The flakes of snow landing on his hot skin melted instantly.

  Enough of that.

  With his palms up, he summoned the magic. Tiny orbs of blue, orange, and purple danced around his hands and then shot into the air to surround his body and explode in swirls of color, only to disappear as quickly as they appeared. Leather and fur covered his body fully.

  That’ll do for now.

  Rogue hadn’t budged a foot. Ryder shook his head in dismay at the rigidness of the creature’s stance as he approached him and the girl.

  The snow crunched underneath his weight with each step his took. He bent down beside the tiny girl. With gloves on, he carefully took time to tuck the cloak she wore so it covered her bare skin. He scooped her fragile form up into his arms and turned to carry her out of the snow into the cave.

  Ryder ducked as he entered the cave, and summoned his magic again. The orbs appeared to do his bidding, and a straw bed with fur blankets appeared. He laid her down on the soft bed and covered her with the warmth of the furs, and Rogue went to her side.

  “We have no need for fire on Levare, but maybe that would be useful here.”

  Uttering the word “fire” flames danced to life. Rogue growled through barred teeth and jumped away.

  “What is that?” He demanded.

  Ryder bellowed with laughter, but it died when he came to the realization that Rogue was serious. How could he not know what fire was when he lived in this freezing environment? “You don’t know what fire is? How is that possible?”

  Rogue paced around the edge of the fire. He stretched his nose way out toward the fire and with a yelp flew backwards.

  Crazy beast.

  “Easy, Rogue. The whole point of fire is to supply warmth. If you touch the flames, it will burn you. How do you live without heat?”

  Rogue swiped a paw over his nose. “We can’t freeze. At times, it feels as though we will freeze to death, but we never do.”

  Whose sick idea was that?

  Ryder definitely had a lot of unanswered questions.

  The fire blazed and flames created shadows dancing on the rock as he stared at the girl curled up in the furs. She was a beauty, even with her matted hair—high, arched, quizzical brows and luscious, pouting lips. He definitely would have noticed her in the city of Levare.

  A soft moan escaped her mouth. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been staring at her so intensely. Rogue licked her cheek, and Ryder found himself wishing he could have done the same thing. He moved closer, and stood observing and listening as the creature spoke to her.

  “You can wake up now. It’s okay.”

  She groaned, moving her head from side to side. Lifting her small hands, she rubbed her eyes.

  · · · · ·

  Her mouth was dry. Her tongue stuck to the insides of her cheeks. “Snow,” she croaked. A mouthful of snow would help.

  A large man dressed in furs stood holding a sparkling crystal glass filled with a clear liquid. She could almost feel the cool, wet drink sliding down her throat.

  I must still be dreaming or in a vision.

  She shook her head, closed and opened her eyes.

  Tempest’s thought broke at the sight of the man, and immediately, she looked around, scanning her surroundings. To her side, something popped and snapped. Her eyes flew to the sound, focusing on the leaping spikes that glowed purple and orange. She shrieked and pushed herself backward, as far away from the stranger and the odd heat as she could get. The icy air abruptly snuck up her spine. She missed the warm feeling, something she hadn’t had the opportunity of feeling since being on the blasted damn mountain. She continued to stare at the dancing colors.

  What is it?

  She sat with her back firmly pressed up against the cold wall of the cave, and quickly realized the luxury she’d been given—a soft bed, warm furs, and the temptation of water in a real glass, no less. Not even Fedor could do that.

  Where did the giant winged man go?

  Tempest blinked hard, trying to focus on the man wrapped in furs.

  Sandy-blonde hair, a handsome face, and the same sarcastic grin. It’s him!

  Somehow, he’d shrunk in size and lost his wings.

  “It’s you!” Tempest blurted out.

  “Clever girl,” he mocked.

  He stood unmoving and returned her quizzical stare.

  “What happened to you?”

  He huffed incredulously. “You’re complaining about my looks.”

  She was unsure whether that was a question or a statement. Whatever it was, he seemed annoyed.

  Her memories of him streamed through her mind. The man, warrior, and the gargoyle, he was filled with rage, hurt, hate and violence. But she had seen the briefest of purity in him. However minuscule, she knew it lived buried deep inside of him. How she loathed what others felt and thought. She always felt dirty and used after being touched.

  “Don’t ever touch me again,” she snarled.

  The man laughed.

  She was stunned at his audacity.

  How can he stand there and mock me?

  “I don’t give a damn who or what you are. Keep your bloody fights, demented creatures, and your unbottled anger to yourself. Got that?” she bit out.

