Page 85 of Sight of Fate

“Not until we came here,” he says with a shrug.

“But they don’t anymore, right? Send their children away?” I ask him, understanding his need to control things a little more now.

“The gargoyle army was decimated by the vampire war. There are very few gargoyles left,” he replies, then looks at me. “But even if they were still around, I’d never send my child away.” His voice is fierce with conviction.

“Good,” I reply with a sigh.

“Do you want kids?” He asks lightly as if he’s concerned his question will make me want to run.

I’d never really thought about it before but as I peer into his sterling grey-blue eyes, I know it’s not even a question. “Eventually. However they come. Birth. Adoption.”

He flashes that broad grin I love so much. “Me too.” Surprisingly, he backs off, motioning to my plate. “Try this. It’s a Scotch egg.”

I tentatively take a bite, then moan when all the flavors hit my tongue. “This is delicious. Like someone decided to roll breakfast into one bite.”

We sit there trading stories and sharing food for the next hour. Stuffed, I lean back and rub my stomach. “I think my pants are going to pop.”

He packs everything back up and reaches for my hand. “I’m not ready to share you with the world yet.” Tugging me over to the sofa, he lies down and motions for me to join him. With my back to his front, we lie there, looking out over Greystone.

My lids droop, and he tucks me under his chin. “Tired?”

“Hmm, didn’t get much sleep last night,” I mumble.

He runs a comforting hand down my body. “I know we took your mind off it last night, but if you need to talk to someone about what happened, we can make you an appointment with one of the psychologists in town.”

I nod. “It might help. I’ll think about it.” Lacing my fingers with his, I snuggle down into the couch and stare at the idyllic scene in front of us until my lids droop.

“Close your eyes. We don’t have anywhere to be,” he says, wrapping his arms around me until all I feel is him and his warmth.

I drop off to sleep a minute later.

Chapter Thirty-Five

CHARLI

What do you wear to a Saturday night party full of wolf shifters? Padding into the living room, I grab my purse and pull out the invitation. Fun Cocktail Attire. Well, that didn’t help. Grabbing my phone, I do a quick search. Fun vibe. Bold colors, sparkles, sequins, or statement accessories. Unsure what’s in the collection Victoria sent over, I take my phone back to the closet with me.

I flip through the clothes and find one sequin mini skirt in gold, a black velvet skirt, and a red cocktail dress that I think will work. Worried the cocktail dress is too formal, I hang it back on the rod. What works with the two skirts?

I finger the green bodysuit I wore on my date with Teague. It would look good, but I kind of want something different. The white button-up is out because it looks like a work blouse. The black silk is an option. Something gold tucked in between two dresses catches my eye. I pull it out and see it’s a sexy gold blouse. I hold it up to both skirts. Looks fantastic with the black but kind of conservative. Ooh, but the gold blouse with the gold sequin skirt feels more like a party. Gold on gold it is. Perfect.

Running into the bathroom, I hurriedly spray a little fake tan on my legs, neck, and chest, then pop a few curls into my hair. Gloss, mascara, and a tiny bit of blush. Done. I run a hand down my legs to make sure the spray is dry, then get dressed.

Shutting the closet door, I slip on the skirt and bite my lip when I see how short it is. It’s also bunching up where my underwear sits on my hips. Digging through the drawer, I pull out a plain black cotton thong and put it on, which fixes the issue. Hopefully, I won’t have to bend over, or someone’s going to get a show.

Sliding the silky gold blouse on, I grimace at how ratty my tan bra is, but it’s the only one I have that won’t show through the blouse. Buttoning up the shirt, I tuck it in and wince. Won’t work. Unbuttoning it, my fingers slow when I see how it looks with the shirt tucked in but unbuttoned.

Teague taps on the door. “We need to leave in ten minutes.”

Before I change my mind, I whip my old bra off and slip the shirt back on.

Buckling up a pair of strappy gold sandals, I step back and purse my lips. Needs something. Jewelry? I pick through the pile and slip on two gold necklaces at different lengths and a pair of gold hoops. If this doesn’t scream festive attire, I’m not sure what will. I tug on the collar to make sure my shoulders are covered and grab the small black clutch Victoria put in the collection.

Teague’s standing in the living room, staring at his phone when I walk in, and I mentally fan myself. His broad shoulders are encased in a black sports jacket, and he’s paired it with a V-neck black sweater and black jeans. He looks sexy and confident. Maybe even a little dangerous, since the black ensemble makes his espresso brown hair seem darker.

Mine.

His head jerks up at my possessive statement, and his mouth widens into his signature broad grin, but it fades when he sees me, replaced by a more seductive one, along with a slow sweep from my head to golden-clad feet. Scorching heat trails in its wake, and my nipples instantly harden. Inhaling sharply, he strides forward and lifts his hand, grazing the hard peaks through the silk.