My jaw tightens. “Taller than you, asshole.” At a respectable six feet even, I’ve easily got four inches on him, maybe five. But his presence is large enough to compensate for whatever he lacks in height.
At the edge of his cell, I open the food slot and slide the plate in.
Why didn’t I let someone else handle prisoner duty? Adelaide even urged me to take a vacation. It’s tempting, finding a faraway beach and sipping fruity drinks, flirting with otherbored tourists, and forgetting all about charming demons who spout the most outrageous lies.
But running away with my tail between my legs means he wins. He can’t rattle me that easily.
Okay, hetotally can,but Marlow doesn’t need to know that.
“All sorts of characters in the underworld,” he prattles on. “Behemoth creatures, ten feet tall with tentacles. Personally, I could go either way on the tentacles. What about you? Would a mate with tentacles be fun?”
“You're still sticking to this ridiculous story?” I ask, deliberately ignoring the tentacle question that sends my mind places it has no business going.
“What's the matter, beloved? You seem upset. Tell your mate all about it.” He slowly sits up and twists toward me with a smirk.
It’s almost offensive how lazy this lie is, he's not eventryingto sell me on this bullshit.
I plant my hands on my hips and stare him down. He wants to keep up this mates charade? Fine. I’ll call him on it and expose his lies.
“When did you Recognize me?” I demand.
Marlow hesitates. “Well, it's complicated.”
I disagree. “Either you Recognized me or you didn't.”
“You saw my gargoyle,” he retorts as if that explains everything.
“That's not what I asked.”
“But it's the answer to your question.”
“No, it's not. An answer is ‘Yes, I Recognized you’ or ‘No, I didn't because I'm a big lying liar who lies all the time.’”
Marlow sighs like I'm the unreasonable one for doubting the desperate prisoner. “You might not have seen past my devastatingly stunning exterior and glimpsed my soft, gooey center, but you did the next best thing.” Holding out his arm, thegargoyle jumps onto it and perches there. “Iggy's been hidden since the law caught up to us. We didn't want the authorities getting any bright ideas and trying to separate us. Nobody except me should be able to see him.”
“I've seen him the whole time.”
“Iggy's connected to me, to my soul.” His piercing blue eyes hold my gaze steadily. “Whether we Recognize each other or not, it doesn't matter. Seeing him is as good as confirmation.”
“There's no reason I should trust you,” I say. “You already lied to me.”
“See, I prefer to think of that as not mentioning certain details that might have wrongly clouded your judgment.”
“Like being a fugitive and murder suspect?”
“Exactly!”
“Your gargoyle doesn’t prove anything.” I shake my head vehemently. “For all I know, you're letting me see him. This is a trick.”
“Honestly, it took us all by surprise,” the gargoyle pipes in, his tiny voice squeaking.
The expression on my face is anything but friendly as I deal with the smug demon, and when my angry gaze swings to Iggy, he makes a little wounded noise. He climbs up Marlow's arm and hides his face against his chest, curling up as small as possible. Marlow strokes the creature's back, soothing him and surprisingly gentle.
Is the gargoyle a world class liar like his buddy? …Doubtful. Every response and emotion is so reactive and genuine. The gargoyle may have terrible taste in companions but nothing has indicated he's a liar.
Marlow’s reasoning for why I can see the gargoyle, see what should be hidden, plus the gargoyle's own reactions… well, I can't find fault with them.
That doesn't mean we’re mates. I still don't buy this. Not for a second. I just can't disprove the theory, not yet.
