Page 7 of Hated By the Gargoyle

The gargoyle started at me, the cutting figure of his carved brows rising to his short horns.

“You’re an asshole,” I said, finally speaking to him.

He didn’t reply.

He probably didn’t even speak my language.

He didn’t need to speak my mother tongue to understand pain.

With a yell, I ran forward, kicking a leg up and connecting it to his chest in a karate move that only served to shoot pain up my shin. I took the blow like a champ and karate chopped the monster while I screamed.

“Take that you kidnapper, bastard, creep!” The insults flew from my tongue and so did the blows. “If you try to eat me, I swear to god I’ll–” I slapped him in the chin and he jerked his head away from me.

His anger had mounted, that much was for certain. His mouth opened, those sharp teeth gleaming, and he screamed at me, but his words, if they could even be called that, sounded more like rocks grinding together. Deep, guttural, and foreign.

“I didn’t understand shit you just said.” I heaved, putting my hands in front of me. “But I don’t give a flying fuck. Prepare to die, weirdo. Hiyaahhhh!!!” I shot out at him, ready to deliver my death blow, only for him to roar in a rage and grab my wrist. With a fierce yank, he pulled me up against his chest, so close I tasted the embers on his breath. So close, I could read the danger in his veins.

So close I heard when he whispered, “That is enough, little feral creature.”

Her mouth dropped open then closed, again and again like a gaping animal. Her eyes widened and she stared at me with her curious little human expressions, one I deciphered as shock. Had she believed me to be an imbecile? Had she believed me incompetent enough to not understand her words? Was she so surprised I spoke her language?

My brothers and I spoke every language known to humankind and demons; a gift given to us in the blood of the Kings of the Underworld.

I’d known every vile word she spat at me, and each one grated down every single nerve I possessed.

“You… you talk!”

Her flesh was delicate in my hold, her bones fragile. I kept my touch light, knowing if I put force they would likely break. I shook her with a gentleness that still made her body rattle.

“Cease your pratter,” I growled. “I cannot think beyond those incessant mouth noises you are creating.”

She blinked at me and I realized how close this human was to my body. Plastered against my chest, wrists shackled beneath my grip. I could read the fear in her eyes, as surely as she could read the hatred within the depths of my own.

This close, she boasted far more imperfections than I had originally thought. Something about her very presence, her very existence, made everything in me recoil.

I shoved her away, still feeling her touch along my body, like she’d imprinted her mark against my skin.

“Wha–how dare you!” She stumbled back, far enough away that I could breathe without smelling her. Floral and something else I could not quite name, but as rich as the earth beneath our feet. It was the type of scent that tickled the insides of my nostrils, and I did not know if I would sneeze or inhale her essence.

My eyes narrowed on her.

“You kidnapped me and you’re asking me to shut up? That’s rich, hijo de la gran chingada!” She began cursing, switching human languages between one slip of the tongue and the next.

Her voice screeched through my head, and an ache built behind my eyes.

“Silence!” I roared.

She recoiled at the sound, but then lifted a finger in my direction. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Beneath me, my tail gave a violent twitch. Like it wanted to reach out and touch her, or throttle her. I was not entirely sure which.

“You will obey me.”

“You will obey me.”

My gaze sharpened on her. “Do you mock me?”

She snorted and rocked back on her heels, putting more distance between us. “What the hell is going on here?”