Page 3 of Stolen by the Gargoyle (Gargoyles of the Underworld #1)

“I will not let you go.”

“You–you speak my language?” I could feel my mouth dropping open in my shock.

His voice was deep, rumbly… grave. And it did weird things to my insides. It was the type of voice shadows were made of, the kind that sprung from the depths of the earth to shake the world. There was the promise of an accent there as well, almost Latine but foreign just the same.

“You knew what I was saying the whole time?!” I accused.

His head dipped a fraction. “You speak very much.”

My mouth dropped open once again.

“So you’re saying I talk too much.”

“Why repeat what I have already said?”

My fingers tangled into my curls, catching into the spirals. I untangled them, pushing the dark strands from my cheeks only for them to bounce back into place.

I tried to steady my breathing and not freak out more than I already was, but it felt a nearly impossible feat.

“Okay,” I breathed, the word catching inside my throat alongside the thrum of my heart.

“Okay.” My palms met and pointed in his direction.

“What in the hell is going on?!” When he only blinked, I couldn’t stop the barrage of questions.

“What am I doing here? Where are we? Where are my pants? And not that I don’t appreciate the orgasm you gave me, but why ? And why won’t you let me leave?”

I took in a deep breath, each question that ran together left me dizzy and without air.

“I brought you here,” the gargoyle said.

His wings twitched and then stretched wide, the purple sheen of them almost sheer and membranous, but also grainy in texture, like black sand.

“We are in the Underworld,” he continued.

“I disposed of your garments. We are to complete the mating ceremony. And I cannot let you leave, because you are to be my wife and your place is at my side, where I can protect you.” He paused, tilting his head in that eerie way of his.

“I believe I have answered all your questions.”

Unfortunately, his answers only left me with even more questions. My head spun, making me dizzy. Shit, was I going to faint? I think I was going to faint.

Fuck.

I closed my eyes and felt my body sway from side to side. I tilted, gravity betraying me, and then…

A gust of cool wind and he was there, sweeping me up into his arms, saving me from the fall.

But goodness, he was so big . His body curved over mine, wings wrapping us into a protective cocoon. His gaze swept over me, that dark brow bending into a concerned frown.

“You are unwell,” he stated, his voice dipping deeper into that accent that I would have found endearing, if this situation weren’t so fucked up.

I shifted in his hold, my pathetic attempt to put space between us, but he tightened his grip. His skin was still warm and hard. Like he was sculpted of pure flexing muscle. He held me so I was at eye level, his horns towering over my head.

I stared at the sharp tips of them before looking into those fathomless eyes.

“Wife,” he grumbled. “Tell me where you ache.”

The words sounded so tender it made my heart… clench. But I couldn’t shake the word from my mind, and it caused my anxiety to spike.

Wife . That was the one thing I was not.

“I’m not your wife,” I whispered. Maybe saying it out loud would draw a clear boundary in the sand between us, make him understand that he was delusional.

There was no ring on my finger. He hadn’t taken chiquihuites to my parents to ask for my hand in marriage.

And, honestly, with all the stress I was currently feeling, I would have welcomed a woven basket with Mexican sweet bread and mangos right then.

His arms wrapped tighter around me, body tensing even further like he wanted to physically reject the words I’d just said. Like even the whisper of them offended him.

But he merely replied, “Not yet.”

What the fuck did that even mean? Was he planning on taking chiquihuites?

I knew in some places they took cows and shit in exchange for their brides.

A bit antiquated, to be honest, but I liked the idea of having someone loaded enough to give my parents a bunch of farm animals, food, and furniture to prove they could provide for me.

Did gargoyles know about chiquihuites? Did they know about rings and weddings? I mean, obviously not. Maybe I should tell him? Would he listen?

I bit my tongue, aware I was getting way off topic in my own head, acting as though he was my betrothed or some shit, and winced. He pulled me closer. The movement had my bare skin grinding against his, the rough texture of his scraping against my swollen, wet nether regions salaciously.

I bit my lips to hide my whimper.

“Not yet.” It sounded like a promise. “We must finish mating first.” Then he moved and gently laid me against the nest of fluffy blankets and pillows. He pulled away reluctantly, like he didn’t want to let me go. But he did, keeping very little space between us.

