Page 1 of Seduced by Moonlight (Gargoyles of San DeLain #1)

AS NIGHT crept across the land, Ward Tywyll stepped outside his castle walls. The imposing structure loomed behind him, its centuries-old stones a testament to strength and resilience.

A noise made him turn back, but there was nothing but shadows dancing across the surface of the castle, highlighting the scars from previous battles. His blood had also graced those walls.

A sultry breeze teased his hair, and he huffed, turning away.

Summer was finally ending. A faint hint of floral perfume still lingered, even as shades of orange, yellow, and red dominated the landscape as the leaves changed color.

Ward gazed around his home, pride filling his chest. This place had withstood the test of time. It rose from the earth like a beast of ancient legend, its stone walls weathered and worn from centuries of standing tall against the winds of time.

As the Alpha King, it fell upon Ward to protect and promote the well-being of his kin, as it should be, and he fulfilled that duty. Lately, though, restlessness rode him hard, bubbling up and seeping into every aspect of his being.

This restlessness gnawed at him, urging him to move, to do, to find that something that was needed. The unknown need ate at him; he couldn’t identify it, and his agitation had intensified, like a wild beast trapped inside him, clawing at the walls of his soul.

Without fail, every evening, as soon as the sun set and stone no longer encased his body, a primal urge surged through him, a deep hunger that demanded satisfaction.

The call to leave—to hunt—was irresistible. But, again, he didn’t know what he was hunting for or where to look. He’d tried ignoring the need, resisting the call, for all the good that did him.

Recently, Ward had developed a habit of strolling through his territory, hoping to find solace. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to achieve, other than maintaining his sanity—and the sanity of his clan.

He huffed again, then glared at the moon. Just like every other night, as soon as he completed his tasks, he couldn’t resist the urge to wander.

Grumbling, he checked his cell to see that it was quickly approaching midnight. Well, he’d lasted longer than usual. With a wave of his hand, Ward cast a powerful glamor to hide his true form—that of a fearsome gargoyle creature.

Even though he was unlikely to encounter humans, given that his territory was far from San DeLain, it didn’t rule out the possibility of a hiker occasionally getting lost in the area.

Concealed in the shadows, he made his way into the forest that surrounded his home. The moon shone down, illuminating the winding path in its silvery glow.

As he walked, he inhaled the scent of pine and earth, the peace of this secluded place flooding through him. He loved his clan, but he still savored these moments alone.

Like the werewolves, his kind had a bond to the land. There were reasons for that, of course. His castle’s construction atop the underground rookery was an important reason.

They hid their eggs in a large, secure room, away from those who would seek to harm them. A communal hatching occurred when Halley’s Comet returned, around every seventy-five to seventy-six years. Astronomers last saw it from Earth in 1986 and expected its return in 2061.

The “it takes a village to raise a child” concept was one that their kind used. Ward had no eggs, and the elders were making noise. They urged Ward to impregnate a female, but he wasn’t sexually attracted to them, and his few attempts had proved unpleasant for all involved.

He preferred males.

Ward smiled faintly as the symphony of crickets, cicadas, and other insects filled the air, their chirping growing louder, almost as if they understood he needed to be distracted from his thoughts.

Nearby, the cry of a raven echoed through the air. Taking a quick glance around, he noticed several birds perched on branches, observing him intently.

A small fox darted out from the underbrush, body submissive as it approached. Its fur glowed softly under the moonlight as it stopped a few feet away, first staring at the birds, then at Ward, its eyes reflecting a cautious curiosity.

Odd.

Intrigued, Ward kneeled slowly, extending his hand toward the small creature. The fox, after another quick glance at the ravens, edged closer, its nose twitching as it sniffed Ward’s outstretched hand. Giving a soft chuff, the fox crept forward to nuzzle Ward’s palm.

Ward’s heart warmed at the contact. It was not uncommon for animals in the forest to recognize him as the Alpha King, and often they approached him, like now.

Could he speak their language? No. Did they seem drawn to him, regardless? Yes. Tonight, however, as Ward looked into the fox’s eyes, he sensed something different—a subtle plea for help. The animal’s body language was tense—not just submissive, but anxious.

“What troubles you, little one?”

The fox’s ears twitched, then it turned its head slightly toward the north before looking back at Ward. Understanding dawned on him—this was not just a chance encounter.

“Something is amiss deeper in these woods, yes? Is that why you seek me out? Okay, then.”

As Ward rose to his feet, the ravens took to the skies. He quickly realized they were following him as he trailed after the fox. How very odd.

