Stone Destiny (Stone Passion #3)

by Warneke, A. C.

  Exiting his shop into the chilly afternoon, he stopped when he saw the car parked halfway on the sidewalk with far more dings and dents and scratches then it had on it just a week before. There were a few tree branches stuck in the fender and he was pretty sure a ‘No U-turn’ sign was sticking out beneath the front end. Breathing heavily, the imp was leaning against the car, next to the open back door. A slender leg was visible and bone deep fear churned in Omari’s gut.

  “Help her,” the imp panted.

  Stumbling forward, seeing more of the lifeless form the closer he got to the car, Omari breathed out a single word, “Ferris.”

  Without conscious thought, he shifted into the form of Marick, knowing he was going to need the physical strength of his cowboy persona. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the pale aura surrounding Ferris, the spark that burned so bright almost gone. The hem of her shirt was lifted just enough that he could make out the line of the little pocket dragon on her stomach, her skin red and blistered around the bonding tattoo.

  “No,” he breathed, scooping her limp body up in his arms and bringing her into his shop. The dragon was too young to bond with anyone and his powers would either overwhelm a person and destroy her or backfire and destroy him.

  “He thought he could help,” the imp explained, following Marick into the shop without waiting for an invitation. “When she got sick, he only wanted to make her better. It kept her alive but I am afraid they will both die now.”

  “No they won’t,” Marick vowed, carrying her to his room and laying her on his bed. Pressing his fingers against her throat he felt her thready pulse and cursed. She was too pale and her heart wasn’t beating strong enough to pump her blood through her veins. Sparing a glance for the imp, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  The imp’s nostrils flared and that venomous glare returned, “It’s your fault. You know a human body is not capable of carrying the offspring of a god.”

  For a moment, all of the sound in the world was silenced, leaving Marick in a sort of void, the imp’s words repeating themselves over and over in his head. A heartbeat later, sound came rushing back into his head and he cursed at the ramifications of his selfishness. “Fuck.”

  Gathering Ferris’s limp body back up into his arms, he waved his arm and stepped through the portal to the realm of the gods where his child would thrive. Well, if he didn’t kill Ferris first. Marick had every intention of making sure that didn’t happen.

  Ferris stirred in his arms, blinking her unfocused eyes a few times before letting her lids drift shut once more. “Where am I?”

  Suddenly, the imp was by her side, taking her hand in his, a smile of relief curving his lips. The foolish creature had no idea what lay in store for the girl. “Ferris?”

  A low moan was her only reply but it seemed to satisfy the imp. With a grunt, Marick waved his hand once more and summoned a bed, where he lay Ferris down. Brushing her damp hair away from her clammy forehead, he leaned in close and whispered, “Sweetheart, if you really wanted to see me again you knew where I lived. You didn’t have to get sick to get my attention.”

  A half smile almost curved her lips but she still didn’t open her eyes. “Ah, Marick. You know my world revolves around you.”

  He smiled even as tears filled his eyes. What the hell? He never got emotional over a human. “Finally! Someone who properly worships me.”

  “Ha ha,” she muttered. She looked up at him, her eyes sunken and hopeless, and whispered, “I’m dying aren’t I?”

  “Yes,” he answered on a soft exhalation of breath.

  Her eyes closed and a shudder worked its way through her body. When she looked at him again, there was a slight spark of laughter in her dull eyes and she offered a trembling smile, “Your bedside manner really sucks, Doctor Marick. I wish Ajreis had taken me to a real doctor and not some minor god pretending to be a doctor.”

  Ignoring the suspicious moisture in his eyes, he smiled, “It wouldn’t have helped. Humans are not at all equipped to deal with supernatural pregnancies.”

  “Yeah, well, neither are you,” she taunted, her eyes drifting shut, the effort to hold them open obviously too much for her to handle.

  Kissing her brow, he inhaled her scent, smelling the child’s power that was devouring her from the inside out. Clearing his throat, unwilling to betray any hint of weakness, he said, “It’s not the child’s fault you know….”

