by Rosalie Redd
He’d seen this particular gargoyle a few times over the past several months and had heard his name was Damian. He’d never fought the guy.
Prepared to take him on, Marco set his stance and raised his sword.
The gargoyle barreled toward him. “I’ve got this one, Grayson.”
“Perfect. I’ll track down the other,” the second gargoyle echoed from behind. His red scarf reflected in his dark eyes, making them shine.
Marco didn’t wait for Damian to take the first punch. He met him half-way and thrust his sword at the oncoming gargoyle.
The tip sliced through Damian’s shirt and skittered over his hardened skin.
Damian’s fist, solid as stone, grazed Marco’s cheek. Pain flared at the impact.
Marco dove to the ground and rolled to his feet a few yards away.
The second gargoyle sped past in a blur.
“Incoming!” Marco screamed, warning Zain.
Damian charged again, his features determined.
Marco swung his sword. The blade caught on Damian’s rock-hard arm.
A shudder reverberated through the steel, and Marco strained to maintain his grip.
Damian grasped Marco around the neck and lifted him into the air. Marco struggled to breathe.
His sword slipped from his fingers and clattered against the sidewalk.
He scraped his claws along Damian’s arms, but they didn’t penetrate his hardened skin.
Victory sparked in Damian’s dark eyes.
Anger, along with the will to live, surged through Marco. Gargoyles didn’t often turn their entire bodies to stone. It took too much energy. Marco kicked the guy in the gut and prayed he found this gargoyle’s weak spot.
Damian inhaled and slipped to one knee, releasing his grip on Marco in the process. Marco fell to the ground.
His knee banged painfully against the pavement. On an intake of breath, cool life-giving air flowed into his lungs.
A menacing growl emerged from Damian’s throat.
Filled with renewed battle rage, Marco elongated his knife-like nails. He scraped the sharp tips across Damian’s chest. The point of one caught on the edge of the gargoyle’s spark stone, scratching the surface.
Damian’s penetrating howl echoed off the nearby buildings. He staggered to his feet.
Marco’s sword lay in the street, the shiny steel glinting in the light. Eagerness to finish off his enemy ripped through him with a force he hadn’t experienced in years. He grasped the handle—
Pain burned in his gut, the agony so fierce white spots formed in his vision. He held his breath. What was happening to him?
Damian wiped his hand across his chest. Blood coated his palm and dripped onto the pavement. He careened into a garbage can. The metal bin tipped over, and the lid rolled into the street and clattered against the gutter.
The pain intensified, burning up Marco’s esophagus and into his brain. A moment later, the intense torture ended. The muscles in his legs shook.
Hungry to restore his energy, he drew on his connection to Hannah.
Nothing happened.
Fear slid along his spine, raising the hair at his nape.
He tried again. Nothing.
His connection to Hannah was gone. Panic sent his heart racing.
Was she dead? What if he’d lost her somehow?
A mixture of fear, anger, and confusion rolled in Marco’s gut, blending into a deadly concoction. She was his ticket for redemption with Gwawl.
Damian leaned against the brick building then slid to a sitting position. His head lolled to the side.
The need to locate Finn and find out why his link to Hannah had severed wrenched on Marco’s damaged soul, but first, he’d finish off his enemy. He raised his sword.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the street, moving at a rapid pace and coming closer.
Marco tensed and glanced in that direction.
Zain bolted toward him. Blood dripped from a cut over his eye and dampened his dark shirt. “Can’t kill the gargoyle. Hurry, we have to go.”
Over Zain’s shoulder, a gargoyle’s dark figure dashed toward them. Hatred for the vile creatures burned in Marco’s gut.
He sheathed his sword. “I agree. We leave. Now.”
Marco grasped Zain by the shoulder, concentrated on Finn’s location, and vanished in a swirl of old newspapers and empty plastic bags.
If Hannah was dead, Finn’s own death wouldn’t be far behind.
CHAPTER 18
A deep-throated bullfrog croaked from beneath Hannah’s window, its incessant song rousing her from sleep. Seth spooned her from behind, his taut chest and ribbed abdomen resting against her back. As she inhaled, his warm, masculine scent settled into her lungs.