  His facial features changed like a brooding cloud with the coming of a storm. He threw the glass of water as it shattered up against the wall of the cave. In three large steps, he bent down over her. Rogue jumped in between them, showing his fangs.

  Tempest stared up at the stranger’s face, her heart pounding so hard, she thought it would bur
st through her chest.

  “It was never my intention to touch you, Ice Princess, but once again, I tried to save your ass. I prefer to touch hot–blooded, wanton women—females who want me to touch them. You’re not my type. Don’t worry, I’ll never touch you again.” He was seething with anger. Tempest could see his elongated fangs as he shouted.

  His eyes shot daggers as he looked down at Rogue and continued his rant. “I’ve just about had enough of you too. Perhaps I should tie you up outside while I finish speaking to the princess.”

  She grabbed for Rogue just as he attempted to take a bite out of the man’s arm.

  In less than a heartbeat, Rogue went rock-stiff. She screamed, and came way too close to touching the impossible male. She’d pushed him too far.

  “What did you do? Please, I beg you, don’t hurt him. He didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Please, I’ll do whatever you wish. Just don’t hurt him,” she pled, choking back a sob.

  The stranger spun around and stalked to the far side of the cave.

  Tempest slowly slid her back up against the stone wall until she was standing. She stared at his backside. He was still a giant, even without the extra height of the gargoyle form. Anxiety killed her. What would he do?

  He turned and marched straight back to where she stood on the straw bed. She was paralyzed with fear as he slapped his large hands on the wall of cave, caging her inside his massive arms.

  She closed her eyes. She knew they were face-to-face; she could feel his breath on her cheek. Suddenly, the room whirled as a vision of him formed in her head.

  His bare chest was pressed firmly against full, round breasts. He reached down, grabbing the female by the buttocks, and lifted her to fit snugly against him. A moan escaped the woman’s mouth, which he swallowed with a hard demanding kiss. He thrust deep inside her, faster and faster. His breathing was ragged and rough. The woman wriggled in ecstasy, clawing at his back, urging him on.

  As fast as the image appeared, it was gone, leaving her panting, her body trembling. Her heart pounded wildly as her traitorous body responded to the vision. The center of her being ached with an unfamiliar need, something she had never felt before.

  Demon’s dung.

  She swallowed back the passion and opened her eyes.

  His intense, dark stare bore straight to her soul. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. Danger swirled in the depth of his glare, but she didn’t care. Her body wasn’t listening. Her insides were humming with desire. His gaze moved lazily to her lips.

  Oh gods, he’s going to kiss me.

  His head lowered.

  For a moment, she wanted to experience the pleasures she knew he’d give. What would it feel like to touch him intimately? Tempest knew it was impossible; she’d pay dearly if he touched her again.

  His low, husky voice whispered in her ear. “You want me to kiss you. I can sense your excitement.”

  She did want that. She licked her bottom lip and bit down desperately trying to quash the rising heat. Flames of delight danced in his eyes.

  “Please…don’t. I couldn’t bear it.” She squinted, unable to trust herself any further. She wanted that one kiss. Just once, she wanted to touch and be touched without feeling what others felt.

  He moved away, and the cold returned. “I don’t understand you.”

  She stuttered a response. “Nobody can touch me.” She hung her head and hesitated. “It hurts too much.”

  “How can that be?”

  “I don’t know, it just is. It started when I was just a small child, so my parents sent me here.”

  He frowned and shook his head taking a few steps back. “What is your name?”

  “Tempest.”

  “My name is Ryder, or do you already know that?” he prompted with a questioning stare.

  “Yes, I know your name.”

  “What else did you learn about me when I touched you?”

  “I’m sorry, Ryder.”

  “Sorry for what?” He sounded annoyed again.

  She looked at him sheepishly. “About the battle…and your eye.”

  Fury raged once again. “Don’t ever mention it again. Do you hear me?”

  “I just…”

  “No! Not ever again. Understand?” He roared like an angered animal.

  Then it dawned on her. She realized she’d found her bargaining chip. “Okay, I agree never to speak it again, if you agree never to touch me again.” The words pained her as she spoke them.

  Colored flames jumped into the air as he stalked around the perimeter of the fire.

  “I guess we have a deal.”

  Chapter Four

  “Please, master, it weren’t my fault,” the creature sputtered with limited breath and black demon blood gurgling from the corners of his mouth.

  The toe of Fedor’s boot connected with the creature’s stomach for one final blow. A sickening silence followed the assault.

