“He had frequented her forest for many centuries and found the peaceful glade where she took root soothed his soul. He’d watched her from the shadows for a very long time without revealing himself. It wasn’t until he found her dying, as she prayed for another to take her mantle of power before she passed on, that he realized he loved her noble spirit and the kindness of her heart. He showed himself and told her he knew what would help her tree, save her life and make her fertile, but he had a request of his own. He sought a mate. Now this wasn’t the usual type of bargain. He told the dryad he’d heal her regardless of her decision. He was lonely, and wished to experience the joy of raising a child—which for every other creature upon the earth, in the seas and flying through the air, is a normal occurrence. But gargoyles are different. The first gargoyles were created to serve and protect the Lord of the Underworld, and like him, they normally dwell alone. There are no female gargoyles.
“So they served the Lord of the Underworld and destroyed evil in his name. Though it wasn’t forbidden, no gargoyle had sought a mate or tried to sire a child, content to continue their silent battle with evil among the shadows.
“But this gargoyle had found and lost his heart in the peaceful forest glade. Laying his talons upon his flesh, he slashed open his own hide. Then he mixed his blood with water and poured it upon the ground under the dryad’s tree. Her tree drank, healing and growing stronger as she watched. When the gargoyle came up behind her and placed one of his talon–tipped hands on her shoulder, she shied away, unable to hide her fear at his touch. It was only after she saw what he held that she calmed: grasped in one clawed–hand was a stone bowl, filled to brimming with his potent blood. He instructed her to mix a few drops in water and feed her tree each day. She took the bowl, and while she was distracted, the gargoyle vanished back into the shadows of the forest.
“With the dawn, the gargoyle still hadn’t returned. Days passed and she waited, both dreading and hoping he would come back. The seasons changed and another year matured and died. One early spring day, while the mist still shrouded the land, a shadow darker than the surrounding forest crashed into her quiet glade and collapsed under her tree. The dryad woke and left her tree to find the gargoyle wounded, bleeding upon her ground anew. Uncertain what else to do, she took the strength she gained from his blood and used it to heal his many wounds. Under her care, the gargoyle recovered from the demon–inflicted injuries which would have killed most other creatures.
“When he was strong once more, he made to leave, but she persuaded him to stay and make his home in her glade. He gave her many dryad daughters and she gave him his gargoyle son. And that was the beginning of dryad and gargoyle life pairings.” Kayla ended with a wistful sigh.
Lillian started to laugh; she couldn’t help it. The younger girl was smitten at the thought of a legend. “That story sounds a little like a Greek legend, like the bull from the sea and how the Minotaur was sired. Kinky sex anyone? Have you actually ever seen a gargoyle? No, I didn’t think so.”
“You’re thoughts are polluted by a human’s outlook. We are not human.” Kayla’s response dripped with disdain.
“But you’re human–sized and human–shaped! And … and he’s not. I don’t see how… .” She let the sentence die while she still had a wee bit of dignity left.
“I’ll take him, if you won’t.”
“You’re welcome to him,” Lillian blurted. A moment after she’d uttered the words, she already regretted them. Gregory deserved better from her.
Gran cleared her throat. “Maybe this gargoyle doesn’t want to be fought over like a prize. I think you’ll find he left as soon as you started talking about him as if he were hand–me–down clothes. While Kayla is a young hothead, I expected better of you, Lillian.”
“Sorry,” Lillian muttered.
Kayla, clearly still affronted by Gran’s words, crossed her legs and sat back against the sofa and stared off into one corner without an apology.
“Kayla, Vivian is correct. We must not speak callously about the gargoyle,” Sable soothed. “If Lillian is near, so too is the gargoyle. Just watch what you say in the future. I’m sure he isn’t angry.”
Kayla sent Lillian one more scathing look and then calmed her expression into a serene mask.
“So have any of you actually seen a gargoyle up close?” Lillian asked.
The third dryad, the one Lillian thought of as Brownie, cleared her throat and quietly introduced herself as Russet. “Kayla is too young,” she continued in her soft–spoken way. “But I have, once long ago. While they are fierce in their true forms, they are also capable of great compassion and gentleness.”
