Page 33 of Hated By the Gargoyle

“When you go into the darkness, what do you see?”

He gave a soft hum and his body warmed as the flames beneath his grainy skin came to life.

“Death,” he answered solemnly. “I would protect you from the truth of the things I have done, wife.”

“I understand. But if you want to talk about it…”

“I have killed many,” he interrupted. “And many have attempted to kill me. But I am still standing and they are not. That is all that is important.”

Being a warrior in the legions of the Underworld brought nothing but trauma and pain and things Qanek didn’t want to discuss. I respected his privacy, but wished I could scale those walls. Maybe talking about it would help pull him out of that darkness, but I had to be realistic. I wasn’t a therapist. I doubted there was anything I could do or say that would help him battle his demons. But he deserved peace after all he’d been through. He deserved to have rest, to not close his eyes and be overtaken by a force greater than him.

I didn’t bring it up again after that, fearing what my questions would do to his mind. Instead, I’d turned and scooted closer towards his body. We slept face to face, our fingers entwined in unspoken promises, and continued on the next day as if it never happened.

It was in his den that I realized I’d been missing out on a genuine friendship my entire life. Carlota was a user, someone who took advantage of others for her own gain. Qanek really cared about my comfort, and though he hardly ever smiled, I could feel the difference in our slow budding relationship compared to what I had with Carlota.

This is what I always dreamt true friendship to be, and I had it.

But something felt like it was missing. It had been for days, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Not even as I went through the routine of shared domestic bliss.

Together, Qanek and I cooked our evening meal. We ate by the fire in silence and when we finished, we chatted.

For days, he’d been telling me stories about his life in the Underworld.

He spoke to me of his brothers, though the mention of Nazzar and Xavir was brief. His stories were tales of violence and macabre, of demons on the battlefield and skewering them to death with his claws and his horns.

They were morbid, but I found the beauty in those tales just the same. I was sure he watered down the violence for my benefit, told me only of the tame moments, while keeping the darkest ones close to his chest.

And when he spoke more of reverence about the mating rituals, I found fear and uncertainty in that, but he never stopped looking at me expectantly. Like he was waiting for me to give in, to complete the final ritual that would officially bind us together.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sleep with him.

Interspecies relationships weren’t uncommon. I’d seen wilder things out there than a human with a gargoyle.

Sometimes, my own desires scared me, almost as much as the thought of what doing it with Qanek would mean. Ugly insecurities threatened me. He’d said before he didn’t want me. That I was imperfect.

He was settling because he had no choice.

Taking that final step would tie us together officially. Completely.

I was still afraid.

Even as my body burned for his, craved his.

At night, we slept side by side without touching, and somehow I’d wake up in his arms, all too aware of every inch. All too aware of the embarrassing amount of desire that leaked from between my legs.

Desire he could smell.

It always made me scramble away from him and under the blankets where I wouldn’t move until he got up for the day.

When we got ready for bed that night, my body felt alight, but like always, I kept my distance to one side, counting down the minutes until my eyes grew heavy and I finally fell into a deep sleep.

When I dreamed, I dreamt of him.

I dreamt of rough hands gliding over my body, twisting my nipples into painful peaks that were begging to be tasted. My pussy ached and cried for a graze, a touch, anything.

I lifted them, meeting empty air, until his heavy weight settled between my thighs, that roughened, grainy skin rubbing against mine like sand. All warm flesh that heightened every emotion and set my skin on fire.

I moaned, grinding up…