by E A Price
Gwen would not deny that. Even in her wildest dreams, she would not have expected a gargoyle.
“It’s fine, I mean, it’s incredible – but I… I just think I’m going to miss sending you messages.”
“I want you to know that I do consider us to be friends, even if you have no wish to see me again.”
Gwen wasn’t sure what to say. Tristan seemed almost disappointed, but he nodded and just started towards the window.
“Please tell me we’re not going through that again?” she asked him in horror.
“How else…”
“My mom will go to bed soon, and when she does, I’ll let you out the back door.”
Tristan nodded reluctantly.
“In the meantime…”
“Just wait here.” She glanced around her messy room and wished that she had taken a couple of minutes to tidy it earlier. Or maybe a few hours and a leaf blower.
Gwen pushed a mound of clothes off her beanbag chair, quickly pocketing the bra that had been on top and gestured towards it.
Tristan carefully sat down in it, his huge form settling uneasily. He shifted and fidgeted. Gwen bit her lip to stop herself from giggling at the concentration on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Humph. How has your day been?”
“Pretty good.” She hesitated.
“What is it?”
“My dad showed up.” She wasn’t sure she should still be sharing with him, though she longed to.
“What did he want?” he asked, his voice taking on a razor-sharp edge.
“He asked my mom for a divorce and told her he wanted money.”
“Hmmm. How did she take it?”
“Actually pretty well, I was so worried about her – but she seems okay, and she says I need to stop worrying about her. I don’t think I can stop.”
“You worry because you care.”
“Exactly, I can’t help it.”
Gwen slumped onto the bed and smiled at him. “You know, now that your big secret’s out, you can talk to me about the things that are bothering you – you don’t just have to listen to the annoying things I have to say.”
His eyes virtually twinkled. “You are never annoying.”
“But you can talk to me, too, you know. I mean, we’re kind of stuck here until my mom falls asleep.” She paused for a few beats before adding, “I am a little disappointed you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth in the first place.”
A shadow of remorse crossed his features. “It is hard to explain to humans who are not even aware we ever existed, who thought King Arthur was just a legend…”
“Wait, he was real?”
Tristan grimaced. “My mouth does not seem to be able to control itself around you.”
Gwen shuffled along the bed, moving closer to him. Her eyes traveled over the expanse of wings and muscled chest. No wonder he was called a gargoyle, he did look like he had been carved out of stone. He was absolutely flawless.
“I’d like to know more about you.”
“I…” His wings rippled, and he let out a small sigh. “Very well. It is a long story.”
“I’ll go grab us some soda and cupcakes – the cupcakes are courtesy of Martha, so you know they’ll be perfect.”
Tristan smiled, and she quickly jumped off the bed.
“Don’t move,” she said. She was curious, but she also didn’t want him to leave. His presence was… reassuring.
“I promise.”
She nodded and hurried just in case.
*
“Wow!” Gwen pressed a hand to her mouth.
He had told her everything about the gargoyle history, everything up until they started communicating. He could not stop himself. Once he opened his mouth, that was it - he was off! But there was something about this female, something so trustworthy and she had a quality that made him want to bare his very soul to her.
“It’s like a medieval soap opera. So this Ophelia is still out there somewhere?”
“Indeed,” he muttered.
It amazed them all that she avoided detection, but she had been awakened for longer than them – she was good at avoiding exposure apparently.
“What about Twenty-Six? Do you have any idea where she comes from? Is Ophelia coming back? And Martha is actually psychic?”
“Yes.” That was something he did have an answer for.
“Wow – I thought she was a regular Stepford wife.”
Tristan blinked at her.
“Oh, ah, it’s a book, and they made a couple of films. It’s kind of creepy, but good if you like creepy.”
“I believe I prefer amusing.”
“Me too,” she said, smiling.
They had drunk a bottle of soda – he enjoyed the way the bubbles felt – and eaten ten cupcakes between them. Though he was responsible for seven of those.
Gwen peered at the clock. “Holy crap, it’s after midnight – I’ve gotta get to bed – I’ve got work in the morning.”
“I am sorry, I have kept you from sleeping.”
“I… I’m not,” she stammered. “I really enjoyed… ah…”
She was blushing fiercely, and as appealing as he found it, he did not want for her to be uncomfortable.
“I have very much enjoyed talking to you.”
It was even better than through the messages. He could see the way her pretty face widened in wonder, scrunched in anger and the way her lovely lips opened in shock. A thousand emotions seemed to pass over her face in a matter of seconds, and she was a joy to behold.
He snagged one of her hands, and she held her breath as he held it, squeezing it carefully.
“Perhaps I may come back tomorrow night?”
“Umm, okay. Mostly because it’s hilarious watching you trying to get through my window.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Indeed.”
She squeezed his hand in return and led him out of the house.
*
“Who likes short shorts?” sang Gwen, shaking her booty just a little too suggestively for the library.
