by Tami Lund
As soon as she could get to her phone, she was going to call the woman and tell her to move again. Keep moving, just in case.
“I swear, no one knows. This isn’t about me. It’s-it’s…”
“About the child.”
She gasped. How did he know?
He unfolded himself from the couch and towered over her. And then he smiled. “I like this look on you. Fear.” He slapped her cheek harder than a friendly pat, but not so hard as to send her reeling. “You know what? I’ve decided to forgive this particular transgression.”
“Y-you have?”
He nodded, his beady eyes glittering in the dim light cast by the nearby lanterns. The wind abruptly picked up, catching the lock of hair that always draped over his eye and lifting it for a moment, giving him the appearance of wearing a toupee.
A branch snapped, and he whipped his head around to glance over his shoulder. “Time’s up. I need to leave. But I’ll be in touch. You living here could actually have its uses.”
And then he grabbed her neck, directly under her chin, forcing her to stare him in the eye. “Do not breathe a word to the old man, do you understand me?”
She gasped and shook her head as much as she could, given his grip. As quickly as he’d grabbed her, he let go, and Sofia struggled not to sag to her knees in front of him. She had only a shred of dignity when he was around, but she clung to it like a lifeline.
Another sound kicked him into gear, and he leaped off the wooden platform and ran toward the fence, shifting into his dragon form and soaring over the ten-foot tall barrier. A moment later, a dragon Sofia did not know stepped into a pool of light next to the carport. “Who’s there?” he demanded.
She cleared her throat and said, “Sofia. I-I’m Antoinette’s friend.”
She saw the guy nod. “She told us about you and your daughter staying here. Are you out here alone?”
Glancing at the spot where Darius had disappeared, she said, “Yes.”
“Storm’s coming. I’d consider getting inside before it hits.”
“G-good idea. Thanks.” She stuffed the cushions back into the storage container, her hands shaking. And then she snagged the wineglass and hurried toward the house, relieved that she could sense the other guy’s presence the entire time.
She didn’t want to be out in that yard alone ever again.
Chapter Thirteen
Oliver’s stone platform in the City of the Dead was empty.
Griffin tapped on the foot of a nearby statue until the gargoyle apparently grew annoyed enough to shift into her human form to bark down at him, “What is your problem?”
“I’m looking for Oliver.”
She waved her hand at the empty perch. “He isn’t here.”
Griffin bit his tongue and swallowed his snide retort. “Do you know where he is?”
“I am not his keeper.”
“I didn’t say you were. I really need to talk to him. It’s important.”
“The seeker always believes it is important.”
Griffin ground his teeth. The female gargoyle canted her head and said, “You are the newest member of our brethren.”
He nodded and hoped that knowledge would encourage the damn woman to become loose lipped.
“Have you failed at your first assignment already?” She sounded smug.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Oliver told me about you. How you believe you are not good enough to be one of the elite.” She nimbly leaped down to the ground. She had arched, black brows, a straight nose, full lips, dark skin, and a chin-length bob with a severe side part.
She patted her sleek strands and glanced at the sky, which had filled with thick, heavy clouds. “It’s so hard to maintain a straightened hairstyle in this humid city.” With a wave of her hand, she conjured a brightly colored scarf, which she wrapped around her head.
“I am Nikki,” she said with a nod.
“Griffin. What do you mean, I don’t believe I’m good enough to be one of the elite?”
“Well, do you?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because your confidence in yourself will make or break your assignments. Let me ask you this: do you think Oliver would choose someone for his team that he was not 100 percent sure could do the job?”
Griffin scoffed. “How would I know? I’ve only spoken to the man three times in my life.”
“But you are as aware of his reputation as any other gargoyle out there.”
Okay, she had a point. “Still, everyone makes mistakes.”
“This is true.”
She didn’t say any more, and he shook his head. “Can you just tell me when you expect him back?”
“I expect nothing of Oliver beyond him managing his brethren.”
Was it his imagination, or did she sound resentful? “Okay, let’s try it this way: is he in the city?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Good. And do you believe he plans to return this evening?”
She gave his empty perch the side-eye. “Yes.”
“Thank you. Then I’ll wait.”
She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Suit yourself.” She hopped up onto her perch and shifted into her stone form without speaking another word.
Griffin waited—until the rain began, a great deluge that came out of nowhere. One moment, the air was calm, although thick and humid, then the wind picked up and the skies opened and rain poured down like a waterfall while thunder roared and lightning lit everything up in quick, two-second flashes. It was like no other storm he had ever experienced.
He sought shelter under the narrow portico over the sealed entrance to one of the crypts. Did Sofia enjoy storms? Or was she afraid of them? Was she, at that very moment, wishing she had someone to snuggle with while the rain poured down all around them?
Was she wishing that someone was him?
Probably not. After all, he’d done what he’d promised and left her yet again. Only this time, he’d given her an explanation, one that involved never seeing her again.