His senses heightened as he crept through the trees, and the sounds of the forest grew quieter as he ventured farther into the darkness. Very, very odd.

Then Ward sensed it—magic. Black magic.

Suddenly, the usual nocturnal sounds stopped completely, replaced by a charged silence. His foxy friend ran off, and the birds darted ahead. Ward’s senses picked up a faint scent among the damp earth and decaying leaves. It was a scent laced with fear and something else—something metallic.

Blood.

Ward’s protective instincts surged to the forefront as he followed the scent trail. The moonlight cast shadows through the twisted branches, creating patterns that danced on the ground.

Close. He was close. He could smell how close he was, but there was nothing—wait. Wait. What was that? Was that…? Yes. It was chanting. As the moon cast a pale, eerie glow over the secluded grove— his secluded grove—Ward came to a stop and stared in shock. Who were these people who dared trespass on his land?

The air was thick with anticipation, or perhaps it was just the mist that clung stubbornly to the ground. And where had that come from?

He noticed the ceremonial stones laid out in a perfect circle, along with the four figures in dark robes chanting in an ancient tongue, one that he hadn’t heard in a considerably long time.

Sacrifice. Someone was committing a ritual sacrifice with black magic on his land. Why the hell had the wards not alerted him to the fact? They should’ve.

The chanting words were powerful and resonant, vibrating through the air. With each syllable spoken, the markings on the stones glowed softly at first, then brighter and brighter.

Ward’s heart thumped hard, each beat reverberating through his chest. His body quivered with repressed energy as he approached the circle. The night appeared darker, more ominous and menacing.

Within the circle stood a figure, struggling feebly against the ropes that bound their wrists. Ward froze when the person glanced right at him—her eyes were wide with terror, her mouth gagged to stifle any pleas for mercy.

For a moment they stared at each other, and Ward slowly pressed his finger to his lips in the universal sign of quietness. He had no wish to fight, but he also would not allow whatever this was to happen on his own land.

The robed figures continued their incantation, oblivious to Ward’s silent approach. But the ravens from earlier were not. They watched from the trees.

Drawing on the innate power that coursed through his gargoyle blood, Ward dropped the human glamor. His skin was a mottled shade of midnight blue that blended well with the darkness. Large, leathery wings with clawed digits at the tips rose behind him.

He had to act before the ritual reached its climax. The energy in the air was palpable, a dark murmur beneath the chanting, as if the forest itself was protesting.

His stomach rolled sickeningly as he drew closer. Over the stench of black magic, he now caught another odor, one that disturbed him almost as much. The woman in the circle had the odd scent that was associated with hunters.

All the leaders of San DeLain knew of the DNA experiments by Lennox and Nox on humans, but the witches of their community had refused to assist, so why were these witches attempting to sacrifice this hunter?

And a more pressing question was why the hunter smelled like a vampire, werewolf, and a mer? As far as he knew, none of the hunters had a combination of characteristics from each paranormal group like that.

Who was this hunter, and just how strong was she?

There’d be time for questions later. Right now, he needed to end this. With an explosive burst of strength, Ward charged the circle, roaring. Above him, the ravens shrieked, adding to the chaos as they flew off.

The robed figures recoiled in terror, one stumbling back and knocking over a stone that had been part of the ritual’s design. Its disruption caused a ripple effect, and the carefully constructed magic unraveled, sparks of dark energy fizzing into the night air like dangerous fireworks.

Then he sensed his wards screaming a warning. Good gods, the witches had somehow dampened them. The robed figures stared at Ward. One tried to maintain the chant, stuttering over the words, but the spell broke.

“Release her,” Ward commanded, unfurling his wings, his tail whipping menacingly behind him.

One particular witch, distinguishable by an intricate amulet that hung low around her neck, stepped forward, pulling back her hood to reveal a face twisted by dark intent and eyes that gleamed like molten silver. Her hair was an unnatural shade of deep violet.

“You do not understand, gargoyle king, and you meddle in things that don’t concern you. Leave us.”

“My land,” Ward snarled. “My concern. You do not command me. I am king here, and I—”

“I have no time for you.” The robed figure muttered a spell as her hands glowed.

But before the twisted magic could reach him, Ward uttered a single word in the primal tongue of old—a word that vibrated with raw power. The black magic disintegrated before it could so much as touch Ward, fizzling out into harmless sparks that died quickly in the night air.

Shocked gasps came from the three other hooded figures.

The one who spoke was powerful. Exceptionally powerful. Could she be a leader of this coven? Ward lunged forward, grabbing hold of the two closest witches, slamming them together. They crashed into one another with such force that they crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The witch who’d spoken screamed in anger as she threw spell after spell at Ward, but none penetrated his shield. Finally, she turned and ran, using magic to obscure her retreat.

