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I let out a soft sigh. There it is. That damn guilt. Stepping forward to catch his hand before he can pull away completely, I lace my fingers through his, forcing him to look at me.

"First of all, I pulled you into this hidden little alcove. Second of all, you didn't take advantage of anything. I kissed you, Ryker. On purpose. Because I wanted to." Because I needed to.

Ryker stares down at our joined hands, his brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

I tilt my head, searching his handsome face. "What?"

"You're... you," Ryker replies, as if that explains everything. He gestures at me. "You're Teagan Dae. A famous actor. You’ve been on TV, you have thousands of fans who scream your name. You could have literally anyone. Then there’s me. Look at me, Teagan. I'm a monster. I woke up ten years ago on a park bench with no name, and no memory, looking like this. I'm a nameless creature with a blank past. Why would someone like you want this?"

His words are a physical blow to my heart. I absentmindedly rub at the ache in my chest. This fucking gargoyle genuinely believes that he’s lesser. He sees himself as a broken, nameless monster whose only value lies in his ability to throw a punch and keep guard over others.

My heart aches for him so intensely. In this moment, looking up into his lost, beautiful blue eyes, I realize that getting Ryker to admit he belongs with me isn't going to be a quick thing. It’s going to take work. I’m going to have to chip away at the stone walls he’s built around his heart until he finally sees what I see when I look at him.

"Ryker," I say softly. I trace the outline of his jaw, forcing him to meet my eyes. "I don't care about fame. I don't care about my old idol days, or the number of fans, or red carpets. Half those people only like the idea of me anyway. But you? You see me. I know you do. In such a short amount of time, you see the real me. You worry about me, care for me, fix my clothes, protect me, and you make me feel safer than I’ve ever felt in my entire life."

Ryker swallows hard. He leans into my touch, a subtle flush of creeping across his cheekbones.

"I don't want some actor or model. I don’t want some Hollywood co-star," I continue, pressing my thumb gently over his lower lip. "I want the handsome, seven-foot-tall purple gargoyle who looks at me like I'm the only person in this world. I want you, the guy I’ve been crushing on since the moment I first saw you. So don't you dare apologize for letting me kiss you. My only regret is that we didn’t meet sooner. That, and determination to try and keep things professional."

A faint, fleeting smile tugs at the corner of Ryker’s mouth. It’s a rare, breathtaking sight that I’ll cherish forever.

"Teagan Dae," he rumbles. “Did you just admit to having a crush on me?”

It’s my turn to blush. Damnit, did I? I replay my words in my head. Oh, monster gods, I totally did. "Maybe?" I smirk, pretending to be nonchalant. I glance up at the clear night sky and the stars overhead. "Let’s go for a walk and chat. I want to get to know you more. Not the past, but who you are now. Plus, I need to walk off this damn erection." I point at the obvious bulge in my pants.

Ryker barks out a laugh. Despite the heat lingering in his gaze, I can tell I said the right thing. We need this. I’m going to prove to Ryker he’s worth more than just a one night of passion.

He lifts my hand and presses a sweet kiss to my knuckles like a damn knight in shining armor.

By the time we make it to Karloff Hall and slip back into our suite, the rest of the dorm is completely silent.

Zay and Kieran’s bedroom doors are shut, and Ethan texted, saying he made it back to his dorm safely. The suite’s common area is dimly lit by the yellow glow of a single lamp on the coffee table.

I head straight for the bonus room, or rather, Ryker’s room. It’s still absurdly cluttered with all our junk. My vanity, Kieran’s walking pad, and Zay’s art supplies take up most of the space, leaving Ryker with just his tiny twin bed in the corner and his single black backpack sitting neatly on the floor.

He has so little, yet he never once complained about us invading his space. I feel a sudden spike of guilt seeing his sparse setup. I sit down on the edge of his mattress, kicking off my shoes. "I really need to move my vanity out of here tomorrow. You barely have room to breathe, let alone stretch your wings."

Ryker closes the door behind us, stepping into the dim room. He takes off his tight black shirt, revealing the breathtaking, cut expanse of his broad purple chest and torso. The faint light catches the detailed outline of his abs.

"It's fine." Ryker sits down on the edge of the bed beside me. The mattress dips under his weight. "I'm used to small spaces. For the first few years after I woke up, I lived in a tiny basement apartment above a laundromat in Philly. This room is nice compared to that."

I turn sideways to look at him, pulling my knees up to my chest. The atmosphere between us has shifted, settling into something quiet and cozy. Something intimate. The high-strung tension from the party and the hot makeout session has melted away, leaving us in a comfortable silence.

"You've never talked much about what happened after you woke up," I say softly, careful not to push too hard. "You said you lost your memories ten years ago?"

Ryker stares at his hands, flexing his clawed fingers slowly. "Yeah. October thirty-first, ten years ago. That was the day I started existing." He pauses, taking a deep breath. His shoulder-length black hair falls forward, shadowing his face.

"I woke up lying on a cold bench in a public park in downtown Philly," he continues, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. "It was pouring rain. I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was my own hand. It was purple. I had claws instead of fingernails. I sat up, and this massive, weight pulled at my back. My wings. It felt new, but then again everything felt new."

I stay completely still, listening intently, not wanting to interrupt.

"I didn't know who I was. I didn't know my name, my age, or where I belonged. I checked my pockets. Nothing. No wallet, no phone, no ID. I walked into a diner nearby, lost, hoping someone would recognize me. But when people looked at me, they just… stared."

He closes his hands into loose fists, before resting them on his knees. "I walked around for days, just trying to find a face that looked like mine. But there weren't any. Every gargoyle I eventually met over the next few years was gray or brown, stoic, and stone-faced. They didn't have feelings like I did. They didn't care about art, or clothes, or... or anything other than standing still and guarding buildings. I was the only purple one. The only one who felt... lost. Different. So, fucking out of place."

My chest aches. I can barely breathe. I reach out, sliding my hand over his knee and squeezing, offering silent comfort.

"For ten years," Ryker whispers, looking at me with a strange mix of sadness and awe, "I've felt like a mistake. A strange, unique glitch in the universe. I took odd security jobs, bounced at clubs, moved from city to city, just looking for some kind of clue, some sign that I used to belong somewhere. But there was nothing. Until I came to Creepin U." He turns his head, his cerulean eyes locking onto mine.