by A C Warneke
He looked at her and grinned, his monkey face crinkling adorably as he took her in his arms and carried her out the door, having to turn to the side to get through. She felt a little like the actress in the giant gorilla movie, only she adored her monkey. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck, she relaxed in his powerful grip, basking against his scalding body and listening to the sound of his rough voice as he continued talking.
“When I talk to mother I will ask her if there is some way to buy us time. Even if we don’t get any extra time,” he went on as they reached the roof. Color was splashed across the sky as the sun rose over London, the sight more wonderful and exciting than anything she had seen, and she realized once more that she was finally travelling “I can give you my nights in fifteen or twenty years, when Ferris is old enough to understand what’s happening, when she is an adult.”
“In fifteen years I’ll be nearly forty. Will you still want me?” she asked, determined to be rational like her normal self, not this crazy person who seriously considered giving up her humanity. Clinging even tighter to the stone Rhys, loving the feel of the cool, early morning air against her heated body, she tried to ignore the allure of an elongated life but it kept teasing her with the possibilities.
“Absolutely.” He stopped abruptly and looked down at her. She barely noticed the three gargoyles who glared at her as Rhys squatted onto his haunches and set her down next to him. Taking her hands in one of his stone humanoid paws, he said solemnly, “You will accept my gift then and become a gargoyle.”
Her eyes widened in excitement and then the light dimmed just as quickly when she thought about it for more than two seconds. “I’ll be forty and you will still look twenty-five. How… awkward would that be? To spend eternity as a cradle robber?”
“It would be wonderful because you would be mine. But it’s just something to consider for now,” he hurried on, obviously sensing her distress. Before she could form a thought, he smiled, cupping her cheek in his broad palm “We have time, Jenna.”
She hated that she wavered so much, that she no longer knew what she wanted. Her old self was reveling in the idea of being set free, in making love to a gargoyle high up in the atmosphere, but she was such a different creature than the Jenna she had been. She had buried so much of herself when Jeremy had died and she hadn’t even realized it until Rhys came along and brought her back to life. But the other Jenna, the Jenna she had become, was still there, still fretting about the future, about everything.
How was she to reconcile the two aspects of her personality when they were so different? Rhys talked about a world she hadn’t even known existed a week ago, a world her sister had never stopped believing in. Her eyes were open now and she was going to experience as much as possible before the hammer came slamming down.
“Humans are not allowed up here during the day,” the eagle-gargoyle growled. Jenna had known that they were living gargoyles, the same as Rhys, but hearing them speak brought it home how vastly different her new world was.
“I should go,” she murmured, grabbing the ends of her sash and tightening the knot as her eyes fell on each gargoyle: the eagle, the boar and the almost human. Rhys’s stone fingers wrapped around her arm and she froze, slowly turning her head until she was looking into the gray eyes of a gargoyle monkey.
“I’ll explain everything at dinner, Jenna,” he vowed. “You won’t go into this blind.”
Numbly, she nodded her head before fleeing back to the safety of her room. She was going to take a quick shower and then take a walk, clear her head a bit while she took in a few of the sights.
As long as she was with Rhys reality could go to hell. She’d deal with the fallout when she returned home, where mythological creatures didn’t fly in private jets, where fairies didn’t make promises that they rarely kept, and where men did not walk as a stone gargoyles during the day.
Chapter 12
Rhys stared at Jenna as she sat at the dining table, mouthwateringly damp and so damn beautiful it made his chest ache. As soon as the sun set he had joined her in the bathroom, where she had been pampering her body with a luxurious bubble bath. Once he joined her, it took several hours to finish up and the only reason they still weren’t in the tub was a certain pixie had rapped on the door, demanding their attendance at dinner since the chef had prepared a special roast.
There hadn’t been time to dry their hair, not if they had any desire to not alienate the London brothers’ chef, a temperamental Oianr demon, a creature one did not piss off. In their rush, they had simply thrown on some jeans and t-shirts. Now Rhys was paying the price as the white material of her shirt adhered to her naked breasts, showcasing them to his great satisfaction and torment. Her short black hair clung to her cheeks like strands of the finest silk, her lips were rosy and plump and her skin glowed. She was breathtaking, making him feel like the luckiest man or gargoyle in all of the worlds.
She was embracing this adventure with her whole heart but he knew that eventually the euphoria was going to wear off and she was going to come crashing back to earth. He would be there for her when she fell, he just hoped he didn’t push her too far and make her run screaming into the night. There were other, much more pleasurable, ways to make her scream and he wanted an eternity to explore each one. As a gargoyle he had always been a lusty creature but he was discovering a whole new level of lust when it came to Jenna.
Poor Vaughn never stood a chance when Melanie came into his life.
His brothers were trying to act as if they didn’t notice her perky nipples pressed against the front of her damp t-shirt but they were only male. They had bellowed at him for an eternity after she fled the roof but he hadn’t cared because she was his mate and he knew it to the depth of his soul. Nothing they said could have wiped the smile of his face and he hadn’t even felt the need to taunt them with what she had done to him before they went up to the roof.
