When A Gargoyle Dreams (Gargoyles Book 5)

by E A Price

  Luc hadn’t insisted on him staying in the basement, for which he was grateful, though he would not voice that sentiment out loud. But while free from chains, Drago wasn’t keen to spend more time with the clan.

  “Drago?”

  He groaned. He should have known he could not slip away unnoticed.

  “Aren’t you enjoying the party?” asked Annis, padding after him.

  “Just need some air,” he mumbled.

  “Are you coming back? We’re all having a lovely time – even Grey, and he is usually so miserable.” She smiled up at him, apparently oblivious to the paper crown on her head.

  “No.” He clenched his fists. All he wanted was to go to the roof and be alone.

  “Drago.” She reached out, her hand catching his arm and instinctively he flinched, his wing lashing out, pushing her away.

  “What the hell?” growled Chris.

  Annis stumbled, and her mate caught her.

  “Annis,” rumbled Drago unhappily. He did not want to hurt her; he just wanted her to leave him alone. She was like an annoying little sister to him.

  “I am uninjured,” she said quickly as Chris pulled his gun out. “It was my fault, forgive me, Drago, I did not mean to push.”

  Chris glared at him and muttering, put his weapon away. Annis sighed and sagged slightly in Chris’ arms. Drago realized how fearful she was of her human mate’s weapon. Drago knew it was much more fearsome than anything humans had back in their time, but he did not fear it. Sometimes he wondered whether he should just allow Chris to put him out of his misery.

  Annis stroked her mate’s cheek and whispered soothing endearments. Drago took the opportunity to slip away, trying to ignore their conversation but listening to it in spite of himself.

  “Please Chris, show some compassion.”

  “Compassion!” spluttered Chris.

  “I do not know what happened to Drago in his old life, but judging by his scars, it was nothing good, we need to be patient with him. The transition to this new life is not as easy for him as it was for me.”

  “He might hurt you.”

  “I don’t believe he will, besides, I have you to take care of me.” The sound of her kiss resonated.

  “Yeah,” grumbled Chris, “I’ll be a lot of good against a rampaging seven-foot gargoyle.”

  “I know you’ll always take care of me,” Annis cooed.

  He chuckled, and Drago heard them kiss again, this time much more thoroughly.

  Drago hurried through the house, eagerly climbing onto the roof. Out into the cold and silent night.

  He felt remorse for the way he acted toward Annis, a female who had shown him nothing but gentleness, but he couldn’t stop himself. His anger was unmanageable, and he wasn’t surprised of the fury he saw in Chris’ eyes. Annis was patient with him, but the others were not.

  He just wasn’t sure if he could ever find a way to manage his anger.

  *

  Martha filled her plate with five more finger sandwiches and enough crudités to build a model ship. For all her mother’s hosting abilities, putting together a decent food buffet was not one of them. She had already tried every item of food there twice, and she was starving. The portions were tiny, the food insubstantial and bland beyond belief. Martha looked around at the people attending the party. They hadn’t appeared to notice that anything was wrong with the food, probably because they were drinking their dinner.

  She was attending her mother’s annual Christmas Eve party. Oddly she’d never noticed the dire food before, but then she couldn’t remember ever being this hungry. Perhaps because she wasn’t sleeping well, she needed more energy to stay awake. Whatever it was, she was seriously considering retreating to the kitchen and making a ham and cheese sandwich.

  Martha let out a lion-sized yawn. The sleeping pills were not doing a damn thing. How she was supposed to be perky and pleasant to her spoiled, teenage stepsiblings for the next week, she had no idea. They were supposed to spend Christmas in Portland and go skiing in Switzerland for a week the day after. She was already searching for an excuse to get out of the skiing.

  She let out another yawn and rubbed her eyes.

  “Whoa, careful there,” teased a pleasant looking man, ambling over to her. “Never mind catching flies, you were yawning so wide you might catch some low flying birds.”

