Page 53 of Fated to the Gargoyle

I try to pull my hand back. He doesn’t let go. I look up at him with every hour of sad I’ve been carrying, ready to let him have it. Then I gasp instead. He folds all that monster down to my level and presses his forehead to mine. “I had to go quiet, Treasure.”

“Why?” All the mad I built up over that fruit bowl comes out sounding small.

He slides the knife out of my hand and lays it on the counter. “Hearing that from you… what I felt would have cracked my stone through. And cracks do not heal.”

I swallow hard. He’s told me that.

I pull back enough to see his face. “You could’ve given a girl a heads-up. I’ve been in my head all damn day wondering if I messed up.” I press my finger into his chest. “I told you I want a partner, Soren. That means you don’t get to pick what I can carry.”

“You are right. I will not go quiet on you again.”

He takes my hand and presses it flat over his chest. “The day you know that you love me will be a very, very long night for you, Treasure.”

I say it anyway. “What if I know now?”

He leans down until I have to tip my head back, and the look coming down at me is flat-out menacing. “Try me, Treasure.”

I think about the last time he got his hands on me. Would I survive a sequel? Debatable.

I ease back a step toward the counter. “Let me eat something first.”

He pulls his head back and stands to his full height while I turn back to my cutting board on legs I don’t fully trust.

I pick the knife back up. He moves in behind me, all that size towering over the back of me. I hover a shaky hand over the peach, and his claw catches my wrist, gentle.

He steps closer, and that’s when I feel the length of him through the pants I made, pressing hard against my back.

His breath stirs the top of my head. “I missed you last night, Treasure.”

I turn around and look up at him, then down at the front of those pants, then back up. Lord.

“Are you sore?” he asks.

I shake my head no.

He picks me up and carries me to the bedroom. I bite my lip the whole way. He lays me down easy on our bed.

“Soren…” I start, and lose the thought, because his dick looks about ready to come through the fabric. I haven’t even gotten around to making him a second pair.

His tongue slides out and drags warm up my cheek. “You have no idea how difficult it was to quiet my thoughts.”

The gold in his eyes has gone low and hot. Whatever he was quieting all day is looking right at me now.

“Umm. Soren?” I scoot back an inch that I know won’t save me.

He grins and comes down over me, one arm planted on either side of my head, all that monster blocking out the ceiling. I reach up and lay my hand along his jaw. “You don’t have to do that with me. The quiet.”

“I did have to, my love.” His claw traces my cheek. “It would have frightened you, so I shut it all the way down. I am terrified of scaring you away from me.”

I catch his claw and hold it against my face. “You’re not gonna scare me off this mountain, Soren. Tell me what you need.”

“I do not want to talk.”

His wings flare wide enough to shadow the bed. “I want to show you.”

My mouth makes a little o shape.

His eyes go up to my hair, brushed neat into its bun, and one claw barely grazes it. “You did not straighten your hair.”