by K. F. Breene
Niamh barely stopped herself from grinning and nodding in approval. Austin Steele had accepted the gargoyle’s acknowledgment of his status and rank, and then passed it on to the holder of the establishment. By asking about “her” bathroom, he’d made it clear that this house was Jessie’s, they were there with her permission, and he was just a player in her game.
They’d been incredibly lucky that Austin Steele had been tricked into coming on board, no matter his bellyaching about getting the magic. So few truly powerful people were willing to share their status and prestige.
“Sure, of course,” Jessie said, absently patting his chest, the house sweats much too small for his powerful frame. Mr. Tom needed to up his ordering game.
Austin Steele left, and Earl stepped up beside Jessie, his arms rigid at his sides in a way that spoke of his incredible pain. Niamh had to hand it to him for holding it together.
“Oh, excuse me. Where are my manners.” Jessie pouted at Mr. Tom again, like she would’ve an injured child. She rubbed his arm. “This is Mr. Tom. He’s the caretaker—”
Edgar jabbed Niamh’s side with a claw, making her jump. The magic of this place had restored much of the vampire’s strength and vigor, but maybe the years of being TOTF (too old to function) had gotten to him—he constantly forgot to retract claws and fangs after feeding.
He pointed at Earl’s wing as Jessie rambled on.
A shimmery haze floated in front of the leathery skin, slowly rotating around the tear. The magic sparkled, some of it soaking in while the rest continued to slowly revolve. Little by little, the tear stitched back together, as though unseen hands were sewing it.
“I’ll be buggered,” Niamh said quietly, watching the magic work.
That wasn’t Ivy House. Ivy House sped up the healing of the magical creatures attached to it, but it didn’t do the work itself. This magic was actively fixing his torn wing.
This had to be Jessie. This right here was proof that mothers developed powers. Right now, Jessie was ignoring her incredible fatigue and the recent attack on her life, while making a complete stranger feel welcome, comforting a man-child, and mending a boo-boo, all while making it look effortless. Not actually powers, her arse.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll just quickly go change. I’ll be down directly.” Jessie smiled at the pink-haired man, ran her hand down Mr. Tom’s arm for comfort, and jogged up the stairs in a hurry. The magical haze lingered, continuing to do its work.
“I’ll go get some refreshments.” Earl lurched away, his wing already half mended but still flopping as he moved.
The pink-haired man grinned at Niamh. “So you live in this creepy old house, huh?”
“No,” she said, not caring to make other people more comfortable. “I thought your kind didn’t talk much?”
“Most of us don’t. I’m the exception.”
“Pity,” Niamh said, finally getting his grin to fade.
“And which gargoyle are you?” Edgar asked, inching closer.
“He’s not the thinker of the bunch.” Niamh patted Edgar’s shoulder.
The grin was back. “The pink one.” The man pointed at his hair. “I got picked on mercilessly as a kid. Before guys wearing pink was cool, obviously.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry. Bullying.” Edgar shook his head. “It’s not acceptable, even between shockingly violent creatures such as yourselves.”
One to talk, him.
The man shrugged. “I survived.” He put up his hands. “It made me tough.”
“Tough and probably emotionally imbalanced, I’d expect.” Edgar nodded sadly. The man’s smile slipped again.
“Well, anyway, I should get back before… Jessie? Do we call her by her actual name?”
“No, she was just being polite. Call her madam or master.” Niamh kept a straight face. “For special occasions, queen. But you knew that.”
“Do no such thing.” Earl walked back in with a silver tray laden with tea and water, wearing a somewhat wrinkled tux. He had his head held high, clearly fighting the pain, or maybe Jessie had numbed that. “She detests being called those names.”
“Kill-joy,” Niamh murmured.
“You may call her miss when in a professional setting, and Jessie when in a casual setting. Now, come along. Let’s all assemble in the large drawing room for introductions and lively chatter before we figure out sleeping arrangements.”