  Martha giggled politely, not that it was much of a chore. He was nice looking, and his smile was kind of infectious. If she had the capacity or energy to be interested in men at that moment, she would have already been instinctively flirting.

  “Sorry, lack of sleep,” she murmured.

  “I hear that,” he said. “I’ve been awake every night this week worrying about what to get my mother for Christmas. I didn’t want a repeat of the ironing board fiasco from last year.”

  Martha raised an eyebrow. “An ironing board? Really?”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, but it was a really fancy ironing board. It came with a seat and a cup holder and… yeah, I screwed up.”

  “What did you go for this year?”

  The man gave her a conspiratorial look. “Well, I didn’t want to make the same mistake again. Especially since I also got her a blender for her birthday - which has never made its way out of the box. So I got her a scarf.”

  “Good solid gift,” commented Martha, who had also bought her mother a scarf.

  “Oh, that’s not all. I decided to hedge my bets. I got her a scarf, some perfume, some chocolates, a subscription to a gardening magazine, some scented soaps, a subscription to a candle of the month club and a gift certificate to join a gym.”

  Martha burst into laughter. “Very impressive. Though I’d hold back on the gym certificate.”

  “Really?” He smiled in interest.

  “Yes, that generally says, you’re too fat, start working out.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Gotcha, I’ll give that to my sister – I don’t care whether she hates me.”

  Martha found herself genuinely amused for perhaps the first time in three months. She held out her hand. “I’m Martha, by the way.”

  “Brick Harper,” he replied, shaking her outstretched hand warmly. “I work with Carter.” He nodded over at Martha’s step-father, currently engaged in some serious ass-kissing with his neighbor – a guy who owned two television networks and who he was trying to convince to take his daughter on as an intern.

  “And yeah, before you say it, I know Brick’s a funny name. Before I was born my mom read something about people with unusual names being more likely to succeed.”

  Martha looked at him askance. “You a lawyer?” He didn’t look like a lawyer. In her experience, they looked like sharks in expensive suits. This one was handsome.

  “I’m afraid so,” he said seriously. “But I am doing a lot of pro bono work – I’m not entirely irredeemable.”

  “Your mom was right then, about your name. I certainly wouldn’t judge anyone on their name, I mean, I’m called Martha – a name that was last in fashion when women were still wearing corsets.”

  “It’s a good name,” Brick said kindly.

  “Sure, if you’re married to Abraham Lincoln.”

  He chuckled. “So how do you know Carter and Beverly? You don’t look like you’re one of Carson or Elspeth’s friends,” he inclined his head to her stepsiblings who appeared to be arguing with each other much to her mom’s consternation, “and this crowd looks a bit too stuffy for you. You’re not into dogs like Beverly, are you? That’s not how you know her? If you say yes, I’ll be devastated because I’m allergic.”

  “Oh, I’m the stepdaughter,” she said ruefully.

  Brick looked at her blankly. “Whose stepdaughter?”

  Martha frowned. “Carter’s,” she replied quietly.

  He hesitated too long. “Right, of course, I…”

  Martha’s smile tightened. “You had absolutely no idea that he had a stepdaughter, did you?”

  “Well
, I… I don’t know Carter that well.”

  “Enough that you’re on a first-name basis with him and that you know the names of his children and the fact that my mom is interested in dog shows.”

  Brick looked uncomfortable, and Martha did him the favor of excusing herself from his company. She didn’t know why she was surprised. She and Carter hadn’t exactly ever gotten along, but she didn’t realize he never acknowledged her existence.

  She retreated into her mom’s room. What had over the years been her study, then her sewing room, and then her reading room as her tastes changed. Now it was just called her reflecting room.

  Martha cast her eyes over the many photos adorning the walls, and with a sinking feeling, she realized she wasn’t in any of them. Nor was her father, though that wasn’t a surprise.

  Their relationship had always been strained, the truth about her father putting a taint over everything, but did her mother really want to erase her existence completely?

  “Martha?”

  “I’m not feeling well,” mumbled Martha as her mother entered the room, wringing her hands.

