Page 61

I walk with her toward the stage and then pause. Yue slams into my back, just like I wanted.

“Since I’m dressed like a fucking groom tonight, I’d better carry my bride over the threshold,” I call out to the crowd.

Whistles and cheers hit my ears, and I spin around. She throws her hands up, but I pick her up anyway.

“Drop me, and I’ll punch you in the dick.” She folds her arms over her chest.

“Never,” I reply. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” I soften my voice over the music, making it low enough for her to hear. Her arms unfold, and I carry her up the steps to the stage. I set her on her feet and take her hand, leading her to the chair in the center of the stage. She places a fake smile and crosses her legs when she sits.

The music changes, moving to a slow, grinding bass. I let the beat take me. My shoulders roll first, then my chest. The baby oil we all use catches in the light as my muscles shift and flex. I hit the different movements around Yue. With one arm raised, I tip my head back, causing my locs to fall away from my jaw. The crowd whistles, and I rush toward Yue, throwing myself forward on my knees. She blushes and glances away. On my knees, I cup her chin, forcing her to look at me. The people in the crowd shriek, voice hollering in the space. I rise and slowly grind against her. Using her hand, I run it along my chest while keeping eye contact.

Her lips quiver, like she’s on the verge of telling me the fuck off. But heat flashes in her eyes. Her hands, which were at first just ghosting along my skin, are now actively touching me. Her fingertips dip into the ridges of my muscles. She bites her bottom lip, eyes scaling my body like she didn’t get dicked down right before work. Her thighs press together, and her breaths become labored. She wants me just as bad as I want her. I grin.

“Aren’t you going to tip me?” I ask.

“Didn’t I tip you enough before work?” she asks and then her eyes drop to my growing erection. “Obviously not. Taking care of your dick is a full-time job.”

“Want me to pay you?”

“Of course.”

I snicker, and the music builds. I drop Yue’s hands to my dick, causing her to purse her lips together while people cheer, begging for more. I rip my slacks, leaving myself with black boxer briefs and a white sleeveless suit jacket. I move into a sequence of body rolls, shimmying the areas between my shoulders and my knees. Stalking to the edge of the stage, but still within Yue’s sight, I grab the pole. I climb it a little and swing up, hooking one leg and spinning.

The force throws my locs into a circle, flailing them about. I catch myself, swinging upside down with my arms flexed. My chest heaves, and I scan Yue, flashing the grin she told me makes her want to punch me in the throat. At least she wants to touch something. When the music changes, I wink at her.

The bass drops, changing into something else as the music moves to older R&B. My skin shivers, and I lower myself to the ground. Stone starts to coat my body, covering me slowly. My skin darkens, the warm brown hardening into something closer to granite, the texture shifting from smooth to rough, the sheen of oil becoming the dull gleam of living stone. My shoulders broaden, and my jaw thickens. The locs fuse into ridged stones. My clothes explode off my body from my size. My fingers extend, the tips hardening into curved points. The veins in my arms become raised stone channels.

“What the fuck?" asks someone, and a blend of horror and awe fills the crowd.

My wings come last. They unfurl from my shoulder blades, falling with a heavy thud before they open. Following the action, my wings spread open, filling the stage. Yue’s magic does its usual thing. The enchanted ceiling above the VIP level expands to accommodate them even though I’m nowhere near it. Purple light catches on my wings. The club goes dead silent.

I've never gone full gargoyle on this stage. Nobody here has seen it except the staff. The crowd stares. They don’t know if they want to leave or stay. Regardless of what I do, no one here will remember it anyway. Yue will wipe their memory like always. Yue extends her hand to me, but I don’t take it. Instead, I reach for my chest.

The stone over my sternum is warm, something that breathes with me. It pulses with the same energy tugging at the base of my skull where the mate bond lives. I press my fingers against my chest, looking for the seam, then I push.

The stone on my skin parts like clay, and I dig inside, looking for something deeper. My fingers close around the item. It’s small and warm. It pulsates out of control before I pull it free. The heart sits in my palm. Unlike the part of me covered in stone, this one is black. It’s carved from gargoyle magic and is no bigger than an acorn.

It's not a piece of my physical heart, but it's something my people can give only once. I move toward Yue. My bare feet drag over the stage, and every step I take leaves faint impressions in it. Sharp intakes of breath hit the air.

"Oh my God," someone whispers.

"What is that?" questions one.

"Is that real?" asks another.

Yue shivers before me, hand covering her mouth. Her eyes are wide, but she hasn’t moved. She might not know about gargoyle etiquette, but everyone knows about the heart. The one that goes to our mates. I stop in front of her, and the music slows just like the whispers in the air.

"A year ago, I thought Steffani sending me to New Orleans was just about satisfying my parents. Sure, I wanted my mate, but what did that mean for me in the long run?" I hold her gaze. When I speak, my voice sounds different in this form. The words are heavy, filling with reverence. "It meant change, something I don’t think I was ready for at first. I walked around living my life with a care in the world.”

Yue’s eyes glaze over. She won’t cry though, not in front of all of these people, at least.

“Then one day, some mean-ass woman with white hair stepped in front of me and turned my world upside down.”

Yue snickers. “Mean women have the best pussy.”

“Don’t they, though,” Ashari calls out in the crowd, and some people chuckle.

I shake my head. “The bond doesn’t mean love to many gargoyles. It means childbirth. That’s not what it means for me, and it’s not what it did to me. The bond didn't make me fall in love with your sharp mouth, or the way your magic sparks when you try to hide how much you care. It damn sure didn’t make me love how easily you turned my quiet, empty house into a home.” I look down at the heart in my palm. It pulses in my hand. "We only forge it once, and we only surrender it to the one person we trust with our life.” I look at her. “I'm not giving it to you because fate drew a map to your door. I'm giving it to you because out of every soul in this world, I choose you every single day. You're my match, my equal, and my favorite kind of mean.