by Emma Alisyn
His father.
“I told you nothing good would come of messing with the human,” Arthur said as he wiped a towel over his face, voice unsympathetic. “You’re stuck now, and it could have been worse.”
“How am I stuck? She was supposed to have been sent away! Why does no one else understand this?”
Because this was the barracks locker-room, and he could, he grabbed the edge of the bench and flipped it with a roar, wings unfurled, watching with satisfaction as it crashed into a wall.
“You look crazy,” his father said. “Stop that stupid shit. Go spar if you need to burn off energy.”
He whirled, wild-eyed. “I’m trying to protect her!”
“This isn't going to protect her, you moron,” Arthur snapped. “It’s just going to piss her off and make the first five years of your married life hell. It’s been four weeks? Shit. She’s going to make you crawl.”
His father turned his back on him, and finished pulling on his boots, balancing on one leg at a time since the bench was no longer available.
“I thought you didn’t want me to be with her, and now you’ve changed your fucking tune?”
His father straightened slowly, turned, and pinned Niko with a hard glare. “You watch your mouth, Nikolau. I tolerate a lot of disrespect from you because we work together. If no one but you thinks you’ve done the right thing—” Arthur strode forward and rapped his knuckles, hard, against Niko’s skull for emphasis. “—then don’t you think you may be wrong? Stupid. Has to be your mother’s human genes. And we’re about to get more in the family. At least she’s doing well in training.”
“What? She’s still coming to training?”
Arthur’s smile was as cruel as Geza’s, with a healthy dose of nasty. “We switched your session times so she wouldn’t have to look at your ugly face. She’s been training since she took the oath two weeks ago. Told you—you’re the only one who thinks what you did was the right thing.”
She’d taken the oath.
He scrolled though his spam folder and there it was, the monthly newsletter from the tower which included all new business. Her name, face, and profile were there, introducing her and a few others as the newest additions.
Were they right? Geza didn’t have a female, what the fuck did he know? And Malin’s mate was locked up in their mansion, protected at all times of day and night not just by their wealth and family name, but by the best security in technology and manpower the Ioveanu’s could buy. He didn’t have to live with the cold fear during the day that his female was out in the city, alone, a target for any enemy to take out.
He watched her, the days she came to training once he’d looked up her schedule. Watched the bright light in her burn, the determination to master the marital discipline. And Little Bea . . . she shone as bright as her mother. Who would guide and protect that spirit? Her father was a moron.
Trying to push her away was the only method he could think of to make sure she was safe. But, it wasn’t working because no one was cooperating.
“You’re in a fucking foul mood, Niko,” his sister said to him one of the days she caught him skulking outside the barracks. “Why don’t you stop being so stubborn and thinking you know better than everyone else?”
His hand curled into a fist, talons slicing into his palms. “Does no-one understand? Does no-one care?” He was suffering. He hadn’t made the choice lightly. When he pushed her away, he’d pushed away the moon, enveloping himself in a never-ending glare of harsh sunlight, the rays beaming his sins and loneliness into stark relief. “I’m trying to do what’s best for her.”
“Bea knows what’s best for Bea. Jackass.” And even his own sister turned away from him, muttering.
No one thought he was doing the right thing. No one understood this was the best decision to protect her. They looked at him with varying degrees of anger and irritation. At times, he almost felt . . . shame. Which was stupid.
But maybe, if no one else saw the danger, the selfishness, the utter wrong in bringing his vulnerable woman into their lives, maybe . . . he was wrong.
Niko rubbed this chest. If he was right, right hurt like a flightless bitch.
Bea’s breath caught in her throat when she saw Niko standing among the instructors for that evening’s session. Their eyes met briefly before she turned her head away. She pulled Aeezah away and helped her stretch, forcing all thoughts of Niko from her mind. She had known there was the chance that he might be present one day. She couldn't hope their schedules would differ forever. She’d have to deal with it, remain cool and professional until time deadened her feelings.
But she felt eyes on her the entire session, and when a familiar voice called out an instruction to students sparring a few feet from her, Bea braced herself.
“Your form is sloppy, trainee,” he said. “Correct you stance like so—and so.”
He put his hands on her. Without thinking she stiffened, and executed a defensive break, following it up with a flurry of blows in a pattern he’d taught her.
Niko countered, shifting smoothly from superior officer and instructor, or whatever he was supposed to be since he was interfering in her training, to sparring partner.
“We’ve been here before,” he murmured, when he had her locked in a familiar hold.
“I’ll practice harder,” she said through gritted teeth, and slammed her new, steel-enforced boots down on his toe. They were expensive, of a design that allowed her to use toes and heels as a painful weapon but didn’t weigh down her feet with the increased bulkiness of a regular steel-toed boot. They’d been designed by a gargoyle, actually, because they hated flying with heavy weights on their feet.
She escaped, whirled and prepared herself for his next attack. But he just stood there, wings folded shut, the evening breeze ruffling his hair and his eyes as dark, as impassive, as ever.
“We need to talk.”
“Go shred yourself,” she said. The insult didn’t translate well into English, but she knew it had something to do with wishing ill will on one’s wings.