Ward knew these woods like the back of his hand. He could walk through them blindfolded. With a powerful leap propelled by his muscular legs, his wings unfurled, and he caught up with her easily—his powerful hands clamping down on the woman’s shoulders. She hadn’t gotten far.

The witch struggled under Ward’s grip, her cloak tearing slightly as she tried to twist away. “Release me!”

“I don’t think so. What was it you planned to do here?” Ward asked, shaking the witch.

“You have no idea what you’ve stumbled upon,” she sneered. “No idea. You mess with things best left alone.”

“Oddly enough, I could say the same about you.”

“The ley lines cross here! This is the most powerful place, so we had to do it here! Besides, that creature is an abomination. You know that. You interrupt at your own peril!”

“Again, my land, upon which you are trespassing and using black magic,” Ward said as he dragged the witch back to the circle. “You kidnapped that woman. And regardless of whether or not she is a hunter—yes, I can smell her—you planned to do… what? You are the abomination, and I will not allow this.”

Ward looked past the witch to the bound hunter, whose eyes filled with gratitude and renewed hope. He motioned with his head slightly and hoped she understood he’d free her soon.

“Can you not smell her power? She has the Power of Three,” the witch screeched. “There has not been a being with that ability in centuries, and those hunters gave this foul creature such an ancient power through DNA manipulation, and—”

“The hunters are the foul—”

“—we’re going to bleed the power from her and take it for ourselves, and gargoyle king, if you interfere, we will also deal with you.”

Ward chuckled. The sheer nerve of this one. She threatened him when the witches were the ones in danger. Reasoning with such creatures was useless. They only understood one thing—power.

“The only thing you’re going to do is die. Again, you trespass on my land. My land, the very basis of my power.”

“Your interference will not only cause your death, but your clan’s too.”

Anger, bright and swift, rushed through Ward. Threatening him was one thing, but threatening his clan was another. The surrounding darkness glowed red as his eyes flared with an ancient power, a reminder of his lineage and the responsibilities it entailed.

He wasn’t merely a guardian of stone. He was an Alpha King, as powerful as the most powerful sorcerer. “You dare to threaten—”

“Mmmph! MMMPH!” the woman in the circle struggled to yell.

The hair on the back of Ward’s neck tingled, and he looked over his shoulder to see a curse come screaming at him. He spun while still gripping the witch and raise a shield to protect them. The witch who had threatened him chanted a transportation spell and disappeared.

Another witch screamed in dismay.

Had the leader of this coven really abandoned her sisters? Why didn’t the other three transport? Were they not powerful enough? The other two, who Ward had thought were unconscious, joined the last remaining witch.

They unleashed a barrage of spells, one after the other, each one more deadly than the last, but his shield held, pulsing, a vibrant cascade of light that blunted the assault of spells as he rushed them.

He reached out with one massive hand, grabbing at the air, and the magic at his command twisted the space between them, distorting it with a visible ripple.

He dragged one witch through it, flinging her against a tree several feet away with a sickening crack. He didn’t hear a heartbeat. Good. One down, two to go. The other two ran, darting through the woods.

Ward took to the air once more, arrowing straight for the retreating figures, his wings beating powerfully, kicking up a gust that scattered leaves and debris.

He caught the slower of the two, and with a powerful sweep of his claws, decapitated her. Just as he swooped down upon the nearest one, a sturdy branch whipped out, hitting the witch right across her throat.

Her feet flew out from underneath her, and she hit the ground, her head at an awkward angle. There was no heartbeat either.

Silence fell over the grove, broken only by his harsh breaths as he landed. His eyes dimmed as he calmed himself, reining in the anger. His shield dissipated into wisps of light that faded into the darkness. “Thank you, Mother Earth.”

Three of the witches were dead, but one had escaped.

Only the hunter remained. Sighing, he returned to the circle and the trapped woman. Unfortunately, she lay in the dirt, unconscious. But at least she was breathing. Maybe she’d have the answers to his questions.

Ward kneeled beside the woman, retracted his claws, and brushed away the debris. He untied her hands. Clear bruises encircled her wrists. Someone had restrained her before bringing her here.

It’d be a simple task to snap her neck too, and maybe, for everyone’s sake, that’d be the best thing to do. But he hesitated because he knew perfectly well that Lennox and Nox had kidnapped many humans and forcibly mutated their DNA.

It was possible this woman was a victim. But she was also something the paranormal world hadn’t seen in a very long time. Who knew what she was capable of?

