The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Heather Hildenbrand

  He nods. “She also provided a vial of your blood so that I could be bonded to you and open a link in order to protect you. That is why you feel a connection and are drawn to me. I can also hear your thoughts, so you might want to tone down the sexy eyes you keep giving me.”

  “What the hell!” My fist lifts to sucker punch him, but he is faster and grabs me, holding on to my hand. My eyes narrow at him in annoyance. “Mind reading is a personal violation.”

  The gargoyle just looks up and grins. “Expect a lot of personal violations from me.”

  “This is unbelievable. You are unbelievable.”

  “Oh, it gets better.” He laughs without humor. “Since you are an Unseelie fae, and you are dark-souled, once assigned to you, I wasn’t allowed to align with the divine. That is why I don’t have the Spiritual Assembly tattoo marked onto me. So you see, as the prince of the gargoyle race, I have given up and turned my back on everything to make sure your ass is safe.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Striker’s forehead crinkles. “It’s why I was created. To protect.”

  I study him and let everything sink in. “When Darciana finds out I have the gargoyles’ protection, she is going to snap. You won’t be allowed in my realm. Looks like it’s all for naught.”

  His eyes harden. “She won’t find out.”

  I stare at him in surprise. “Oh? Are you planning to protect me in secret?”

  “In a way. Siobhan didn’t trust Darciana, which is why we are meeting for the first time at the ball instead of your realm or my home. She can’t know I’m protecting you. No one can.”

  “How the hell am I going to explain your sudden presence in my life, then? I mean if you were a werewolf, I could say I got a pet, but a gargoyle . . .” I trail off, trying to be cute.

  Striker stretches his neck from side to side. “As your intended mate.”

  I stare at him, shocked at what he just said. “M-my what?”

  “I will be returning to Aragon with you . . . as your intended mate.”

  “You want me to fall in love with you?”

  He huffs darkly. “I come from a long line of epic love stories. I don’t plan on becoming one.”

  “So . . .” I try to make sense of this. “You want me to pretend . . . you’re my boyfriend?”

  “I want you to pretend that you are madly, deeply, and unwaveringly in love with me.”

  I stare more. “And how the hell am I supposed to do that? I don’t even know or like you.”

  He waves a hand around the ball in a grand gesture. “That’s all about to change. Tonight.”

  STRIKER

  Umbria snatches her hand away from mine and rubs her temples. They’re probably hurting from her bulging eyes. She has this confused what the hell is happening here look on her face. If I wasn’t so annoyed to be in this situation, I might find it cute. But I don’t. I find it fucking annoying.

  She blinks at me. “I don’t love you.”

  I nod. “I don’t love you either.”

  Her body remains frozen. “I don’t even like you.”

  “I don’t like you either.” She blinks rapidly, and I smile at her. “I’m glad we’ve established our true feelings about one another. Open communication is important in relationships.”

  Her gaze hardens. “I don’t need a brooding gargoyle prince to come in and save the day. To protect me from the unknown. I can fight my own battles. I’ve managed to survive this long.”

  “Dumb luck.”

  “Or brave intelligence.”

  I hold my hands up in surrender. “Let’s not fight. It’s a bad omen for our relationship.”

  “Actually, I think . . . I might hate you.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” she repeats, obviously confused.

  “Hate me all you fucking want. I was assigned to you as a favor to your kin. If I do a good job, and you remain alive until we figure out who the traitor is, we both win. If we work together and get this done quickly, then I will be out of your life and you mine. The bond will diminish. I get my inheritance, title, and womanizing life back. That is all I want here. You can go back to hiding in the human realm if you decide to, or reign over your kingdom. Whichever. I don’t give a flying fuck what you do with your future or existence. It’s not my concern. All you have to do is not die and pretend I’m your fucking world for a few months. Can you manage to do that?”

  “How romantic.” I don’t miss the sarcasm in her tone.