She glanced at the digital clock on her dresser—5:47a.m. Hannah let out a soft sigh, closed her eyes, and tugged Seth’s arm tighter around her waist. After they’d made love last night, she’d headed for the bathroom to clean up. Blood had dried on the inside of her thighs, and a small amount had stained the sheets.
I’m no longer a virgin. She still didn’t believe it.
By the time she’d dressed in a thin, rose-colored nightie, Seth had found some sheets in the closet and remade the bed. They’d snuggled beneath the covers, and it hadn’t taken long for her to fall asleep.
Hannah’s chest tightened, squeezing the breath from her lungs. He’d stayed with her the whole time. God, she loved this man.
Nestling deeper into Seth’s arms, she tried to block out the world, but like the impending dawn, thoughts about the future invaded her mind. Did Marco still have a hold on her? Did he even want her now that she’d lost her virginity?
She did an internal assessment—no headache, no stomach pain, no exhaustion. Hope, frail and thin, grew like a tiny sprout in her heart.
“Darlin’, I can hear your wheels spinning from here.” Seth’s deep voice broke through her thoughts.
Hannah peered over her shoulder at him.
He studied her with a reverence in his blue eyes that left her breathless. He trailed a finger along her tattoo. “How’s my gal doing?”
Seth’s caring words and tender touch flared the love for him in her heart. “I think I’m okay, but I’m not sure.”
He sat up on one elbow, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head and roused to a sitting position. At the change in angle, blood rushed from her brain. Her vision dimmed.
Seth cupped her chin. “Hey, darlin’. Stay with me.”
“I…I’m okay. Just a head rush.” Hannah leaned into his embrace. “I don’t feel ill or anything, and I don’t have a headache.”
The tension in his shoulders eased. “That’s good to hear.”
His gaze tracked to the spot behind her ear.
She held her breath. “Is the mark still there?”
Although relief flitted through his eyes, his brow remained furrowed. “It’s faded.”
“But still there.” Hannah’s throat constricted, and she rubbed her fingers over the spot. If only she could wipe the mark away so easily.
“Do you think he still wants me?” Lord, she’d thought sleeping with Seth was the answer. Maybe she’d let her desire for him cloud her judgment into accepting what she’d wanted to believe.
“Hey, hey.” He smoothed his thumb over her cheek. “You said you feel better, and the mark has faded. His power over you has diminished. That’s progress in my book.”
“Seth, I’m scared. What if Marco still comes after me?” She stared into his eyes.
His gorgeous smile tugged at his lips. “Then I’ll be here to protect you.”
Seth’s touch and his comforting words chased away her unease. “Thank you for staying with me all night. You shouldn’t have. Your work—”
He placed his finger against her lip. “Is not as important as your safety.”
She clasped his fingers and drew his hand away from her mouth. “Would Drake say the same?”
The spark stone embedded in Seth’s chest turned a dark shade of red. “Drake’s such a stickler for the rules, they’re practically shoved up his—”
Seth rose from the bed. The tip of his left crimson-edged wing caressed her skin. He grabbed his jeans off the chair and thrust each foot through the pant legs.
After hooking his whip onto his belt, he strode to the window, moved the curtain out of the way, and glanced through the pane. His handsome features were stark with strain and consternation.
Beaumont had told her once Drake expected his gargoyles to follow strict orders, including returning to their posts at dawn. If they disobeyed, he’d mete out punishment by locking them in their stone forms overnight. Her thoughts drifted to her and Seth’s earlier conversation about his time in the abandoned mine. She didn’t want him to suffer in his gargoyle statue at night, unable to see.
She joined him at the window. The cars lining the sidewalk, the trees, and the houses were all bathed in a pre-dawn glow. She wrapped her arms around Seth’s waist and snuggled against him. “The sun’ll be up soon. You should go. I’ll be fine here during the day.”
Jaw set, he shook his head. “Darlin’, I’m not going anywhere. Not today.”