“Now tell me, where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not.”

I wasn’t; he was right. I was going out of my mind here.

I needed things explained to me. Slowly.

Con peras y manzanas , as my mom said. Because how was one plus one equaling three right then?

I needed him to explain like I was either five or dumb as a bag of rocks, because, what the actual fuck ?

But I needed space from him. Being this close was only making my head swirl, and it was like he swallowed up all the air that was near.

I couldn’t stand it. This entire situation was fucked, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit how heady he was.

Maybe I was the one who was fucked.

I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to this monster.

He’d kidnapped me, and I wasn’t about to be on some stockholm syndrome bullshit, but his appearance was appealing.

Strong and vicious and yet so contrast with the tender cadence of his words.

Even if they were rough, his voice an echo sprung from hollowed depths of the center of the earth.

Maybe that was the appeal, but I couldn’t think about that. Not when his words hung between us like a dangling noose.

Wife.

Mating.

I took a breath, trying to scramble back, but coming up short when I hit the protective barrier of his wings behind me.

Right.

He didn’t want me to leave.

I tried to focus as much as I could, swallowing past my earlier panic. When I looked back up at him, I almost regretted it, because he was staring at me with that same worried and tender expression.

Finally, when I felt like I wasn’t going to swallow my tongue, I formed a coherent question. “Why did you take me ?”

I was no stranger to the paranormal world we lived in. I knew there were beings that roamed alongside humans. I’d seen inter-species relationships. Vampires, shifters, and an array of creatures mingled in the city.

But gargoyles? This was new to me.

And the fact that of all the women, he’d taken me and not… I don’t know? A succubus? Wouldn’t a succubus be more equipped to handle this? Not some human.

“I watched you,” he said finally. His voice deep and mysterious. “From the shadows.”

A slow trickle went down my spine, the sensation of something I couldn’t quite make out. It was the same kind of feeling of realization, like being shrouded in darkness, knowing something was following you but not being able to prove it until it was too late.

“I watched many women after I crawled myself out from the depths of the Underworld, but none were like you.”

He leaned forward, the tip of his horns pushing into my tight coils of hair. This close, I could smell him. Like fire and embers and ash. It wasn’t unpleasant. It reminded me of a campfire, warm and inviting.

“You captured me from the first moment I saw you in the rain, wearing yellow and red and black.”

I blinked rapidly, recalling the exact outfit, the exact day, he was describing. There’d been a storm and I’d had to run out and slipped into yellow rain boots, a black raincoat, and a bright, cherry red umbrella.

That had been weeks ago.

He’d been following me for that long?

Maybe I should have been afraid, and a part of me was, but I was also…

intrigued? I mean, with the attention span that men had nowadays and brains to rival chickens, the dating pool was slim to none.

So knowing someone actually, I dunno, liked me at first sight?

It was more than I could have hoped for with any of my exes, pathetic as that shit may have sounded.

“I felt your pull.” He reached a big hand between us.

The tips of his claws were long like knives, and I knew he could kill me with one if he wished.

They were darker than the rest of him, all black like they were stained with paint.

He pointed at me with one of those claws and pressed it against my chest, over the feral beating of my heart.

I was sure he could feel it and I wondered if he would carve it out.

“And I knew .”

My throat felt dry, and I swallowed past the scratchiness to ask, “Knew what?”

His black eyes seemed to burn. “That you would be mine .”

Well, shit.

Was it crazy that those words warmed me? It was stalking, kidnapping, and probably an unhealthy obsession like off some unhinged Netflix show, and yet everything inside me warmed at the thought of someone wanting me just that much.

But even still…

I cleared my throat and forced myself to look away. “Okay,” I whispered, accepting his explanation. Who was I to question his feelings? “But why take me? Why not… I dunno, why didn’t you talk to me first?”

The question appeared to confuse him. “No wife is a true wife unless she is taken.”

Say what?

“Can you explain that to me, because I’m confused.”

“I am a demon,” he explained slowly, and there was pride in his words, even if they shocked me. “Our traditions dictate that for our brides to be true brides, we must prove our worth to them first.”

“Oookay?”

“First, we take them.”

And he’d done that.

“I don’t appreciate being kidnapped, you know.”