Stone Destiny (Stone Passion #3)

by Warneke, A. C.

  The little dog was getting older now, not quite as spry as she had once been and it broke Ferris’s heart to realize Dizzy wasn't going to be around forever. In that moment, Ferris hated mortality but she kept her smile in place and put any dark thoughts away.

  “She’s not going to answer you,” Ferris grinned, plopping down on the couch, her legs still a little weak from being in his arms for that briefest moment in time. She hadn’t been prepared for how strongly she would react if he exhibited the least amount of interest in her. Her skin was still buzzing. He didn’t even realize the kind of influence he had over her and she knew that he could destroy her so easily without even trying. It was thrilling and terrifying to realize just how much power he wielded.

  “Yes, she will,” he countered, scooping the dog up into his arms and sitting down next to Ferris. Scratching the dog’s ears, he crooned, “Dizzy is a good dog.”

  It was difficult for her to think with his hard thigh pressed against hers but she wasn’t going to move. Her mouth was dry and she could only stare at him as he poured affection onto the dog. She knew the moment the others arrived because the softness disappeared from his face and he handed the little mop dog to Ferris. Automatically, she took Dizzy absently rubbing her cheek against the dog’s silky fur coat. Rhys’s laughter broke through her stupor and she blinked her eyes, grudgingly tearing her gaze away from Armand.

  “It doesn’t matter what you say,” Rhys said, striding into the room with Jenna on his arm. With auburn hair, brown eyes, and a perpetually sunny disposition, Rhys was the perfect match for Jenna, who needed laughter and discovered passion and love with him. Sitting down, pulling Jenna onto his lap, he continued, “She’ll never be a real dog.”

  Jenna was gorgeous, with long, midnight black hair and eyes the color of the summer sky. She was slender and graceful and one of the two most beautiful women Ferris knew. And despite being Ferris’s mother, Jenna hadn’t aged a single day in fifteen years and she never would. She had drunk the blood of Medusa and a wizard of some sort and had become more or less immortal so she could be with Rhys while raising a human daughter.

  In a few weeks on the next new moon, Rhys was planning on offering Jenna his nights, a ritual that was used to bind a gargoyle to his human mate. For one month he would remain a man even when the sun came up. When the dark side of the moon was once again facing the earth, they would complete the ritual and their bond would be complete. The spell transformed a human into a gargoyle when the gift was finally accepted at the end of the ritual. Because Jenna was no longer strictly human the end result was going to be slightly different: Jenna would remain human but she was going to have the ability to let Rhys walk in the sun as a man and not a gargoyle. Also, she was going to be able to have Rhys's child.

  As much as her mother said having only one daughter was enough, Ferris was almost certain that one of the main reasons they were going through with the ritual even though it wasn’t strictly necessary was so they could have their own children, like her Aunt Melanie and her gargoyle mate Vaughn. Vaughn, with his golden hair and golden eyes, was the gargoyle who had taken the risk on a human and changed the course of history.

  Melanie was Jenna's fraternal twin sister and just as beautiful. Her aunt shared similar features with her mother, the same slender nose and the same summer-blue eyes, but Melanie had a curvier figure and chocolate brown hair. Even after having a second baby last year she had a fabulous, pin up girl’s body and frequently drew the eye of many, many men. Unfortunately for her admirers she only ever had eyes for Vaughn.

  Ferris liked to think she was a cross between her mother and her aunt, with dark chocolate hair and a body that was slender but with decent curves. Unlike her mother and aunt, however, Ferris had blue-green eyes, the color of the Caribbean Sea, or so she had been told by one of her college classmates a few years back. Trying to deny her attraction to Armand she had even attempted dating the poor fool, only to break his heart when she couldn’t give him more than a few chaste kisses. She definitely couldn’t give him her heart, which belonged to Armand.

  Absently, she reached out and stroked Dizzy’s silky ears, ignoring the tingles of electricity that raced up her arm when her fingers brushed against Armand’s. Startled, she turned her head and realized that Armand was scratching Dizzy’s ears, too, a concerned look in his striking green eyes as his gaze met hers. She offered a tremulous smile but knew what he was thinking and that was dangerous, especially if he was trying to figure out a way to get out of posing for her.

  Plopping the dog back onto his lap, she stood up, refusing to give him a chance to back out of their agreement. With her pulse throbbing in her throat, she ignored the question in his eyes and went over to greet her mom. Unfortunately, she was unable to prevent her eyes from glancing at him and she stumbled a step when she saw that he was still watching her with the inscrutable expression.

  She was being ridiculous. She was twenty-one, less than three years younger than the age her mother was when she had met Rhys and bound her life to his. Hell, she was going to be her mother’s age by the time Armand realized he was meant to be with her – and that was only if her plan of seduction worked.

  Chapter 2

  Assessing the Situation

  Wearing a robe, Armand stood in the doorway watching Ferris as she sorted through her brushes and got her supplies in order. She was oblivious to his presence and he took the opportunity to just study her. Without being aware of it she had turned into a beautiful woman, with rich, coffee colored hair and luminescent skin, with exotic, clear turquoise eyes and full, blush stained lips. She had grown into her gangly body at some point, developing some very nice curves.