Artaire, Bar, and Rowan were still a little wary around her, even more so since he had brought her up to the roof. He knew what they were thinking and while he appreciated their concern he told them that he had to make his own decisions. For hours they tried to talk him out of even considering the possibility of giving Jenna his nights, each regaling him with their own romantic disasters, but he was already lost.
As Jenna explored the area around the manor, he surrounded her with his aura to keep her safe. It was strange but the imps that had plagued Melanie were strangely quiet. Perhaps they had learned their lesson when they had caused so much heartache. He could only hope the little fuckers kept their distance because he had even less tolerance for them than normal, which was close to none. If he weren’t so enamored, he would think it was pathetic.
He had watched his immediate brothers make fools of themselves over their women, laughing at them because he was never going to succumb to the madness of love. Armand’s conceit led him into ruin and he became frigidly cold because he gave up his nights to a girl who didn’t love him enough, no matter that he didn’t love her. Vaughn let his dick lead him astray, falling fast and hard for the delightful Melanie. But look where it got him: a statue in every sense of the word until the love of his life died, unless they succeeded in their quest.
Now, Rhys’s chest virtually ached with love and it terrified him. He told outlandish tales just to make her laugh, a sound more beautiful than a host of heavenly angels singing. It scared him how he found serene joy in simply holding her as she slept, feeling her slight weight as she sprawled across his body in contented slumber. Or when she was awake and they talked about everything and nothing. Or when he carried her home from a night out enjoying London after dark.
He loved trailing kisses along her shoulder, her neck, kissing her lightly until she stirred, blinking her beautiful eyes in confusion before focusing on him and giving him the sweetest smile. He drowned in her eyes, which were the most striking shade of blue, seeing farther into his soul than he was comfortable with and he wished she’d see further still. She was
so finely crafted it was a wonder she could take all of his cock into her lissome body, almost as if she were crafted especially for him. So far their sex had been pretty vanilla because he was afraid of scaring her off if he introduced her to his darker needs too soon.
But she had made love to him as a gargoyle. Even if his cock hadn’t entered her tight cunt they had made love. There had been no preparing him for the intense pleasure he felt when she touched him as a gargoyle, when she tormented his stone cock with her mouth. Perhaps she'd be okay with something more than vanilla….
She looked up at him, her expression bright as she smiled her sweet smile, “You’re very quiet this evening, Rhys. Have I bored you to tears already?”
“On the contrary,” he crooned, reaching out and cupping her cheek in his hand, loving the feel of her soft skin against his palm. He loved how her eyes darkened and her breathing changed when he touched her. She wanted him with the same desperation that he wanted her. He doubted he would ever grow bored of her, not when he hungered for her so desperately. Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear, “I think I’m going to tie you to my bed tonight.”
Her lips parted and she inhaled sharply, her eyes darkening even more even as a blush stained her cheeks. Those luminous eyes darted to each of his brothers sitting across the table and then to Zin, the small pixie who was serving their food and listening to the conversation with keen interest.
Zin’s wings beat rapidly as she hovered by the table, her purple-rose eyes too large for her slender elfin face. Long strands of purple and rose hair twined and twirled down her slender back. She was braver than most pixies, despite the tales told by other pixies to keep them safe from humans. Zin had no qualms about serving Jenna and urged the others to be braver, that the human wasn’t going to try to capture them or eat them.
Zin was of the opinion that only brown-eyed humans ate pixies and Jenna had blue eyes so she was all right. Rhys had tried to correct her on her misinformation, that generally humans didn’t eat pixies at all. But she insisted that brown-eyed humans devoured pixies in their spare time, at least when they weren’t busy lying in wait for foolish leprechauns so they could steal the pots of gold, or any number of evil things.
There was simply no reasoning with Zin and her fear of brown-eyed humans.
As Zin flew about the room, Rhys leaned closer to Jenna and whispered, “Don’t worry about my brothers, love. They’re not paying any attention to what we’re discussing.”
“It’s safe to assume that it wouldn’t take much to figure it out,” she countered saucily. He loved how she was blossoming right before his eyes.
He chuckled as she lowered her lashes, brushing his thumb over the soft ripeness of her rosy lips. Glancing down, he watched the pebbled peaks of her nipples strain against her damp shirt. Ignoring Zin, his brothers, the other pixies, he brushed his other thumb over one of the taut buds and lowered his voice to a husky growl, “I think the thought of being bound to my bed excites you. I think you’re getting wet just thinking about it.”
Her blush deepened but she raised her lashes and looked at him. The tip of her tongue touched his thumb and it was his turn to draw in a harsh breath. She leaned forward and for a moment he thought she was going to kiss him. Instead, her slender fist wrapped around his cock beneath the loose material of his pants and he hissed in pleasure. Brushing her thumb unerringly over the tip, she smiled a sultry smile, “As if just thinking about it hasn’t made you hard enough to ravage me right here and now.”
He put his hand over hers as she continued to stroke him, loving the brain-frying sensation of her hand on his cock. Without thinking, he pushed his pants down just enough to free the ravenous beast, wanting, needing, to feel her hand on his naked flesh. Her eyes darted to where Zin still hovered, the little pixie’s eyes lit with knowing amusement but he didn’t care, he needed her to touch him.
