“That’s the theory.”
“What happens then? Do you go back to being men, or—”
“That’s enough questions for now, curious little kitten.” Auggie hands out our drinks, his smile tight, his eyes flashing me a warning. Then, taking a seat and selecting a book from the top of his stack, “Time to do some homework before Daddy Drae comes home and finds out we’ve been screwing around all night.”
“Daddy Drae, huh?” West laughs. “Sounds ominous. Will he spank us?”
“Not in the good way, I’m afraid.” Auggie sighs, then goes back to his book.
“Bummer,” she says with a cute little pout.
And for the rest of the evening, two proud ravens, oneverycurious little witch, and two fully-aroused-but-desperately-pretending-not-to-be gargoyles lose themselves in a trove of dark fae lore.
Chapter Twenty-Two
WESTLYN
I spend the next few nights with my new A-team of crackerjack supernatural sleuths alternating between eating our weight in Auggie’s delicious night-breakfasts, mainlining copious amounts of creamy caffeinated goodness, and digging through the lore for the clues that will lead us to that elusive needle-that’s-not-a-needle in the haystack-that’s-more-like-Mount-Everest. As the resident non-magic witch and mortal with less than a quarter century under her belt, I’m not sure I’m really contributing much to the project, but honestly?
I’mreallystarting to enjoy the company of my gargoyles.
Rook and Auggie’s company, anyway.
Since the night we made our deal, I’ve only seen Draegan a few times in passing, which is probably for the best, given his less-than-sunny disposition and my newly discovered penchant for pushing buttons—especially authority figure buttons. Daddy issues much? Yeah. Given my betrayal and abandonment issues with my father, I’m sure a therapist would have a field day with that one.
But Jude?
My heart sinks. I haven’t seen him since he dragged me back into the manor after my failed escape attempt, when I basically told him to leave me with Draegan and take a hike.
I know he’s been around—the other night after my shower, I returned to the bedroom to find a series of boxes stacked along the wall. My clothes, my books, toiletries, my entire collection of crystals and Tarot decks—everything I owned promptly transferred from my old home to the new. My mysterious delivery man’s scent was everywhere.
But the delivery man himself was nowhere to be found.
Now, as I climb into bed just after sunrise, fresh guilt gnaws at my stomach. Maybe I was alittleharsh on him, all things considered.
Okay,fine. Maybe I’m starting to miss the psychotic gargoyle.
I twist the bone ring around my thumb and drift off to sleep, hoping if I can’t find him in my bed, maybe I can at least find him in my dreams.
“No. No! Please… the train… Get off! Let mego!Help!” I break free of the ropes and throw myself off the tracks just as the train rushes by, but then they’re grabbing me and pinning me down again, rough hands and gleaming knives and fire and pain tearing through my skin…
Wicked Westlyn… Wicked little beast…
“Let me go!”
“Westlyn.”
“Stop!” I struggle to break free, but their hold is too strong. Suffocating. “Please let me—”
“Westlyn! It’s me. Wake up, darling. Open your eyes. That’s it.”
I follow the soothing cadence of a familiar voice, leaving the nightmare world behind as I slowly open my eyes and take in the sight.
Horns. Fangs glinting in the moonlight. Sharp-clawed fingers stroking my hair.
“Breathe, darling,” the beast whispers. “Just breathe.”
I scream and throw myself off the bed, landing on the floor with a crash and struggling to free myself from the sheets…
