Stone Destiny (Stone Passion #3)

by Warneke, A. C.

  He was never going to get over it.

  Chapter 15

  Regret

  Ferris was still sick to her stomach by what Armand had revealed. The look of hurt and betrayal that had filled his green eyes haunted her and she just wanted to talk to him about it, explain what happened. But how could she explain something that she hadn’t even known? The supernatural world was so different than the human world, especially when a man could live to a thousand and never age a day beyond the age of twenty-five. No one ever told her that Apollo liked to run around pretending to be a hot cowboy named Marick, who in turn like to run around pretending to be a crazy wizard named Omari. How was she supposed to have known who he was?

  For so long Armand had been her destiny and they had overcome so much to be together and still it wasn’t enough. She fucked it up because she was ignorant of one very important piece of information. A shudder worked its way through her body at the idea of sleeping with both the father and the son, of loving them both. It was wrong on so many levels she wasn’t sure there was any hope for her and Armand, and that thought curdled her insides.

  She didn’t know if Armand would ever be able to forgive her.

  Yet, it felt as if an unbearable burden had been lifted from her shoulders when he spilled the truth of Gavin and Gwendolyn’s identities. When she had first gotten sick she didn't know what was wrong. She hadn't wanted to know because if she had thought for a moment that she was pregnant than she would have had to acknowledge the fact that she hadn’t remained faithful to Armand. It didn't matter if the events of that night were still a little fuzzy from too much wine and too much sorrow.

  But then she got even sicker and Fray did the only thing he could, binding his life to hers in the hope that a dragon's strength would cure her. He's the one who realized what the problem was and by that time Ferris had been lost in a haze. She woke up in faerie realm where time moved at a much different rate. The only way to survive being pregnant with the children of a god was to be transformed into something more than human.

  She had spent almost twenty years in the fantastical world, watching her children grow, and yet only three weeks had passed back home. So, even though she had stopped aging shortly after meeting Omari, technically, she was closer to fifty-one, not the thirty-one that was listed on her driver’s license. No one knew she had experienced so much and it was too complicated to explain so she didn’t tell anyone about any of it.

  Instead, she used her knowledge to teach art at the local community college, preferring the smaller class size of college students. It was also the only college that would hire a teacher who looked no older than twenty-two and the only reason that happened was because the dean was a fairy. He had exquisite wings that he only showed the non-human teachers and since Ferris was technically no longer human she got to see them.

  Lying back on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling, wondering if her lack of aging also made her unable to mature the same way humans seemed to mature. A small part of her felt every one of her fifty-one years but mostly she felt like a twenty-two year old girl trying to navigate her way through a darkly enchanted and ever-changing forest.

  She had some amazing experiences along the way that so few humans got to have. Hell, she had given birth to demi-gods.

  She didn’t remember much of the pregnancy, especially the beginning which had been spent in agony because the babies were too powerful for a human body. And then she was transformed and the metamorphosis made everything kind of hazy. Marick and Fray did everything in their power to keep her strength up, giving her their own life force to keep her tethered to the land of the living. There were so many times she could have sworn Armand was with her but she belatedly realized that was just her twisted mind playing tricks on her, offering comfort from the one man who wasn’t there to give it.

  From the very beginning Marick was a very hands-on father, training them to control their power so it wouldn’t overwhelm them. She had been in awe of him and a little terrified when he demonstrated the extent of his powers. Perhaps she should have realized he was no lesser god but, honestly, it wasn’t something she really dwelt upon. He was simply Marick, the father of her children and the man who kept her alive, the man who cried when the twins had been born, his smile bright enough to light the deepest, darkest cave. He had looked at her with utter devotion and extraordinary gratitude. She had been grateful to have survived.

  One of the benefits, or drawbacks, of becoming a lesser goddess was the flood of power that swamped her body and overwhelmed her, power she had learned to bury deep within. She entrusted the majority of them to Fray, who could not be corrupted by such magical power. It had taken years to learn how to shield the brilliance that emanated from her, to hide behind a human mask. At the time she had also been excited, knowing that she had time to convince Armand that she was in it for the long haul whether or not he ever gave her his nights.

  Now she had to figure out how to spend eternity without a heart, since hers would always belong to Armand.

  “So, you’re a mom.”

  Ferris turned her head and saw her mother standing in the doorway, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Heaving a sigh, Ferris nodded, “Yep.”

  Jenna arched an eyebrow, waiting for more, but when Ferris returned to staring at the ceiling, she continued, “I never would have guessed.”

  Ferris smiled slightly, “I don’t tell you guys everything.”

  “Obviously,” Jenna said wryly, crossing the room and sitting down on the edge of the bed and shaking her head in bewilderment. “Ferris, why do you do this? Why do you keep so much bottled up inside? It’s not good for you.”

  Ferris’s smile widened until it felt like her face might crack. If she only smiled wide enough the pain wouldn’t be able to touch her. “I’ve done alright so far.”

  Jenna heaved a disgruntled sigh. “I’m your mother, Ferris, and I know so little about you, about what you’re going through, what you’ve gone through. How is it possible you have kids that look like they’re in their twenties?”