  “I know,” she whimpered, interrupting him before he could finish.

  “Actually, it is the child’s fault,” he corrected himself. “Because he’s a little god and you’re a human. Even if we were to… end the pregnancy….”

  “Don’t you dare,” she seethed with more passion than he thought possible, considering her very weakened state. Her eyes slit open and she glared at him with burning turquoise eyes.

  Clearing his throat, he continued, “As I was about to say, it wouldn’t make any difference. It’s similar to what happened when your aunt or your mother drank the potion all of those years ago.”

  Ferris’s brow wrinkled in thought, obviously having difficulty remembering the events that happened during her childhood, and not because she didn’t remember but because she was suffering so greatly. Not wanting to cause any more stress, he explained, “When Melanie took the blood of Medusa and Omari into her system it killed a part of her so that the curse could be broken and then she became more than human. The potion made your aunt and your mother strong enough to hold sway over the sun and moon and keep their gargoyle mate human during the day.

  “It’s like that only on a grander scale because the baby is inside of you,” he finished, closely watching her face. "If you live you will become even more powerful. A minor goddess."

  She nodded her head as if she understood but Marick wasn’t entirely certain she was even coherent enough to hear him. Bending over her, pressing his nose against the curve of her neck and breathing in her scent, he whispered, “I need to give you my blood so your body can handle carrying a little god around.”

  “But won’t your blood just kill me faster?” she asked, her voice weak and wispy.

  “It’s a strong possibility,” he teased though he spoke the truth. He kissed the weak pulse at the base of her throat and pushed his upper body off her so he could look down at her. Ignoring the seizing of his heart at the lack of color in her face, he added, “But it’s also the only thing that can save you. I promise to keep the cut shallow this time.”

  She swallowed and licked her parched lips, squeezing one glassy eye open. “Will Fray be okay?”

  “What? Fray?” he asked, trying to sound light-hearted to cover the sheer terror that was clawing at him. “That little dragon is a tough little bastard. He’ll be fine.”

  “Check on him for me?” she implored weakly, her lips fluttering closed once more.

  Knowing how stubborn she could be, he reluctantly agreed to check on the dragon who was most likely dead or dying. Sitting back, he gingerly peeled her shirt up, exposing the red and weeping dragon tattoo. Much to his surprise, Fray was still alive. He was struggling, yes, but he was very much alive. The gleam in his eyes as he glared up at Marick suggested the beast was going to remain alive and save Ferris in the process. If only sheer determination was enough to save her.

  Of course, Fray could use some help and Marick was more than willing to do everything in his power to see Ferris through this, starting with giving her his blood. It was only the beginning and he knew things were going to get much worse before she got better but she would get better. She had to because she was still there.

  Running his finger over the dragon, over Ferris’s smooth skin, Marick had to take a moment and clear his throat before he could speak, “Your dragon is just peachy, love. He looks eager to leap off your skin and kick my ass.”

  “I wouldn’t stop him,” she murmured with a crooked, half-smile. Her smile faded and the rest of the color fled from her face as pain exploded across her features. Squeezing her eyes
shut, she let out a silent scream as her back arched off the bed and her skin rippled beneath his touch.

  Without any more hesitations, Marick willed a blade into existence and cradled Ferris’s limp hand in his palm, carefully carving a line into her palm. Next, he pulled up his sleeve and made a thin cut in one of his palms as well. Taking a breath, he kept his eyes on her face as he pressed the cuts together, feeling his blood seep into her body. Closing his eyes in ecstasy, he became one with the girl he loved, knowing that without her bond to Fray, his blood would have instantly burned through all of her cells and killed her just as quickly.

  He could only hope everything worked out like it was supposed to work out.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked when she finally opened her eyes nearly an hour later. Tenderly, he brushed her damp hair from her face, knowing that the blood he gave her helped but it wasn’t enough. The child that grew in her womb was stubborn and powerful and all he could do was pray.