“I did shred myself,” he replied, voice even. Controlled. “I shredded my heart, and I’ve been paying for it every day since.”
23
She didn’t speak for a second. “That’s the silliest line I’ve ever heard. What am I supposed to say to that?”
“Say you forgive me?”
“Oh, really? I spent weeks daydreaming, crying myself to sleep, playing scenarios over in my mind where you came to me and said you were sorry, that you didn’t mean it. And you know what? I don’t care anymore.”
She turned on her heel and strode away. He followed, of course, grabbing her elbow. “Bea—”
“Get your hands off me! You don’t get to say cold, nasty things to me, break my heart, spend weeks ignoring me, and then decide you can just change your mind and everything is all better!”
She socked him in the jaw. It wasn’t on purpose, and the unprovoked violence horrified her. His head snapped back, but he said nothing, did nothing. Just took it.
“Lady Bea, Sir Nikolau,” Kausar said, landing a foot away. “You need to take this conversation somewhere private. You’re dismissed.”
“No,” Bea said. “I have nothing to say to him. I’m still—”
“DISMISSED, TRAINEE BEA.”
She swallowed her argument, executed a salute, and shouted in rage when Niko wrapped his arms around her, and using that combination of fearsome strength and innate magic, launched them into the sky.
He didn’t try and take her into his suite, which would have been dirty, underhanded, and would have sent her into a cold, unforgiving place. She didn’t want to be seduced. She wanted honesty, and explanations. And she wanted to make a clear-headed decision on whether she should give him another chance.
They set down in the Ioveanu gardens, the scars of the previous month’s battle visible but healing. Her scars were visible, but they weren’t going to heal if he kept re-opening her wounds.
“You can’t just usurp my will like this, Nikolau,” she said. “If I wanted to talk to you, I would say let’s talk.”
“You don’t want to talk to me. I’ll do what I have to.”
“Of course, we both know you’re familiar with doing what you have to, with making decisions that affect other people without consulting them first.”
He said nothing, and then, shocking her, went down on one knee, lowering his head. “I’m sorry, Bea. I’m ashamed. I’m also desperate.”
“What’s changed?”
He looked at her, reaching out a hand but stopping short of touching the back of her hand. “I realized I was like a rabid dog, chewing off my own foot for fear of a greater wound.”
“I already knew that. But you wouldn’t listen to me. You just . . . cut me off.”
“Can I hold you?” he asked, voice quiet. “Please.”
“I think I want you to suffer.”
“I didn’t know you could be cruel, Bea.”
She could be, yes. She could be very cruel. Bea wanted to stick the knife in his back and twist it, but the longer she stared in his eyes . . . she glanced away from him because she could feel the crack in her resolve.
“You hurt me,” she said, voice wavering.
Wings rustled as he stood, and the next moment all she knew was the cocoon, the blessed dark warmth of his arms around her, his face buried in her neck.
“I miss you so much,” he was whispering, “but I convinced myself it was the best way to keep you safe. I saw the drones shooting at you—I don’t think you even know how close you came to dying. I couldn’t go to you.” His voice cracked. “I had to let you take the risk. Little Bea would have been left with that moron human to raise her. I couldn’t take it if something happened to either of you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. “I could get hit by a bus crossing the street or an airtran crash or anything could happen, Niko. Does that mean we don’t get to spend our lives together in the meantime?”
His head rose, hands cupping her cheeks, eyes dark and desperate. “We’re entering into civil war, Bea. It’s been coming to this for years, but warriors died when the Mogren’s attacked the Princes’. Now, other clans are involved. It could be years, even decades before the conflict is resolved.”
“Do you want to spend those years with me, or without me? Because Prince Geza has already said he will match me with a suitable warrior.”
Her suitor went from pleading lover to enraged demon in the blink of an eye. “He told you that? I’ll fucking murder him.”
Bea giggled.
Niko stared at her. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Fifteen minutes ago you didn’t want me and now you’re all jealous. It’s kind of cute, Niko.”
Calculation flashed across his face. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her even closer to his body. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”
“Oh, I am very, very mad. But you can spend the next several weeks making it up to me.”
“I love you, Bea. If it takes a few weeks to say I’m sorry, that’s a price I’ll pay for keeping you the rest of our lives.”
He kissed her again, under the moonlight in the gardens of the gargoyle Prince, and it was perfect.
An assassin vows to avenge her mother's death. A Prince decides to win her heart. . . .
The Mogrens, one of the few remaining pure-blooded gargoyle noble families, want to rule. Ironically, they will use their half-Fae cousin as a weapon to kill Prince Geza.
Moghrenna, raised to be nothing more than a deadly servant, agrees to assassinate the spoiled playboy Geza in return for her freedom, especially after it is revealed he is responsible for the suicide of her beloved mother.
She doesn’t expect to find a Prince embroiled not in war or breaking hearts, but in. . .matchmaking? As she finagles her way into court and earns his trust, she has to make a terrible choice. Fulfill her oath to her family and betray the Prince, or circumvent the oath binding her and suffer her own execution—by his hand.
