Page 46 of Dance in the Stones

“Likewise.” Redford moved closer, drawn by the sight of Warner’s scrunched, unhappy face. The baby was beautiful with his wavy blond hair, Simon’s bone structure, and Kolton’s nose. “Did I hear you suggest he was teething?”

“We think so. He’s been miserable since yesterday.” Simon bounced Warner gently. “Nothing’s helping.”

“May I?”

Simon blinked, clearly surprised, but handed Warner over without hesitation, which made Redford feel instantly special. Most paranormals would never allow anyone near their children unless that person was trusted.

The baby settled against Redford’s chest, his chubby fist curling into his T-shirt. Redford adjusted his hold, supporting Warner’s head, and hummed low in his chest - a sound his gargoyle produced instinctively.

Warner’s fussing quieted and his dark eyes, still wet with tears, fixed on Redford’s face.

“How did you…?” Simon stared. “He’s been fussing for ages.”

“Gargoyle thing, maybe?” Redford kept humming, swaying slightly. “Stone resonance. It’s calming for them.”

“I’ve been a gargoyle his entire life,” Simon said dryly, though his lips twitched. “I never thought of humming for him.”

“You were too busy panicking.” Kolton wrapped an arm around Simon’s waist, tugging him close. “See? He’s fine. He just needed another gargoyle for a moment.”

Simon leaned into Kolton’s hold, and Redford could sense the bond between them. It was clearly stronger than the one he had with Damon, but Redford knew Simon and Kolton had been together a lot longer. A baby took a minimum of nine months from conception to egg stage to hatching.

Warner yawned, drool soaking into Redford’s T-shirt.

“Coffee?” Damon asked, already reaching for mugs. “Kolton, I know you take yours black. Simon?”

“Cream, no sugar.” Simon moved to help, and just like that, the kitchen became a flurry of too many cooks, although it seemed to work. Damon and Kolton argued about bacon versus sausage, while Simon quietly set out plates. Redford stayed out of the way, with Warner dozing against his shoulder.

Redford caught Damon’s gaze across the kitchen. His mate’s expression was soft, pleased in a way that rippled through their bond.

This, Damon sent. This is what I wanted you to see.

Pack, you mean?

My family.

Warner stirred, making small snuffling sounds. Redford adjusted his hold, surprised by how natural it felt holding him. He’d never spent time around children. His clan never encouraged men near the few babies that were born, and his FBI work certainly hadn’t involved little ones.

“You’re a natural.” Simon appeared at his elbow, two mugs of coffee in hand. He offered one to Redford, then gestured toward the living room. “Want to sit before he gets too comfortable?”

They settled on the couch, Simon leaving careful space between them. Warner remained asleep against Redford’s chest, his breathing deep and even.

“Damon mentioned you were raised in a clan,” Simon said quietly. “France, Medieval period perhaps?”

“Italy, Renaissance.” Redford sipped his coffee. “Similar experience to yours though, I imagine. Insular. Secretive. Oh, and that belief that the clan was everything.”

“Until it wasn’t.” Simon’s gaze fixed on the wall across from them. “I left mine and never looked back.”

“I stayed until they scattered.” Redford watched Warner sleep. “That was about two, three centuries ago. Everyone wanted different things - some wanted to hide completely, others wanted to integrate with humans and other paranormals. My parents... they’d been bonded for over a thousand years before they succumbed to the stone. Guess that’s what happens when a bond is formed without the help of the Fates. One of those expected matings.”

“My parents were the same, although I don’t know what happened to them. I was abandoned in the nursery from birth and was raised by the clan as a whole. If they succumbed to the stone, no one bothered to tell me about it, and truthfully, I wouldn’t have cared.”

“I’m sorry.” Redford never expected to feel empathy for another gargoyle, but Simon was cut from a caring cloth, and clearly whatever happened in his clan had impacted him in a major way.

“As I say, we were never...close.” Simon took a long drink of coffee. “That’s why what I have with Kolton means so much to me. We have Warner and are proving, one day at a time, that gargoyles don’t have to live by the old ways. In fact, they’re happier when they don’t. Building something different, you know?”

“Fated bonds are definitely the gift that keeps on giving.” Redford checked Warner, who was now fast asleep, clearly happy with his shoulder as a pillow.

“You’re probably right.” Simon met his gaze. “But now we’ve done the ‘how much are we different and how much do we have in common chat,’ and got that out of the way, Damon said you found documents about how the castle used to be a sanctuary.”