  “Probably because they are in their twenties,” Ferris said simply. With a frown, she revised her statement, “Actually, they could be a lot older than that, depending on how much time they’ve spent in the faerie realm.”

  Jenna huffed out a surprised chuckle, “You are just full of surprises, love, aren’t you?”

  “A veritable jack-in-the-box,” Ferris grimaced. With a pretend scowl, she attempted to divert the conversation before it got too deep, “I hate those things. I jump every single time even though I know what’s coming.”

  “Ferris.”

  Her mother’s voice had a hint of warning that made Ferris chuckle. In an absurd moment of clarity, she realized she was older than her own mother. A wry smile tilted her lips at the thought. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

  “Surely he didn’t expect you to remain faithful to him for sixty or seventy years, not after all of the women he’s known,” Jenna continued, ignoring Ferris’s desire to be left alone. “What if you had remained mortal? Did he expect you to live your life as a nun?”

  “Of course not,” Ferris sniffed. “But it wasn’t just anyone, was it? It was his father. That is a level of disturbing that shrinks dream about. It’s what pays for their mansions and sleek cars. Can you imagine the field day a psychiatrist would have with me? Falling in love with a gargoyle and then inadvertently fucking his father?”

  “Stop this, Ferris,” Jenna growled. “Stop making this a joke. Stop shutting me out.”

  Ferris’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened in surprise as she finally looked at Jenna, really looked at her mom. Jenna’s eyes were flashing blue fire, her lips were pressed together in a thin, white line, color stained her cheeks and her pulse was fluttering madly in her throat. Slowly, Ferris rolled to a sitting position, “I’m sorry.”

  “Damn it, Ferris,” Jenna growled, frustration twisting her lips and tears filling her eyes. “Stop t
rying to protect me. I’m your mother! For once let me just be your mom.”

  As she stared at her mom, Ferris saw her life through her mother’s eyes, the little girl who always wore a smile even when her heart was battered and bruised. Having children of her own she now realized that her mom had known of her hurts, had always known, and Jenna died a little inside every time the little girl Ferris had been refused the comfort that was offered. Suddenly, Ferris remembered the strained smiles and the worried glances Jenna offered when Ferris told her mom that everything was okay but it wasn’t, the extra hugs at night after particularly hellish days. Her mom had always been there but Ferris had shut her out.

  After Armand turned to stone and her little outburst, Ferris realized she had kept her mom, her family, at an even greater distance. They had been constant reminders of all that she had lost and so she had buried herself in her new life, going to school or hanging out with Marick or Ajreis. It had never even occurred to her to tell her mom about her pregnancy or watching her children grow up in an enchanted faerie land, of returning home a different person while everything around her was the same.

  The armor holding her together shattered and the pain of losing Armand abruptly hit her all at once. It was even worse than when they had said goodbye nearly ten years before. Thirty years. Whatever. This time their forever after seemed even less likely. Tears filled her eyes as she rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball, unable to bear the agony of losing him so soon after finally getting him back.

  A small sound escaped the back of Jenna’s throat as she murmured nonsense words and rubbed Ferris’s back, offering comfort. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart.”

  “Of course it’s my fault,” Ferris choked out between sobs, feeling as if she were dying. “In a moment of weakness I let one moment of doubt enter my soul and I lost Armand forever. I knew how skittish he was and I still faltered.”

  Jenna lay down on the bed behind Ferris and wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her for a long, long time until the gut wrenching crying subsided. Stroking Ferris’s hair, Jenna softly stated, “Give him some time; goodness knows you have plenty of it. He’ll come around. You’ve said it yourself, sweetheart: he’s your destiny.”

  Ferris reluctantly smiled at her mother’s words. She couldn’t afford to lose faith no matter how rocky the path became.

  Armand had betrayed Ferris’s secret without any hesitation because he had wanted her to hurt as badly as he was hurting. In the heat of the moment, he had lashed out at her in righteous fury, the burden of having to pretend to be what she wanted lifted from his shoulders. Even as pain tore through his body and soul he had felt an incredible sense of relief that she was finally seeing him as he truly was. But one look into those shattered turquoise eyes had pierced through the pain and righteousness and relief and he hated her for being everything he had ever wanted. He hated himself even more for being so completely heartless.

  Instead of enjoying his return to the world, he had spent the night brooding in his bedroom, ignoring the pounding on his door, the voices of his brothers demanding a conversation, fueling the guilt that was starting to gnaw at the edges of his conscience. Eventually they had given up, returning to the loving arms of their mates and their children.

  His family had gone on without him.

  When the sun rose he remained in his bedroom, trying to keep as still as possible so his gargoyle form wouldn’t break anything. For days he held himself together through sheer force of will. But then he snapped, tearing his room apart because the agony inside was too much. When the sun went down on the fourth day, he found himself physically, spiritually exhausted, sprawled across his broken bed with a fine sheen of sweat covering his naked body.

  He couldn’t get the image of her out of his head, the way her eyes darkened to teal when she was aroused, the feel of her body as she writhed against him, the taste of her skin as he drove her to orgasm. Curling his fingers around his cock, he stroked the fickle organ, his breathing labored as he tried to exorcise her from his head.