Niamh followed Earl. She didn’t care for introductions or the nuts and bolts of a company this large descending on Ivy House, but she did want to see Jessie’s face when she saw that other alpha’s human form. He was a fine thing if ever there was one. A real looker. If she’d finally abandoned her plan to date strictly Dicks, she’d do well to get her feet wet with a guy like that.
12
I stepped into a pair of slacks before shrugging into a nice sweater. Being that I’d called these people with my summonses, only to order them around, I figured I’d better look at least a little presentable. Not to mention poor Alek hadn’t made it.
My stomach swam as I checked my face in the mirror, something I immediately regretted. I looked like I’d been rolling around in the dirt.
It hadn’t taken Austin long to find Alek, both pieces of him. His head had rolled a good ways away from the body, and I’d thrown up a good ways away from that.
One of the gargoyles had taken Alek’s body back so he could have a proper burial—joke was on me there—and the large lead gargoyle had gestured me closer so I could get a ride home. I’d turned it down so I could ride with (or on) Austin, something the guy hadn’t seemed to understand, probably because I was supposedly made to fly. He hadn’t just nearly died from falling, though.
Hair brushed and in a ponytail because it was much too messy to stay down, I made my way back downstairs to officially meet my saviors. My limbs shook with the memory of those rocks rushing up to meet me.
I’d been ten feet from death, something I hadn’t properly freaked out about yet. On Austin’s back, I’d closed my eyes and pushed all thoughts from my mind, comforted by the rhythm of his soft steps and the muscles bunching and releasing under my body. Relieved crying could happen later, in the privacy of my own darkened closet with a bottle of wine and brick of chocolate. Immediately afterward, I’d slide into frustrated crying, pissed that I couldn’t get my stupid wings to extend, or my magic to do anything even remotely useful except for calling for someone to save me. I was supposed to be a badass, and instead I kept ending up being the damsel in distress. It was driving me nuts.
Austin waited for me at the base of the steps, his thumbs hooked in the band of his tight white sweats, awkwardly showing off his prominent bulge, and his muscles flared under his wrinkled, too-tight sweatshirt. Mr. Tom had clearly gotten the sizing wrong.
He nodded at me in greeting when I neared. “They’re all waiting for you in the—”
“I know. I can feel them,” I said.
He nodded again. “I’m going to head out. I want to gather some information about those mages they took down before I do a perimeter check and then head back out to the battle site. I want to make sure no one escaped, number one, and get some idea of whether we should expect more trouble from this faction, number two.”
“Don’t you want to meet the others? Speak to them about what they know?”
“I was just in there. They told me what I needed to know.” He paused, then added, “I don’t belong here, Jess. This is your jam. I need to get back out to the town, make sure it’s secure. You can take it from here.”
“You have Ivy House magic and a seat in that Council Room if you want it. You belong here more than they do.”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t want it, you know that. They do, though, and they all seem to have your best interests at heart. Whatever you did when you met Damarion—”
“Who?”
“Damarion. Their alpha. Your second-in-command, if you choose him.”
“Ah. The biggest one.”
&n
bsp; “Yes.” A growl rode the word. “The biggest one.” His biceps and pecs popped, straining his sweatshirt. He rolled his neck, something bothering him. I had a feeling it was the memory of walking into my vicinity and thinking Damarion and his people were trying to kill or capture me. “Whatever you did set you up as their top badass.” A sparkle of pride glimmered in his eyes. “Their alpha might have carried you around like a damsel, but you proved yourself in their eyes.”
I hadn’t voiced my frustration, but somehow he’d picked up on it, figured out how to recast my weakness as strength, and made me feel amazing about myself, all in the same breath. How the hell did he do it? The guy had a gift.
I leaned toward him without thinking, closing my eyes and sighing when he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close. Now more than ever, I needed a friend. I needed a solid rock in this storm of uncertainty. I had to know he’d be by my side the next time someone came for me, because I knew it would happen again.