He wished Oliver would hurry and return. He did not like leaving Sofia and Penelope without a gargoyle protector, even though yes, Antoinette and her colony were perfectly capable of ensuring their safety.
As the night droned on and the storm tapered off, Oliver still hadn’t returned and Nikki was refusing to shift so he could speak to her, no matter how much he tapped on her stone foot. Finally, his frustration at a peek, he shifted and flew away, out of the cemetery and back to Antoinette’s mansion, where he found Sofia sleeping alone in that oversized bed. For a moment, he panicked because Penelope was not there, but then he found her down the hall, sleeping in the lower bunk in Henri’s bedroom.
Everyone was safe.
So he returned to Sofia’s side, standing next to the bed, staring down at her still form. Her chest rose and fell with her steady breaths. Her lashes fanned over her cheeks, and her hair spread out, starkly dark strands against the pale blue pillowcase. She wore a pink camisole, and the comforter was pulled up to her waist.
He desperately wanted to slide under that sheet and curl up next to her. The urge had nothing whatsoever to do with her safety and everything to do with the emotions he wasn’t supposed to feel.
But he would have to leave her for good sooner or later, and each moment they spent together made that a more difficult prospect. It wasn’t fair to her for him to continue to indulge his own desires.
She stirred and her eyelashes fluttered open. Once her eyes focused on him, she smiled, soft and gentle. “Hey, you,” she said, her voice rough with sleep. “You came back.”
He carded his hand through his hair and cupped the back of his neck. “Yes. Oliver wasn’t available.”
“Mmm, too bad.” She flipped over the covers. “Why don’t you come to bed?”
“I…” He should not, tempting as she was. The heartache would be so much worse the longer they carried on their affair.
“You’re second
-guessing yourself, and you should stop.”
She was right. He tended to do that, to overanalyze a situation until he convinced himself one way was better than another, and more often than not, his first instinct would have been on point. And right now, every instinct in his body believed there was no better option than to crawl into that bed next to her.
So he decided, for once, to go with his gut.
He stripped down to his boxer briefs and slid under the sheet, pulling her close, tucking her body nice and snuggly against his own. She wiggled her bottom and purred, sounding like a content feline.
And then she pressed her ass against his hard as stone erection while arching so that her head rested on his shoulder. He kissed her nose and then her mouth, cupping her chin, flicking his tongue between her lips and exploring her mouth. She moaned and rubbed more insistently against his cock.
She was probably half asleep and not entirely in her right mind. He ought to stop, because the chances of her regretting this in the morning were high. Hell, he’d be gone before dawn. He needed to get back to the cemetery to talk to Oliver. He needed to ensure Sofia and Penelope were appropriately protected against both Darius and any wayward warlocks who might make their way into New Orleans.
She reached around and stroked him through the thin material of his boxers. He groaned and kissed her more insistently, one hand slipping into the top of her camisole so he could massage her breast. She bucked like she might have had a mini orgasm, and he wrapped his other arm around her hip, sliding his hand over her mound, two fingers pushing into her. She arched into his touch, pumping, bouncing, silently begging him for more.
He gave her everything.
“More,” she demanded, pressing her ass against him again.
“Okay, okay.” He rolled onto his back and pawed at the top of the bedside table. They’d tossed a pile of condoms there the day before; surely they hadn’t gone through all of them?
His fingers brushed against a thin edge, and he slapped his hand over the foil square. One left.
He’d better make this worth it.
While she writhed next to him, he quickly shed his boxers and sheathed his painfully hard erection, then he rolled over behind her again. She immediately snuggled back against him and grabbed one of his arms, pulling it down between her legs.
He tugged off her panties and obligingly stroked her. She threw her head back and groaned.
“Lift your leg, baby,” he whispered before giving her earlobe a playful nip.
She flung her right leg over his and stretched out her left, widening herself, inviting him in, giving him full access to her body, her soul.
Okay, maybe he was imagining that last part.
Either way, he grabbed his dick, gave it a couple of strokes to ease the pressure a bit, and then he thrust, pushing into her while she lifted her ass and opened herself even more fully to him.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re almost too much for me to handle.”
But he tried. He tried his damnedest. He pumped into her, one hand tweaking a nipple while the other stroked between her legs. She reached up and grasped his hair, bunching it into her fist until it was almost painful. The entire time, she begged him to give her more.
More, and more, and more.
He gritted his teeth and willed his orgasm to hold off; he flicked her clit and nipped at the skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She arched, twisting her hand in his hair, and cried out, her inner muscles clamping down so tightly that they pulled his own climax out of him, milking him until he had nothing left.
On a gasping breath, he said, “That’s all I’ve got.”
“It’s perfect,” she said, sighing, and relaxing in his arms. Within moments, her breathing had become steady, her eyes were closed, and she’d fallen back asleep.
Not Griffin. He rolled onto his back and rested his hand on his stomach. And wished with all his might that his life had turned out differently.
