Stone Passions Trilogy (Stone Passion 1, 2, & 3)

by A C Warneke

  “Yes.” Her stomach was starting to rebel at whatever that concoction was that Omari gave her but she ignored the grumblings. She wanted to ask Armand to stay with her but he obviously didn’t want to be near her so she held her tongue.

  Armand dipped his head once in acknowledgement and turned around, taking a step away from her. Feeling a sense of urgency and a need to have closure with the man who healed her, she called out, “Armand?”

  He paused but didn’t face her. Licking her lips, she said, "Thank you – for everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through all of this without you.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “It was everything,” she countered emphatically, her belly groaning. “Thank you.”

  His back stiffened faintly before he disappeared into the apartment. The moment the door closed, Omari simply reappeared, as if he hadn’t left at all. She jumped but he was looking at her with a soft expression in his eyes. “That was nice of you and I’m sure it means a great deal to him that you care for him.”

  “Of course I care,” Melanie affirmed, pressing her hand to her belly. “He is an amazing man.”

  “He’s not a man,” Omari countered. He always seemed to be laughing at her, as if he knew something that she didn’t. Of course he knew things that she didn’t; he was a powerful sorcerer or wizard or something. She was a mere human. “He’s a gargoyle.”

  She was about to speak when searing pain ripped through her abdomen. The agony was rapidly spreading outwards and she was feeling worse by the moment. Her temples were pounding out a savage beat and she felt hot and cold all over. Were her muscles turning to jelly or were those her bones? Slumping against Vaughn, she breathed out slowly. “He’s incredibly amazing, whatever he is.”

  “I am sorry,” Omari sighed regretfully, observing her with watchful eyes. He crossed his arms across his chest, the flowing material of his robes billowing out around him, making him look even more like a wizard, powerful and terrifying. How conceited had she been to assume he was her friend? That she wasn’t a mere plaything to him? “But this is the way it has to be.”

  Melanie gasped as her body decided to pull itself inside out. Pressing a hand against her stomach, she leaned more fully against the cool stone of Vaughn’s body, her belly tearing itself apart from the inside. Another rippling cramp pulsed through her abdomen, slicing her in half as she clutched at Vaughn’s thigh to remain standing. Had Omari poisoned her to hasten her death, to get Vaughn back? Was the quest he sent Jenna and Rhys on a wild goose chase, merely a distraction? Did he lie about wanting to give them a chance?

  Who was Omari?

  Her stomach was on fire and it felt as if someone had taken a burning hook, plunged it into her gut and started yanking out her intestines. Crumbling to the ground, she curled up into the fetal position, hoping that it would hold her stomach together. Sharp, piercing pains continued to spasm through her belly, spearing further and further outwards until everything was screaming in misery and torment.

  Sweat or blood glistened on her skin, drenching her dress and matting her hair to her head. Her internal organs were melting and she knew how those men felt at the end of the movie when their faces melted and their heads exploded. She was going to die and she wasn’t going to be able to see Vaughn. The hope that had been growing steadily within her turned to acid, burning even more holes in her aching body, leaking vital fluids and faith in its wake.

  She had been a fool to have put her trust in Omari. He was probably the one who ordered the demon imps to terrify her, to delay her, so he could be perceived as a hero. And she played right into his diabolical hands, telling him all of her secrets and blindly obeying him when he handed her a bottle of poison and told her to drink. Dots were dancing behind her eye lids and she finally, blessedly, gave in to unconsciousness.

  When she opened her eyes, she had no idea how much time had passed and she realized that she didn’t hurt as much as she had, that her guts weren’t spilling out and she was still in one piece. Weakened, but still very much alive, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and glared at Omari, who continued to stand there looking serene and detached. His eyes watched her carefully and when she pushed the hair out of her eyes, his face split into a beaming smile.