But he didn’t kill unless he had to. Instead, he gently lifted the woman in his arms and carried her back to the castle, moving with a speed only supernatural beings could achieve. As he returned to the castle, he pondered this unexpected turn of events.

Hopefully, he wasn’t making a mistake by bringing her into his home. This woman posed a multitude of threats yet unknown, and Ward’s mind raced with possibilities and scenarios of what she could be capable of as he carried her through the shadowy forest.

But she had done nothing that warranted a jail cell.

He arrived back at his home, and as he stepped inside, the ancient smell of stone mingled with the faint scent of fireplace smoke. A sharp hint of pine from the wooden beams and furnishings added a sense of familiarity and comfort.

Beneath it all, there was a faint whiff of lavender and sage, the remnants of the cleansing herbs his staff used. Despite the calming aromas, his thoughts remained firmly on his mysterious burden.

The halls were silent as Ward, still in his true form, carried the unknown hunter to the infirmary. Unusual occurrences did not surprise the staff, but even they might pause at this sight.

With a gentle nudge, the doors creaked open. As he stepped inside, the sound of his own footsteps on the stone floor reverberated and bounced off the high ceiling.

After laying the woman on a gurney, he summoned his trusted healer with a quick message sent by text. Within moments, Celine entered, bringing with her a refreshing burst of peppermint and eucalyptus.

The lingering aroma of incense used in her healing treatments also lingered in the room. She was a doctor, but she was also a magic user, her bloodline infused with the ancient powers that coursed through her veins.

With this gift, not only could she diagnose ailments, she could also heal all but the most grievous of wounds with a touch. She was a rare breed—a blend of science and mysticism—and a loyal member of his clan.

“What have you brought me this time, Ward?” Celine asked as she glanced at the sleeping woman.

“A hunter, or so I believe,” Ward replied, his gaze fixed on the unconscious woman.

“By the goddess, really? A hunter? Here? Ward!”

“I think she was one of the ones forced.” Ward quickly explained how he came to find her.

“Well, hell. That’s not good, not at all,” Celine said, glancing at the bruises.

“No, it really isn’t. Plus, this hunter has traits I’ve never seen combined before. None of us have.”

“I know. I can smell what she is.”

“Gods.” Ward rubbed his forehead, his tail whipping behind him. “Would you look at her?”

Celine blew out a breath. “If that’s what you wish.”

“If you don’t mind. I’ll be here to make sure you’re safe.”

Celine approached the gurney where the woman lay. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a glowing orb of light to hover above the patient, illuminating her features.

Ward gazed at the hunter’s face, which was pale and drawn, with sharp features and dark hair that cascaded over the gurney. Her body was lean and appeared to be muscular, giving off an air of strength and agility, despite her current state.

“She’s definitely not human,” Celine declared as she checked vital signs and scanned for internal injuries. “I’m picking up a magical presence, so maybe a witch. You’re right about the mixed traits—there’s strong magical resonance from multiple races. It’s unprecedented.”

Ward paced, his mind jumping from one thought to the next. “As I said, those witches were trying to sacrifice her in a ritual. I stopped them, but not before they mentioned something about her having an ancient power and wanting it for themselves.”

“Ancient power, huh?” Celine echoed. “Why am I not surprised? Anyway, that suggests she’s not just a mutated experiment, but potentially something much more.”

Her scanner beeped intermittently as she ran it over the woman’s body. After a moment, Celine looked up, her eyes wide. “Ward, there are latent energies here that are unlike anything I’ve seen before. Ever.”

Ward’s thoughts raced as he paced back and forth, his mind unable to settle.

“Are Lennox and Nox responsible for that?” Ward mumbled, finally coming to a stop in front of Celine. A sense of awe and fear flooded him at the implications.

“Maybe? Who knows with those two. Or maybe they stumbled upon something or someone much older than any of us realize. I don’t know what to make of her.”

Ward ran a hand through his hair. “We must awaken her safely and find out who she truly is.”

“First, I should treat her injuries,” Celine said. “Pain can impair judgment, if you know what I mean, and we do not want this being’s judgment impaired.”

As his healer examined the hunter, Ward stepped back, his gaze lingering on the unconscious figure. She was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma—her scent alone was a tangled web of paranormal entities that should not coexist harmoniously within one being.

Who was she?

Yet here she was, breathing and very much alive, despite the myths and rumors suggesting such a combination should be lethal.

Celine glanced up from her examination. “Her physical injuries are not fatal—bruises, cuts, minor concussion—but it’s what I can’t see that worries me. There’s magic in her blood. It’s powerful.”