Page 20

CHARLOTTE

I must be possessed by the slutty spirit of Kennedy because I’ve never sucked a man’s finger before. Never moaned around the appendage as it shifted from stone to warm flesh in my mouth, and not just because that has never happened before.

I’m more than gone for Marcus. Between his sweetness, earnest nature, and stupidly handsome face, I didn’t stand a chance. For him to have genuine feelings for me and not simply return mine feels like a miracle here.

Maybe I used my magic without even thinking about it .

That thought causes me to pull off his finger with a soft pop .

He gazes at me with heavily lidded brown eyes. His skin is the color of desert sand, his hair and eyebrows are dark and thick and a little wild, softening up his hard features. He’s even more heartbreakingly handsome.

There is no way this is real.

“Gods, you’re so perfect, Char. Did you know that?” he asks, bringing my fingers to his lip. He gives them a quick kiss before cradling my hand like a wounded bird.

“I don’t think so, and you wouldn’t either if you were in your right mind.”

His head snaps up, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“I must have cast a spell on you or something before I knew about my magic. Guys like you never go for fat girls.” I grit my teeth against the ache in my heart but power through.

I hate spouting this bullshit, but it keeps pouring out.

“I’m sorry, and I’ll find a way to get Eloise to reverse it.

You shouldn’t have to be forced to be with me. ”

“Forced?” he croaks. He looks down at the floorboards, tracing some of the wood grain with movements that remind me of his footwork when playing soccer. “I think?—”

A whine fills the air, and I have to drop my towel to cover my ears. The pain of the shrill shriek somehow slips through my fingers and shoots right into my brain. I wince and back up into my room. Fumbling back toward my bed, I crash down onto the soft comforter.

I’ll be embarrassed when the pain stops. Marcus will have seen my fat-ass naked, and it’ll break the spell, and I’ll apologize. He’ll be like every other guy, even if he makes me feel unlike any of them ever have.

“Char!” Marcus cries, his pitch nearly matching that of the shriek still ripping through the air. “Are you alright?” he asks, slipping onto the bed.

His weight causes the bed to dip, and I go rolling. My soft flesh collides with his once-again stone body, and I groan but don’t move my hands.

“What is that?” I think I ask.

“It’s the alarm, the big emergency alarm.” Marcus glances back at the still-open door and frowns.

With his face tipped away from me, I think he speaks, but the noise is too loud, and without being able to watch the way his lips move, his words are lost. He stands in a flash, giving me one more sorry look before he rushes out in a blur of yellow.

The second shower does very little to wash away all the self-hatred that has taken root under my skin. Comparison is the killer of joy, and it’s never felt more true than now. All the gargoyles are perfect, and I’m conventionally pretty, but not in a traditional way.

I groan and grab my loofah. Scrubbing myself, I give each of my rolls and folds the love they deserve.

I take a breath, pushing out the negative voices that live in my head no matter how hard I love myself.

It’s other people’s fault that they don’t like me for how I look.

I love the way I look and how I feel. Even if I could be carved of stone like them, there’s no guarantee Atlas wouldn’t hate me, Julius would make a move, or Darius would look at me with more than apprehension.

They’ll just have to take me as I am if they want me.

Marcus ran away from me at the drop of a hat when something like a hell siren went off, and I haven’t seen him in the few hours since.

“I need more answers,” I groan and tip my head back into the hard spray of water, enjoying the sensation of the drops on my skin.

I’m in my head, and I need to not be in my head right now.

“Oh gods, Charlotte, I am so sorry.” Darius’ voice is the last one I expect to hear when the door suddenly opens.

The tall blue gargoyle stands in a towel at the entrance of the large bathroom, his wings free and tail wrapped neatly around one of his legs.

“Didn’t I lock the door?” I ask, trying to cover my body with my arms.

The steam is thick and the glass is pretty fogged, but I don’t need two gargoyles to see me naked in one day. Even a witch has her limits.

“It wasn’t when I tried the knob.” He blanches.

The expression on his face finally shows some of the emotion underneath. There’s surprise but not in a bad sort of way. His lips are parted, and his eyes are locked on my silhouette.

Idea .

“Get in and shut the door, please. I need to talk to you about that god-awful alarm,” I say softly.