This is a gargoyle shifter urban fantasy paranormal romance featuring royalty, assassins, strong female leads and plenty of action and adventure. If you love hot alpha men with wings and heroines over 30, download Stone Prince. Books 1 & 2 in the Warriors of Stone series are available now.
SNEAK PEEK
CHAPTER ONE
Prince Geza watched the ceremony, arms crossed over his chest, failing in an attempt to dampen his external glee to a dignified glow.
Dignity wasn’t usually a priority.
“Congratulations,” Malin said, voice dry. “Though, I can see my felicitations are unnecessary.”
Geza grinned. His elder brother was jealous. Classic. “Face it, I did what no other Ioveanu has ever done. Matched a couple for love, and once she starts pushing out garlings, my triumph will be complete.”
“The parents of said garlings might think it’s their triumph,” Surah said, joining them. She had her eldest child on her hip, stomach already visibly swollen with the second. His half-brother and half-sister were multiplying, he’d give them that.
Though the thought of them multiplying . . . ack. Thoughts, begone. He knew Malin and Surah weren’t related, even if they were both his half siblings, the lynchpin of the family. Still.
“They can think that, but I've thoroughly investigated both of their bloodlines,” Geza informed her. “If they don’t produce prime, guard stock, I’ll chew off my own wing.”
Surah rolled her eyes. “They’re people, not cattle.”
He snorted. She was an Ioveanu princess. She knew better. “We are all cattle when it comes to breeding.”
Malin glanced at him. “And yet, I see no imminent breeding in your future.”
Geza’s smile hardened. “I’ll pick a bride when I damn well please.”
“The council would be pleased if you picked one sooner and not later.”
He sniffed. Like he gave a flying fuck what the council wanted when it came to his marriage. “These are the same people who successfully matched our parents, correct?” Geza stressed successfully, voice dripping with sarcasm, because their parents’ marriage had been one of the more well-known relationship disasters in modern Ioveanu history. Or else, Surah wouldn’t even be alive.
“It was successful,” Malin said. “It produced two living, capable heirs. And, indirectly, a living Princess who has also—”
“Bred heirs like a rabbit, proving her worth as a female even though she has spent her life attempting to escape traditional gender norms?”
Surah glared at him, though her lips twitched. She was hard to offend, though Geza tried. Often. It was a particular amusement of his, especially when she did something clever to pay him back. Ah, the good old days when their squabbles could descend into actual, physical rumbles. But she was such a grand lady now, and a mother. Malin would have a piss-poor attitude if Geza rough-housed with his own half-sister now.
“In all seriousness, brother,” Malin said. “This matchmaking hobby of yours is admirable and certainly . . . different for an Ioveanu, but your energy would be better spent seeking your own bride, as you said you were doing several months ago.”
Several months ago, when they’d been fending off Mogren assassination attempts, attempts which almost killed one of his best guards and that male’s new mate. Geza’s mood soured.
“We can’t even protect ourselves, and you want me to bring some courtier’s society daughter into this mess? Surah, at least, is trained for it.”
“Then don’t marry a courtier’s daughter,” she said. “Marry one of your guards.”
Both Princes stared at her. “My love,” Malin began, “we’re talking about the wife of the ruling Prince and mother of his Heir. He can’t just marry a guard.”
Her lip curled. “Just when I think you’re both normal, you prove me wrong. That’s why no one likes Ioveanus. So worried about your precious bloodline.”
“You’re an Ioveanu
.”
“I’m a half-human bastard of a dead Ioveanu Prince’s concubine, a result of a one-night stand with a man said Prince gave her to as a favor.” Malin stiffened. He couldn’t exactly challenge his own wife to a duel for an insult she did to herself.
Dear sister had a point. Truth was always pointy. He could wish she wouldn’t talk about about their mother in quite that tone of voice, however. He made a mental note to send Adagia some flowers since they hadn’t spoken in some time. Now, if she’d spoken of Ciodaru, the father of Malin and Geza like that. . .no one would care.
Malin glanced at him and paused, reading his expression. “Geza, you can’t seriously be considering this.”
“It’s an interesting idea. You know how I like interesting things.” His eyes narrowed with thought. “We live in combative times. But there are none who are suitable. Though . . . .”
“You’re a matchmaker, now,” Surah said. “Recruit more female guards. In fact, you can have Bea handle the initial screening.”
Geza nearly laughed at Malin’s expression. Priceless.
“Surah, I don’t think–”
“Then, don’t. Think, that is.” She patted her husband’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Your ancestors are dead. They can’t actually roll over in their graves. You Ioveanu’s need fresh genes, anyway. You’re all damn near inbred.”
Geza considered Surah’s suggestion over the next several days, going so far as to sneak a meeting with Malin’s personal assistant—now Geza’s first, human, female guard.
“You wanted to see me?” Bea asked, entering his office.
He sat back in his chair, fingers steepled, and studied her. She was no court beauty, but there was an enticing vibrancy to her. Lively intelligence in her dark eyes and a sweet, round face, topped with curls as endearing as they were messy. Geza was certain her mate, Sir Nikolau, appreciated that despite regular training now, she'd retained a curvaceous figure. The kind of hips and breasts a male would like to grab hold of and . . . .