A self-assured smile twists on his mouth.
Everett leans in closer, his breath warming my neck as he slowly nips and bites his way down it. The tips of his fingers skim over my collarbone before tracing the stitching on my off-the-shoulder cotton shirt, yanking it and my bra down, exposing my left breast.
With a wicked smirk, he slides his tongue over me. I groan as he licks teasingly at my breast before his mouth travels over my collarbone, up my neck, nipping at my jaw, and finally finding my own mouth.
Pulling away a sliver, his gaze burns into mine as he kneels in front of me, undoing the button on my jeans before his hands dip into the sides, slowly sliding both my jeans and panties down my legs. His touch leaves a trail on my skin before I step out of my clothes, and he tosses them to the side. Looking up at me, he grants me a satisfied grin as his face moves forward and his hands slide around my body, cupping and squeezing my ass. My lips part when I feel his hot breath against my core. My head hits the wall when he leans forward and takes me with his mouth.
My fingers curl into his hair, pulling and tugging as he pleases me, bringing me over the edge—twice—before his body glides up mine as he stands to his full height.
Everett presses harder into me, placing one arm on one side of my head against the wall, pinning me under him. With the other arm, he squeezes my ass and lifts me, forcing me to wrap my legs around him. As he settles between my legs, his cock throbs against my stomach and his hand moves between us. I stare up at him as he positions himself against my entrance.
“I like you, Graysin,” he growls.
His thumb rubs me exactly where I need him to, causing my hips to lift against him in a desperate and frantic buck. I lick my lips as he presses his tip into me, his thumb working harder.
“Oh god!” I moan.
“Tell me what you need, city girl,” he demands.
“You. Inside of me,” I gasp out. “Now.”
My hands slide off his shoulders, down his back, and land on his ass, pulling him into me.
“Please,” I beg.
A feral rumble vibrates around me. Something foreign, like a burst of heat, slams into me as he enters me. I inhale sharply, my body trying to adjust to him. He grabs my arms, pinning them against the wall above my head, and he shifts, sliding deeper inside me. My back arches off the wall in pleasure as our hips crash together, over and over again. Our movements grow more desperate for release each time he pulls out of me and slams back in.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he rumbles out.
In one smooth movement, he secures my wrists together and holds them with one hand. With his free hand, he draws up one of my knees. A loud gasp bursts out of me as he pushes even deeper. Sweat dampens his body, and our words become dirtier and dirtier as he takes me.
“Everett,” I pant, feeling myself starting to go over the edge again as I tighten around him.
“Shit,” he hisses through his clenched teeth, moving deeper and faster, pressing his thumb into me, and suddenly my orgasm hits me hard and fast. I scream his name, the sound echoing around the hallway. With one final deep thrust, the rawest roar rips through him as he releases inside of me, and I clutch him, draining him of everything as he places his forehead against mine.
Panting, we both come down from the high, sweaty and limp.
He leans over, kissing me deeply. It’s slow and intoxicating.
“Damn,” he mutters against my lips. “That was . . . fucking incredible.” He nips at my lip.
I nod, still trying to catch my breath.
Suddenly, the barely visible scar under my eye, from my healed cut, begins to burn, and I wince.
Sensing my flinch, Everett pulls back and searches my face.
“Oh shit,” he exhales.
“What?” I ask, confused at the sudden change in him.
His eyes seek out mine, and sadness flickers in them before they grow impassive.
“You’re a gargoyle.”
Chapter 8
From the Ashes
Fully dressed, Everett moves into the room with a silence and swiftness that is unsettling. He doesn’t sit, but stands behind the empty chair, as far away from me as he can possible get. Panic grips at my throat, choking me as I stare at the empty couch across from me. Minutes ago, I was in heaven, and now . . . it’s complete hell.
My eyes slide to Everett, who is staring at me with a look of confusion and hurt.
“All right, I am here,” Callie sighs, storming into the room. “What is so urgent?”
“I need you to read Graysin,” Everett demands.
Callie’s eyes widen slightly. “Why?”
“She healed herself,” he states.
“What?” she exclaims. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not. I watched her do it. Her scar is gone.”
Anger coats my tongue. “Maybe unknowingly you did it.”
“Only mated gargoyles can heal one another.” His voice is low but firm.
Heat spreads to my cheeks, and dread fills the pit of my stomach.
“Are you saying it’s not at all possible?” I counter.
“There’s only one exception to this rule. And that gargoyle protector had a blood bond with the human before they became mates. The link allowed him to heal her prior to them—” He stops.
I look over at Everett. His disquieted, determined face is the opposite of my humiliated expression. He stands there with a reserved demeanor, keeping his gaze on Callie.
“She has human blood running through her veins, Everett. I would have sensed it otherwise.”
“Just read her, please.” His voice softens the slightest bit.
With an eye roll, Callie lifts her cross-body bag off and throws it onto the couch before taking a seat on one of the ottomans in front of me. A small smile plays at her lips. “You fucked him.”
It wasn’t a question. “How did you . . .”
“His scent is all over you. It’s a supernatural thing.”
I blush and offer her an unamused glare, which makes her laugh as she holds out her hand.
