by E A Price
The phone continued to ring. He didn’t budge. No, he shifted his wings to circle him. Now she couldn’t even scoot sideways away from him. She was trapped against her freezer.
“Maybe I should…”
“Leave it,” he breathed.
“But…”
He gripped her arm, surprisingly gently. “You have a machine to answer for you?”
“Yes,” she murmured, losing herself in the depths of his dark, persuasive eyes.
“Wait to see who it is.”
Tilly swallowed and nodded. He didn’t move his hand. The warmth of him seeped through her sweater, lacing her skin with heat. How could a creature who turned to stone be so warm? How could his hand on her feel so perfect?
His swirling eyes seemed to darken even more, and she dropped her gaze, though focusing on his hard chest was no less difficult. She’d never been near to a man quite so muscled. She’d never been attracted to a man, quite so big and strong. Usually, she… she… She tried to search her mind for what kind of man she found attractive. Usually, the man who was paying her compliments. She felt a wave of dismay. She didn’t really have a type when it came to men. She was just happy for any attention they could give her. So much so that she was willing to put up with any kind of faults to get it. Like Joe, she’d known he was a gambler before they married, but she ignored it. Or the fact that when Paul called earlier, she heard a woman in the background and he whispered that he would call her back. Oh lord.
She held her breath as Castor hooked a claw under her chin and forced her to look at him. He frowned on seeing her expression.
“Why so sad?”
She blanched at the beep of the machine.
“Tilly, where on earth are you?” hissed Angie. Her tone seemed amazed that Tilly wouldn’t be answering her call. “Look, just call me back as soon as you can.”
“Who was that?” he murmured.
“My sister.”
“She sounds like a shrew.”
Tilly opened her mouth to argue and merely let out a breath. “Angie’s perfect.”
She hadn’t meant it to sound quite so miserable, but that was how it came out.
Castor snorted gently. “No human is perfect.”
“Are gargoyles perfect?” she said, amusement lacing her tone.
His lips quirked. “Definitely not.”
“Meat lover’s pizza?” she breathed dazedly.
He gave her a blank look.
She swallowed, trying to change the subject. “I have a frozen Meat lover’s pizza if you would like to try that.”
“Yes.” There was a brief pause before he added, “Thank you.”
Carefully, he removed his hands from her and took a step back. He edged his large frame out of the kitchen, and she heard him turn the TV back on.
She knew she should return Angie’s call – her sister could be quite impatient about things like that, but she just needed to compose herself.
Tilly leaned against the freezer for a little while longer. The cold soothed her heated body, and she didn’t really trust her legs at that moment.
She was fairly certain that a gargoyle shouldn’t be turning her on more than her husband and all her ex-boyfriends combined ever did. Yet, he was.
Fourteen
Drago snarled awake. His red eyes flashed in fury as he lashed out with his wings and tail. The other gargoyles around him growled warily, worriedly, but there was one person who just had a sweet, concerned smile for him.
As he panted for breath, Martha hurried over to him and took one of his huge hands.
“Come on,” she entreated softly.
The pain and anxiety of his dreams lessened at her touch, and he allowed her to lead him into the mansion. She took him to their bedroom, sat him on the bed and curled herself into his lap. He gladly wrapped his tail and wings around her, and he inhaled her calming scent.
“Bad dreams?” she murmured.
He grunted and licked her shoulder. She shivered in pleasure.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Drago harrumphed. “They were not about the past – I hardly dream about that at all now.”
Martha waited patiently for more. She never pushed him, never got frustrated by the fact that he could be difficult and stubborn.
“I worried that Ophelia had sent humans to take you away from me,” he admitted as fragments of his dreams flitted through his mind.
Martha had almost been taken away from him once – he could not bear it to happen again.
“I stayed at home all day today, as I promised,” she cooed while rubbing his chest.
“Home…” he growled suspiciously.
Martha had her house in town, though Drago contrived to ensure she spent all her nights at the mansion.
“Here.”
His lips quirked. “You think of this as your home now?’
“No.” She blushed slightly. “I think of you as my home. Wherever you are, is home.”
Drago smiled and kissed his mate. He would always worry, but life was so much better since he met Martha.
*
Tilly was home by the time he awoke the following day. Castor was glad of that. He had told her he didn’t want her out after dark, and she listened to his wishes and acquiesced.
Last night, he called the mansion after Tilly retired to bed to ask whether their continued hunt for Ophelia had been successful. It had not, but they caught her scent wherever they went. She must have been visiting the town and regularly. Kylie asked him if he would continue to stay with Tilly and to her shock, he readily agreed.
He, in turn, made sure Chris knew he was to both pick her up and drive her home from work the following day. Then, to Chris’ shock, Castor said thank you. He then hung up before Twenty-Six could get hold of the phone. The female delighted in teasing him.
On awakening, he found Tilly standing before him, her face dancing with awe. His ego almost shot through the roof. Seeing a gargoyle awaken from their stone sleep was a wondrous sight.