But hey, she was in a good mood, the sun was shining, and she could not get that damn song out of her head.
Old Mr. Pearson looked like he was about to have heart palpitations – he was clutching his chest – so she decided to tone down the ass wiggling. Myrna had frowned at her, but given that a cheerful mood was pretty rare for Gwen, she had been loath to say anything to deter her.
Course, it didn’t last long, in fact, it evaporated the moment Tom cornered her in the science and nature section.
“You look happy,” he said, in a slightly accusing tone.
He folded two beefy arms over his rapidly expanding chest and glared at her. Yeah, because she dumped him she had no right to be happy - she should have been miserable and pining away for him.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked, knowing why he was there but hoping he would get the subtle hint to sling his hook.
“Have you thought about what I said?”
“Tom, I…”
He took a step closer to her, and she resisted the urge to step back. Stand your ground she told herself firmly.
“We’re not getting back together,” she said in what she hoped was a steely voice. “Ever,” she added for good measure.
Tom snorted, his naturally red face taking on a purple hue. “What other choice do you have?”
“My mom and I…”
“Will be homeless, babe. I offer to help, and you throw it back in my face? You ought to be thankful that someone like me would even look at a girl like you. Who the fuck do you think you are treating me this way?”
He unfolded his arms and took another step toward her, his large body looming over her slight frame. Mr. Pearson started taking an interest as Tom’s voice started rising.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, limping over to them, relying heavily on his cane.
“Fuck off!” snarled Tom.
“You need to leave,” said Gwen.
She had to put up with his temper tantrums when they were a couple, but those days were way over.
Tom looked like he was about to explode, but he took in Gwen’s resolute expression, Mr Pearson’s scowl and the very anxious Myrna who was scuttling over, and he merely huffed the word ‘bitch’ at her and stalked away.
Mr. Pearson muttered a few choice words about how that would have been different if he were forty years younger, but Gwen was just glad he was gone. What on earth had she ever been thinking dating him? Nothing was worth spending time with him. She thought of Tristan, and how easy it was to talk to him. She couldn’t imagine him being angry with her or calling her a bitch.
If people saw Tristan and Tom together, they would consider Tristan to be the monster. They couldn’t be more wrong.
*
“Shhh, not so loud, my mother will hear!”
Though, in truth, it was Gwen’s laughter ringing out the loudest. Tristan was telling her about how Grey had managed to get his arm stuck down a toilet. Seriously, he had to smash the toilet to get out. After he had stopped laughing, Luc had not been pleased.
Though, his leader had been strangely restrained when it came to Tristan’s ‘chewing out’ as Danica put it. No doubt because of Kylie. Well, he deferred to her before, but now that she was pregnant, Tristan doubted he would do anything that would upset her.
“This is very good pizza,” he said, taking another slice.
“Yeah, my mom kind of went mad the other night and made loads – they’re in our freezer. I think she went overboard because she was feeling good.” Gwen cast her eyes downward. “It’s so nice that she’s feeling more like her old self.”
His tail curled around her ankle and she looked up at him in surprise, before smiling.
He was actually sitting on her bed this time, as hilarious as she found putting a gargoyle in a beanbag chair, she decided it was safer for him on the bed.
“I am pleased for both of you.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you heard anything from your father?” he asked carefully.
It was a sticky subject, and he did not want her to lose her good mood, but he wanted to know. This male was causing her pain, and it made him angry, and he wanted to stop him… though he was not sure how he could. But he wanted to.
Gwen shook her head. “I asked my mom earlier if he had been by again and she said no. I don’t think she wants to worry me though, so I’m not sure if she would tell me.”
“As you did to her.”
“True,” she murmured.
Gwen blushed and looked away. “You’re really easy to talk to, but I kind of think it was easier to think up something to say when you weren’t looking at me
“Then I shall look away.” He diligently stared at the ceiling. “Please, talk away.”
Gwen giggled and cupped his jaw, dragging his attention back to her. As he looked at her, she sobered, and her breath hitched slightly.
Tristan raised a hand and slowly traced the line of her jaw with a clawed finger. “If you wish for me to stop, all you have to do is say.”
*
Uncertainly flickered over her face and Tristan worried he had pushed her too far, that he had misread the signs.
Female gargoyles were so much easier – they usually just demanded what they wanted and growled loudly when they didn’t get it. With human females, it was like a dance – complicated and there were so many ways in which he could put a foot wrong. Plus, gargoyles were not known for their fine dancing.
“Okay.”
He held his breath, though his heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of his chest. “Okay, you wish for me to stop?”
Her cheeks reddened even more. “No, just acknowledging what you said.”
“So you wish for me to continue?” he asked slowly, uncertainly.
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”
His lips quirked. “As you wish.”
*
She pushed her lips to his, and he cupped her head. His lips were warmer and softer than she was expecting. She licked at them, and he opened for her. She giggled into his mouth as she touched his sharpened teeth. But her humor turned to pleasure as the kiss deepened, as he hungrily explored her mouth, almost urgently.
