Page 20 of Guarded by My Gargoyle

“I held it a normal length of time,” Aidan said.

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, this is excellent.”

“Aidan.” Garrick’s wings snapped tight behind him with a sharp crack. “Drop it.”

The teasing look vanished as Aidan raised an eyebrow.

“Your eyes are doing something.”

“What?”

Heat stirred behind his eyes as soon as the other male said it.

He turned towards the range, where a copper pan hung above it, polished enough to throw back a distorted reflection. His face stared at him out of the curved surface, grey skin warped by the metal, his features stretched almost beyond recognition.

But his eyes were unmistakable, and gold had risen through the usual grey, bright and molten around the pupils. He had never once seen them do that before. How long had they been doing it where he couldn’t see? Behind him, Aidan was unusually silent.

“It means nothing,” he said.

“Doesn’t it?”

He turned back, and Aidan immediately held up both hands. “I’m not the gargoyle here.”

“Then stop pretending you know what it means.”

“I don’t know what it means.” Aidan’s gaze flicked towards the door Maris had disappeared through. “But I know exactly when it happened.”

His fists clenched at his sides. He’d felt the pull for eight months. He’d awakened to it in January, weeks before he intended to emerge from stone, with the absolute certainty that something had changed. He had traced it to the back of the property and gone no farther. He’d investigated the wall and the ground beneath it. He had done everything except walk around the wall and find out what had changed on the other side.

Then Flora had sent Maris Calder to his door, and the pull had acquired a face. What was he supposed to do with that?

“Garrick,” Aidan said.

“I don’t want to discuss it.”

“Fair enough.”

The immediate surrender was suspicious enough that Garrick narrowed his eyes.

Aidan shrugged. “You told me to drop it.”

“I did.”

“So I’m dropping it.” A pause. “Although for the record, you nearly growled at me over a handshake.”

“I did not growl.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“You can’t hear thoughts.”

“No, but yours get louder when you’re annoyed.”

Despite himself, Garrick almost smiled, and then Eric set his coffee mug down on the table.

“He’s not wrong,” he said calmly, and Garrick’s amusement vanished.