  “You survived!” he rejoiced, coming towards her and pulling her to her feet. Her legs still felt rubbery but she couldn’t bear being touched by him. Pulling out of his grasp, she stumbled backwards, landing hard against Vaughn’s rocky knee. He winced on her behalf but made no move towards her. “I never said you weren’t mine. A gargoyle holds your heart therefore you are mine to shelter. And I am sorry about that.”

  Melanie continued to glare at the mad man in front of her, trying not to think of the bruise that she could already feel forming in the middle of the back. Her strength was quickly returning and she felt… different somehow, stronger, a little less mortal, a little more resilient. She wasn’t sure how she felt, but she felt somehow altered. What did it mean to have such a powerful shepherd who watched over her while feeding her poison? Was it a blessing or a curse to be a part of Omari’s flock? “What did you do to me?”

  “Did you know that most of the gargoyles’ mates don’t make it back in time to complete the ritual, to accept the gargoyle’s gift?” he asked without explanation. “And even fewer have the overpowering need to have returned what was lost?”

  “I don’t even know what you are talking about,” she growled, still angry at him for making her drink something that nearly killed her. Of course, she was the idiot who drank it.

  “Of course you don’t because there has been no one like you.” He sighed, walking over and picking up the glass vial that had dropped when she fell to the ground and lost consciousness. Strolling back, he slowly moved the vial back and forth and she felt herself falling into his words. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get blood from a gargoyle? I mean when they are in their stone form?”

  Obviously she had fallen asleep and this was a bizarre dream. Standing directly in front of her, Omari ran the tip of his finger along her jaw, “First you have to have the gargoyle’s permission, and then you have to drill a miniscule hole, stick in a titanium needle and extract the thick blood. As you can imagine, it takes a great deal of time to extract the viscous fluid with such a thin needle and when you need an entire vial full? It can take days.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, feeling queasy, but for a different reason. She had the dreadful feeling that she knew where this was heading.

  “Medusa’s blood,” he chuckled, taking the empty vial and making it disappear into his robe.

  She glanced at the space where the vial had been and she could feel the color draining from her face as she registered hos words. “You mean to tell me that you just made me drink… blood?”

  “Medusa’s blood,” he corrected, nodding his head with satisfaction. “Yes.”

  “But… why?” Her head was full of cotton stuffing and she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to remain standing. No wonder she became so violently ill… she had just drunk…. “Did you say it was Medusa’s blood? As in… Medusa? The ‘I-turn-mortals-to stone’ Medusa?”

  “You sound surprised,” he seemed baffled by her bafflement. “And really, she only turns to stone those who refuse to leave her in peace. She’s really quite… wonderful.”

  There was a wistful quality to Omari’s expression when he talked about the mythical creature, a softening about his eyes, his mouth. Melanie didn’t want to think about why he spoke with such fondness about a creature able to kill a man with a look. She was having a hard enough time believing that Medusa was real. And apparently still alive. “Um, didn’t Perseus kill Medusa and take her head to turn Atlas to stone?”

  Omari chuckled, deeply and fully. “Silly child.”

  Melanie frowned, feeling immature and childish for thinking myths were only myths and nothing more. Unfortunately, Omari didn’t appear like he was going to ex
plain or clarify her apparent error. “How is it even possible for Medusa to be alive? Even if I was wrong about Perseus, she still has to be like three thousand years old.”

  “Hmmm,” he hummed.

  Shaking her head from the ridiculousness of the conversation, she remembered why she was so angry. “You had me drink blood.” When Omari opened his mouth to correct her, she clenched her teeth together, “Medusa’s blood.”

  “You still don’t understand, do you?” he shook his head sadly, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

  “Of course I don’t,” she ground out. Now that she was aware of it, there a slight aftertaste of pus and metal lingering in her mouth. She squeezed her fingers into fists two or three times and concentrated on her breathing. It would be suicide to wrap her hands around the infuriating man’s neck. “Why would you have me drink bl… Medusa’s blood?”

  Omari glanced at the stone gargoyle behind her briefly before returning his gaze to her, laughter still gleaming in his hazel eyes. “It’s to help complete the ritual.”

