Page 17

“W e were one species once, very long ago,” Xaniban told me, running his hands along my back.

“We lived on our homeclouds–not that many back in the day–and we had no concerns about the ground and its creatures.

We had everything up here, our females were plenty, and pips of all genders were born daily.

“But then a king got greedy. He wanted to be worshiped by all Gargoyles and have dominion over all homeclouds. Many gargoyles grew so confident with what they had that they forgot where it all had come from–the Gods, our creators and protectors–and followed the foolish king. It was a time of division and bloodshed.”

The movie fan that I was, I immediately imagined how with some epic music in the background, that story would make a great opening to a Hollywood blockbuster. Too bad Hollywood was overrun by vampires.

“Suffice to say, the Gods were angered,” Xaniban carried on.

“They chose to punish Gargoyles, so none of us would ever forget to appreciate what we were given. The punishment was harsh but just: the soul of every gargoyle was split into two, and one half was cast out from the sky. Placed in a body devoid of wings, that half was destined to remain on the ground, reincarnation after reincarnation, unable to reunite with the other half.”

“Okay…”

“The ground being so vast, the chance of the two halves finding each other is slim. Not unless the gargoyle half lives an honorable life that would grant them the Gods’ forgiveness and blessing.

Then, on a fated flight over the ground, the gargoyle will find the missing part of their soul and be whole once more. ”

“But not before the gargoyle claims as many partners as possible, right? Just to make sure his soulmate isn’t some other busty woman or strapping guy.”

My joke was met with another light tail slap.

But come on now, how could I take his beliefs seriously when they sounded copy-pasted from a romance novel?

On the positive side, the absurdity of the mate lore had reduced my frustration somewhat.

That might also have to do with tiredness catching up to me.

“There are signs to help recognize one’s mate,” Xaniban told me. “Those are easier to notice when the gargoyle is open to the possibility that the Gods have already granted their blessing. Still, the best way of knowing is through a claiming.”

How surprising . “Let me guess. The more claimings, the better?”

“No.” His tail twitched against my ass cheek in warning.

I’d better keep the sarcasm to myself. “One claiming is all it takes not just for the recognition of a mate, but also for the mate bond to lock into place. To bind the two halves into one soul. There can be no splitting them apart ever again, in this life or what lies beyond.”

Xaniban’s soft touch on my back stilled. “The bodies carrying the two halves remain separate but feel the constant need to be close to each other. Separation brings restlessness, pain, even death… The death of one’s mate can cause insanity or the end of the grieving half.”

“Uh…” I didn’t feel sarcastic anymore. Xaniban sounded gravely serious.

“That is how my father died,” he admitted, voice low. “He couldn’t bear to live without my mother, who lost her life upon birthing my little brother.”

“Oh God.” I was well familiar with the horror of losing both parents at the same time. A home fire had taken mine five years ago, and the pain of that loss was my constant companion. “I’m so sorry, Xan.”

“Do not be.” He tenderly traced my jawline with a knuckle. “Their souls are now one whole, beyond the death of their mortal bodies.”

That was a comforting way to look at it, I guess. “What about your brother?” I found myself asking. I hoped that, unlike me, Xaniban had a sibling to share the loss with.

“My older brother chose to become king once my father decided to join my mother, but fell in battle soon after I reached maturity. I took up the burden and honor of kingship, while my little brother chose the path of warriorhood. He is now the commander of another homecloud’s army.

Rest assured, you will meet him at the celebrations. ”

“Celebrations?” I stiffened. I couldn’t take any more surprises.

“The feast for our unity, little blessing,” Xaniban’s smile came back.

“This is not a good time to feast, as much as I want to present my gift from the Gods to all my brethren, but the celebrations cannot be overly postponed. The Gods need to see how grateful I am, and everyone needs to know you are mine.”

His last words sent a thrill through me. Part of me–a large part–liked being called his. Still, Xaniban could take possessiveness to a whole new level. Getting away from him might prove as difficult as losing a pack of werewolves.

“But that is a task for another time,” he said, returning my attention to the present. “Now I want to finish convincing you that my soul and yours are one.”

My brows nearly reached my hairline. “You have proof?” Yeah, right.