  His spine tingled and his balls tightened with imminent release. His face twisted into a grimace as his back arched into the coming orgasm, desperate for the oblivion of pleasure.

  The image of her with his father flashed into his head, her expression of ecstasy as the glorious Apollo made love to her. A broken cry tore itself from his bowels, leaving his throat raw and bleeding. Leaving his soul raw and bleeding.

  She had been with a god... how could a broken gargoyle compete with that?

  Rolling to the edge of the bed in disgust and frustration, he sat up and scraped his fingers through his hair. He needed her with a desperation that bordered on the pathetic and he hated it. There had to be a way to bury the shattered fragments of his heart so he would be safe from her hollow promises that he desperately wanted to believe. With her, he would have been a better man even if it killed him because he never wanted to disappoint her.

  His muscles ached as he raised his head and finally looked around his room and the destruction he had wrought while lost in his grief and regret and rage. Shards of glass littered the floor from broken mirrors and picture frames, the pieces catching the light spilling into the room from his bathroom. Broken pieces of wood were scattered throughout the room and feathers still floated in the air from the pillows that had been ripped apart. The door to his summoning room was barely hanging on by a hinge and he cringed to think of the damage he had wrought within.

  Laughing without humor, he pushed his battered body up from the bed, wishing he could get drunk enough to numb the guilt and longing and rage that burned inside of him. Picking his way through the destruction, he picked up a pair of boxer briefs from the pile of underwear and stepped into them, pulling them up his legs. With hands on his hips, he looked around the room and shook his head. Only she had this kind of power over him.

  It was going to take an act of God to get her out of his system but it was something that had to be done otherwise he would go mad with wanting.

  Pulling on a pair of jeans, he paused before he buttoned them, remembering what Ferris had said. She had been drinking…. Apollo saw his chance and he took it with an inebriated Ferris. His stomach balled into a tight knot of shame. He had flayed her alive, left her bleeding and alone to face the judgment of her family. It hadn’t been his place to spill her secrets and if he had been thinking instead of blindly lashing out he would have held his tongue.

  He had to apologize to her. She would forgive him, she always forgave him.

  But what would happen afterwards? The idea of living up to her expectations still filled him with dread. If she had come into his life when he still had a purpose maybe it could have worked but now he was simply Armand, a wrecked gargoyle in a world full of unlimited enchantment.

  Shaking his head to scatter the gathering doubts, he knew that he had to find her and apologize for his inexcusable behavior. He would worry about the future once he straightened out his present, and that included making things right with Ferris.

  Knowing where he would most likely find her, he quickly finished getting dressed, ignoring the tension along his shoulders, his back. Stumbling over to the liquor cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of bourbon, needing the liquid courage even if it was only temporary. He pulled the stopper out and drank directly from the bottle, feeling the alcohol burn all the way to his gut.

  It was time and he made his way through the eerily quiet suite, grateful for the solitude while wondering where everyone was. The younger gargoyles were probably out on the town while Vaughn and Rhys and their families were doing whatever gargoyles with wives and children did. In all honesty, Armand couldn’t imagine a thing since his brothers were the first of their kind to have children. Hell, Vaughn and Rhys were the first to have true mates.

  A wave of nausea rolled through him but he didn’t examine the reason why too closely. Maybe his brothers had remained human for the day and took off, leaving him alone with his darkness. He couldn�
�t imagine them wanting their children exposed to the insanity that had possessed him all week. With a self-deprecating smile, he took another swig of the fiery liquor. How could a mere slip of a girl make him lose his control, his composure, so easily?

  How could he live with her?

  How could he exist without her?

  He took another long swallow from the bottle of bourbon, relishing the moment of numbness that quieted the warring voices in his head. With the half-finished bottle still in his hand, Armand closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he stood outside the closed door to Ferris’s studio. Memories of their brief time together slammed into him, stirring his cock to full arousal in half a heartbeat.

  She had too much power over him.

  Releasing his breath with a shudder, he opened the door, turned on the light, and stepped into Ferris’s world only to discover the girl wasn’t there. Relief and disappointment flooded his system as he stepped further into the room, ridiculously curious to see what she had been up to these past ten years, to see how her talent had blossomed.

  The room was very similar to how it had been when he had lost his heart to her nearly a decade before with the exception of the sheer number of paintings that were there. Canvases were stacked five or six deep all along the edges, large masterpieces hung on the walls, and her work space had shrunken to a third of its original size. Every image hit him in the solar plexus: he was blown away by her talent. She was able to capture a moment in time and make it eternal, making the observer feel every emotion that she felt when she painted the image.

  He stood before a picture of two young, towheaded children in a field of unnaturally colored flowers. The light seemed to be coming from the children as they smiled at something beyond the canvas, probably Ferris. His lips curved up in a smile at the spark of mischief in their blue-green eyes and he could feel the love she had for them and it made his heart swell and ache in his chest. Children were something he had never considered, something that he would have denied Ferris had he given up his nights for her.