  “You know, Marick,” she gasped, barely able to keep her eyes open. “If you really wanted to help, you could come over here and let me rip off your freaking balls.”

  “Ah, sweetheart,” Marick murmured with a lazy grin, sitting on the edge of the bed, his testicles safely out of her reach. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t help in the least.”

  “It would make me feel better,” she returned, her chest barely rising and falling with each labored breath she took.

  He chuckled at her stubbornness, hoping she didn't simply vanish. "You know, if we were to make love…."

  "No," she bit out.

  "If we were to make love," he repeated, ignoring her glaring eyes. "It would make you feel better faster. You wouldn't needlessly suffer."

  Her lips curved into a wry smile but she didn’t open her eyes, “I think that’s what caused my suffering in the first place. Perhaps you should keep your dick in your pants around me.”

  He choked out an unexpected laugh, "Ferris…."

  "I'll struggle through, Marick," she said with finality, her blue-green eyes burning with determination.

  Her distended belly rippled and Ferris gasped, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She wasn’t very far along, just over six weeks, but she already had a rounded belly because she had lost so much weight everywhere else. With each day that passed she could feel herself growing weaker and weaker, fading from the mortal coil. She knew Ajreis was frantic with worry, begging her to accept the idiot Marick's offer and get better. Fray’s pleadings were silent but just as heartfelt and just as pointless. The dragon’s strength seemed to increase at the same rate that she was slipping away and nothing Fray did helped. Nothing Marick was doing helped, either.

  She was so tempted to give in, have sex with him, but her heart truly belonged to Armand. As long as there was a chance for her to be with the love of her life she wasn’t going to screw it up even worse by sleeping with the gorgeous Marick a second time. It didn’t matter that Armand was trapped in stone because if she survived this she now had the extended life she had been hoping for. She was going to be there when he woke, come Hell or high water, and she wasn't going to throw her second chance away to feel a little better.

  If she survived, which was still iffy. If she stayed perfectly still then the millions of phantom ants that crawled over her skin wouldn’t all sink their mandibles into her tender skin. Her kidneys were swollen to the size of watermelons and she was pretty sure her liver was liquefied and her lungs were made of glass. Everything hurt and she doubted sex with anyone could help. Even the thought of sex made her shudder because that would involve movement and breathing.

  God, it was getting so hard to think. Her brain felt like it was on the edge of exploding, a billion needles poking into it, scrambling it up and dispersing her thoughts before she could hold onto them and figure them out. The only real thing was Armand but he wasn’t there. He had vanished in a wisp of smoke and she had lost his trail.

  “Ferris,” Marick whispered, his lips next to her head, his spicy breath warming the cool shell of her ear, luring her back to her body. She didn’t want to go because her body hurt too much. “I’m going to make it easier for you to accept me.”

  With a half-smile on her white lips, her eyes still closed, she shook her head, “Nothing you can do… is that honeysuckle I smell? It is spring already? I told you, Ajreis, I don’t want to go to school today. The people there are awful and I’m miserable. No, they torment me even more if you’re there, telling me I’m a freak for having an imaginary friend at my age. Of course I know you’re real but they can’t see you, can they? Yes, Armand will listen, he always listens, but I hate burdening him with my problems. He’s so strong and protective but he’s a gargoyle, it’s what he’s supposed to do.”

  “Ferris, my love,” a heartbreakingly familiar voice crooned. Her body twitched and she fought against the nothingness to open her eyes, to stir herself from the stupor that was clouding her mind. Tenderly brushing his thumb over her lip, her cheek, he begged, “Open your eyes, love.”

  After a concerted effort, she finally opened her eyes and blinked. Slowly, she blinked again and again, unable to believe what she was seeing. Tears welled in her eyes as a brilliant smile curved her lips. With a great deal of determination, she raised her shaky limbs up to embrace him. “Armand.”

  Without hesitation, he went into her embrace, breathing words of love against her throat, “I’m right here, love, I’m right here.”