  “I never claimed to be romantic. Don’t expect poems and shit from me. I don’t do love.”

  “Love?” she repeats.

  “Love makes you psycho.”

  “That’s not all that makes you psycho.” She growls, stands, and walks toward the bar as she mutters and swears under her breath the entire way.

  I follow her like a shadow, part of my assignment. From this point on, she never leaves my sight. Umbria curls her fingers around the edge of the bar, sighing and talking to herself. As if breathing and remaining calm is an effort. She glares at me when I step up beside her, and Iridessa brings us both drinks. With a poisonous side-eye, Umbria downs both shots and huffs away toward one of the darker hallways. I follow her down the dimly lit passage and watch as she grabs a circular pull handle and opens wooden doors that lead into an empty stone room.

  We step in and let the door shut behind us. With a flick of my wrist, I produce a few small balls of fire, which float around us and barely provide enough light to see one another.

  “You should be more careful. That door pull could have been iron. Next time, don’t touch.”

  “Are you always so bossy?”

  “Yes. It’s what you are going to love about me.”

  “Doubt it,” she mumbles. “Trust me, if it were iron, I would’ve sensed it before I touched it.”

  I don’t respond to her lack of survival instincts because in the amber light of the fireballs floating around us in a circular motion, I realize just how fucking beautiful she looks in her black gown. Her hair falls lazily over her bare shoulders, and her eyes are all sparkly and gorgeous when they’re filled with annoyance and anger.

  Uneasy, she stares down at the floor for a minute then looks back up at me.

  “Oh, you’re good,” she smiles sweetly.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie.

  “It’s amazing how you can undress a woman with just one look.”

  “It’s a gift of mine.”

  “How is this going to work, Striker?”

  “How is what going to work, Umbria?”

  “It’s obvious you’re a man-whore. I’m supposed to have tamed that about you in one night?”

  I offer her a devilish grin. “What can I say? When you find the one, no one else matters.”

  She steps forward and tilts her head at me. “And everyone is supposed to believe I’m the one?

  “Yes.”

  “What about your clan? The royal family?”

  “Only key clan members are in the know.”

  “And your friends?”

  “My best friend, Tag, and his mate, Anya, know. They’ll be joining us in Aragon. Tag is my royal guard,” I point out. “Someone I trust with my existence. Anya will be your second guard.”

  Umbria scoffs. “The gargoyle protector needs a royal guard?”

  “Need? No. Require? Yes.”

  She clenches her jaw, holding her breath. “And the supernatural realms?”

  “We’re being seen this evening within the supernatural world. It’s the perfect setup.”

  Her eyes hold mine. “What if I didn’t show up tonight?”

  I take a step toward her. “You did.”

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  “Then you return with Darciana and die.” I take another step, pushing into her space.

  “They’ll sense the link we have since it’s a blood bond,” she whispers.

  Unable to help myself, I lift my hand to her face
and brush away a strand of her dark hair that has fallen onto her cheek. “That’s why we need to lie and say we’ve begun our mated bond.”

  She draws back the slightest bit at my touch, which she can’t do if this is going to work.

  Annoyed, I get closer, crowding her so we’re just barely touching, pushing her.

  “Don’t flinch at my touch.”

  “Striker,” she warns, but her voice betrays her, because my name comes out breathy.

  “You need to get used to being close to me, Umbria,” I point out.

  “Stop it.”

  “No.”

  She closes her eyes and grumbles. “Fine.” She sighs. “But I am the boss in this relationship.”

  “Was that ever in question?” I rasp.

  “And I am not sleeping with you.”

  “Noted.”

  “And for the record, I definitely don’t like you.”

  “You’ve made that clear.”

  My gaze rakes over her face, and I take in the serious look she’s giving me. I can tell she’s deep in thought by the little indentation between her brows as she frowns at me. Through the bond, I know she’s wondering what kind of trouble she’s officially gotten herself into with me.

  A ton. I can assure her of that.

