Page 7

MARCUS

Where’s my football?

Oh. Oh, no.

My breath stalls in my chest as I try not to draw the attention of my three gargoyle nest-mates.

Darius, Julius, and Atlas are all displeased for their own reasons about being stuck up in the older section of the attic.

I’m displeased because I forgot my football in my room and have bugger all to do without it.

When Eloise came by in a tizzy, waving her sparking hands around and lamenting about another witch coming to town with the missing deed, I was thrilled.

Darius was, of course, skeptical. Atlas, in his constant state of brooding, glowered harder at the prospect of a stranger.

Julius just grumbled something about the overabundance of rain being strange, even for this time of year.

Unlike the rest of those old boulders my magic is bonded to, I was and still am thrilled.

It’s not every day you meet a new witch, though meet is not exactly the word I’d use…more like hide-from-her-in-your-musty-attic . I cackle, the thought of trying to say the sentence as one word is just too hilarious.

“Would you quit it? There is nothing funny about this,” Atlas hisses, tossing back some of his shoulder-length hair.

It falls right back into place, and I snicker again.

“For once, I agree with Atlas,” Darius says, crossing his arms over his chest. His deep blue suit is all wrinkled from the hurry of tossing it on when Eloise first arrived.

When a witch comes knocking, you answer. Or else.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Julius says under his breath.

Atlas smacks the back of his head, and they exchange withering glares.

“I don’t think this is funny necessarily, just thinking about how I forgot to lock my bedroom door.” The lie rolls off my tongue easily, though my eyes start twitching. With them so distracted, they don’t even notice.

“Go shut and lock the door as quickly as possible.” Darius finally looks over as my eye stops twitching.

Magic warms the center of my chest. The aid of our nest leader will make me even faster than I could have been on my own.

“Sweet!” I cheer, jumping up and pumping my fist in the air.

I trot over to the wooden hatch in the floor and carefully lift it, then begin the slow descent down the rickety wooden ladder. It groans under the weight of my stone body. Even magic isn’t able to mask my presence entirely, especially when interacting with inanimate objects.

Man, that would be so cool if it could do that, though. I’d be an absolute beast. Well, I’m already kind of a beast, but on the footie field, I’d be able to pass through the competition with my magic, get right to their goal before they knew what hit them…or didn’t hit them.

I snicker again and let the magic settle into every inch of my body.

I feel the planes of my face sharpen and the horns on my head grow at least another inch.

The yellow hue of my skin glows for a second before I take off like a silenced shot.

The familiar corridors of the castle pass by in a fraction of a second as I fly through the halls and make my way down some stairs.

When I reach our floor, I pause for a breath, ignoring the glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye.

There she is.

I don’t know what whispers that to me, my heart, my soul, or the universe itself, but I hear it loud and clear. That witch is my mate. I can feel it in every ounce of myself. I want to turn and run into her arms, but instead I keep the course.

I dart into my room, shutting the door as lightly as I can.

My breaths turn shallow as I close my eyes and summon the image of her.

She’s so pretty, soft and full. She’s not even made of stone, but she’s precious, beyond any materials that could be mined from the earth or born of our kind.

Her magic permeates the air and tingles on my tongue like popping sweets.

“When I tell Darius, he’s going to lose his mind,” I choke out, thinking about my nest-mates and our mate.

That’s what she is, not just mine, ours .

Atlas’ reaction flashes across my mind like a strike, and I flinch from the intensity of it.

I can already see the curl of his cruel sneer.

She’s human…well, sorta, and that’s not good enough for him.

My hands clench into fists at the thought, and I might just have to punch him to make myself feel better.

How dare he judge her before even meeting her?

Indignation flares to life in my chest on behalf of our mate, and I take off again, locking the door behind me and getting to the attic in what amounts to a heartbeat. I zip up the ladder, pulling it back up after me.

“Is it done?”

“Well, yeah, course,” I say, freezing for a moment, trying to remember what I was meant to do.

Oh, right. My football!

“Bollocks,” I hiss.

Darius growls in response. “Did you not lock the door like I instructed?” he questions, his voice that controlled sort of angry.

My balls practically shrivel up in my athletic shorts. I cup them over the material and frown. I’m going to need these to give our mate a lovely pearl necklace .

“No, I did that. I forgot my football.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Atlas scoffs.

“I am very much not kidding you! She could take forever to settle in, and who knows, Eloise could have been pulling our legs about her.”

“I doubt that,” Julius says, quick to defend the owner of the only shop in town with wool and yarn he deems worthy enough to use.

“Eloise is a good woman. She’ll let the witch know about us and that this is our home.

We’ll give her something from the treasury when she returns the deed to us, and then she’ll be gone. ”

“Like she was never here.” Darius gives a curt nod.

“Like she was never here?” I blanch.

Crush me now. Turn the fine particles of my stone to dust. I can’t live with that now that I know she exists.

Fuck . My entire life until now feels like one giant bruise I didn’t know I had until this very moment. Being aware of it finally makes it ache and itch.

“What’s crawled up your ass, balls for brains?” Atlas asks with a shitty grin.

My mouth puckers up, and I debate hitting him like I wanted to downstairs. I love my nest-mate, but he’s such a pain in my ass.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but your face got all weird.” His features scrunch up, as if he’s in agony.

“Why are you both making that face?” Julius asks, his hands busy in front of him with some knitting project.

I can hardly track the movements of his forest-green fingers as they race through row after row of stitches.

“I’m mocking him,” Atlas says, then yelps when Darius smacks him in the back of the head.