That Seth would risk being locked in his stone form for disobeying orders was a testament to how much he cared for her. Her throat tightened so hard, she struggled to breathe.
She stepped from his embrace and strode to the dresser. “I don’t want you in trouble with Drake because of me.”
Seth’s heavy footsteps echoed in the room as he approached her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugged her to him back to front, and planted a soft kiss on her shoulder right over her tattoo. The edge of his wings tickled her arms. “Let’s not talk about him. How about we spend the entire day in bed—”
The chair under her vanity rumbled, the feet bouncing against the hardwood floor. The rat-a-tat-tat echoed like gunfire. A moment later, a man she’d never met materialized in her room.
He had a short military-style haircut, and he wore a pair of camouflage pants and a navy muscle T-shirt. The forbidding scowl on his hardened face could’ve chewed the rubber off a tire.
Her heart skipped a beat. Was this another fae sent by Marco?
“Drake.” Seth couldn’t believe his boss had tracked him down. The muscles in his arms quivered with the need to lash out at his boss, and his hands fisted at his sides. “What are you doing here?”
Drake’s gaze flicked over Seth’s wings. His eyes widened, but then he narrowed his attention to Seth’s features.
Like a bug under a microscope, Seth grew uncomfortable, his insides squirming.
“What the hell, Seth? You shut down the mind link all night. I only caught a trace of it as dawn approached. I could ask what you were doing, but from the looks of it, I can guess. Couldn’t wait until your next night off?”
Irritation flared along Seth’s nerves, and the urge to pummel his boss until he ate those words curled Seth’s fingers into fists. “This isn’t what you think.”
“It isn’t, is it?” Drake spread his legs and crossed a pair of beefy arms. His attention focused on Hannah. “So, this is the woman who’s clogged your mind and made you forget your responsibilities?”
Seth wrapped his hand around Hannah’s waist and drew her close. “Marco’s targeted her. She needs protection—”
“We needed you tonight. A fae raked his claws over Damian’s spark stone. He…”
A tic ran rampant along Drake’s jawline.
Seth’s pulse spiked. “Is he all right?”
Drake shook his head. His gaze tracked to the window and the forthcoming dawn. “I left him in Sasha’s care at Wynne’s house. With Wynne paying her penance during the full moon, Sasha did as much as possible, but she’s not Wynne. Come daybreak, my hope is that Wynne can heal him. He’ll stay there today.”
Self-loathing coated the back of Seth’s throat. He hated that one of his teammates suffered a serious injury. One he might’ve prevented if he’d been there for the fight, but he didn’t regret his time with Hannah. She’d needed him more.
“I’m sure Wynne will fix him up good as new.” Seth rubbed Hannah’s arm, soothed by her nearness.
His boss ran his palm over his features, but then the stern look Seth knew so well returned. “You’ve earned yourself a week of reflection at your post.”
An image of his stone griffin with its lion body, eagle head, and widespread wings formed in Seth’s mind. A knot coiled in his gut. “Sorry, boss. Not happening.”
Drake blinked, took a step forward, and flexed his hand at his side. “Did you just disobey an order?”
“I’m staying here with Hannah today.” Seth straightened his spine and wrapped his wing around her shoulders. The tips sparked at the contact.
Drake’s face reddened. “You follow my orders, cowboy. That’s how this works. Nice, pretty set of wings, by the way, didn’t know you had them. Now, let’s go.”
Seth folded his hateful appendages onto his back, shrinking them beneath his skin, but he refused to give in. “I won’t leave Hannah.”
Hannah drew away from his side. She stepped forward and raised her palms as if approaching an injured, wild animal. “Seth’s a good, honest soul. I was under a dark fae’s spell, and he helped me. He doesn’t deserve any punishment.”
Drake’s laughter rolled through the room. “A good soul? Sorry, sweetheart, he has a questionable soul, just like the rest of us gargoyles and has to face his punishment. It’s the rules.”
That Hannah would defend him in front of his boss made Seth’s chest swell so large, his ribs ached. He would do anything to protect her, and he wasn’t sure she was out of the woods when it came to Marco.
