Page 6

Chapter 6

A Proper Goodbye

Evrard

H e drew in a deep draught of her.

She smelled of salt and lavender, and he tucked away that information like a gem into the purse of his memory.

He’d never been close enough to scent her this deeply, and he wanted to hoard every detail for the long, lonely nights ahead.

Raucous human voices cut through the fog.

A group must be approaching the gate, probably drunkards heading home after an evening at the tavern.

Evrard felt a brief pang about leaving his post at the gate until he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be in Brinehelm still, anyway.

He had no duty to guard it.

Rather than releasing Maggie, he tugged her close, pulling her around the corner of the wall into the shadows where the exiting humans wouldn’t notice their presence.

Even if the men turned back to look, with his wings wrapped around them both, it’d be easy to mistake them for another lump of stone.

Sure enough, the pair of stumbling sailors only remarked on the abandoned handcart and then carried on their way.

Evrard let out a shuddering breath when the men were out of earshot.

It was only then that he realized he was cradling her to his chest…

and she seemed in no hurry to get away.

“Good thing the kitten didn’t cry. I’m Maggie,” she said, color rising underneath her freckles.

“I know.”

“Good. I’ve always said you should know someone’s name before you kiss them, so I figured I’d tell you mine before you kissed me back.” She looped her arms around his neck, clinging to him.

He was speechless. Not that he ever had a lot of words at his disposal, but she’d stolen every last one.

“I just thought, since you’re leaving and I will soon be married, we should kiss while we can.” Doubt slipped across her face, fleeting as a cloud.

“Unless you don’t want to?”

He stared at her pink, parted lips.

They would be sweet, he knew.

He wanted to devour her.

How could he explain it?

“I want… to bite… the fruit of your mouth,” he translated haltingly from his own tongue.

She brightened. “Is that how gargoyles say ‘kiss’?”

“No. Not kiss. Not press mouth-skin on mouth-skin,” he said, feeling equal parts scorn and frustration at the limitations of her language.

He dragged his thumb over her lower lip.

Her chest rose and fell as she stared up at him, eyes rounded and scent strengthening.

“What does it mean, then?”

“Fruit. Soft. Ripe. Delicious.” He slipped his clawed thumb into her mouth to pry her jaw open, inhaling her quick exhale.

“Crack open. Eat.”

Her tongue touched the pad of his thumb.

Just one tentative, curious swipe, and he was done for.

Her face cradled in his palm, his lips engulfed hers.

She was a revelation.

Like nothing else he’d known.

Everything about her was soft: her waist in the circle of his arm, her wet mouth, her sighs and small, preylike noises.

Her small fingers playing over the back of his thick neck.

His protective instincts surged, and his tail curled around her ankle, anchoring her to him.

His wings drew tighter around them both, blocking out the moths and lanternlight.

In that shadowed, secret retreat, Evrard pushed his tongue into Maggie’s mouth, unable to check his fervor.

Any minute, he expected her to realize what they were doing, to stiffen and pull away.

To scream. To call him a monster.

Or at the very least, to bid him goodbye, forever.

But she didn’t. The longer he kissed her, the softer and more liquid she grew, until it felt like he was holding the sea in his arms. He soaked her up like the cliffs during high tide, knowing she would retreat eventually.

When she did, her lips were red and swollen, her pupils blown.

She looked well-loved, as she should be.

His purr strengthened.

“Must you leave tonight?” she asked breathlessly, a crease between her brows.

He nodded, arms tightening around her.

She chewed her lip for a moment, studying his face.

He wondered what she saw there.

He’d always assumed she viewed him as an eroded old beast, but perhaps with his moss gone and his mouth fresh in her memory, she thought differently?

“Long flight,” he rasped.

He hoped she understood that he was not eager to leave.

He would happily devour her all night if he could.

One corner of her mouth lifted mischievously.

“Spare me an hour or two to give you a proper goodbye?”

