“Or maybe I just need to remodel and modernize Ivy House and have Austin over more,” I murmured to myself, chewing on my lip, wishing I could just transplant Austin’s whole house onto Ivy House property. I’d have to install a mountain, though. Because that was something people did every day…
“What’s that?” Edgar called up.
“Huh?” Austin paused in playing his guitar.
I shook my head. “Sorry, my mind is wandering. What’s in the squirt bottle, Edgar? You’re not trying to create attack flowers, are you?”
“Ha-ha-ha…” Edgar’s uncomfortable laugh wasn’t fooling anyone. “No, Jessie, not to worry. Though, now that you mention it…”
“No, Edgar.”
“Yes, Jessie, of course. Of course you’re right. The sunflower didn’t go well. But then again, it’s not like it had legs. It couldn’t actually chase anyone.”
“I love that little patch of meadow flowers, Edgar, I don’t want to have to call the basajaun in to eat it.”
“Yes, Jessie. Right. Though…the alpha does have a lovely singing voice. Better than the artists on my eight-tracks.”
“Eight-tracks?”
“Yes. I just never could get into radio. Eight-tracks have superior quality as far as I’m concerned. But the alpha blows them all out of the water. He could definitely do great things for attack flowers.”
“Maybe we’ll try again on Ivy House and let him at it, but let’s keep those meadow flowers normal, okay?”
“Yes, Jessie. I was just tending them—like normal. Just the normal tending.” He paused for a moment, and I wondered why he was hiding the squirt bottle if it contained nothing but the normal elixir… “I must admit, the possibility of militarized flowers has really gotten my ideas flowing. Have you thought about trying to make a potion or elixir that allows plants to speak? Or…maybe not speak but squeal? If someone tricked Ivy House again, and got onto the property without any of us knowing, then the flowers could all squeal and alert us. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Just this morning I found out the dolls could squeal, Edgar.” The music twanged, Austin’s fingers scraping across the strings. “I’m not ready for flowers.”
“Sure. Yes, it is a little progressive.” Edgar nodded. “I’ve always been a little ahead of my time. Don’t worry, Jessie, I’ll keep thinking.”
“Great,” I said dryly.
Spray bottle still behind his back, he started to wander deeper into the woods.
I frowned at him. “Did you plant more flowers in the woods?”
“Oh no. Who would see them? I don’t even think animals come around here—they’re afraid of the big bad bear.” He sang the last part. “No, I’ll just stick around for a while and make sure nothing tries to sneak up on you.”
“The gargoyles are here. I think we’re covered. I’d hate to keep you away from home all night.”
“The thing about the gargoyles is, when they’re in their other form…their heads are made of rock.” Edgar stared at me. “Their brains are stone.”
I stared back at him, not quite sure what to say.
“Can’t argue with reason,” Austin murmured, and laughter bubbled up inside me.
“I don’t mind, Jessie, really.” Edgar stepped farther away. “It’s refreshing to explore a new area. Maybe some night hikers will wander this way. Or some shifters who plan to attack the alpha and will instead make an unexpected blood donation.”
I watched him take incremental steps until he finally stepped behind a tree and disappeared from sight.
“You are the only reason why I allow that sort of madness near my home, I hope you know that,” Austin said as I shook my head and took a seat next to him. The flames licked the small logs within the pit and danced into the air. “If you ever wonder how much you mean to me, look no further than Edgar hanging out in my yard with a spray bottle.”
“What about Mr. Tom?” I turned my chair with an evil smile, slipped off my shoes, and propped my feet on his thigh. “If you let Mr. Tom hover around in the mornings, getting us stuff, being his weird self, what will that say about your feelings for me?”
The tune he played was soft and sweet, slow and delicious. His fingers moved deftly over the strings, strumming or plucking, sliding and pressing. He didn’t speak for a moment, playing that gorgeous melody.
Finally he said, “It would say that I was lost to you, completely, without regret. That I would give you the world if it would make your heart sing.” His gaze met mine. “That I would stop at nothing to make you happy and comfortable. It would be my greatest joy as your mate and your lover.”
I gulped, feeling something deep move within me. A pinkish-purple halo rose from my skin, shimmering in the air. Pressure filled my chest, and his heart beat a little stronger within me.
“It’s my gargoyle magic,” I said with a tight throat, blinking back tears. The world stilled again, like it had in the kitchen. “The colors…it’s pure magic, oozing out of me. I think it’s because I’m opening up to my gargoyle, like when I hide myself near buildings.”
