by Mina Carter
“Para slut.”
The hissed whisper came from Mrs. Johnson’s door, a single eye visible through the open crack, glaring at them with hatred. When she spotted them looking, she slammed the door shut. It rattled in the frame, and a few flakes of plaster fluttered down from the wall above it.
Iliona gritted her teeth, opening her mouth to apologize to Cal—again—for her para-phobic neighbor. Before she could get a word out, though, anger welled up like a rush of fire in her throat. No, she wouldn’t apologize. Not again.
“At least I’m getting some,” she lifted her voice to call out, making sure it would carry through the thick wood of the door. No doubt the vitriolic old woman had her ear pressed against the other side anyway. “Lots. All night long. With him and his brother.”
At Cal’s look, she shrugged. “She already thinks the worst of me. Even before I had anything to do with paranormals, she told everyone who would listen about the orgies in my apartment. Might as well give her something to gossip about . . . Maybe she’ll leave poor old Mr. Warren at the end of the hall alone.”
Cal grinned as they reached her door, hustling her through it as soon as she’d opened it. His bigger body corralled hers, a large hand shutting the door behind them as he turned her around.
“All night, huh?” He breathed against her lips, pressing her back against the cool wood. “We’d better get some practice in then, eh?”
“Oh God, yes,” she murmured, expecting him to kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead, he stroked a finger down the side of her neck, flirting with the edge of her collarbone before sliding down farther to the top button of her shirt. Holding her gaze, he flicked the top button open, then the next and the next, until her shirt fell open. Not looking down, he traced the line of the collar down, parting it over the generous mound of her breast.
Her breath caught in her throat as he slid his finger into the cup of her bra, pulling the soft lace away to expose her to his hungry gaze. Only then did he look down at her, and the near-savage needy expression on his face was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, bending his head to claim her lips. His big hand, skin warm and slightly rough, closed around her naked breast at the same time as he palmed her. She murmured in pleasure and arched into his touch. She wanted more . . . no, she needed more.
And more he gave her. His tongue swept against her lower lip, and she gasped. Moving closer, he rolled his thumb against her erect nipple and deepened the kiss. His tongue stroked along hers. Hot. Wet. Wanton. The kiss turned from slow to frantic. Torrid and openmouthed. Claiming her mouth as she wanted him to claim her body. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her hand sliding between them as he teased her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
She cupped him through his jeans. He was huge. The thick bar of his cock pressed insistently against her hand as she stroked him, and a shiver of heat washed through her veins. Fumbling with his belt buckle, she managed to get it open and slid a hand down inside his jeans. The thick, steely length of his cock filled her hand, and she moaned in pleasure. His free hand slid down her curves, over her hip, to press between her legs. Her clit throbbed in response as he rubbed her through her pants.
“More,” she broke away from the kiss to demand.
He chuckled, but the dark heat in his eyes swamped any amusement. His eyelids half closed as she worked his cock in the open fly of his jeans, and he reached down to unzip her pants. She shivered again, anticipation drawing her out onto a knife’s edge as he dealt with her zipper and slid his hand into her panties.
He lifted one hand to brace against the door as the fingers of the other stroked between her pussy lips. She bit her lip as his fingertips skated through the slickness there. He didn’t speak, the small catch in his breath enough as he began to stroke her. Touching and teasing, circling and rubbing over the small pearl of her clit, he drove her arousal higher and higher. She wasn’t idle either, stroking him from root to tip, and then alternating with sweeping her finger over the thick, bulbous head of his cock. It was a game of one-upmanship, to see who could take the most without cracking.
She moved, altering her position against the wood and parting her thighs a little more as her hips got in on the action, rocking against him subconsciously. Anything to get more of the delicious sensations he was causing. Her strokes over his cock became more erratic, slower, as her own tension increased. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything other than react to his clever fingers.
Her climax hit her like a bullet, out of the blue. One moment she’d thought she had a handle on it and the next moment it crashed over and through her, robbing her of breath as she gasped and shattered apart. Clinging to his strong wrist as he worked her clit, she rode the waves, her face buried against the strong curve of his neck and her hands curled around his arms. He continued his attentions, claiming her lips as he eased her through it. He dragged her release out until she started to rise again, the tension recoiling in her body and her hips moving restlessly against his hand.
She broke the kiss to leave a trail of them across the stubble on his jaw and down his neck. “Shall we take this to the bedroom?” she whispered the suggestion and then yelped as something hard and heavy hit the door behind her.
The blow was so hard it jolted her forward, shoving her into his arms.
“What the hell?” She looked at him in shock, and then they both looked at the door as it was hit again, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood as the frame gave a little.
Cal’s face drained of the sexy look, becoming harder and more feral as he drew a deep breath in.
“Redcaps,” he snarled, yanking his hand from her pants and doing up his with lightning speed. “Fuck knows how many . . . smells like a lot. We’ve got to get out of here. Now!”
Chapter 10
She stumbled backward as Cal pushed her away from the door. It lurched again, the wood of the frame splintering more, and a manic cackle from the other side made her blood freeze.