“True forms?”
“Lillian,” Gran cut off Russet. “We’ll talk more about the gargoyle later, but now Sable and I need to discuss business. Why don’t you make some tea?”
Lillian winced at the dismissal, but got up from her chair and went to the kitchen. She couldn’t sense her gargoyle anywhere near. Like Gran said, he must have disappeared at some point during the conversation about kinky sex. Smart fellow.
Alone in the kitchen, she put the tea kettle on to boil while she thought over the last conversation. It was best the gargoyle wasn’t around. It would be beyond awkward to ask him outright if he expected fringe benefits for saving her from the bad guys, and the stress of the last day had obliterated the filter between her brain and her mouth. No telling what would come out if she talked to him now.
She gathered her grandmother’s fancy cups and saucers from the cupboard by the back window. While placing them on a tray next to the teapot, she glanced out. Her uncle and brother were cleaning the garden. Her uncle lugged an oversized gasoline jug.
It hadn’t occurred to her what “cleaning up” would entail. Now she witnessed the gruesome details as he poured a generous amount of fuel on one dark spot. Of course they’d need to burn away the blood and remains. If a gargoyle’s blood could heal, there was no telling what evil–tainted blood might do. A match ignited the spot.
Mesmerized by the flames, she watched until the kettle’s shrill whistle broke her concentration. She shook herself and made the tea. Earl Grey, her grandmother’s favorite. Maybe it would put Gran in a talkative mood. With each new piece of knowledge Lillian gained, more questions surfaced, like “who was she?” and “why was she here?” And what did the gargoyle want? That a gargoyle, one of the Light’s Assassin’s, was glued to her side couldn’t bode well for a peaceful future.
Well, the kitchen tiles weren’t going to give her any information. She scooped up the tray of cups in one hand and the teapot in the other. Armed with tea and cookies, she went to find more answers.
Back in the living room, Gran and the dryads had turned the coffee table into a combat command center. Maps with topographical overlays showed rivers and land elevations. One looked like a modern road map, except instead of the familiar towns and cities, there were a strange lot of squiggles and foreign names around boundaries she didn’t understand, like some alien civilization had taken over the world she knew.
“They violated Clan territory to get here.” Gran frowned down at the map. “I want to know how they escaped the Clan’s notice.”
“What if they didn’t escape the Clan’s notice?” Sable asked.
“No. I don’t believe it. The Clan wouldn’t sell us out.”
“Not even to save their own pack members? A dire wolf is loyal to its pack.”
“They suffered as much as we did in the attacks six years ago.”
“Perhaps the alphas don’t have as much control as they once did?”
“You’re guessing.”
“No more than you,” Sable countered.
Gran grunted. “Fine, we’ll be on guard. The alphas are coming here tomorrow after the Hunt. I will question them then. And if they are deceitful, the gargoyle may beat me to them.”
“Why not bring Lillian and the gargoyle to tonight’s Hunt. If they are hiding anything, the gargoyle will smell thei
r deception.”
“Yes, I plan to talk to the gargoyle about that.” Gran looked up and motioned for Lillian to serve the tea. “Ah, lovely.”
Lillian let her mind go blank as she filled teacups, politely asking what everyone wanted in theirs. She was pouring her grandmother a cup when movement on the stairs caught Lillian’s attention.
A tall man with sun–browned skin glided down the stairs with an athlete’s grace—a nearly naked man, she amended. A rather handsome, nearly naked man. His knee–length beaded loincloth, gold torque, and gem–encrusted arm bands were suspiciously like her gargoyle’s. A silky black mane reached passed his shoulders and was tied at the back with a piece of hide. His bare, human feet made no noise as he descended.
“I think that’s enough tea, Lillian,” Gran said.
Lillian glanced down. She’d overfilled the teacup and flooded its saucer. A pool of steaming tea spread across the walnut table. “Sorry,” she mumbled and snatched some napkins to sop up the mess.