“Put your right hand in mine, facing upward, so I can read your palm.”
I do. A silent tension falls around the room as Callie studies the lines on my hand.
After some time has passed, her face pales, and she sits straighter.
“Were you and your sister adopted, Graysin?”
“Not to my knowledge,” I state pointedly.
“You weren’t?” Everett asks, surprised. “I assumed you both were.”
I shake my head. “No. Why would you assume that?”
“No reason,” he mumbles to himself.
A ghost of a smile touches Callie’s lips before she sighs. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Her blood is human on her mother’s side. The paternal lineage flowing through her is definitely gargoyle.”
“What?” I shout.
“I’m sorry, but palmistry doesn’t lie. Your dad is not your biological father.”
“That is absurd,” I reply, trying to curb my irritation, but feeling my anger growing each second.
“It is impossible for a human and gargoyle to produce a child,” Everett states.
Callie throws him a sharp look. “The lines don’t lie. Test her, but she’s half gargoyle.”
“How did none of us sense it, then?” he asks, more to himself.
“Her human blood masks it . . . or at least, it did before tonight.” They exchange a look.
“Are you saying when she touched my protector tattoo—?”
“Combined with your, well, unprotected encounter. Both caused the gargoyle blood to become dominant,” Callie finishes, and turns to me. “Seriously? No condom? He could have STDs.”
“Gargoyles don’t get sick or carry human diseases,” Everett states.
I let out a bitter, crazed laugh. “You’re both insane.”
“Is it really so hard to believe, with all you know about Havenwood Falls?” Callie asks gently.
“I can read your mind, as if we’re mated,” Everett interrupts.
“Can’t you do that with everyone?”
“Not in the same way. Your thoughts are detailed when I read them and are lined with your emotions, which course through me. You’re the only one that happens with,” he explains.
My lips part at this new information.
“And you called to me,” he mutters to himself.
“I called to you?”
“The night you arrived in Havenwood Falls. When you were in danger, on the road, your soul sought out mine for protection. As if we were mated. It’s how I knew to find you.”
“I thought you just accidently stumbled upon me,” I reply.
“No,” he blows out.
“You didn’t take the shuttle here? You drove here in the dead of the night?” Callie asks.
“What shuttle?” I don’t hide the irritation in my voice.
“Strangers can’t find the town, especially in the pitch black, with no GPS. Havenwood Falls is spelled. Supernaturals are more likely to find it, because they have a pull to the falls.” Callie’s voice is quiet. “Everyone else usually takes a shuttle into town to be able to get here.”
“Oh. Yeah. That makes sense and totally makes me a gargoyle then,” I snap sarcastically. “Miss Mary Beth emailed me directions. When my GPS stopped, I simply followed them.”
“Rusty shredded your tire that night. He must have sensed your blood was different. Confused, he tried to prevent you from entering the town,” Everett deducts.
My tire did look like it was slashed. “Why would he do that?”
“The wolf helps safeguard the town. If he sensed something was off, he would protect the border,” Callie explains, and stands abruptly. “Everett, that means Roman can sense it as well. He must have figured out Jenni was half gargoyle.”
“I’m not following.” I stand as well. “Assuming Jenni was half gargoyle, what difference would it make to Roman?”
Everett’s gaze meets mine. “Gargoyles can’t be spelled by mages. We work for the divine and the Angelic Council. We’re immune to mages’ wards. If Jenni knew something about Roman, or had something over him, and he tried an amnesia or other spell, it wouldn’t have worked.”
My heart sinks.
“And he would have had to find other means to keep her quiet,” Everett continues.
“Shit! Graysin, you are in even more danger than we originally thought,” Callie points out.
I hold Everett’s steady gaze. “That’s why you thought I knew about other supernaturals before coming here. You sensed I was different. And the real reason you didn’t want me at the meeting with Eloise. Not because you thought my emotional state couldn’t handle it, but because you thought she’d become aware of my mixed bloodline.”
“I could feel something was unique about you. I didn’t know what . . . until tonight.”
Chapter 9
Covetousness
Tears of anger and frustration burn my eyes. With a huff, I press the button to start my car and throw it into reverse. The idea that I am part gargoyle—that my father is not my biological father—that our parents lied to us—is absurd. Even now, anger and humiliation swirl inside me.
Without another word to Callie or Everett, I grabbed my keys and stormed out of the house.
I need space to think. And someone to blame and take all this out on.
Someone like Roman Bishop.
Gripping the steering wheel, I drive up the long, dark, winding mountain road, hidden on both sides by white-trunked Aspen trees, toward Havenwood Heights. I arrive at the gated entrance to the Bishop estate a short time later. The darkness surrounding the gray, stone mansion late at night makes it an eerie place. The silence, the damp scent in the air, and the way the inky sky seems to lack its usual sparkle makes the house seem even more ominous.
The wrought-iron gates open automatically, and I drive in, curling around the U-shaped driveway. Once I step out of the car and approach the double doors, a dark mood surrounds me. Something in the air hints at a danger that lurks beneath the surface of whatever sits behind those doors. I shiver.
How could a member of my own family live here for so long?
