Page 27 of Fated to the Gargoyle

“Everything’s stocked up front,” Shelly says, and heads to the back for her purse.

A couple settles into a booth with menus, and the evening gets going. I smile at him one more time, wishing I could hear what he’s thinking in there the way he gets to hear me.

For once in my life, I’m actually looking forward to a shift.

Lamar comes up front ahead of the evening rush and stops in my space instead. “I really want a date with you, Treasure. Just one, wherever you wanna go. One chance, and if you’re still uninterested after that, I’ll back off.”

I glance at Soren. He can hear every word of this. “My rule still stands, Lamar.”

The truth stays right where it is. I don’t know this man well enough to hand him something that precious.

My mate sleeps defenseless half of every day. Lamar doesn’t need to know one single thing about him.

He grins. “I got a job offer at Shadow Suds. Better pay over there anyway, so I’m putting my two weeks in.” He leans in closer, and his breath brushes my cheek, too warm and too near. I wince away from it. “So that rule won’t work as an excuse much longer, right?”

I don’t give him an answer. He smiles anyway and strolls off behind the counter.

13

SOREN

Ican’t turn my head inside the stone, but the heat comes to me anyway. Gold moves between the booths and the counter all evening, customer after customer, and not one shape in this diner burns angry about me. Unsettled, yes.

The gold flares at what’s crouched against the jukebox, holds steady through the whispering, then settles back down over their plates. Not one of them leaves their food over it.

Maybe resting here with my Settling off was a bad idea. There are mountains within an easy glide of this valley, ridgelines with no witnesses, and I chose the corner between a jukebox and a window because she works here. I wanted to be close to her, as close as this body can be.

All day her voice has carried to me across the room, and her strawberries have run over every scent of grease and coffee in this diner. Rest in the stone was never truly rest, not with my mind awake inside it listening for hammers. Near her, the listening stops. I still don’t know whether Shadow Wolf Creek has room for something like me, but the space beside her does, and I’m in it.

She’s the one red shape in a room full of gold, and tonight that red is burning dimmer than it should. Her steps drag between the tables, and I catch every yawn she hides behind her wrist. She didn’t rest as I asked her to.

Cup after cup of coffee goes into my mate, and almost no food follows it down. I don’t like it, and there’s nothing I can do about it from in here but keep count. When the sun lets me go, she rests. I’ll see to it myself.

I keep count of the cook, too. His whispered one-date speech reached me from this corner, and my answer waits on sundown.

She talks to me in passing, the same way she talked to me when I was a statue parked by the front door. She wipes down a table and tells me her favorite color is yellow. She passes with a loaded tray and hopes I like Southern food, because that’s all she knows how to cook.

She doesn’t wait for answers. She knows I’ll bring them tonight. Guarding kings, I learned maps and gate rotations. Guarding her, I learn favorites, and I file every one.

Not once today has she been upset that I’m here. That astonishes me more than this whole town does.

The customers thin out with the daylight, and she finally comes to me minutes from sundown. She wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist and sags against the jukebox beside me.

“It’s been a busy one.” She fans herself with the front of her apron and watches the last few booths empty out. “I heard Thursdays are prep day. Folks get their shopping in so they can lay low for the weekend.” Her shoulder settles against my arm. “Shelly says weekends around here are real quiet.”

She pulls her tips from her apron pocket and thumbs through the bills. “I bought some fabric to make you some pants.” The count comes out in her favor, and she grins. “Might even be enough for some shirts.” She tucks the money away and gives her pocket a pat. “Can’t wait for you to wake up so I can get your measurements.”

She emptied her pockets today to make a monster presentable. I would pour every vault I ever guarded into her lap, and tonight I intend to start.

She works one heel out of her sneaker and rolls her ankle slow before sliding it back in. Hours on this floor have her feet aching, and she keeps the wince off her face for the last few customers. Once I’m free, I’ll carry her until the pain gives up.

The last stretch of dusk is agony with her this close.

Andy comes out of the back pulling his jacket on and stops short, frowning at the two of us.

“If that’s your mate,” he says, jabbing a finger my way, “then you need to tell him this ain’t a good place to rest.”

Treasure scowls at him and gives him nothing else.