“I’m not making a face. You’re being weird.” I drop my face into my hands and do my best to school my expression into something else.

Think of puppies and rainbows and the smell of the earth after it rains. The tension in my shoulders melts away like butter under a hot knife, and I can feel the muscles in my face relax. All my hard work almost gets ruined when Darius swings his dour face my way again.

“Separate now.” He jerks his head to the side, using one of his exceptionally tall horns to point to the opposite side of the attic.

Atlas rolls his eyes but complies with the command, flipping our leader the bird the entire way.

Pressing my back into the wall, I sink to the floor and rest my chin on my knees. Forgetting my football leaves me with nothing to do but sit with my thoughts.

“I can’t wait for the day those two go to blows,” Julius says, lowering himself down beside me and sparing me from gazing back into the well of thoughts filled with the pretty witch.

“Darius will win,” I say blandly.

“And that’s what we need. Atlas has got to accept his position as the youngest and get over himself.” He grouses, knitting needles clicking more harshly as he bites out his words.

“Atlas would die if he had to be less broody and melodramatic.” I snicker.

I love my nest-mates, but I have to remind myself extra hard when it comes to Atlas.

“You’ve taken up a broody position too.” Julius lifts a brow.

Behind the golden octagonal frames of his glasses, his eyes are intense…

like he’s trying to read my mind. I grunt, shaking my head.

It would be a great thing if he could actually read my thoughts.

Then he’d see our mate and understand just why I’m “brooding.” She’s perfect, and I’m just collecting dust, like an old Christmas tree in the attic.

“I get to sulk a little. I don’t have anything to do.

” I flap my hands in the direction of his knitting and then to Darius and Atlas, who are likewise occupied with their own distractions.

Darius doesn’t take time for actual hobbies, so he brought an old clock he’s been repairing, and Atlas always seems content to sit beside a window and contemplate existence.

Being a gargoyle is one of the most frustrating magical middle spaces to occupy.

There are those who are made and those who are born, indistinguishable from one another once they reach adulthood and find their nest-mates, but before that, some purists can be wicked bastards.

“Hold my wool?” He lifts his pinkie to point at the little spooled ball between us on the floor.

I scoop it up and blow some dust bunnies off it. The soft material in my hard fingers is a contrast I always love.

“You honor me.” I tease him.

Julius snorts and knocks his bejeweled horns against my much plainer ones. The little zip of sensation is more akin to a tickle than pain, but I jump, tail flicking hard against the wall.

“Hold the wool and look pretty, Marcus. Talking isn’t necessary,” he says with a roll of his eyes as he sets about making…well, whatever he’s making.

It’s blobby at the current moment, far too shapeless to tell what it will become in a few days or weeks.

The jumper he made me last Christmas is still one of my favorites, though I don’t get much wear out of it.

Can’t exactly play footie in a one-hundred- percent wool fiber jumper and expect it to be as nice as when you first got it.

“A blanket?” I ask, hazarding a guess.

“I’m not sure, actually. I was originally going to make a wrap or a scarf, but then I got distracted and added too many rows, so now it’s just…actually, yes, it’s going to be a blanket.” He smiles. “Have any use for it?”

Building a beautiful nest for our mate .

I shrug a shoulder, trying to keep the heat bubbling in my magical blood from flushing my cheeks a bright orange. I cough to cover the swell of feeling and nod.

“I’ll figure some use out for it. I’d like it a lot.”

“Consider it yours, then.”

I’m going to lose my mind .

Rhythmically, I whack my head against the wall, careful to keep from bumping my horns too hard, while keeping the enormous ball of wool Julius is still working with off the floor.

As fun as it is to imagine making a nest to present to our mate, I would rather be actually doing it!

We have more than enough rooms. We could even knock down some walls and make an even bigger room!

Or we could move some things around and put her in one of the larger former common spaces.

I wonder if she would like the dungeon since it’s underground and you can feel the magic in the walls.

“You’re thinking really hard over there,” Julius says, not lifting his eyes from his stitches.

His wings are tucked neatly behind him between his back and the wall, tail draped loosely over his legs with the tip swishing back and forth slowly. He always looks effortless and at ease, but he’s sharp and catches everything.

“The witch,” I admit, swallowing the drool that fills my mouth at the thoughts of her beautiful body.

What does her voice sound like? Does she know any sex spells?

“What about her?”

“Do you think she’s nice?”

“Doesn’t really matter if Darius gets his way. She’ll be gone before we know if she’s nice or not.”

“But what if we don’t just pay her for the deed? Or maybe she won’t want to give it up!” I whisper-yell. “What if she has us do trials to get the deed back, to prove our worth?”

“This isn’t the old days, Marcus. I doubt she’ll actually be that fun.”

I scowl. “I bet she’s a lot of fun.”

“On what basis do you hedge that bet?” he asks in that incredibly smart-ass way of his.

“Can’t I just have a good feeling?”

“You can, but we both know you have an instinct for hunting and sport. You’re not the people person of the nest.” He smoothes out a nonexistent wrinkle on the collar of his finely pressed dress shirt.

“You’re not the only people person. People like me.” I argue with him.

Julius chuckles, settling the half-made blanket in his lap along with the needles. “You’re being fight-y. Care to share exactly why?”

Damn perceptiveness .

I could lie, but again, a bad liar versus a very perceptive nest-mate does not make for a good outcome.

“I saw her,” I murmur.

“The witch?” Julius asks, his eyes sparkling with interest.

“Yes, the witch.”

“Which witch?” Darius questions, the magic within our bond crackling from his anger.