  “Brick told me…”

  “I’m not feeling well,” she said dully. “I think I’ll just go home.”

  “Darling, you shouldn’t take it personally. Brick only knows about your brother and sister because of a dinner party. You just didn’t come up in conversation.”

  Her mother gave her a worried frown, and Martha stared back a little coldly.

  “I’m tired, I need to go home,” said Martha deflating slightly.

  “But tomorrow’s Christmas.” Her mother’s bottom lip trembled. “Don’t you want to stay the night and open presents together?”

  Honestly, no. She’d just feel like an interloper into their happy family - as usual.

  “I’ll come by in the morning,” she agreed before limply submitting to a hug and slipping away.

  Brick caught her before she made it to her car and awkwardly apologized. She waved away his sorry and told him he did nothing wrong – which he didn’t. It wasn’t his fault he exposed Martha’s own feelings of being a guest in her own family.

  But whether he meant to hurt her or not, she was hurt, and perhaps not quite in the right frame of mind to drive home in the increasingly heavy snow.

  Chapter Six

  Kylie ran her fingers through her hair and then gagged. “Ugh, gross. Must wash hands.”

  She quickly washed her hands, forcing herself not to look at the pregnancy tests again. A month ago she had a scare and had worried she was pregnant, but it had come to nothing. She had gone on the pill to ensure she had no further close calls, but now… this wasn’t a close call at all.

  Over the last week, she had suspected she may be, but she had been putting off finding out the truth. She loved Luc but the thought of being pregnant terrified her. What if it was too dangerous for her to give birth? What if being pregnant meant she could no longer wake the other gargoyles? They already had two new gargoyles waiting to be woken – what if waking them was dangerous to the baby? What if the government tried to take her mixed species baby away from her? What if she lost the baby and disappointed Luc? He was adamant he wanted kids, but she just didn’t know if she could provide them.

  Vaguely, she heard the Christmas music echoing through the house. Perhaps she should have waited until after New Year to do this, but she had been fretting for a week. Another week and she’d be coiled tighter than a string on a violin. Watching as Ingrede patted her pregnant stomach had finally pushed her over the edge. Kylie decided she needed the answer sooner rather than later. Well, now she had the answer, and she was even more terrified.

  Luc pushed his way into the bathroom, his huge presence making the room seem even more claustrophobic.

  “Little one, you left the party, I was worried.”

  Kylie gave him a watery smile before looking at the four positive pregnancy tests. “I have something to tell you…”

  Luc looked at her and the white sticks uncomprehendingly. He sniffed and raised an eyebrow, probably smelling the urine. She wasn’t sure if he quite knew how pregnancy tests worked.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said softly.

  Surprise registered on his face before he lit up like a Christmas tree. Kylie clenched with guilt as he pulled her into his arms, roaring in delight. She hadn’t felt nearly as happy when she saw the positive tests. No, she’d thought that it would have been better had they been negative. She hated herself for it, but it was the truth.

  In spite of her misgivings, Kylie curled her arms around his neck and buried her head in his shoulder. He must have felt the wetness of her tears because Luc’s roars died and he started cooing soothing platitudes at her.

  “Everything will be all right,” he murmured.

  Deep, deep down, under all her worries and frets there was a small bubble of happiness – happiness at having a baby, and not just any baby, a baby with Luc, the love of her life, and she wanted the baby. Wanted to have a family with Luc, but at that moment, she was too scared to let the happiness bloom. Hopefully, that would change soon.

  “You are pleased, are you not, little one?”

  “Of course,” she sniffled. In a small dose. “We shouldn’t tell people yet,” she mumbled trying to wipe her snotty nose.

  Luc pulled back and gave her a wary look. “Why not?” he asked tersely.

  “It’s still early days and if I… if we… if I lost the baby…” The next words stuck in her throat.

  He stroked her hair with infinite gentleness. “We will wait if that is what you wish.”