That he wouldn’t have run into Sofia four years ago. Because if he hadn’t, he never would have given in and slept with her the first time. Which would have changed the trajectory of their second meeting.
Oliver would have assigned him to her protection, and he would have done his job, appropriately, as an unemotional gargoyle should. He would have successfully kept her safe from her brother. He would have won Oliver’s favor and proven his worth.
And he wouldn’t have fallen in love.
Chapter Fourteen
Sofia came awake as something—or someone—insistently shook her shoulder.
“Wake up, Sofia. I need to go.”
She blinked open her eyes. Griffin sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, looking down at her with an earnest expression on his face. She glanced at the French door leading outside. It wasn’t quite dark, but not full daylight either. She guessed it was shortly before dawn.
“Where?”
She watched as he lifted his gaze to the door as well. “I need to speak to Oliver.”
Of course. What else had she expected him to say?
She threw off the covers and snagged her robe, viciously tugging it over her arms and cinching the waist. “Why did you even come back?” she snapped.
His head drooped. If she weren’t so furious, she might feel sorry for him. Except he’d brought this on himself. He shouldn’t have come back. Gotten her hopes up.
And she shouldn’t have had any sort of expectations in the first place.
“Just go already.”
“I don’t want to leave you like this.”
She shoved him out of the way so she could climb out of bed. “How do you want to leave me?”
“I…I don’t. But I have to.”
Nope. Her heart would not thaw. She would not feel a smidgen of…anything at all. Except anger. She needed to cling to the fury or she’d do something foolish like beg him to reconsider. And he’d just said he couldn’t.
“Bye.” She added a little wave and a shoulder twitch while glaring at him.
He stood and sighed. “Please don’t be mad.”
She pointed at the door. “You never should have come back.”
“You’re right.”
If he walked any slower, he’d morph into a turtle.
She waited him out, maintaining her best woman-scorned stance. When he reached for the door handle, he glanced over his shoulder. She glared right back.
With another sigh, this one worthy of an actor during his big moment on stage, Griffin opened the door, stepped through, and closed it behind him. Abandoning the turtle act, he immediately hopped onto the porch railing and then leaped off, shifting into his gargoyle form. His flapping wings caught the wind. and a moment later, he disappeared from view.
Her dragon pouted.
“Shut up,” she snapped, storming into the attached bathroom so she could brush her teeth and wash her face. “He’s not worth it, no matter how much you like the sex.”
She liked it too, and she could freely admit it. But sex was not enough to sustain a relationship. Not when one of the participants kept disappearing like smoke.
She headed down to the kitchen in search of coffee. As she reached for the cannister containing the grounds of precious caffeine, she noticed an envelope with her name on it lying on the counter.
That was weird. Who would leave a note for her here? Unless Antoinette had, maybe? Except she’d gone to bed before Sofia had last night. And it couldn’t be from Griffin, because he’d left by flying off the second-floor balcony.
Although if it was from him, she’d burn the damn thing.
Snatching it up, she flipped it over and slid the folded stationary out, reading the brief note scribbled in blue ink.
I need access to the reeve’s laptop. You will get it for me. Figure out the password, write it down on a piece of paper, and tape it to the computer, then place it under the cushions in that box in the gazebo. Tonight, after everyone has retired.
You know what will happen if you do not.<
br />
There was no signature, but Sofia didn’t need one. Darius had written this note. The question was, how had he gotten into the house? Sneaking into the yard on a cloud-covered night moments before a storm was to start was one thing; actually stepping foot into the house was entirely another.
It meant he was far more dangerous than probably even Antoinette suspected.
And if he could get into this mansion, which was normally crawling with dragons, all of whom were on the lookout for him, he most certainly would be able to find and murder her mother.
She had to do what he asked.
“Morning.”
The deep voice startled her, and she let out a yelp as she flung herself around, pressing the note to her rapidly beating heart.
Ketu stood there in a pair of gym shorts and a gray T-shirt, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
“What’s that?”
She crumpled the note until it was a small wad of paper in her fist and said, “Nothing. Where’s the trash?”
“Recycling and trash are in here.” He pointed at a door that opened into a small pantry. Sofia stuffed the note into the side of the trashcan and hurried over to wash her hands.
“You okay?” Ketu asked. “You seem nervous.”
She shook her head without looking at him. “I-I was planning to make breakfast. To surprise everyone. I didn’t think anyone was awake yet.”
His voice immediately brightened. “Oh yeah? Cool. Need help?”
She shook her head again. “No, that’s okay. Go do whatever you were planning to do.”
“All right, I’m going for a run then. See you later.”
He left and she began pulling items out of the fridge and piling them on the counter, appreciating the distraction for exactly what it was. Because she honestly had no freaking idea how she was going to get Antoinette to give up her computer password. And where was her laptop, anyway? Most likely, it was in her bedroom or maybe an office upstairs somewhere. Sofia needed to figure out how to go snooping without anyone thinking that was exactly what she was doing.
Making breakfast wasn’t distracting her after all.