Maggie’s hand slid up his neck to stroke the edge of his ear where she’d so recently plied her blade to remove all traces of wisdom.

Certainly, there were no thoughts in his head except the feel of her little fingers and how it was worth any price, any reprimand, to have it a bit longer.

Equally wisdomless, his cock agreed, swelling at the base like it had bred her already.

He jerked his head in a nod.

“Not here.”

Not in the dirt, where any human might stumble across them.

Where the moths would tell their tales.

“Do you have a place?” she asked.

“A…cave? A home? I’ve only ever seen you on the wall,” she added apologetically.

Shame curled in his belly.

He had no eyrie. No nest. The best he could offer in the way of privacy was a cliffside ledge, spare and sea-beaten.

What a fool he was. He shook his head.

“Oh!” Her breath caught, brows lifted.

“Do you mate in the air? I’ve always wondered.” His cock jumped at the suggestion, and she must have felt it move against her, because a broad smile broke across her face.

“I knew it. It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of heights.”

His kind did mate in the air—not often, though.

It was the ultimate intimacy for bonded pairs because of the faith it required.

One partner had to cease flying, held aloft by the other.

Who would stop beating their wings and put themself at the mercy of the other was a source of disagreement for many couples, but of course, Maggie could not fly.

She knew she would be placing her life in his hands.

“You…trust?” he asked gruffly, humbled by her blithe assumption.

She cupped his jaw and planted a too-brief kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Sweet gargoyle. You have never let me down.”

There were no words more fulfilling to his stalwart, guardian heart than those.

If she had proclaimed love, he could not have been happier.

Threading his fingers into her vivid hair, he sought her mouth again, drinking in her taste.

She leaned into the kiss, pressing the lush spill of her breasts into his chest. He wanted to bite that fruit, too, feel the juice run down his chin.

His teeth ached for her.

For more.

Without breaking the kiss, he untied his breeches in preparation for flight.

His cock sprang free, prodding against her, and he felt Maggie smile into his mouth before she pulled back.

“Should I take this off?” She glanced down at her clothing, already moving to unlace her bodice.

He stopped her with a hand over hers.

As much as he’d like to see her bared under the moon once they breached the clouds, he was more concerned for her comfort.

He shook his head, gesturing upward.

“Cold.”

“All right, then.” She lifted the hem of her skirt, tucking it between her bodice and waistband.

He caught a glimpse of a pale, freckled expanses in the gap of her split drawers.

“Fruit,” he murmured, unable to resist reaching down to squeeze the exposed inner thigh.

“Want it.”

Her laugh was musical as she spread her legs a little to allow him more access.

He slid the flat of his hand up to wedge between her legs.

She was warmer at her center.

Much warmer, like he’d traveled deep into a tael-mine, somewhere hot with magic—except this was magic even a gargoyle could not resist.

She was wet for him already, primed by their kisses.

Curious to learn how she was made, he bit off a few of his claws so he could safely explore her anatomy.

For all his observation of humans over the years, he knew very little of their bodies or mating habits.

He only knew that their men pissed against the wall with pitiful little cocks.

But that must mean there was somewhere to put them.

He found it, a small, grasping softness at her center.

Unsure she could accommodate him, he pushed inside her.

She took his finger with a sigh, digging her harmless, blunt claws into his upper arms as she clung to him.

If anything, her insides were even softer than her outsides, soft beyond reason.

He felt for her pleasure spot, for surely their kind had them, too.

She squirmed on his hand, whimpering, though no place seemed better than another until he rubbed her upper wall.

“That’s it,” she gasped, grinding into his touch.

“Right there, that’s good.”

Though his needy cock leaked jealously down his thigh, it gave him a grim satisfaction to please her this way, so he didn’t stop.

He merely clasped her neck with his free hand and drew her back into a kiss.

His tongue stroked hers as his finger pumped into her until she was a wailing, shuddering mess, back bowed with her pleasure.