I take a step closer, gazing down into her eyes, at her heat-stained cheeks, at the lips swollen from Jude’s hungry kiss, desperately willing the memories of last night’s shower session out of my mind…
Let me come, Daddy. Please…
“Dotry to be on your best behavior, little mortal,” I say firmly, forcing the inappropriate thoughts out of my mind, which is no easy feat, what with the damnscentof her lingering all around me. “Tonight isnotthe night to tempt fate.”
We continue staring each other down, neither of us giving an inch. It’s become our usual dance, but it doesn’t bode well for the conversation we’re about to have.
I reach for the bottle again.
Getting through this unscathed is going to require a good deal of patience, a heaping dose of tact, and a hell of a lot more booze.
“Jude,” I say again, still not looking away from Westlyn. “Don’t you have a meeting with Augustine?”
“It can wait,” he says, wrapping a protective arm over her shoulders.
“It’s fine,” Westlyn says, finally turning those fiery eyes away from me to gazeadoringlyat the other gargoyle.
For fucks’s sake, that really shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.
I pour another drink.
“Seriously, Jude,” Westlyn says. “I’m pretty sure Draegan and I can manage to get through one conversation without killing each other.”
“He’s immortal, darling. Hardly a fair fight.”
“Don’t underestimate me, gargoyle.” She throws a playful punch into his chest, but before she connects, he grabs her fist and kisses her knuckles.
“Never,” he says, grinning at her like a lovesick fool. Then, turning to me with a look that’s decidedlynotlovesick, “Behave yourself, Draegan. Or you and I will be having the sort of conversation thatdoesinvolve killing.”
* * *
“Before you say anything,” I say the minute Westlyn returns from the bathroom, “I owe you an apology.”
She stops in her tracks and blinks at me as if she doesn’t recognize the gargoyle standing before her. “Is this a trap? This feels like a trap.”
“More like a peace offering.” I hand over the almond joy latte I just made—rather,attemptedto make—and gesture toward the stools at the countertop, inviting her to sit. “Last night in my suite, I let my temper get the better of me, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
She laughs, taking the offered drink with a wary glance at the contents. “You sure about that? You and your temper seem to be in a bit of a co-dependent relationship.”
“Careful, Miss Avery,” I tease. “Or I might start to think youlikepushing me to my breaking point.”
“Who, me? This picture of wholesome innocence right here?” She circles her face with a finger and laughs again, and I can’t help but smile back, the earlier tension between us finally loosening up. “Okay,” she continues, “maybe you’re atinybit right. I swear I used to be the most docile girl on the planet. But ever since the whole demonic wedding disaster, it seems I’m having some minor authority—”
“Issues,” I supply.
“I was going to say challenges, but fine. Issues works.” Her laughter finally fades. “Hey. I’m sorry, too, Draegan. I know I can be… stubborn sometimes. And I totally appreciate what you’re doing for me—all of you. It can’t be easy having a houseguest.”
That’s putting it mildly…
“It also can’t be easy living with four overbearing gargoyles,” I concede.
“What? Living here is a cakewalk. Only one of you is overbearing. Not to name names or anything.”
I wink at her across the countertop. “Probably for the best.”
She finally takes a sip of the latte. Her nose crinkles, but she nods in appreciation. “It’s… different. But good. In its own special Draegan way.”
“Not in an almond joy latte way, then?”
