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“Talking about the castle and our alpha sure is a gas,” Marcus snorts. “So can I ask you aboutyounow? And may I have a slice?” he asks, giving her knees a squeeze, and her cheeks go crimson.

“I order too much anyway.” She pushes some hair behind her ear. “Since we’re going to be living together, I’m an open book, ask away,” she says as she rests her hand on top of Marcus’.

My breath catches in my throat at how perfect they look together before Marcus shuffles forward and grabs a slice of pizza with his mouth from her lap.

Chapter 11

CHARLOTTE

I don’t knowhow I’m going to tell my sister that I spent my night chatting with some hot gargoyles and eating surprisingly good pizza. She’s going to kick my ass, then kill me, cry about my death, find a way to bring me back, and then throttle me for not giving her an impossible invite to the fun.

I feel like I’m more lost than when I began. Maybe going through the whole cycle of life and death at the hands of my best friend would help me get out of my head for a bit.

They’re all so stinking hot that I can’t think like a rational and logical person, but I need to. There’s no way I can resist literally carved-to-perfection men. Add in the fact they have tails and wings, and it alights something in my fantasy reader heart and loins.

We’re going to be roommates—castle-mates, really—and they’re just supernaturally beautiful in different ways. Cool, cool, cool. I can totally handle that. I’m pretty but not supernaturallyhotlike them.

I groan and toss myself onto the bed I’ve laid claim to, shuffling under the blankets without so much as dressing aftermy incredible shower. I don’t have the mental energy to deal, so I shall not. Nothing wrong with being naked in my own castle…but not my own anymore.

“I am so fucked,” I groan, pressing my face deeper into the pillow like maybe it’s a portal to Narnia but a Narnia where things are normal again. So normal-er?

I snicker at my silly joke, tossing and turning until the bed is the perfect amount of messed up before I grab my phone from the nightstand. It’s a decently acceptable time to be calling across the ocean right now, but the fear around my throat hasn’t released its iron grip. I want to tell her everything and nothing because right now these gargoyles are mine. Something about keeping them my dirty little secret feels thrilling.

“Mine?” Saying the word out loud makes it feel even more ridiculous. “They are so not mine.”

My finger hovers over the call button on her contact, but I can’t find the strength, or the will, to get over myself, just yet.

I toss my phone into the mess of sheets and blankets and stare at the ceiling. A gargoyle now lives right above me. His office is right next to me too. Marcus is down the hall with Julius. And Atlas…I have no clue where he is, but I think that’s for the best.

When he was in the room with me, I felt like my skin was on fire. Everything about the way he looked at me made me want to fight him and then fuck him. I’ve never had such a strong feeling about anything except my art, and even that’s pushing it.

“I’m just getting used to it. It’s been a while since I’ve done the deed, and now I’m just wondering what gargoyle dicks look like,” I grumble as I drift my hand under the covers.

I take my time, appreciating every bit of soft skin that my body has to offer. The lumps, bumps, and rolls may not be for everyone, but I know I’m fucking beautiful because of them and not despite them. I give one of my breasts a hard squeeze, tryingto imagine what it would feel like if my grip were replaced with one of stone.

My breath catches as my other hand, almost without conscious thought, delves right between my plush thighs and parts my dripping folds. I’m already throbbing, and I haven’t even thought about anything penetrating me. Just looking at them all, I’m sure I could come absolute buckets if this is the reaction my body is having.

“Holy fuck—” I hiss as my fingertips make contact with my throbbing clit, and I nearly come from the simple contact.

My vision is filled with blinding stars as I bite hard into my lip to keep from embarrassing myself.

Slowly, when I’m sure I’m about to combust, I begin to circle my clit with the pads of two fingers, rolling the sensitive little bundle in the way I like best. I slowed my breathing to longer, softer moans as I pinch and pull at my nipple in time with the lazy circles. It feels so damn good to make love to myself after everything.

I’m not the same person I was when I stepped foot onto that plane in America. When I got off that plane, the world was different and I was sprinting to catch up. Now I’m just here, and I’m enjoying myself. The pizza was good, the conversation with Julius and Marcus was even better, and this…well, this is going to be cataclysmically amazing.

I whimper, turning my face toward the window, forcing my eyes wide to stave off the orgasm that is barrelling toward me. On either side of me are hot, strong men who are undoubtedly skilled in the ways of the female orgasm. There’s no way you get to be that fucking sexy without being baptized in a woman’s cum.

The thought of all of them, mouths and fingers soaked with my release, is what sends me barreling over the edge. My legslock, and my whole body spasms with the force of the orgasm that nearly makes me squirt.

“Marcus!” I cry his name quietly before ripping my hand away from my breast and slapping it over my mouth.

For a long moment I hold my breath, not moving a muscle, and just wait. I should have asked if they have super hearing, or if the walls of the castle were thick enough to withstand some pent-up woman’s clitoral DJ session. Now I feel like a fucking pervert. He was so sweet to me, and all I want to do is rail him while he prattles on about his beloved footie.

“Footie.” I snort a little. “He means soccer.”

The next morning comes far too quickly. A lot like me last night.

I groan as my body involuntarily stretches out and pulls at all the taut muscles I must have used to have the best orgasm of my life last night.