His fangs flashed white in the semi-darkness. “I have endless ways of proving we are mated. Right now, however, I will start with what you will like a lot. I will, too.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He cupped my ass and pulled me further up his body. Getting my pussy in the right position to be impaled on his fully-erect cock.

“Don’t you dare!” I sputtered. “I will kill you if you try to put it–”

“Kill me?” He laughed out loud. “With what? You are soft and plump all over–I should know.” He gave my rear a squeeze, which only increased the friction between our lower bodies.

“Xan. I’ll poke your eyes out. How about that?”

“Such a fierce warrior.”

“Xan!”

“Relax,” he spoke in a tender tone. “I know you are sore; I am just messing with you. You are gorgeous when you are mad and blushing.”

“I’m not blushing!” Damn. His night vision was too good. “If this is the proof you mentioned, I don’t like it–”

“The proof will come once you let me turn you around.”

“Oh?”

“I need you on your back without squashing my manhood in the process.”

“Ah.” Moving me up his body made sense now. “Wait, why should I be with my back to your front?”

“So that you can touch my wings, right where they meet over your head, and thus make them open. Only my mate can have such an effect on them, because only she is allowed to touch them.”

“Right.” How convenient . Of course his wings would unfold at my touch–he would open them himself. After all, they had served their purpose: keeping me prisoner for his story about the mate mumbo jumbo.

Xaniban either didn’t catch my sarcasm or chose to ignore it. “My wings have a self-preservation instinct of their own,” he elaborated. “They are very vulnerable in an attack. They would allow only my anima –a part of my very soul–to place her claws where a tear would be fatal.”

Fear gripped me. “But you can regenerate?”

“Wings heal very slowly. Unless you are on your homecloud or surrounded by loyal brethren to protect you from enemies, a tear is fatal.”

“Oh no.” The thought of Xaniban dying had my heart in a vise. Just thinking of him getting hurt made my blood run cold.

How could I be so attached to him already? I had lingered too long. I must get away from him immediately.

“Turn me around,” I demanded. “I am doing the wing touching, then going to the bathroom. To pee.” Don’t you dare follow me. I had to be alone to start thinking clearly again and make a new escape plan.

He chuckled and did as asked. Pressing a kiss to my shoulder, he said cheekily, “Go on, use both hands. Be gentle.” He made it sound as though I was about to touch not his wings but what was now jutting proudly between my thighs.

I elbowed him in the chest. “Stop it.”

“My wings are extremely sensitive, little human. I just wanted to warn you.”

Ha. The very picture of innocence, this gargoyle.

“Here, I will keep you balanced.” His tail went across my belly and his hands cupped my breasts, instantly igniting my body.

It was decided. He was getting his eyes poked out.

“I hope you have a good enough hold, little jerk,” I muttered as I reached for his wings.

My fingertips had barely touched the membranes when a groan came from Xaniban. Pleasure rippled through his body underneath mine. His hands automatically squeezed my breasts.

A moan tore from my lips. My fingers slid along his wings on reflex.

He roared. His wings opened at the same time as I felt him come on my belly.

My God. When he’d said his wings were sensitive, I hadn’t imagined this . His hot cum, pearlescent blue on my skin, and the knowledge that a single touch of mine had undone him… They made me feel hot inside, too.

“My anima ,” he murmured reverently, “only you can make me lose control like that. Only you.”

Satisfaction filled me. But so did worry at how his pleasure seemed directly linked to my own.

“Gotta pee,” I squeaked, and scrambled off Xaniban as if pixies were after me.

He didn’t try to stop me and actually offered me a helping tail while I was clumsily getting off the bed on unsteady legs. “Go, relieve yourself,” he told me as I began an embarrassing, stiff-legged trek to the bathroom. “Then I will come in to wash you.”

“I can wash myself,” I huffed without looking back. If I did, I might be tempted to return to his sweet embrace. The loss I felt at leaving him tugged at my resolve to stay away from him.

“I know you can, anima. ” I could feel his gaze following my every step. As if the separation of our bodies bothered him, too. His next words came out strained. “We will bathe together.”

Yes – no – agh! I was in so much trouble.