To my surprise, the alpha gargoyle steps farther into the bathroom and whips out his tail to shut the door. The soft snick of the lock sliding into place makes my skin break out in goose bumps.

I’m alone with one of them, and we’re both naked.

“Hand me a towel, please.” I jut a hand out of the shower while my other hand flounders to turn off the spray of water.

Since the guys have revealed themselves, we’ve stocked this bathroom with all the necessary soft things, including bath mats and towels.

“Of course.” He drifts over to the linen rack and draws out a large, fluffy blue towel. He presses the fabric into my waiting hand as I finally turn off the water.

I pull the towel around myself and step onto the bath mat.

Instantly, the difference in temperature makes me shiver, goose bumps becoming even more noticeable on my skin.

I shift slightly and tuck my arms around my chest, giving my heavy breasts another layer of protection in addition to adding some extra security to my towel.

“Why did you have me shut the door, Charlotte?” Darius asks, his eyes shining with what can only be the magic inside him. There’s no other possible way he could be so luminescent from the inside out.

“That alarm was horrible. It needs to be changed,” I say firmly.

“Easily done,” he says quickly, the agreement making me feel off balance.

“Oh, well, great,” I murmur, my hand drifting to my mouth, and I begin to chew on my nails.

“Is that it?” Darius asks, taking a step closer to me. The towel is warm from the heated rack, but nothing explains the waves of heat rolling off his body as he steps closer, not even magic. “I’ll do whatever I can to make you more comfortable.”

My breath catches, and I look up into the face of one of the four gargoyles who have made their way under my skin and are closing in on my heart like a deadly infection. My nose wrinkles a bit at the grotesque mental image, but I shake my head.

“I really can’t think of anything.”

“Not a single thing?” he asks slowly, every word feeling like a separate sentence.

His hands clench and unclench at his sides, and suddenly, warmth pools in my belly.

Fuck, I can only imagine what that movement would look like if he were more flesh than stone, all those delicious veins pressing to the surface of his skin. His perceived strength makes me a little lightheaded, and I sway softly.

“Charlotte.” Darius steadies me instantly, the discordant note of terror in his voice like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. “What’s wrong?”

“You and all your gargoyles are making my head hurt. You’re too attractive, and I’m way too mortal to deal with this,” I snap, clutching the towel tighter around my body.

It’s so damn stupid how small this gargantuan desire for these monstrous men makes me feel.

He freezes before he laughs in my face. All the carefully fixed neutrality of his expression melts away.

His laugh does something funny to my insides, and I can’t help but smile right back, a blush that has nothing to do with the steam taking over my entire face.

Warmth, joy, and desire quickly overtake any fear that was lodged in my chest. I think I fall for him at that moment.

The light above us flickers, glowing like the midday sun before the bulb hisses and explodes. Glass rains down over the bathroom, and I scream. Darius scoops me up off the floor and tucks his tail over my legs.

He looks up in disbelief. “I didn’t do that.”

“I think I did,” I whisper, blood draining from my face.

Darius’ room is attached to his office. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I’m surprised he has a room at all—if gargoyles don’t actually need to sleep—but he’s surprising me more and more with every second we spend in each other’s company.

“Alright,” he says from where he kneels at my feet, holding one of said feet in his hands as he looks for glass. He strokes his thumb over my arch, and it makes my nipples tighten. “I got you off the floor before you could get cut.”

“I did tell you that, multiple times,” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest to hide the fact that his touch turns me on.

The sweater Darius gave me is gigantic, and his leather and old book scent wraps around me. I fight the urge to breathe deeply to take it all in.

“I just had to make sure.” He lowers my foot toward the floor, but it dangles a few inches above.

His bed frame is high, wrought iron, and thickly made, so of course I can’t touch the floor. They’re all massive, and even though I’m a few inches above average, they dwarf me.

“I’m so sorry that happened. I texted Eloise, and she said combustion can be a sign that my magic is surfacing more.”

Darius glances up at me, reading my expression and smiling. “You’re nervous about the magic, aren’t you?” he asks as he stands, giving me the best view of his toned thigh and…well, his dick.

The gargoyle is only wearing a tight-fitting pair of boxers that leave very little to the imagination, if anything at all.

I swallow a mouthful of spit before answering. “Who wouldn’t be? I didn’t grow up using magic or even knowing it was real.”