“Drake, Marco has—”
Drake raised his hand, and green glowed behind his eyes. “Not another word, Seth. The sun rises. We’re done here.”
The knot in Seth’s stomach tightened into a hard ball. He palmed his whip.
Drake crouched, his muscles bunching beneath his shirt. “Think twice, cowboy.”
Seth yanked his belt from its clip. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped the supple leather. The warning crack echoed against the wall. “I won’t leave Hannah and be trapped in my gargoyle—”
Drake wrenched his shirt collar down, uncovering his spark stone, and tapped his finger over the gem.
A shaft of blue light burst from the jewel and locked onto Seth’s spark stone. He froze, his whip hanging loose in his palm. The muscles in his shoulders, arms, and back tensed as he struggled to break Drake’s hold. The light’s power drew him forward like a tractor beam.
“Stop! Leave him alone!” Hannah pounded on Drake’s arm.
He shoved her aside. She tumbled onto the rug, her knees scraping along the coarse weave. Hannah glanced at Seth, and her beautiful green eyes widened with fear for him.
“Damn you, Drake!” Seth yelled. Unable to break free of Drake’s magic hold, he couldn’t help Hannah to her feet. Gods, he couldn’t even help himself.
Drake shook his head and frowned. “You’re coming with me.”
As the day’s first rays penetrated through the window, Drake dematerialized, taking Seth right along with him. Seth’s agonizing scream echoed in their wake.
CHAPTER 19
M arco sifted into the fae medical facility, Zain close on his heels. Soft moans, punctuated by an occasional cry, filled the large room. Tables with injured fae lined the walls, some moving, others not. The scent of disinfectant permeated the place but didn’t quite cover up the stench of impending death. He curled his lip. How he hated the weak.
Injured fae from all over North America came to this location seeking treatment. Finn was here, somewhere. Marco sensed his essence. The need to find the guy in all this chaos spurned him on.
He rushed past a fae with a large shard of glass protruding from his abdomen. With every heaving breath, blood pumped from the gaping wound. The guy met Marco’s gaze, a pleading frenzy l
odged in his yellow eyes.
He gripped Marco’s arm. “Please, don’t let Gwawl take me. Kill me first.”
Marco yanked free of the fae’s weak grasp. “Perhaps I should alert him of your condition. Move the process along a bit. What do you say to that?”
On Earth’s realm, fae died in one of three ways—severing the jugular vein, fire, or a blade embedded in an eye. Here in the Otherworld, they also died at the hands of their God. Gwawl didn’t tolerate weakness.
If a fae didn’t heal fast enough from his non-lethal injuries or, Gods forbid, dared to beg, Gwawl would torture him in ways only a god could then smite him down faster than a…
“I’ve got him. No need to call in our master.” A medic ran down the aisle, his sneakered feet squeaking on the hard, stone floor.
Marco peered at the injured fae and bared a fang. “Well, seems you’re a lucky dog today, aren’t you? Perhaps I’ll ask Gwawl to put you on my team as a new, expendable shield.”
The guy’s mouth quivered, but he was smart enough not to respond. Marco smirked at him before dismissing the injured weakling.
The need to find Finn seized him, and Marco glanced across the injured lined up on numerous tables.
Zain followed Marco like a good little puppy. He grabbed a towel from a nearby medic’s cart and wiped the congealed blood from the gash at his temple. “You see Finn?”
“Does it look like I’ve found him?” Irritation flared along Marco’s nerves. He’d failed to obtain Hannah’s pure, innocent soul for Gwawl. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be the one tortured by the testy god.
Zain’s eyebrows rose, but then his eyes darkened. “Don’t stress. He’s here somewhere. We’ll find him.”
They paced down another aisle and another one after that. The number of wounded fae seemed to go on forever. Where was Finn?
Zain stopped as one of the injured fae took its last breath and disappeared in a tiny dust devil. He pulled the sheet over the remaining trace. “There’s a lot of injured in here, but it looks like you took down one of the gargoyles tonight. Damian was his name, right?”