“You okay?” he asked softly, rubbing my back.
“Sure.”
“They’ll follow you. As long as you keep the status quo, which is easier than getting status in the first place, you’re head dick. You can pick and choose who you want on your team. But listen…” He pulled me back, his face not far from mine, his breath smelling of spearmint and honey. “If you leave these grounds to train, you call me, okay? You shouldn’t have had mages waiting in the trees to take a shot at you. I’m your ground man. My job is to take out the problem before there is a problem. But you need to call me so I know what’s going on. If it weren’t for those gargoyles showing up in the final moment…”
“Ivy House sent them…somehow, but yeah, I hear you. We don’t even know how people knew where I’d be.”
A vein jumped in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “That’s one of the questions I’ll be trying to answer.”
“How’d you know to come? You were on the way before I called you. How’d you know?”
The vein in his jaw jumped again and fire kindled in his eyes. “Ivy House knows the trick to get me moving. Or at least checking in…” He shook his head. “This damn house is too adaptable for its own good.”
With that, he strode past me and out the door, not looking back.
“What’d you do?” I asked Ivy House quietly, a little embarrassed by my tendency to talk to the house like it was alive. Talking to myself was one thing…
The wooden carvings along the arch formed by the meeting of the stairs started moving. The house did this sometimes—it sent me messages via moving pictures in the carvings. I didn’t talk about it much with the others. If this whole thing turned out to be an elaborate joke one day, I didn’t want a stack of evidence against my mental stability.
A woman with a bare bust and flowing hair galloped across the scene on horseback. Ghastly creatures swooped down at her with long claws and sharp fangs. Animals lunged for her war-horse, its head leaned forward with speed, not distracted. She turned, spear in hand, and looked down at me, the battle raging around her.
I stood transfixed, feeling fire spread through my blood, watching as wings sprouted from her back, snapping out to the sides and moving faster and faster, beating at the wind. She rose from her horse, and then it dropped out of view as the wooden scene shifted from ground to sky. Spear still in hand, one leg bent and one down, her posture proud and magnificent, she gave me a thumbs-up, and I felt rather than saw a little smirk and a wink.
“Tricky little bitch,” I said with a grin, unable to help laughing. Austin was being dominated by a house, and while I didn’t know how, I knew it pissed him off. It pissed him off, and Ivy House was gloating about that fact.
“I’m definitely going to the loony bin,” I said as I tore my gaze away from the triumphant woman in the wooden carving and went off to join the others. “I’m rooting on a house in a battle of wills with a man that turns into a polar bear. Somewhere along the line I’ve hit my head and now I’m living in fantasy land. I’m probably in a straitjacket in a padded room as I mutter about knives named Cheryl…”
My mumbles dried up, along with all the spit in my mouth, when I walked into the sitting room they’d chosen for the meeting.
My gaze immediately went to the man at the back of the room. He had dark, tousled hair, a midnight five o’clock shadow, a strong jaw, and a straight, narrow nose. His eyes, the lids naturally heavy, as though he were plotting something, flicked my way. In the next moment, his body position shifted minimally, enough to alert everyone in the room that he’d torn focus away from them and was now devoting it all to me.
A hush settled on the room as the others followed his lead, and in that moment I knew. He was the large gargoyle with the incredible wingspan. This was the guy who had saved my life, protected me from the reaching branches, and cut himself up in the briars so I wouldn’t get scratched. This was my knight in shining armor. This incredibly hot guy, in his mid-thirties, was under my command.
The breath left my chest and a tingling warmth spread within my lady-drawers. Usually a man got the position of power and the underling was an implausibly sexy young woman. The role reversal was a little hot, making me want to do things that were a lot naughty, and oh my God, where were these thoughts coming from?
I cleared my throat, trying to scrub my mind while I was at it. I might have to work with this guy—you never got involved with someone you worked with.