  Melanie’s eyes flew to Vaughn but he remained stone. Turning back, her eyes narrowed on Omari. “You lied.”

  “I didn’t say it would complete the ritual, only that it would help,” he chuckled. At her look of disgust, he added, “Don’t worry; the magic is already working,”

  “How?” she asked, looking between the stone Vaughn and the unnaturally beautiful Omari. “Because I don’t see how drinking blood could possibly help.”

  “Medusa’s blood,” he repeated, exasperated. “It binds itself to your soul.”

  “What?!” she screeched, scraping her tongue with her fingers, desperate to get the taste off as well as whatever it was that was binding to her soul. It did not sound like something a normal girl should want. “Why would I want Medusa’s blood – her blood! – to be bound to my soul?”

  “To finish the ritual,” he said slowly, as if to a willfully stubborn child. Watching her carefully, he stretched out his words, “You have to complete the ritual on the next new moon.”

  “That’s tonight!” She looked around the open roof in a panic. She was too late and she was going to have to wait an entire month….

  “And so it is,” he shrugged calmly, humor dancing in his eyes. “With the blood bound to your soul, there will be just enough magic for your gargoyle to get an erection.”

  “Pardon?” she was so thrown by Omari’s calmness, his words, that all she could do was stare at him and hope that she would finally understand what he was saying. He expected her to have.... No, there had to be a mistake.

  “This part of the ceremony can be done at any time during the new moon." She must have looked as bewildered as she felt because he let out a long-suffering sigh. "With Medusa’s blood bound to you you'll be able to complete the ritual the same way it began,” he said slowly, waiting for her to comprehend what needed to be done. When her eyes widened slightly, he smiled. “Your body will adjust as necessary to make it work and don’t worry, it is a… quick mating.”

  “How do you know about any of this?” she asked, thunderstruck.

  “I simply do,” he answered without answering at all. He waggled his eyebrows, “Or perhaps you would rather fuck a man instead of a stone beast?”

  She flushed from head to toe as she finally realized the full ramifications of what needed to be done. It wasn’t going to be easy but at least she’d get Vaughn back. She just didn’t get one thing, “Why are you doing this for me?”

  “Well, you love him,” he said matter-of-factly. After a moment, he grinned, “But the question remains: do you love him enough to take him as a he is; as a monster?”

  “Vaughn is not a monster,” she defended passionately, standing in front of Vaughn as if to shield him. “I love him and I don’t care how I get him back, I just want him back.”

  “Fair enough,” Omari grinned. “Then tonight, fuck him as a gargoyle.”

  Melanie inhaled sharply, her gaze flying to the massive penis, large even in its flaccid state. It was one thing to understand in theory, but to put it to practice…. Swallowing her fear, knowing that she was finally going to get him back, she nodded, “Okay.”

  “You really are too trusting for your own good,” Omari chuckled. “You are very lucky a gargoyle fell in love with you. I fear what might have happened otherwise.”

  She turned towards Vaughn, staring at his stone body, the thick stone penis that lay flaccid along his thigh. Licking her lips, she pursed her lips and let out a slow breath. “How do I do this?”

  When there was no answer, she looked over her shoulder and saw that once again Omari had disappeared. Turning back to Vaughn, she ran her hands through her hair in frustration. How was she to give a stone Vaughn an erection? Glancing over her shoulder to make sure Armand wasn’t coming out or Omari didn’t decide to make another appearance, Melanie breathed a sigh of relief to find that she was still alone. It was a little bit embarrassing to be contemplating having sex with a statue, no matter that the statue was her lover.

  With a gusty sigh, she ran her hands along the stocky length of his cock, hoping that the mechanics were the same even if Vaughn wasn’t. Before she could worry about whether or not it would work, the stone penis began to stretch and grow in her grip. Her eyes widened as the penis grew incredibly long and thick, even bigger than when she had stroked him before, when he was a living gargoyle.