Rowan appeared behind him and put his hand on Rhys’s shoulders in a brotherly grip, “We’re heading out soon. Are the two of you joining us again?”
“Of course,” Rhys agreed easily. “We’ll be there shortly.”
“Don’t forget about us and start fucking again,” Rowan grinned. “There’s a club we want to hit before all of the tourists show up. And you might want to put your dick away. We generally frown on fucking where we eat… unless there’s a party. Then it’s all right.”
“Okay.” After watching his three brothers saunter off, he turned back and saw Jenna watching him with a slight frown.
She tugged at her hand and reluctantly he let her go, amusement and denied release twisting him up. Chuckling, he tucked his cock away and shrugged, “I suppose we can’t spend all of our time together making love.”
“Unfortunately,” she said primly, folding her hands in her lap, a slight smile curving her lips as she took a bite of the food. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and he could see the sparkling laughter in the deep blue pools of her eyes, “Of course, if we were to spend all of our time making love then I would also get to enjoy you when you’re a gargoyle and when would I sleep?”
“If that were to happen I don’t think I’d be able to walk by the time we reached Greece,” he teased, though he was more than a little serious. “Once we arrived I doubt you’d be able to carry me through Athens to get to the docks and the boat that will taking us to mother’s island.”
She cocked her head to the side and asked, “Your mother has an entire island to herself?”
His lips parted as he realized something very important: he hadn’t told her who his mother was, just that she was a gargoyle. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, taking her hand in his, ignoring her tempting breasts and his unruly cock. She watched him with an open and curious expression, totally oblivious to the bombshell he was about to drop. “Um, my mother is, er, Medusa.”
She simply stared at him for several long, drawn out heartbeats. Catching her lower lip between her pearly white teeth, she arched a single, elegant eyebrow, and remarked with suspicion, “Medusa is your mother.”
“Yes.” He nodded his head, desperate for the ability to read her thoughts, at least about this. For the most part, he enjoyed discovering her bit by bit but this was too important, it was his mother. “Medusa.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, abusing her poor lip by chewing on it. Reaching up, she placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Damn, I can’t tell if you’re running a fever or not because you always run so hot. Are you sure you’re not ill?”
Grabbing her hand, he brought it to his lips, holding it there as he spoke, “Medusa is my mother, Jenna, and the myths surrounding her are simply that: myths.”
“Um, your mother is a myth,” she remarked with bemusement.
“Sweetheart, you’re having this conversation with a gargoyle in the penthouse suite of a group of gargoyles with pixies serving a meal prepared by a demon,” he grinned, pleased when her fingers curled just enough so she could touch him with their tips. “Is it really that hard to believe that my mother is who I say she is?”
“Yes?” she faltered, her expression clearly stating her befuddlement. “It’s just, well, Medusa. I’ve known about her since I was a little girl and read about her in a book of mythology that Lenni had checked out of the library.”
“Wh….” He had to clear his throat before he could continue, absurdly nervous to hear the story from her luscious lips. He was even more nervous to see her reaction. “What myth did you read?”
“After the first tale I tried to read all of them,” she said, shaking her head a little, clearly a little dumbstruck. “My favorite, and the most tragic, was the story of her falling in love with a god and being cursed by a bitter goddess who was jealous of her beauty and their love. The jealous wretch turned her into a hideous beast that turned men to stone with a single look and then the witch encouraged the hotheaded Perseus to kill her.
“Medusa’s story fascinated me and I have always believed she got screwed over,” she huffed an incredulous la
ugh as she gaped at him. “You’re telling me that she wasn’t killed by some punk and she’s your mother?”
“Yes.” Relief flooded him as she spoke so fervently on his mother’s behalf and while her version contained some truth but it wasn’t the complete story.
Her hand slammed over her mouth and her eyes widened in alarm, “Oh, god, don’t tell me you and your brothers are the sons of that union.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, carefully, watching the color leech from her face in an imitation of his gargoyle when he returned to stone. “But I think you already know the truth.”
“But you told me you were only a few hundred years old,” she wheezed, having difficulty with grasping the reality of his existence. “The myth of Medusa has been around for thousands of years.”
“It’s part of the curse,” he admitted softly, wondering how much he would be allowed to tell her before the fates stepped in and stopped the words from coming. Unless they had no intention of stopping him, which was worrisome in and of itself, what were their intentions? “The myths were created for her protection, for our protection.”
So far, the fates had been amazingly lenient. Perhaps it was because of the journey the two of them were taking and the fates wanted her to be prepared. It might have been better for Vaughn and Melanie had the fates not been so stingy when they were courting. He remembered how fiendishly curious Melanie had been, and how little information any of them had been allowed to give her. But he doubted it would have made a difference because the girl had been hopelessly in love with his brother from the moment they met.
At Jenna’s questioning look, he moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, “My parents are given a few years together when the stars align or the planets come together, or some such nonsense, every five hundred years and they always have three sons.”