I ring the doorbell several times, and am met with silence. Angered, I pound on the door, and after the tenth time, it opens with a quick swing. A beautiful woman stands in front of me. She’s oddly tall, pale, and perhaps in her early twenties. Her elegant demeanor, combined with the bright cascade of long, red curls flowing down her back is a stark contrast to the uncouth, pallid grounds surrounding the home. She’s dressed in a coordinating set of black tailored pants and a black shirt. A strand of pearls chokes her neck as she eyes me with annoyance.
“May I help you?” Her crystal blue eyes assess me.
“I’m here to see Roman,” I demand.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bishop is unavailable,” she lies.
I nod and sigh before pushing past her and storming around the enormous estate.
“Roman! Roman,” I call out. “I know you’re here.” It’s true. Suddenly, I can sense him.
The woman follows me around, sternly begging me to be quiet and leave.
I ignore her.
After a few failed attempts, I finally stumble into the library where Roman is standing in front of an oversized hearth. The fire is blazing, and the room is warmly lit. He turns and faces me. Gazing at me with a ruthless yet disarming, sexy smile, he was built to intimidate and entice.
Seconds later, the woman storms in behind me. “I apologize, Mr. Bishop. She just ran in.”
“It’s fine, Marisol, leave us,” he orders, using a reserved tone.
“Of course.” She walks out with a huff, closing the doors behind her.
“Graysin. What a pleasant surprise.” A smug grin spreads over his mouth.
“You’re evil,” I bark.
He doesn’t speak. Instead he watches my every move—analyzing me while he strides back and forth, like he is stalking prey. At any moment, he’s ready to strike out if need be. I don’t flinch.
Roman smiles. “I prefer to think of myself not as evil, but as an enforcer of rules and law.”
A commotion behind me has the doors to the library opening with a loud bang, followed by one very pissed-off gargoyle. Everett storms into the room with a murderous glare. Right behind him is Marisol, giving us both stern looks before she sighs and closes the doors for a second time.
Roman smirks, slanting his head. “Mr. Weston. How nice of you to join us.”
Everett grabs my elbow and pulls me slightly behind him. “Graysin, you shouldn’t be here.”
“You mean, she shouldn’t be here unprotected?” Roman interrupts.
I shimmy out of his grip and cross my arms, focusing on the mage watching the two of us.
Roman lets out a deep laugh. “It would seem you have your hands full with her, protector.”
Everett takes a step toward him. “Do not speak of things you do not know.”
The room suddenly shimmers, and an air of magic floats around us in a threat. In an instant, two large, aubergine-colored wings protrude from Everett’s back. The color is so deep, they almost appear black. My lips part when I notice they’re not fluffy, but instead, the feathers are sharp and edged, like raven’s wings. They stretch above his head, the tips brushing the floor.
From out of nowhere, several daggers appear behind Roman, suspended in the air. With the tiniest flick of his wrist, the knives fly at me. At the same time, my body becomes paralyzed, like there is a force preventing it from moving, and my throat begins to close as if two hands are wrapped around it, squeezing the air from my lungs.
In an instant, Everett is in front of me with his back firmly pressed against my front, protecting me. When the daggers are a breath from entering his body, they suddenly stop.
“Watch it, gargoyle,” Roman sneers. “I am Luna Coven and a founding member of the Court.”
The invisible hold on my body rele
ases, and I fall to my knees, gasping for breath as the daggers drop to the floor, each with a loud clank. Everett spins, kneels, and grabs my face.
“Are you all right?” he asks, searching my eyes.
I nod, trying to swallow. “So, those are new,” I point to the wings retracting.
“Actually, I’ve had them for a while,” he replies, helping me to my feet.
“Trying to kill me, Roman?” I manage to bite out.
Roman sighs, fed up. “Perhaps. Or perhaps, I was trying to see how far your protector would go to safeguard your secret.” He waves toward the pile of weapons at my feet. “We wouldn’t want them piercing your heart now, would we, Everett?” The two supernatural beings share a harsh look.
“What happened to my sister, Roman?” I seethe. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“I didn’t kill her.” The magic in the room falls away. “If that is what you’re alluding to.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you, given you just tried to kill me,” I point out.
Roman leans back on his heels, a haughty grin on his face as he stares at me. Seeming suddenly bored, he walks over to an elaborate bar and pours himself a drink, waving the crystal decanter at us.
Neither Everett nor I accept his offer.
Roman shrugs, placing it back on the etched mahogany. “Suit yourselves.” He takes a sip of the expensive scotch, watching me over the rim before he speaks. “I had hoped your time in Havenwood Falls would have been educational, Graysin. You see, things are not always what they appear to be. Sometimes, something is beautiful on the outside, but ugly on the inside. It’s a hard lesson. One that Jennifer had difficulty coming to terms with as well. There are rules—decrees—set forth by the governing bodies in this town for a reason. If broken, or not followed, we have severe consequences for those actions and missteps.” He tsks. “It is not easy governing different species of creatures all the time. As I’m sure you can imagine, it can be a great and heavy burden.”
“What do your rules and decrees have to do with my sister?”
Covetousness: A Havenwood Falls Novella Page 9