“You’re giving way to your beast,” he whispered, our gazes locked. He kept picking, the melody seeming to swirl within my magic. “It is an incredibly intoxicating sight. You’re beautiful, Jacinta. Fierce.”
Another question rose, unbidden, as though bobbing to the surface from the very depths of my being. The question tasted sweet on my lips, but my voice turned rough with it. “And what if I were in danger? How would you show you cared for me then?”
His eyes sparked like embers in the growing darkness. Crackling rage pumped through the Ivy House link. Power blasted from his person, so potent and intense, so incredibly dominating, that it made me gasp.
When he finally spoke, his tone made my small hairs stand on end and set my pulse to racing. “I would tear the world apart and shed blood on its ruin. No one will ever harm you, Jacinta, not while I am alive. No one,” he growled.
I was up and ripping at his belt before I could think. He walked me backward into the house, the twang of his dropped guitar following us through the door neither of us bothered to close. He shoved at my pants and massaged the center of me while I pushed down his jeans and boxers. He tore off my shirt and bra without ceremony before bending and fastening a hot mouth to my budded nipple.
I groaned, dropping my head back, sliding my palm along his hard length. He moved to the other nipple, his teeth scraping against it, sending a little jolt of pain before he sucked, filling my world with pleasure.
He spun me around and, with a palm to the center of my back, pushed me forward. My hands hit the flat surface of the kitchen island. He gripped my hips and thrust forward.
My moan as uninhibited as his, I let my eyes flutter shut with the sensation, so gloriously filled up. He reached around me and continued massaging as he made good on his promise and pounded into me without mercy, pushing me higher with each thrust. Consuming me with each slide of his large, hard length.
I couldn’t tell where my world began and ended. I couldn’t control my magic or keep it in as the pleasure soared, as my heart—and his—matched it. I hit a peak yet continued climbing. Power pumped through the room, blistering in intensity but delicious in feel, scraping against my skin and cutting into his. He yanked me back by my hair, gripping me against his chest as he thrust like a wild thing, claiming me in body and spirit.
Writhing against him, goading him with magic, crying out from the onslaught, I pushed him on, wanting it all, needing to consume every piece of him, utterly lost to the feel of his body and the incredible sensations filling my world.
He growled with his release, shuddering against me. I cried his name with mine, practically convulsing against him. Magic and pleasure and passion boiled through me before calming, leaving behind a vibrating sort of bliss.
Our rough breathing filled the silent room.
He pulled out of me and turned me around, capturing my chin in his fingers and looking deeply into my eyes. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. I could see the intense emotion soaking through his eyes, feel it through the link and the beating of his heart in my chest. My emotions were every bit as strong, but for some reason I couldn’t vocalize them. Something was blocking me from moving to the next level with Austin. But it wasn’t fear or logic. It wasn’t anything trivial like worry about moving on too soon after the divorce.
It was that unnamed darkness within me, I could feel it. It was my gargoyle—or the beast, as Austin called it. It wanted something more. A payment in blood, as was the Ivy House way. But what kind of payment?
I didn’t know what would satisfy this strange craving I could feel slicing into my bones.
I didn’t know if I could ever rest easy until it was sated.
As if understanding my turmoil, knowing what I felt and wanted to say but couldn’t, Austin smirked, unworried.
“You’re mine, and I mean to prove it. I’ll wrestle that beast until it submits.” His kiss was bruising. My passion ratcheted up to impossible levels. “In the meantime, I plan to make you scream so hard you go hoarse.” He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, carrying me to bed like a caveman, dragging out my excited laughter. “You will declare your feelings. It’s only a matter of time.”
Eight
The cool evening worried my hair. Shadows lurked at the bases of the trees at the edge of the grass in my backyard, growing denser, some already seeming solid. The metal of the lounge chair I was sitting on had started to chill.
One week to go.
I had one week before the to-do at Elliot Graves’s place.
One week until we were essentially locked in a mountain, our wings no good. I’d have to rely heavily on my magic and the few weapons I could stash on my person. I’d have to rely on the team we put together.
Spells tumbled through my mind, crammed in there from all the intense practice and studying I had been doing. Even so, I was far from ready for someone like Elliot Graves. We all knew that. Nor was I sneaky or cunning like the other mages he’d almost certainly invited. I didn’t know how to play false to someone’s face with the intent of physically stabbing them in the back. The best I could do was fake politeness, like at a dinner party from my Jane years, and I wouldn’t even be able to manage that if someone messed with Austin. Since that night at his house a week ago, when he’d cooked shirtless and then made love to me until the first rays of the sun lightened the horizon, I was not even remotely rational where he was concerned. I completely flew off the handle if anyone threatened or maligned him in any way.