  He knew he shouldn’t be noticing such things about her but he was still a man and Ferris was a very attractive female. He wondered why she didn’t have a horde of men trailing after her. But of course, he knew part of the reason – she had been labeled a freak in her childhood. It infuriated him that anyone could look at Ferris and not realize how amazing she was, how funny she could be, how bitingly intelligent. Humans were so petty.

  When he had first met her she was an almost-six-year-old moppet who talked and talked and talked. She would climb onto his lap while he was in his gargoyle form and tell him the minute details of her day, jumping from one topic to another in a disjointed narrative. When the sun fell and he became man once more, she would follow him around the house, continuing her stories as if she was aware that the man and the gargoyle were one and the same. Perhaps she did know, even then. She had been a child and a miniature replica of Melanie, whose abrupt appearance in their lives had changed everything.

  He was still debating whether or not it was for the better.

  For months the young Ferris had chattered endlessly and no matter how diligently he ignored her, how many times he glowered at her, she just continued chattering. And then one day, he talked back and her eyes lit up, making her charming smile even sweeter. Upon pain of death he would never admit that the little girl had stolen his heart so he only smiled and conversed freely with her when the others weren’t around.

  It wasn’t until she hit eighth grade that she exclusively sought him out and that had more to do with avoiding her mother than a desire to be with him. He knew that she loved her mom very much. It was the reason she hid from Jenna when she got home from school – she didn’t want her mom to see how miserable she was and she needed that time to get her rampaging emotions under control. He discovered he would say the most absurd things just to make her smile because Ferris was the type of girl who should always be smiling.

  The two of them enjoyed a rather peculiar friendship.

  He had always enjoyed watching her. She had an aura that surrounded her that was brighter than the sun and just as warm. When he was with her he almost felt like a real person, not this creature encased in ice that he had become. If she hadn’t been around to bring warmth to his frozen soul he surely would have self-destructed years ago.

  Watch
ing her now he felt as if he could breathe for the first time in years, ever since the veil was lifted and he no longer had to protect humans from the truth of the reality around them. Without being able to bury himself in the role of Guardian he no longer knew who he was and it was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend he knew what the hell he was doing. As the world around him rampaged widely out of control, Ferris remained his haven within the storm.

  She glanced up and saw him there, her brilliant smile curving her lips and her eyes lighting up as they met his. Stepping out from behind her easel, she walked towards him, holding her hands out to him. The shorts she wore emphasized her long, slender legs and the tank top clung to her curves like a second skin and he had to remind himself that she was Ferris, his sweet, little Ferris. “Armand, I wasn’t sure if you were going to come.”

  “I promised,” he said, taking her delicate hands in his and bringing them up to his lips. Kissing her knuckles, he chuckled, “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t protect you from your own naivety?”

  She cocked her head to the side in that adorable manner of hers and asked, “What naivety?”

  “Your threats to use Nod or the incubus if I didn’t agree to this,” he reminded her, his heart doing a strange thing in his chest. Releasing her hands, he rubbed his sternum and looked at the stool in the middle of the floor. “What? No props?”

  She blushed becomingly but her smile deepened, “Well, if you would feel more comfortable posing with something I’m sure I could find a sword or something. You’re not getting out of being naked, though.”

  “Fair enough.” He had to struggle to keep the smile from his lips at her teasing words. Walking over to the stool, he untied the robe and let the silk material fall to the floor, “Where do you want me?”

  When she didn’t answer, he glanced over his shoulder and caught the dreamy expression on her face as she caressed him with her eyes. Her body was fluid, ripe and for a moment he knew that all he would have to do was crook his finger and she would be his. The image of pulling her into his arms and tasting those sweet lips flashed into his head and his body began to respond accordingly, the sensation a pleasurable ache as his cock began to lengthen, thicken.

  No! This was Ferris he was thinking about, not some nameless woman he met at some club. Whipping his head back to the front, he attempted to cover his embarrassing erection with one hand hoping she didn't see anything. He snapped his fingers at her with the other hand to get her attention. “Ferris, where do you want me?”

  That question no longer sounded quite as innocent as it had the first time he asked and he was almost hoping she would answer it in a completely inappropriate way. What the hell was wrong with him? Yes, she was beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful woman he knew, but she was… she was Ferris. He had no right to have any lustful thoughts for her at all. None.

  Warm, slender fingers touched his waist and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Her delightful laughter filled the room as her hands moved across his flanks, “Relax, Armand. I’m not going to bite… just yet.”

  “You shouldn’t say such things to me,” he said, his voice low and gruff and unsteady. Clearing his throat, he willed his erection away, or at least he tried to. “Weren’t you supposed to provide a loin cloth, or something?”

  A length of material was wrapped around his waist as she softly laughed. “Better?”

  Clutching the material as if it was the only thing between him and madness he turned around and faced this surprising temptress. “Much.”

  Pressing her hands against his chest, burning him with her touch, she leaned up and kissed him lightly on the cheek, “Thanks for doing this for me, Armand. It means the world.”