Redcaps were some of the nastiest paranormals out there. Murderous and malevolent, the caps they wore were supposedly soaked in the blood of their victims. She wasn’t quite sure that was the case, but there was no way she wanted to test the theory.
“Is there another way out?” Cal grabbed her by the upper arms, forcing her to look at him instead of at the door in horrified fascination. His expression was tight. He was more concerned than she’d ever seen him, even after he’d faced down the demon the other night. But a demon was just one enemy, and redcaps ran in packs.
She nodded. “The window.”
Pulling from his grasp, she dashed down the short hallway toward the main room. Not a moment too soon. There was a splintering of wood behind them, a panel of the door giving in. She cast a glance over her shoulder. Thick, muscled arms with taloned fingers shoved through the gap, clawing and scrabbling at whatever they could reach.
She slid to her knees on the carpet beside the coffee table, reaching beneath it to grab for the SIG underneath.
“Come on!” Cal’s hard hand around her upper arm hauled her to her feet almost before her fingers had a purchase on the weapon. His jaw tightened as he spotted it in her hand, already half dragging her to the window. “That won’t help. There are too many of them.”
“Way to go, Captain Obvious,” she hissed back, undeterred as she took aim at the front door, visible from the window down the short corridor.
The gargoyle hissed in frustration and jacked the window open, indicating with a jerk of his head for her to go first. Before she could move, though, the front door burst open and redcaps spilled into the apartment with bloodthirsty cries of triumph.
They were small, wizened old men with more muscles than a room full of gym bunnies. No one could mistake them for human, though. Their eyes were too large and glowed red. The fingers wrapped around the handles of the vicious-looking pikestaffs they carried were topped with eaglelike talons. Long hair flowed over their shoulders fro
m under the red caps that gave them their names, and the iron boots they wore were already trashing her expensive wooden floor.
“Assholes,” she hissed, lifting the SIG and firing into the mass as they streamed into the room. Most glared at her, big red eyes already fixed on her and Cal as they lunged forward to attack. She fired at their knees, hoping to shatter joints and at least disable them or slow them down a little. The weapons stashed in the apartment were loaded one in six. In every six bullets, five were normal and one was silver just in case she had to face down a werewolf. She didn’t know what kind of bullet would take out a red. Maybe a 50 cal . . . but that would put a serious crimp in the day of pretty much anything, even a dragon.
She hit three, their legs buckling beneath them. They went down with screams of fury, trying to crawl toward her with murder in their eyes.
“We don’t have time for this,” Cal yelled and grabbed her around the waist, climbing through the window while she was still shooting. She kept her aim on the window as he clambered along the narrow ledge toward the fire escape on the side of the building, firing a couple of rounds off each time a redcap poked his head around the corner. The frustrated screaming was music to her ears, and she grinned. Then she made the mistake of turning her head to look at Cal. He tilted her just at that moment, twisting around to jump onto the fire escape, and she found herself dangling over the drop looking at the ground twelve stories below.
Shit. It was a long way down. Made of living stone, he’d survive such a fall, but she wouldn’t. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, holding in the scream of terror that wanted to escape. A second later, he swung her around, and she felt the metal of the fire escape beneath her feet.
“Move, move, move!” he ordered, pushing her ahead of him toward the ladders. Battle cries and bloodthirsty screams told her that the redcaps were making their way out of the window. She didn’t bother looking. The SIG was almost out now so it would be useless. Shoving it in the back of her waistband, she grabbed the ladder, clambering down as quickly as she could.
Spots of rust on the metal ripped at the palms of her hands. More than once, her feet slipped on the wet rungs, but she daren’t slow down. Not with so many redcaps on their tail. Their screams were increasing in volume, and she frowned, looking down.
“Shit,” she breathed, stopping so quickly Cal nearly trod on her fingers.
The fire escape below them was crowded with more redcaps, malevolent cackles rising as they climbed steadily upward. She looked up, beyond Cal, and sure enough the metal structure above them was filled with the evil little creatures as well.
“Fucking hell, we’re trapped.” Arm wrapped through a rung of the ladder, she looked around. The windows nearest to them on this building were shuttered, security measures it would take Cal time to break through. And even if he did, and they could escape, they’d likely put other people in danger from the redcaps. No, they had to lead them away . . .
Her gaze fell on the building opposite. An office block, it was deserted now, the windows blank and dark . . . But more importantly, this high up they didn’t have security grills. Letting go, she jumped onto the next landing, the metal shaking slightly under her feet.
“What are you playing at?” Cal asked, landing next to her with a heavier thump.
She backed right up, hands flat against the brick wall of the building, and gauged the distance between them. “We can make it,” she told him, nodding toward the other window. After lifting the SIG, she fired at the window opposite, shattering the glass, and started to run.
She didn’t make three steps before a hard arm grabbed her around the waist, and then they were airborne.
* * *
❖
She was nuts. Absolutely freaking nuts.
