Page 8 of Stolen by the Gargoyle (Gargoyles of the Underworld #1)

“Oh, fuck a dick!”

He’d freaked me the hell out, running in here and roaring and garbling like he was about to come at me. I’d done the only thing I could think to do in my fear. I’d pelted him with pebbles. Honestly, I didn’t think anything would happen. He was, after all, a boulder of a creature.

But then he’d dropped his dumbass mouth open. My aim had never been that good anyway, but it flew into his mouth, catching in the back of his throat.

He curled over, his wings spasming behind him as he choked, trying to expel the rock.

“Spit it out, man, spit it out!” My arms flailed, splashing warm water all around me.

He hacked, coughing a terrible sound. It was like a coin rattled from somewhere deep in his chest. Before I could wonder if I should get out of the water and go clap him on the back, something shot out from his mouth like a bullet, shooting across the cavern and bursting through the far wall.

There was a moment of silence, perforated through with the sound of crumbling stone falling into the deeper end of the water, letting out plops and spraying water around.

Once it settled, the gargoyle straightened, and he glared at me. At least, I thought it was a glare. He could have very well been looking at me with incredulity or constipation.

“Sorry,” I murmured, not knowing what else to say. Then I remembered I was completely naked.

After he’d tossed me into the water unceremoniously, I’d gone ahead and removed my sopping, stinky garments and took advantage of the alone time to hurry and clean myself up as best as I could. A feat that was rather difficult to do without a bar of fucking soap in sight, but I made do.

Now, I remembered and modesty kicked in, making me cross my arms over my chest to block my bare breasts from his view.

“Is that truly what you think of me?” he asked, his voice baritone with something like hurt edged in.

My brows pulled together? “Huh?”

“You truly think so little of me?”

“Um… what are you–”

“You would rather meet death than be my wife?” His black clawed hand thumped against his chest, the sound like a drum beat that echoed all around us.

He raked his claws across his injured chest, smearing his own dark blood over himself.

“You would rather risk death than to stay here with me?” His voice rose and it made me flinch.

He noticed and lowered his tone, but this time, there was no mistaking the distress.

He didn’t try to mask it. It was there, clear as day, for me to read.

“Am I truly so ugly? Is that why you cannot stand the sight of me?”

I reeled back in the water, stepping into the deeper end and feeling my legs go out from under me. I bobbed in the place and moved my arms to resurface.

Now, it was my turn to stare at him incredulously. “Ugly?” I repeated, the confusion clear in my voice.

What was he rattling on about?

Did he… He thought I didn’t want to be here with him because I thought he was ugly? Repulsive?

That couldn’t have been the furthest thing from the truth. But I was too flabbergasted to voice the words.

Droplets clung to my lashes and I blinked them away, sputtering against the warm water.

When I didn’t reply immediately, he rocked back on his heels, the black claws of his toes curving into the ground inches deep.

“I see.” He swallowed and his body seemed to glow a light, purplish sheen. “Do you think you could learn to tolerate my appearance?” He waved a hand over his face. “I do not look like human males, but maybe you could see me in a kinder light… eventually?”

“Stop it!”

He clamped his lips closed at my outburst.

“Just, stop it!” I swam toward the shallower end, standing on my toes and keeping my arms wrapped around my chest. “I don’t know what you’re going on about,” I stated firmly. “But I really don’t like that look on your face.”

His solid structured face seemed to crestfall.

“I don’t mean it like that,” I amended quickly. “What I mean to say is, I don’t think you’re ugly.”

His pointed ears seemed to perk up. “You do not?”

I shook my head, curls slapping against my cheeks.

“No! In fact, I think you’re very attractive, damn you.

” Before he could say anything, I pushed on.

“I think you’re sculpted like a god, and you’re pretty talented with your tongue, too.

I like the way your face looks all grave and grumpy but your voice has a deep and honest tone to it. But–”

“But?” he interrupted.

I took a breath, needing to get this out. “But I can’t be here. I’m a person. A human. I have needs. I can’t be…” I waved my arms around, as if to encompass the entire cave.

I couldn’t stay here. Where there was no toilet or plumbing.

Where I had no hair care products or clothes or blankets.

No pajamas or underwear or clothes. I was emotionally attached to my things at home, and suddenly, it had all been ripped from me.

I’d been deposited here. And he expected me to mate with him and be his wife.

He hadn’t even asked me how I felt about it.

He hadn’t even asked me my fucking name. I’d had to offer that up to him and he hadn’t even seemed to care. He called me ‘wife’, and even though he said it with reverence, it felt impersonal.

My throat suddenly clogged.

“I don’t even know your name,” I whispered.

He stared at me for the longest time and I stared back, like we were taking the time to decipher one another.

Finally, he responded, “I am Nazzar, First General and Demon Commander of the Lord of Death’s armies.

” He thumped a fist against his bleeding chest in a beat like a war drum.

“Honored Commander of the Underworld,” he went on, bowing low like he was a gentleman in a historical romance novel. “And I am at your service.”

It was so ridiculous. So fucking ridiculous to see, that I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from my throat.

Everything I’d been feeling the last few hours piled on top of me and it was like a dam bursting.

I covered my face with my wet hands, laughing and laughing until it scraped my throat raw.

Until that knot in my throat tightened even further, and my laughter faded into actual cries of sadness and anger and pain.

I began to cry, and I couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried.

It belted out of me, the tears streaming down my face so fast, I couldn’t catch them.

I pulled my hands away from my face, seeing his alarmed expression to my crying. He waded into the water, and it washed away the blood from his body, making his skin gleam like freshly polished stone.

I cried even harder then. I was aware of his voice speaking, but not of the words he formed.

He seemed to hesitate until finally he picked me up and took me out of the water.

I wasn’t sure when he dried me off, though I could feel myself being wrapped in warm blankets and furs, and his voice soft, and concerned.

But I couldn’t reply to him.

There was nothing left to say to Nazzar, First Commander of Demon Armies.

So I just turned away from him to face the wall of my new prison, and I cried myself to sleep.