Page 18 of Fated to the Gargoyle

The wolf isn’t listening to her anymore. He straightens up in front of us instead, respect thick in his scent. “Gargoyles in Shadow Wolf Creek,” he says. “Welcome.”

The woman scowls up at the pair of us, from our wings down to our claws. “That’s what they are?” She glances around the wet parking lot, unimpressed with every inch of it, and there’s no fear on her in the least, only irritation.

Sable’s face doesn’t move, but I know his thought. It’s mine as well. The wolf pushed her away the moment he stood in front of us. It’s shameful to touch a woman who isn’t your mate, and shifters have always resented gargoyles for keeping that law when they can’t.

Nothing in this woman calls to me anyway, fine work though she is. She is not Treasure, and fate ruined me for every other woman the day it made me.

“Don’t call me again,” the woman tells him.

He cares nothing for her anger, and the whole lot can scent that on him too. She isn’t his mate. When he finds the woman who is, he’ll devote his life to her, and not to the one he chose for a temporary fix.

She turns her scowl on us next. “Can y’all at least shift? Or is this the whole thing?”

Neither of us owes her an answer, which is fortunate. It’s the one answer I hate giving.

“Go inside,” the wolf tells her.

She shrugs, finished with the lot of us, and does as he asks. The door swallows her along with half a song.

The wolf offers his hand. “Tyson. I work up at the lumberyard.” I take his forearm the old way, and he adjusts his grip without blinking. “Heard whispers there were gargoyles in town.” He shrugs, sheepish about it. “Honestly? I thought you were all dead.”

Sable steps forward, lays a hand flat against his own chest, and bows his head. “We are among the last. The humans came with hammers and fire. They found our resting grounds during our rest and destroyed our clan.”

He straightens and looks down the road at the town’s scattered lights. “These humans are different.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Tyson huffs something close to a laugh. “They’re friendly when they wanna be. But we’ve got a treaty with them. Had it for decades now, and it works.” His eyes narrow at us. “If y’all are planning on staying, you might wanna blend in a little more.”

Sable and I narrow ours right back at him.

“Clothes,” Tyson says, gesturing at us from wings to feet. “You can’t be walking around looking like you’re from the old times.”

“We are from the old times,” I say.

He groans. “Come up the mountain to my pack. We’ve got some old abandoned land you could settle on, and we’ll help you get acquainted with the town.”

Sable smiles and bows his head again. “Thank you, brother.”

Tyson glances at the bar doors, and his shoulders drop. “I’m gonna head home. I didn’t have no business at this bar anyway. It’s just the need.”

“We do not judge, Tyson,” Sable says.

“Oh, bullshit. Your whole demeanor is judgy.” He’s already walking backward toward the road, pointing at the both of us. “Every shifter in town knows gargoyle discipline. Loyalty to your mates, top tier. It’s obnoxious.”

He turns and goes with a grunt, and the frustration trailing off him could be scented a ridge away. May fate send him his mate soon.

Sable pulls the door open, and we step inside.

The music keeps playing, but the conversations die, and every head in the place turns. Shifters at the pool tables, humans in the booths, a whole bar of drinks stopped halfway to mouths while two massive gargoyles drip rain on the floor. I read the air and find no fear in it, and no disgust either. Plain curiosity fills the room.

Then a pool shot drops, a woman laughs at her own joke, and the whole place goes back to its business with two gargoyles standing in the middle of it.

“This place is strange,” Sable and I say at the same time.

We trade a glance, and I recover first. “What more do we need from this bar? They accept us. That much is clear.”

“Mm.” Sable grins. “Sounds like you’re eager to get back to your mate.”

“Very eager. I’d like to see her before the sun rises.”