  Melanie stared at the erect stone phallus in trepidation. The thing stood nearly straight up between his thick calves and it was as big around as her fist! No, it was bigger. Gulping, she took a step back and looked up into Vaughn’s frozen expression, the sharp teeth and broad nose. Even in his gargoyle form he was beautiful! But she wanted him back as a man and she would do anything to have him back, even tear herself apart.

  She reached beneath her dress and pulled her panties down, getting those out of the way since she was going to go through with it no matter what. Even if Omari lied about this being the only way to get Vaughn back, Melanie was absurdly aroused by the idea of having sex with the stone Vaughn. It had been over a month since she had had sex and she was feeling kind of horny.

  There must have been an aphrodisiac, or something, in the blood she drank.

  Already she could feel her tissues softening, moistening. Her belly tightened with excitement and her heart raced in her chest. She was going to have sex with a stone Vaughn.

  The panties slid down her legs and she stepped out of them, enjoying the slight breeze that blew up her dress and caressed the damp folds of her sex. Licking her lips, she straddled Vaughn’s broad lap, setting a knee down on either side of his hips. His thick stone penis stood up proudly between them and she realized she was going to need some leverage to impale herself on the broad shaft.

  God, she was insane to be doing this.

  Pushing up on her knees, she arranged her body until the blunt head of his cock was pressed against her swollen sex. The stone was warm and smooth but her body resisted its intrusion. It was simply too big. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes but she was determined to make it work. She needed Vaughn back.

  Leaning forward, she kissed the pointed fangs, the broad, snarling lips. She kissed along the curve of his jaw, along his neck and her hands moved frantically over his hard body, trying to find some evidence that her seduction was working. It wasn’t. He was still cold and hard even if his penis was hot. As tears leaked down her cheeks, she threw herself into the flames, reaching between their bodies and using her fingers to open her sex.

  Her flesh stretched painfully around the broad, blunt tip of his erection and she could feel her skin burning in protest. Little whimpers stole out from the back of her throat and she murmured, “Shhh,” comforting herself even as she pushed her body to its limits.

  Closing her eyes, she felt warm, phantom lips pressing kisses along her spine and sending tingles all over her skin. Relaxing, she was able to take more of the stone cock into her body. The burn was starting to spread outwards, t
urning into pleasure as a ghostly wall of warmth surrounded her from behind. Was it Vaughn? It felt like him, it had to be him.

  She managed to wiggle her body onto only an inch of his penis but she could feel him much deeper. Her flesh was stretched taut and felt as if it was on fire. Her face was glistening with tears but it didn’t matter because she was with Vaughn. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck, she pressed her body against his, resting her cheeks against his throat. Slowly, she moved up and down, trying to push further on each stroke.

  Her rhythm was jerky but it was a rhythm and suddenly, boiling liquid was bathing her womb and her belly constricted almost painfully as an unexpected orgasm washed over her. Already she was panting and her body was on fire and she didn’t know how much more she could take. Lightning crackled along her nerve endings as liquid heat touched her soul and the gargoyle’s hard body shuddered. She could feel the stone phallus pulsing within her.

  She slid further onto his cock, feeling it deep, deep within her body and she was afraid to look down because she feared seeing her abdomen distended with his stone cock. Even as worries began to bubble and boil, she felt the stone heat against her skin and suddenly she was fully impaled on a man’s cock, not a gargoyle’s.

  Stone arms that were no longer stone but flesh and bone wrapped around her and she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding and smiled. Holding him tighter, she could feel his body trembling, his shoulders heaving. Hot moisture splashed against her shoulder and she panicked, thinking Vaughn hadn’t wanted to be woken up.

  “Oh, gods,” his gravelly voice croaked roughly. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

  “I’m right here,” she said softly, trying to pull back but unable to extricate herself from his firm hold. Lovingly stroking his golden hair, she pressed kisses against his cheek. He didn’t seem to hear her, so she repeated herself, “Vaughn, I’m right here.”