  “You’re looking at me weird again,” I mutter.

  She rolls her eyes. “Am I?”

  “And don’t roll your eyes. It’s annoying.”

  She does it again. “Is it?”

  “Let’s not be that couple.”

  “Which couple is that, Striker?”

  “The one that argues about everything.”

  “We aren’t a real couple,” she argues.

  “Real or not, from this point on, you’re mine, and I am yours.”

  Her lips part, but then close, as if she was ready to argue but thought better of it.

  “Come on,” I hold my hand out to her.

  With daggers in her eyes, she stares at it. “Where?”

  “I am taking you to bed.”

  Chapter Four

  INTO THE FIRE

  Umbria

  Striker wasn’t kidding about taking me to bed. With a heavy sigh, I fall back onto the circular mattress surrounded by drapes shielding us from prying eyes. How I hadn’t noticed the round beds near the ceiling, or the matching ones on the ground, in the ballroom before is beyond me.

  Bronx let Striker know that each is cloaked with silencing magic to allow couples privacy if they need it tonight. My protector thought it was a good idea for us to be seen using one. Apparently, with his reputation being what it is in the supernatural world, it makes our newfound coupledom and faux love seem more believable. I pity the women his charm has worked on before.

  Kicking off my shoes, I curl up, closing my eyes for a moment in an attempt to work through everything he’s told me. I knew there was a traitor in my realm; it’s one of the reasons I went into hiding. Well, that, and I have nothing left to return to. No family. I frown at the realization.

  The idea of Darciana being part of a larger plot, along with the Caballuco Court, seems far-fetched. She has served and protected the royal family for centuries. And yet, I know how powerful a seer my great-grandmother was. If she saw something, and it was centered around the leader of her army, it would make sense she would go outside the realm for protection.

  A piece of the fabric encircling the bed shifts, and behind my eyelids, I can see some of the light from the ballroom slide in. Opening them, I sit up and look at Striker. A server next to him places a silver tray at the bottom of the large bed; it’s filled with snacks, glasses, and bottles of liquid.

  Striker hands him some cash, and with the server’s exit, he crawls onto the bed, closing the curtains behind him. “Tired?” he asks.

  “Overwhelmed.” I run my palms over the fabric on my dress.

  Striker looks at me from beneath his brows, his mouth tight with what appears to be genuine concern. The deep sapphire in his eyes fails to hide the childlike vulnerability that has settled into them. It’s that look that I can’t tear my gaze away from. The sincerity holds me hostage.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “Water and snacks.”

  “Trying not to get me drunk,” I tease. “That must be a new tactic for you.”

  “Trust me. I don’t have to get women drunk to fuck them.” He grins, and my world tilts.

  “You barely know me. Why do you even want to protect me?” I sigh.

  “I don’t.”

  I blink. “Then why are you?”

  “Aside from the mind-blowing bonding experience we’re sharing?” he jokes. “It’s my fate.”

  My eyes widen. “I’m your fate?”

  I wait as he makes various pained expressions. “No. Your protection is. I’m obligated.”

  “Wow. Way to pull at my heart strings.” Oddly, his admission stings.

  “Hang on, that didn’t come out right.” He runs his hands over his face. “I’m not used to having to actually talk to women. Get to know them. Usually, they’re just happy to be in my presence.”

  “How lovely for you.” I roll my eyes and grab a glass of water.

  “Look,” he exhales and shifts closer to me. So close that his breath falls across my lips when he speaks. “It doesn’t matter why I’m here. Or why I’ve agreed to it. What matters is I am here. I will protect you, and we will find out who is plotting against your realm. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “So that I can reign?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if I don’t want to rule over my realm or kin?”

  A shadow passes over his face. “Then don’t. But royal blood doesn’t always have a choice.”

  “Do you?”

  “No. Someday, I will be called upon to govern the gargoyle race and realms.”

  “And will you?”