Gwen pressed closer to him, her hands settling on his shoulders, her fingers gliding over his silky skin and hard muscles. He moaned, and his other arm slipped around her waist.
They would have stayed entwined for longer, had it not been for that pesky little thing called the need to breathe. Reluctantly, Gwen pulled away – Tristan growled slightly as she did. Clearly, he wanted to continue.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she took in every detail on his face. He was not so dissimilar from a human. His skin just happened to be blue, and his eyes were brighter and unnatural. But he wasn’t ugly, not in the slightest. Quite the opposite.
“Wow.”
“Is it always like that?” he asked, his eyes alight with wonder as a clawed finger traced her jaw.
“Not in my experience,” she murmured. That was the truth. She didn’t exactly have a ton of experience, but her high school boyfriend thought that moving his tongue around like a washing machine was the way to go, and Tom didn’t kiss often. He couldn’t see the point; he didn’t find kissing satisfying. Not on his mouth anyway. But then he’d never been kissed like this. Nor ever would – she doubted Tristan was his type.
“It was my first kiss,” admitted the gargoyle.
“Really?!” she blurted, a little shocked.
“Gargoyles do not tend to kiss,” he murmured, frowning slightly.
“I’d never have guessed,” she replied quickly, bringing the smile back to his face. “But perhaps we ought to do a little more kissing - for practice, I mean.”
“You are very selfless.”
“I know,” she sighed.
*
Tom virtually leaped out from behind the history section. Gwen let out a squeak and then glared at the male. The words, ‘what are you doing, you bloody great oaf,’ dancing on her tongue. Thankfully, he started yelling before she could let them out – while she would enjoy insulting him, it would just make him angrier.
“Are you seeing someone else?” he demanded furiously.
“That’s none of your business,” said Gwen, trying to remain calm, while making sure there were plenty of witnesses around.
Tom had never been violent with her, and she hadn’t heard of him ever being violent with his previous girlfriends. But, the nickname ‘mad dog’ had been spawned when he played high school football, and people didn’t get that nickname without reason.
“What about me?” he shouted.
“What about you?” she sighed.
For a moment, she thought he was going to explode in rage. But it passed, and he seemed to travel through incandescent rage and land on bitterness. His face, which had rapidly been turning purple, returned to its normal pink.
“Is he going to take care of you when you’re homeless?”
“I’m not going to be homeless.”
Tom’s mouth bunched and she thought he was going to say something else, or at least call her a bitch again, but he merely scowled and left.
Gwen leaned against the bookshelf. She really had to stop Tom from coming into the library. These little library rendezvous’ were getting just a bit tiresome. But, then she thought of Tristan, and her smile returned.
*
Bitch! Thought Tom loudly. She was cheating on him. She was actually cheating on him!
How fucking dare she? Who does she think she is? He deigned to be with her, to help her out, and this is how she repaid him?!
Well, this was it. This was the last straw.
He pulled out his phone and dialed the hotel phone number. Impatiently grumbling until he was connected.
“Well?” snapped the voice on the other end.
“S
he said no,” admitted Tom, gruffly.
Gwen’s dad let out a sound between a huff and a groan. “Always was a stubborn girl, never likes to give in over anything.”
“I will make her give in,” muttered Tom. They were going to be together – she just couldn’t see it yet.
“How will you do that?” asked the older man apprehensively.
“Do you care how you get your money?”
“Well, not really, I mean, ah, I don’t want to resort to violence…”
“Just leave it to me, I’ll get them out that house and you’ll get your money.” And he would get Gwen.
*
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?” asked Gwen, just a tad censoriously while watching her mother getting ready to go to work.
Her mother tinkled with laughter. “Of course, George says he’s happy for the help tonight. Apparently, he’s needed at wedding HQ.”
“Ah yes, Myrna told me all about it – sounds like the wedding of the century.” They’d probably be paying for it for the next century given Myrna’s wish list. Mermaid ice sculptures and swan ring bearers were just the start.
“Well, I don’t blame her – her first wedding was a quick affair at a courthouse. She wants something big this time.”
“Well, earlier she was talking about swans and a fairytale theme.”
“Oh, my! Which fairytale?”
“All of them – kind of a mishmash.”
“Well, each to their own, I suppose. Mine was at the courthouse as well; I always hoped I’d get remarried one day, though I suppose I can have the wedding I want when you get married, and you can have the wedding you want when your daughter gets married.”
Gwen frowned. “Mom, I may never get married.”
Her mother waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I’m sure you will.”
Do gargoyles marry? Gwen hastily changed the subject to stop that thought from getting any further.
“What did Tilly say about the divorce thing?”
“Her cousin’s away on a month-long cruise at the moment, but I spoke to Martha…”
“Queen Martha,” murmured Gwen, only a little tartly.
Her mother ignored her. “Her stepfather is a lawyer, and she’s going to find me a good divorce attorney.”