  She had kissed him a thousand times before… so why did he feel this one in his bones? Something strange was happening and he wasn’t sure what it was or that he liked it. In fact, he was fairly certain he did not like it, not in the least. Collapsing onto the stool, he stared at the girl he knew and wondered where she came from. It was as if he was seeing her with fresh eyes and he liked what he saw, a little too much. Had he not known her since she was a child he would consider wining and dining her before taking her up to a private room and exploring every inch of her delectable body.

  His eyes dropped to the breasts that were straining against the white cotton material of her tank top and he found himself wondering what color her nipples were, how they would taste on his tongue. She wore a pair of denim cutoffs that hugged her ass and exposed her feminine legs that he wanted to have wrapped around his waist….

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, rushing around and gathering up a sketch pad and some charcoal. Rushing over, she began hastily drawing in her book. “That look is perfect.”

  He was a truly sick individual, lusting after her like a lecherous old man. It didn’t matter that she was twenty-one and he had the appearance of a twenty-five year old human. He was a gargoyle, he was ancient and powerful and too jaded for an innocent like Ferris.

  “I guess that look is good, too,” she said uncertainly, furiously scribbling away. “The scowl does suit you but it is something that I haven’t seen in years. Usually you wear more of an amused yet resigned expression.”

  Her words baffled him. What was she talking about?

  She chuckled, “And that is a look I have never seen. What are you thinking that is making you scowl so fiercely?”

  “That I don’t know you at all,” he admitted honestly, staring at this familiar stranger.

  “Oh, Armand,” she grinned, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair from his face, the touch electric. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Now, how about a little less modesty and a little more thigh?”

  Her heart was pounding almost painfully in her chest. The moment Armand had dropped the robe and she saw his naked bottom so up close and personal she almost died. He had a perfect ass, his muscles taut and carved from stone. When he shifted and the muscles flexed she had lost the ability to think, to speak. All she could do was stare at the masculine perfection that was Armand.

  She knew he had caught her staring but she couldn’t have dragged her eyes away if her studio was on fire and the flames were licking at her skin. Hell, she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between the heat coming from within and the fire consuming her from without.

  In the space of five minutes his expression had gone from mildly amused to aroused to angry to confused and for the first time since she decided Armand was destined for her she had hope that he might realize it, too.

  She knew that she was taking a huge risk in pursuing Armand but all she could see was a fairytale ending, loving and being loved by the most amazing man she had ever known. She had it all planned out: he would fall madly in love with her and offer her his nights, which she would accept in a heartbeat. In fact, she wouldn’t leave his side from the moment they began the ritual on a new moon to the moment it was completed on the following new moon. She would give him no reason to doubt or worry and when the sun rose she would turn into a gargoyle, maybe even a griffin to match her beloved Armand.

  Smiling to herself, she walked around her subject, sitting so proudly on the stool. Ideas were flying through her head and she sketched as quickly as she could, capturing his arrogant brow, his carved jaw, his luscious, uncompromising lips. The painting itself was going to take a few days so she wasn’t going to come at him with all of her guns blazing… she was going to have to try being subtle. By the time the portrait was complete he would be hers. She just had to tread carefully so as not to spook him.

  “So, Jenna is pretty excited to be doing the ritual in a few weeks,” she said casually, carefully gauging his response. He did not disappoint as his spine stiffened and his jaw clenched. Smiling to herself, she sketched a few lines into her book. “They’re heading to the Caribbean to spend their days in the warm, tropical sun.”

  “I’m surprised Jenna convinced Rhys to go anywhere,” he grumbled, the familiar Armand reasserting himself. “He
hates flying.”

  “Yes,” Ferris agreed, smudging one of the lines she had drawn to add depth to the image. “But he loves my mom and would do just about anything for her.”

  His response was a grunt, which Armand was able to make sound almost elegant. For a moment Ferris doubted the wisdom of wanting more from him.Ttheir relationship was already so incredible she was a fool to desire his love and devotion. But she was also a fool in love with the man that had made her childhood bearable, the one person she could talk to about the difficulties of being the odd man out, she in the human world and he in his own. As wonderful as Ajreis was, his solution was to ignore everyone or kick their collective asses. He wasn't very helpful even if he made her laugh.

  “Did you love the woman for whom you gave up your nights?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light and just a shade uninterested in his answer even though his answer was so important. Her belly constricted in anticipation and she tightened her hold on the charcoal until it snapped. Hoping he didn't notice, she clumsily set one of the pieces down and continued working with the other half.

  Armand was silent, thoughtful, before he answered, “I thought I loved her.”

  She arched an eyebrow at that and he smiled ruefully, “She saw me for what I was and wanted me anyway. It was a heady experience for someone young and stupid.”

  “I know you for what you are,” she reminded him. That probably wasn’t so subtle but she doubted he would recognize it in the way she meant it.

  “I know,” he acknowledged. “And I appreciate that you do not differentiate. Back then, when magic was even more taboo than it is currently, being a creature that transforms from a man to a stone beast was not something to shout about. It's still not entirely acceptable.”

  “You’re not a creature,” she said quietly, fiercely. He blinked at the passion in her voice and she had to remember to dial it back some, “I mean, you’re a gargoyle.”