Cal was frozen in place as it registered what she was about to do. Leaping off the fire escape through the shattered window was a good plan, if a little crazy for a human. She didn’t have the senses he did. In the moment between her firing and the window shattering, he spotted movement in the darkness beyond the window. Only a creature with excellent night sight would have been able to spot swirling shadows and displaced air of a teleportation spell.
He didn’t wait for it to complete. With redcaps above and below them, it was a good chance that whoever had sent them had also supplied them with magic. Taking two steps, he grabbed Iliona around the waist and launched himself off the fire escape. As soon as his feet left the metal structure, he shifted, his stone form exploding from his human one. Bones popped and cracked, and liquid stone spread over his skin, hardening it and giving it the rough texture that made his hide virtually impenetrable.
Grabbing the support strut of the fire escape with his free hand, he used gravity and momentum to swing them both up and out. They flew through the air, Iliona’s soft gasp ringing in his ears as she clutched his arm. He didn’t blame her being scared. Most humans didn’t swing between buildings like some kind of comic book hero. That tended to be reserved for his kind.
They landed on the corner of the building opposite, his claws gaining purchase on the brickwork and then he started to climb upward. Once on the roof, they could make their escape across the city. Jabbering and cackles behind them warned him, and he ducked to the side as arrows punched into the stone by his head. He snarled, whipping his head around. The redcaps had archers among them. Shit. He doubled his speed, leaping whole floors at a time to try to outrun them. Another volley of arrows punched into the brickwork narrowly missing his precious cargo.
Iliona screamed, trying to cover her head with one arm and hold on to him with the other. Her legs bicycled wildly in the air, and for a second, he felt guilty, knowing his arm around her stomach had to be uncomfortable.
He put it from his mind. Nothing he could do about it now, except just hold on and move as fast as he could.
More arrows flew, grazing his stone-armored shoulder. He hissed, recoiling from the burning fire that drew a line across his skin. That volley hadn’t come from behind. It had come from above. His lips curled back from his teeth in a hiss as he looked up. Redcap faces scowled down at him from the roof.
Fuck. Somehow, the little assholes had gotten ahead of them.
A growl rumbled up from the center of his chest, spilling from the corners of his lips as he looked all around. But everywhere he looked, leering faces stared back at him. There was no way out. They were trapped. A sinking feeling in his chest, he looked down toward the ground. He could make it, but the jolt as they landed would break Iliona’s spine or crush her ribs. Neither was acceptable.
Think . . . think, he told himself firmly. They weren’t dead yet, which meant they had a chance. Gripping the brickwork with one hand, he shifted Iliona in his arms so she was cradled against his chest and protected by his stone body.
“Don’t worry,” he managed, speech mangled by his heavy fangs. “I’ll get you out of this. I promise.”
The trouble was he had no idea how he was going to keep that promise . . .
* * *
❖
He was falling in love with Iliona Graham.
“Fuck!” Gran swore and punched the wall. The rough brickwork cut into his knuckles, splitting the skin. Divorced from his own body, he looked at the wound dispassionately. Blood flowed from the split human skin, the white of bone visible in the tattered flesh. There was no pain, not from his hand anyway. The ragged hole in the center of his chest overwhelmed all else.
He watched without blinking as his body reacted to the injury. The skin hardened and became liquid stone, flowing over his knuckles and sealing the wound. For their kind, self-harm wasn’t an option. Suicide even less so. Even if he threw himself under a bus or a high-speed train, his body would attempt to heal him. Eventually it would manage it. It might take years . . . But he would heal. Whether he wanted to was an entirely different matter.
Turning, he leaned back against the wall and slid down it, burying his face in his hands in despair. He was only a few
streets away from the PPA offices, anger and fear driving him away, guiding his feet until he’d found an empty alleyway. He was falling in love with Iliona . . . and it was all wrong.
She’d felt so right in his arms. So soft and curvy, pressing up against him and fitting against him perfectly. He closed his eyes, a shiver running down his spine and his cock jerking to attention at the memory of her soft lips on his skin. He’d responded then as well, his cock so hard he’d practically burst out of his jeans. Then she’d touched him, and every primal male instinct within him had roared for him to claim her. Tear her jeans down, bend her over the desk, and fill her sweet pussy with the thick length of his cock. He gasped at the thought, already able to feel the silken walls gripping him tightly.
“Fuck!” he growled again, his vocabulary restricted to just one word.
He wasn’t in love with Iliona Graham. His brother was. But that didn’t mean anything because he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Had never had a choice in the matter. His deepest, darkest secret had come back to haunt him.
He and Cal shared a soul.
He’d never told Cal, never intended to. Even for gargoyles they were freaks. Unable to find a second victim for his experiments, their creator had used what he had. Granite. Or rather, what was within him. He’d split the soul in Gran again to create Calcite.
It had been excruciating. Like having hot knives pare his internal organs away from his spine or his skin flayed in a thousand tiny bites.
Thankfully, Cal remembered nothing of it. Gran had always told him he’d been slow to wake, which was why he’d never seen his soul’s previous body.