  “Yes. With honor and willingness. Like you, I am royal blood. It is my duty. My destiny.”

  The lie is written all over his face. I sense it in my soul. He doesn’t want to rule over his kin any more than I do mine. I bet it’s why he agreed to my protection. For some reason, the idea that he and I have the same aversion to our bloodlines makes me want to tear off all his clothing and throw myself at him. Kiss him stupid. I really need to work on self-control around him.

  Shaking off the thought, I look up and see his eyes sparkle with mischief, and I remember he can read my thoughts through the bond. Narrowing my gaze at his smug grin, I drop my focus and intently play with the grapes on the tray as if they’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

  One of his hands slowly lifts, and he picks up one of my dark strands. “These blue streaks in your hair, are they natural?” he asks quietly, awed.

  “Yes.” I clear my throat. “Every Caballuco fairy has streaks of color in their hair. When we absorb a sin, the color turns depending on the sin we absorb. Red if the sin was theft. White if it was money. Black if trickery. And yellow for corruption. Orange for abuse. You get the idea.”

  “Are your wings colored? I’ve been told they are light and translucent like dragonflies’.”

  “Um. Yeah. They’re short and delicate—violet with shades of deeper purples. Yours?”

  “Dark and expansive. Gargoyle wings aren’t soft. They’re rough and sharp like ravens’ wings.” He swallows and holds my gaze as his voice becomes almost raspy. “How old are you?”

  “My age wasn’t in my file?” I throw out with a bite.

  “It was.” He twirls my hair between his fingers. “I want you to tell me about you.”

  I close my eyes, trying to block him out, to regain my wits. I need to stop slipping into a lust-filled pile of dust at the sight and sound of him. When I open my eyes, he is silently watching me. It’s unnerving. He makes me feel out of control, and I hate it and love it all at once.

  “Twenty-two,” I manage. “You?”

  “Twenty-three.” He moves closer and his scent wraps around me.

 
“You’re perfect,” Striker mutters, smirk firmly in place.

  My eyes snap to his. “What?”

  “The way you look at me, adoringly, everyone will totally buy your feelings for me.”

  “Well, don’t get used to it. I don’t adore you. Not even a little,” I reply softly.

  A wicked smirk graces his lips. “We’re going to be the best fake couple ever.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so,” he whispers back.

  “I can’t decide if your ego is repulsive or impressive.”

  “Everything about me is impressive. Trust me.”

  I level him with a look and change the subject. “I love purple.”

  “Good to know.”

  “And tapas.”

  “I’ll be sure to take you out for tapas then, for our first date.”

  “Coffee is my world. But if you add cream, you seal your death.”

  “Wrong.”

  I frown at his response.

  “As of tonight, I am your world. And I can’t die by your hand.”

  “Wrong.”

  He cocks his head in question.

  “I have an angelic sword in my possession. One wrong move, and I will drive it so far into your heart you won’t know what hit you,” I announce. “Death will be slow at my hand, gargoyle.”

  Striker’s brows lift. “An angelic sword? Impressive.”

  “You do not fear me?”

  “No.”

  “You should. I have the one weapon that can end your existence.”

  “I fear nothing, Umbria.”

  “And that, Striker, will be your downfall.”

  STRIKER

  Cocking my head, I study her. Umbria is nothing like I thought she’d be. I’ve read her file—a hundred times—which means I know every detail about her. Every like. Every dislike. And yet, the Caballuco queen in front of me is a total mystery. She’s smart. Funny even. Definitely strong-willed. Not the normal type of creature that I tend to be attracted to. And yet . . .

  “Thanks for agreeing to be my girlfriend.”

  She grants me a withering glare. “Pretty sure I didn’t . . .”

  I’ve decided with Umbria, it’s best not to give her time to think. Just throw words and actions at her so she’s caught off guard. Thinking leads to logic, and she’s too smart to have a moment to think logically. Plus, I have to admit, riling her up has become an entertaining game for me.