“You need to live a little. When the pants come off, make sure he’s the one on his knees.”
I blocked out Ivy House’s magical communication and thus her voice. She wasn’t helping.
“Well now, this is nice, everyone just standing around, staring at each other,” Niamh said, cutting through my frozen thoughts. Mr. Tom sighed much too loudly.
There went any semblance of classiness, gone with one comment.
“Hi,” I said to the room at large, not able to tear my eyes away from the tall man in the back. He was Mr. Tom’s height—six four or five—but he looked much larger by virtue of his perfect posture. His broad shoulders and muscular chest was nearly as robust as Austin’s, and his wings fell so low that they nearly dusted his ankles.
A surge of heat blistered through me, making me want to fly with him again. To see those incredible wings snap out before they pounded against the air. Something in me craved it. And I didn’t just want to see it—I wanted to join him, to meet him in the sky so we could tumble down together, our bodies entwining, reaching our finish and separating before we crashed into the ground.
I belatedly realized I was fanning my face while staring at him. A sheen of sweat covered my brow. Live a little, indeed. I’d gone completely off the rails.
“Hi,” I said again with a sheepish smile. “Welcome. I’m Jacinta—Jessie, if you like.” Mr. Tom sniffed, and I wasn’t about to stop and question why. I forced my gaze away from Mr. Hot Guy, looking over the others gathered in the room. Fourteen new faces. The guy with pink hair smiled at me, but the rest of them stood or sat with straight faces and patient gazes, living stone. “Thank you for showing up today. Really. You saved the day. We’re going to have to be a lot more careful now that we know people are infiltrating this neck of the woods. If not for you, I would’ve been splattered on the rocks.”
My gaze slid back to those serious, deep brown eyes in that handsome face, letting him know that last thank you was for him in particular. His nod was succinct—just another day saving damsels in distress.
“I’d like to go around and get all your names, if I could,” I said, taking another few steps into the room. “After that we’ll order some pizzas, I’ll give you a little history on my situation here, and we’ll figure out what we’re going to do with all of you. You won’t all fit in Ivy House.”
“At least one of them sure will, though,” Niamh murmured, and my face burned hot. This was not the time to return to blushing.
Or fanning my face.
Or agreeing with Niamh.
It certainly wasn�
��t the time for all three…
13
“Okay, well…” Later that night I stood in front of Damarion’s chosen room like a geeky teenager who didn’t know how to flirt.
He and two others, not including Cedric, who was also staying, had been given rooms in Ivy House, Mr. Tom insisting at least that many resident gargoyles were needed to protect me after the attack. Damarion had pushed for more, but I didn’t want to feel like I was walking on eggshells in my own home. Four strangers were bad enough, especially when one seemed to cause hot flashes of the lustful persuasion.
My God, the guy was hot, though. Hot and intense and I couldn’t push away the fact that he’d saved my life and thought nothing of the act. It made him that much more desirable.
I was crushing. Hard. I’d forgotten what it was like. I kinda liked it, though I could do without all the embarrassing remarks from Niamh and the goading remarks from Ivy House. I didn’t need one pimp, thank you very much, let alone several. Good grief.
Damarion waited just inside the door, his gaze rooted to mine, a man of few words.
“Thanks again, for everything,” I said, prone to babbling around him. I wasn’t a master at small talk, and with him, it showed.
“I am glad I came,” he replied.
“Awesome.”
Oh man, had I really just flashed him a thumbs-up?
I tore my hand out of the air. “Anyway, if you need anything, I’m in the master suite at the end of the hall.” I pointed at a wall. “I mean… You know.” I did finger acrobatics, as though he’d find his way through the halls thanks to my pointer finger tracing the invisible path. “So…”
“Thank you,” he said, stepping forward, his direct gaze intimidating, mostly because I was thinking impure thoughts. “This house—your magic—is a legend among our kind. It is a great honor to be summoned here.”