  Kylie rubbed her wet cheeks and nodded. “Just for now.”

  Luc pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you,” he growled.

  “For what?”

  He smiled. “For being my mate, for giving me a youngling.”

  “I haven’t yet, and…”

  He hushed her. “Have faith, little one. You will see, everything will work out.”

  Kylie wasn’t so sure, but she hoped so.

  *

  Martha swiped at the windshield. “Damn snow,” she grumbled.

  The snow was falling in droves and her wipers, when they weren’t frozen and unable to move, could not keep up. Added to that her heater was running full tilt and the car kept fogging up.

  Martha turned up the volume on her CD player and battled her way through the snow. It wasn’t exactly easy. Though, at least there were very few other drivers dumb enough to be out in this weather.

  She gritted her teeth as her car slid all over the freaking place. Curse her impatience, why hadn’t she just stayed at her mother’s house? Why did she have to be all stubborn and...

  “Eeek!”

  Martha let out a squeal as her lights illuminated a deer battling through the snow. Instinctively, she swerved and plowed into a tree.

  *

  Drago snarled as a feeling of pain assailed him. His whole body shuddered in foreboding. He knew, unconsciously that something was wrong. His mystery woman – the human with the golden hair who haunted his dreams flashed before him.

  “Martha,” he growled and launched himself off the roof.

  Chapter Seven

  Martha lifted her groggy head. Her eyes squinted at the red on the airbag. Gingerly, she touched her nose. It wasn’t too painful, so it wasn’t broken, but it was bleeding. Her whole body throbbed from the impact.

  The road was quiet on a good day, and this was definitely not a good day. She doubted anyone would find her anytime soon. Snowing heavily on Christmas Eve? Yeah, only idiots left the warmth of their homes on nights like these. Maybe Santa Claus will spot her she thought hysterically. No, she’d never even believed in him as a kid – she’d always known it was her dad. So Santa was definitely out.

  She shivered. It was already cold in there; she needed to get out and get her butt moving.

  Martha fumbled with opening her door. She could have sworn there only used to be one handle there – where had the second
one come from?

  She pushed at the door, leaning against it and tumbling out onto the fluffy snow. Maybe she could just sleep for a little while, just in the nice, soft snow.

  “Mmmmm,” she sighed as heat suddenly enveloped her.

  Vaguely she felt like she was moving. She was being pulled somewhere and then she was flying! The cold air made her flinch, and she snuggled into something big, hard but very warm. She had no idea what it was, but it smelled nice, and yep, when she stuck out her tongue for a taste, it tasted nice, too.

  A groan reverberated somewhere above her head, but she was too comfortable to care what it meant.

  The next thing she knew she was standing, swaying on her feet while the wet layers of her clothing slowly peeled themselves away from her body.

  Martha giggled and let out a ‘whee’ noise as she tried to spin around on the spot. She lost her balance and plundered forward head first, but she never touched the floor. Nope, she was sailing through the air again until she landed against the same, hard, smooth object that seemed to be breathing deeply beneath her. Something clicked in her head as a blanket was pulled around her. It was a person!

  She had been rescued and was now being cuddled by someone. How thoughtful! She settled her body closer to them, straddling their large form, rubbing herself against them.

  The groan sounded again, and she smiled as she realized who it was. Her eyes flickered open to see the red, concerned gaze of her monster.

  “It’s you,” she murmured snuggling even closer to him, rubbing her cheek against his soft skin. Barely a whisper of space remained between them.

  She was dreaming. Thank goodness for that because for a second she actually thought she was awake – and if she were really awake, the whole crashing her car thing would have sucked. Martha chuckled lightly as she drifted back to sleep.

  *

  She wasn’t a dream, wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to find her; he thought he was just reacting to nothing. But she was real. Every detail of his dream woman was vividly alive and currently snoring in his arms.

  Anger surged through him when he saw her small body sprawled in the snow, saw the blood on her face. He collected her and took her to the nearest shelter he could find – a deserted cabin a couple of miles away.