Kayla looked at Lillian with a superior expression on her face. “You don’t know much about your gargoyle.” She smiled coyly, and continued to whisper in a conspirator voice, “Regret saying I can have him? I’m inclined to hold you to your word. Actually, this should work nicely. Vivian said he takes commands from you, yes?” She paused, her smile becoming a grin. “If that is true, your word is his law.”
What if Kayla was right? A cold, unreasoning rage built within Lillian. Her words, uttered in a moment’s thoughtlessness, might have more weight than she intended. And whatever happened because of her senseless words, it was her fault. No, she would not let the gargoyle get caught in some political game thought up by some oversexed tree spirit. She tightened her grip on the teapot. With a great deal of will, she banished the thought of flinging it at Kayla.
While Gran and Sable, trailed by Russet, went forward to meet the gargoyle, Lillian leaned closer to Kayla. “It doesn’t matter what I say or think. Gregory is a living creature with the same rights as the rest of us. He’s free to do whatever he wants, and it’s none of our business. Nothing I have said in the past or will say in the future will change that. If you try to use this to circumvent his free will, I will hunt you down and do nasty, nasty things to that pretty face of yours. Then I’ll knit myself some gloves out of your shiny tresses.”
Kayla paled, and came to her feet. She held her position, facing Lillian for a whole five seconds, then bolted for the safety of the other dryads. Lillian grimaced at the back of the retreating woman. Looking farther, she met the coffee–dark eyes of the gargoyle. His flashed with humor.
Oh shit, he’d heard.
“Darling,” Gran said, disrupting Lillian’s thoughts, “Now that we’ve told you all we can about your kind, I think Gregory wants to tell you a little about your history.”
Gran’s shit–eating grin, told Lillian her grandmother’s sharp ears had picked up on the little bit of drama. Lillian envied her grandmother’s ability to multitask. It was criminal. The gargoyle didn’t give her long to worry about what everyone had overheard. He gestured for them to take a seat.
Lillian sat and noted a problem. There weren’t enough chairs. Before she could go retrieve one, the human–form gargoyle walked to her side and stood at her right shoulder. His one hand rested on the arm of the wingback chair. Up close, it was hard to miss a few anomalies. His nails were a proper human length, but it looked like they’d been painted with black nail polish, and their shape was off—too pointed, both at the tips and the nail base. He flexed his hand, and the nails lengthen a half inch. When he relaxed his hand, the nails returned to their original length.
Oh boy.
His little demonstration let her know he was aware of being studied. Since she’d been found out, she studied him frankly, following the hand up the wrist to the smooth, hairless arm. Ah, that’s what caused the slight hint of foreignness that had nagged at the back of her mind when she’d first looked upon him. Like his gargoyle form, the only hair was on his head, and his skin had a slight sheen to it like a faint oil had been smoothed over it. Wide, dark eyes fringed with a generous amount of lashes looked back. They were his only soft feature. A strong jaw and nose, combine with a wide forehead gave him a rugged looked. Certainly not pretty–boy handsome, but still striking—if a woman could actually tear her eyes away from his perfectly proportioned body to take note of the face. Damn, but he was built like a master sculptor had a hand in his shaping.
Brushing back a few strands of his hair, she tucked them behind his pointed ears. He smiled, his lips stretching back from white teeth. He had two large canines on both upper and lower jaw which would put a vampire to shame.
Heat mounted her cheeks. She looked away only to find everyone else in the room had watched her while she ogled the gargoyle’s altered form. Great. The wave of heat spread down her neck, but she raised her head and pretended she was a queen and these were her subjects. It lasted until her brother entered the living room from the kitchen followed by her uncle. The two men glanced at the gargoyle and then at Lillian’s face.
Her brother tried to say something, but he started laughing and couldn’t get it out.
She glared at him. It wasn’t her fault the damn gargoyle had suddenly decided he wanted to look more appealing for the three pretty dryads sitting across from her. He’d had plenty of time to wander around looking sinfully handsome and he hadn’t bothered for her. Not knowing what else to do, she pretended she hadn’t just spent the last five minutes checking Gregory out. She gave her grandmother a baffled look for good measure.