“Good evening,” she murmured shyly.
“Good evening,” he replied, smiling naturally.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I am well, and you?”
“I’m fine.” Her eyes flickered down to his chest. “Umm, what about your wound?”
His tail flicked. “It is nothing.”
It was actually annoying the hell out of him and itching terrifically while it fully knit his skin together, but she didn’t need to worry about him. All she needed to know was that he was a strong gargoyle, and no other could protect her as well as he could. He wasn’t sure why that mattered to him, but it did.
“I should probably change your dressing.”
“Thank you.” He imagined the way Twenty-Six’s eyes would bug out of her head if she could hear him behaving so cordially to a strange human. But, she was no longer strange to him – she was Tilly. Maybe, she was his… friend?
He arranged himself on the couch, and she hovered over him. Her fingers were much more nimble now, though she was still a little nervous. While she worked, Tilly kept flicking little looks to his face. How did he know? He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Castor was amazed to find himself nervous around her. Why should he be nervous? There was absolutely no reason to be nervous. She was a tiny human, and he was a big, powerful gargoyle.
But, there was something about her. The timidity that at first had seemed irritating now seemed almost endearing. This female was kind and generous. She had opened her home to him even though she had at first been terrified of him. She could have called him a monster, could have been cruel to him as so many humans before her had, but she was nothing but respectful. Possibly because she was too scared to be anything else, but he didn’t believe her to be capable of meanness. No one truly seemed to see her worth, and perhaps that was why she was so timid in the first place.
After Tilly went to bed the previous evening, her shrewish sister called again.
Thankfully, the ringing had not disturbed Tilly’s sleep, but she had left another message to the same effect as the first. Then there was a phone call from her mother, chastising Tilly for not returning her sister’s phone calls. Then another from her father doing the same.
At that point, Castor had taken the command decision that Tilly no longer needed an answering machine and had accidentally crushed it when trying to unplug it. Really, he had only intended to unplug it, but the thing broke apart in his claws when he applied just a tiny bit of pressure… or rather, quite a lot of pressure. But he had wanted to destroy the messages, to erase any evidence of those words being said. Truthfully, they were not particularly vicious words – they were nothing compared to the things that Ryia could say – but he could not bear the thought of her being bothered by them.
She leaned a little closer, inspecting the wound. He could feel her halted breaths fanning over his skin. His chest heaved as a thrill of arousal swept through him. Being so close to her was not good for him. Or perhaps not good for her.
Only fumbling slightly, she redressed the wound and sat back inspecting her work with little more than a wince.
“I’m not very good at this kind of thing.”
“This is fine,” he hurried to reassure her. “I will soon be healed.”
“Yes, that was… fast.”
“Gargoyles heal quickly.”
Tilly ran her hands through her hair; the long locks sifted through her fingers. She seemed to wear it up so often, and he did not like that. He liked it down, flowing down her back. How he would like to bury his head in that hair while pressing her soft body against his…
Castor grunted, and his tail thumped agitatedly.
“Food,” he snapped.
Tilly blinked at him.
“I mean, I am hungry.”
She smiled. “Me too. Since you liked the pizza so much, I was wondering if you wanted to try lasagne. I’ve got some frozen, and it’s delicious.”
“Yes, I’m sure it will be,” he murmured.
“I’ll do some garlic bread and a salad…”
He pulled a face, and she sniggered. “Okay, no salad.”
She slipped away to the kitchen, her movements easy and unhurried. So much better than when she was scuttling around like a nervous crab.
Did she actually like him being there? What a strange thought, and yet the idea that she did elated him.
Fifteen
Joely woke to find Brom laying beside her running a comb through her hair. She didn’t know why he seemed to enjoy brushing her hair, but he did. He said he liked the feel and smell of her hair, and well, it was just brushing. He was very tender and sweet about it, and hey, whatever floated his boat. Though, he said he would prefer it if she didn’t mention it to the other gargoyles.
She kind of liked this – waking up to find Brom already beside her in bed. Sundown must have already happened.
Joely smiled at him. “Mmmm, hey, where’s Daffy?”
Brom grinned. “With Kylie.”
“Good.” She pulled him down for a kiss.
“I like you being here when I wake,” he rumbled as one of his hands took a leisurely trip over her breasts.
“Don’t get used to it; I’m only here because you said Daffy might be in danger.”
Brom scowled at her. “Humph.”
It was an argument they had quite regularly now. He wanted them to move into the mansion. But Joely was hesitant. For one thing, it may look weird to the rest of the town – and she had to think of Daphne. Joely didn’t mind being weird, but she didn’t want Daphne to get teased. For another thing, she hadn’t known Brom for very long. This really was still a new relationship. Gargoyles may like to go all in after knowing each other for a few days, but Joely needed longer.
“It would be safer…”
She covered his lips with her fingers. “Let’s not argue. Why don’t we just enjoy ourselves?”
He looked like he was about to argue, so Joely slipped a hand under his loincloth and made him grunt with pleasure. That soon had his complete attention.
