“You think that’s what we’re dealing with?” Jude reaches for his pack of smokes on the table and taps one out. “You saw it?”
I press a hand to my still-roiling gut. “I canfeelit.”
“How the fuck could something like that get past the wards? Doesn’t Rook have safeguards for this kind of shit?”
“That’s the thing—I’m not sure itdidget past.”
“Explain.”
“Rook says the wards and security systems are solid. Nothing’s showing up on the cams or sensors—nothing magical, nothing visual. Honestly?” I shake my head, hoping to the devil I’m wrong, but that churning in my gut has never led me astray. “It doesn’t feel like something trying to getinfrom the outside. It feels like something that’s already here, and it’s just starting to wake up. And Jude?”
He lights the cigarette, the tip crackling as he sucks in a deep drag.
My skin prickles again with that incessant, nagging feeling that someone—something—is watching us.
Through the gray haze of witchweed smoke, I whisper, “Whatever it is, it’s old. It’s dangerous. And it’spissed.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
WESTLYN
Mine…
The word echoes in my mind, sending aftershocks rippling through my body from the roots of my hair all the way down to my purple-painted toenails. Everything inside me is buzzing and electric, my heart banging around like a trapped bird.
I can’t believe I just let a near-stranger—agargoylestranger—a gargoyle stranger with sexy horns and a tongue the size of a zucchini—go down on me.
I’ve never,everhad a man use his mouth on me. Hell, I’ve never even had a man make me come before.
Goddess, it felt so good.
Goddess, I hope we get to do it again soon.
And maybe next time I’ll even get to return the favor. Maybenexttime things will progress beyond mouths. If the size and skill of his tongue are any indication, whatever Jude’s got going on under that loincloth will probably put me in the hospital…
Oh, no.I’m in serious trouble. I shouldn’t even bethinkingabout his loincloth. Or his loins. Or said loins wrecking me to the point of needing an ambulance.
But here I am.Thinkingabout it. Wishing for it.
And what’s worse? I heard Auggie outside the door when Jude left, and now I can’t stop fantasizing about what it would be like to have not one, buttwoimmortal apex predators between my thighs, their hot, filthy gargoyle tongues going at it like it’s all-you-can-eat dessert night at Big Al’s Diner and I’m the chocolate cream pie.
Damn it!
Forcing away my depraved thoughts, I take a deep, calming breath, close my eyes, and try like hell to fall back asleep. After that stupid nightmare, I was hoping to catch at least another hour or two before heading down to eat and hit the books again.
But twenty more minutes of tossing and turning brings me no closer to dreamland.
It only makes me hotter, wetter, and way more frustrated.
My pussy is still bare on account of his claws shredding my underwear.
My clit is still throbbing on account of his relentless tongue-lashing.
And all I can think about now is begging him to rush back in here, pin me down with those vicious talons, and do it to me all over again.
But… no. Irefuseto beg. Jude obviously has better things to do than give me back-bending, mind-altering orgasms all night—if he didn’t, he’d still be here.
With a resigned sigh, I part my thighs, muscles aching where he gripped me, and trail my fingers down between them. The barest brush over my sensitive clit has me gasping, unleashing another electric jolt as I remember his demanding mouth, the feel of those hard, rough horns against my palms…