  She held onto him like a lifeline, ignoring the little voice in the back of her head that was screaming at her that it wasn’t right, that Armand wasn’t Armand. It didn’t matter because for the first time in five years she was able to breathe. She was so tired of fighting and now she no longer had to fight. She was back in Armand’s arms, she was with her destiny. Everything was going to work out.

  Chapter 13

  The War Rages On

  It was different this time. Armand shouldn’t have had such vivid sensations, awareness, while he was frozen but he swore he knew the moment Ferris was near. It was impossible because he had given his nights to Felicity but somehow, someway, he was painfully aware of the girl he had to forget.

  He could feel her growing older, every heartbeat another heartbeat closer to the end. When he awoke she was going to be old, with withered skin and sunken eyes and he would love her until the very end. It was going to kill him if she fell in love with someone else but he couldn’t imagine Ferris growing old without a dozen children surrounding her. She had too much love to squander away waiting for him, hoping for the impossible.

  Time was different as well, at times going so slow he was sure thousands of years had passed and at other times disappearing as soon as the moment came. It seemed as if time moved the quickest when Ferris crawled into his stone arms and pressed her ear against his heart, searching for a heartbeat that beat too slow for her to hear. He cursed his stone body because he couldn’t wrap his arms around her and comfort her, he couldn’t whisper in her ear and thank her for everything she did for him.

  She made a frozen gargoyle love again.

  He was going to watch over her children and her children’s children until the end of time. It was the least he could do. If necessary, he would guide them through the pitfalls of living in a world that no longer needed gargoyles. Maybe he would find his place as well, as a protector to the descendants of Ferris.

  There had been a time when gargoyles had a purpose, protecting the humans that would never remember them moments later, and he knew his place. He made love to many, many women, gifting each of his temporary lovers a measure of protection even if he didn’t recall their names or faces. It was what gargoyles did but then along came Ferris, burrowing beneath his walls when she wasn’t a threat and then becoming this intoxicating woman who was nothing but a threat.

  Admittedly, after the first time he had made love to Ferris he had panicked. There were so many things wrong with what he did, what he felt, he had to flee, hoping to find solace in London, w
ith his gargoyle brothers there. He wasn’t proud that he had, in essence, run away, but what he had experienced with Ferris had been… it had been transcendental. Staying with her would have changed everything and he wasn’t prepared for it. Hell, he wasn’t prepared for her.

  Yet she was never far from his thoughts, plaguing him at all hours until he thought he would go mad. While prowling the streets of London one night, he came across a hidden door along the gallery of shops. With a wry smile, he stepped through the door, wondering what treasures he would find in the unexpected gift from the Fates. As he looked around the eclectic room, he had to smile because the shop reminded of his father’s magical trinket shops.

  He wound his way through the labyrinth aisles, barely paying attention to the variety of magical paraphernalia on the shelves. Something was guiding him and the moment he saw the golden egg he understood: the pocket dragon was meant to be found by him. Laying his hand on the shining orb, he closed his eyes and saw the dragon on Ferris’s shoulder as she smiled beneath the sun.

  Opening his eyes and ending the vision, he slowly moved his hand away from the treasure, the gift he was going to get for Ferris. He hadn’t lied when he told her the dragon was very rare and wanted to be hers but he hadn’t told her everything. If the headstrong girl had ever learned about the dragon bond she would have pursued it relentlessly, getting destroyed by the dragon's fire in the process.

  His fifth night in London he sat sprawled on the roof with his London brothers, Artaire, Bar, and Rowan, as well as one of his Greek brothers, Leander, and a French Brother, Etienne. The six of them drank copious amounts of wine and discussed the world in which they now lived. Leander didn’t care for he embraced everything with an exuberance that was exhausting. Etienne was more prosaic, figuring he’d adapt because there was nothing else to do. As long as he had good wine and beautiful women he didn’t care that the rest of the world was in free fall. His London brothers didn’t give a damn one way or the other, already bored with the whole situation.