*
Tilly tried to call her sister back. She should have done so sooner, but well, she had been distracted. Maybe Angie had called again, but her answer machine was broken. She assumed either it was Castor who accidentally squished it or maybe Milady just sat on it. She didn’t have the heart to scold either of them – the answering machine was about twenty years old and had never given her any nice messages. She left a short message for Angie and then called Paul.
He answered on the first ring. His bland voice grated a little on her nerves.
“Are you married?” she blurted in a rush.
She wasn’t good with confrontation, either in person or the phone. It took a lot of cake and pie to give her enough courage to do this.
“No,” he replied quietly.
She was surprised by his answer. She just assumed Castor had been correct. She didn’t think Castor would have said it to hurt her. “Please don’t lie.”
“I’m engaged,” he admitted after a couple of beats.
Tilly sighed, actually a little relieved to hear it and relieved that Castor had been right about him.
“C’mon,” wheedled Paul, “we can still have fun. No one who uses that dating app is looking for anything other than a bit of…”
She hung up and shook her head. She definitely didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say. Tilly deleted him from her contacts, and that was that.
Tilly shrugged. She hadn’t really known Paul that well anyway, and besides, all of her romantic hopes no longer seemed to be hanging on him. No, they had taken a very strange turn. It was silly, surely it was, but she found herself desperate to get home to see Castor.
It was insane! Her whole life she had some very specific dreams about her life – in that she always thought she wanted Angie’s life. But, she wasn’t Angie. She was Tilly, and for once, with Castor, she felt like that was enough. Like she was enough.
The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough, and when it was finally time to turn off her computer, she practically danced out of there. She only just remembered her manners when she was at the door and returned to say goodbye to Dr. White.
The doctor was still in her office, but Tilly knew she didn’t have a patient with her. Tilly heard her voice, so assumed she was on the phone. She approached quietly, hoping just to wave a quick goodbye, but she was momentarily shocked by the vehemence and venom in the doctor’s voice.
“What do you expect me to do?” hissed the doctor.
Tilly hesitated outside the office. Casey White had always seemed like such a pleasant and easygoing woman. Maybe she was just having an off day.
“Tell Blackthorne I am doing everything I can,” snapped the doctor.
Tilly backtracked. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, and Dr. White would probably be embarrassed if she knew Tilly heard her. Besides, she had somewhere to be.
That night was much like the previous night. Castor awoke, and Tilly made them dinner.
Castor’s huge wings wouldn’t fit into one of her dining room chairs, so they ate in the living room.
Tilly carried in their plates of calzone. Castor looked up and smiled and then sniffed.
“That smells good,” he rumbled, and his wings twitched impatiently.
Tilly beamed. Yeah, he was hungry. He was always hungry.
“Yes, I… oof!”
Tilly tripped and started to fall to the ground, but before she could go splat, two large arms caught her and managed to right her before she ruined the food.
“Thank you,” she breathed. It took her a moment to notice, but his arms lingered around her.
He frowned at her feet and knelt down in front of her. Tilly felt a frisson of delight as his hands skimmed down her legs. Carefully, he held her as he removed her shoes. He glared at them as she stood over him, still holding two plates of calzone.
“Why do you wear these tortuous shoes?” he asked wo
ndrously. He turned them over in his hands as his tail thumped in irritation.
They were four-inch heels and pinched her toes a little, but they were beautiful shoes – plus she needed the height. She stopped growing at five feet.
“Because I’m too short.”
Castor looked up at her – which given that she was only five feet meant he didn’t have far to look, even when sitting on the floor. “Who says so?” he demanded.
“I do – I’m just too short.”
She was so tiny that people gave her funny looks when she went to amusement parks – they thought she was a lost kid and didn’t want to let her on the rides.
He growled at her and she giggled.
“You will surely break your neck if you wear these.”
He sounded very angry about that fact, but Tilly shrugged and handed him his dinner plate. He dropped the shoes to take it, and they soon settled on the couch to eat. Castor ate his within seconds, and in spite of his protestations, she gave him half of hers as well.
Tilly shot him a hesitant look. “Do you mind if I ask, where do you guys come from?”
“I… I cannot answer.” Castor shifted his bulk uneasily. “Only clan members may know. We have many secrets that we must guard closely, for the sake of our clan’s safety.”
“It’s okay,” she reassured him.
She was mildly disappointed, but she wouldn’t want to risk any of the gargoyles. She was just glad of his company. She didn’t feel like she had to try so hard around him, didn’t have to dutifully laugh at his jokes – not that he made any. Didn’t have to pretend his boring stories were the most exciting things she had ever heard – not that he said anything boring.
“But,” she said tentatively, “you aren’t exactly familiar with the modern world, right?”
He seemed to manage fine with the television – though he did like to shout at it a lot. But her microwave seemed to fox him completely. It didn’t respond to any of his commands – even when he yelled!
Castor gave a her look of frustration. His tail thumped gently against the ground. “I will not deny that. Gargoyles were not born in your time.”