Gran didn’t bother to hide her smirk. “Jason, see if any of your clothes will fit the gargoyle. The nights still get cold.”
Gregory reached for Lillian’s hand where it rested against the arm rest. Caught by surprise, she let him intertwine his fingers with hers. Baffled, she studied his features to discern his mood. His expression remained blank a moment, and then with a sudden smile, he turned and dropped to sit cross–legged on the floor at her feet. He leaned back against her legs, and place her captured hand on his right shoulder, then laid his own over top. She would have jerked free of his grasp if it wouldn’t have made her look the greater fool. Fixing her gaze on the back of his head, she willed a calm mask to cover her rioting emotions.
Chapter Nine
Not for the first time in his many lives, Gregory wished he was just a gargoyle and Lillian was simply the woman he loved. But no amount of wishing on his part could make them anything other than the Avatars. Lillian was the Mother’s Sorceress. He was the God–blessed Protector. Nothing could even change that fact—stone was more flexible. Yet he still played this stupid and dangerous game with the Sorceress. He couldn’t help himself. Anger had stirred in his gut when the dryads talked of him as if he was a stud to win over with words of seduction and coy looks. Then Lillian had said she didn’t want him, that the young one with the look of a predator could have him. He narrowed his eyes, the ache in his heart still too fresh.
While the Divine Ones forbade their Avatars from mating with each other, his lady had always loved him without uncertainties or regrets throughout their many lifetimes. Even if they never fulfilled their deepest longing for fear of birthing a monster with godlike power upon the three Realms, they had their millennia–enduring love to rely upon when sadness became bitter. Until now, when the Sorceress had said she didn’t want her Gargoyle.
Her careless words had hurt more than he’d ever let her know, but the sting had diminished moments later when she defended him from the other young dryad. His lips turned up at the memory of how Lillian had said she would do many unpleasant things to the foolish youngling if Kayla tried to coerce him into mating with her. Not that Kayla could have tricked him. Nothing would make him even consider mating with her. He glanced at Kayla. She was pretty enough. It wasn’t her form which repelled him. It was her expression. She stared at him with hunger bordering on obsession. No, he would never mate with her.
When
he inhaled a deep lungful of air, it was impossible to not taste Lillian’s essence, they sat so close. It was sap sweet, but thankfully lacked the heady tang of her blood. He’d already broken one oath to save her life. How many others would she tempt him to break in this life? He glanced down at his hybrid form. Unwise as it might be, perhaps he was the one doing the tempting now.
It was the nagging worry she saw him as more beast than man which had prompted him to first change his shape. His judgment was compromised when he was in the same room with his lady. It was the only explanation. For why else would he complicate the situation greater than needed?
He grimaced as the truth came to him. Had he been thinking rationally instead of acting like a hormone–drunk fool, he would have let her believe him a beast, some kind of loyal pet. Instead, his anger had swayed him into taking this form to show Lillian what she was throwing away, what she did not want.
All this would be so much easier if Lillian remembered who she was, but he dare not restore the Sorceress’s memories until he had time to investigate what the Lady of Battles had done to her. There was no telling what traps the dark goddess had cast upon Lillian’s soul.
He’d stalled long enough. While he couldn’t tell the full truth, there was information Lillian needed now. “I don’t know your world or its troubles,” he began, “but I have sensed an unbalance growing in this Realm while I slept in stone. It grows stronger with each season, and if I am not mistaken, it has cost you and your people much grief.”
“The Riven.” Vivian gave him an accompanying nod.
“Yes,” he rumbled, “these creatures you call Riven would like the name.” He glanced sidelong at his lady. She sat pressed into her chair, leaning back so far it looked like she might break the back off the seat in her attempt to put space between them. If he could have gotten away with touching some part of her, he would have read her thoughts. But to judge by her pale lips and pinched look, she was about to bolt, so he didn’t. Instead, he turned to Vivian. “I listened as you told Lillian about your troubles with these Riven, but when did these problems start?”
Stone's Kiss Page 8