  “Oh, I see, it must have been fucking fairies who flew in and let her out of her cell.” Unable to grasp the thought that Tempest was gone, he clenched his fists in rage. She was his. Now, he’d have to spend valuable time and resources to find her…again.

  “I’m surrounded by fucking morons,” he shouted at the top of his lungs, looking up at the ceiling of green, blue, and yellow icicles. “Stupid bitch! She will be my bride. Does everyone in this forsaken stone pit hear me?”

  The collective click of heels on ice echoed through the cavern.

  “Pretty boy, get him ready for transport.” Fedor motioned and pointed to the guardsman lying lifeless on the floor. The three-armed creature with one giant eye stepped forward and grabbed the dead monster by his shoeless feet, pulling him away from the room.

  Fedor strode toward the large shining florescent cabinet standing alone on the far wall of the cavern. He pulled the heavy ice doors open exposing a multitude of icicles. Each one was different in size, shape, and color. On the middle shelf, one icicle lay segregated—a clear spear, but inside, the yellow jewel shone brightly in the center illuminating the icicle from one end to the other with its vibrant color.

  He smiled and picked up his insurance. The stone within the icicle was his guarantee that Tempest could never leave the mountain. Not all of the misfits had these stones, only the special ones—ones never meant to end up back in the city of Levare.

  She couldn’t go far without him. He counted on that. Snow would slow her down, so he just needed to follow the tracks left by her beast. The stupid gargdog was good for one thing only. Rogue would lead his Sneers directly to Tempest. This time, she’d pay dearly for her choices. No more excuses. Her mind, body, and soul would be his. When he finished with her, she’d never again think of escaping. She wouldn’t be able to think at all.

  Fedor gently laid the icicle back on the shelf and closed the door. She had no idea a part of her life lay in his hands—literally.

  His distorted image stared back at him from the ice wall. He thrived on being wicked. His boney, grey-clawed hand reached up to scratch his bald head. He loved his repugnant figure.

  Few knew about the hidden realm of Levare. Once Fedor had discovered the hidden magical mountains, he’d wasted no time ensuring his position. When misfits such as Tempest came along, he took care of them, or rather, he took care of the problems they created for parents or creators. He made the misfits disappear. Only a select few were different. Tempest was one of them.

  Out of the corner of his reptilian yellow eye, he tracked the slow movement of an ice worm. In a flash, his long, spiked tongue darted out, wrapping around the squirming insect and dragging it into his mouth. He swallowed and wiped his black lips with the back of his hand. His tattered leather robe drug on the ice as he walked with a large hunched back and made his way to the ice throne off to the side of the cabinet and plopped down, tapping his large claws on the ice arm rests.

  A problem existed…perhaps a few. It had been a few years since he’d received any more misfits, or failed experiments. He count
ed on those failed tests. After all, he couldn’t continue to kill off all his demon servants without replacing them.

  Has something happened in Levare?

  He feared the worst. That was his first problem.

  The second problem was Vicasha, a demonic witch with limited magical power. Vicasha had to be kept happy, but Fedor knew he could have his hands full. A visit to her was the last thing he wanted, but it was a necessary evil to ensure the witch stayed happy. She’d enjoy the dead guardsman, among other things. Fedor shook his head as he remembered Vicasha’s grubby hands fondling his body.

  Come on, Fedor, you know you like some of it.

  Perhaps a visit to see the wench wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all. He’d drop the dead meal off to her, and then she’d be happy. She’d slither and grind all over him; he just needed to encourage her movements to one area in particular—his cock. Of course, his thoughts would be of Tempest and her hot, lush body. He’d satisfy Vicasha’s disgusting needs and slyly remind her that they need to be cautious.

  “Cash, get of over here,” Fedor bellowed. “You know the drill. Follow Rogue’s prints or what’s left of them, and retrieve Tempest back to me. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

  Sneers were snow troops. Long, course, black hair covered their bodies from head to toe. Their feet and hands were large and round, with webbed digits making it impossible for them to sink through the deep snow.

  Cash shuffled toward Fedor, hunched over and using one arm like a front leg. He lifted his fur-covered head and grunted in compliance.

  “Cash, ensure I have another set of troops ready in the hour to take me to the witch’s domain. I’ll deal with Tempest when I’m back.” The second growl echoed in response to his request. “Keep up the good work, Cash, and I’ll make sure you get the next dead body.”

  Cash lifted his head and roared with excitement.

  “Go. Don’t disappoint me, or instead of getting the next dead body for a meal, you will be the meal.”

  The Sneer lowered his head and rushed toward the back of the cave. The thump of feet followed Cash’s path.