Page 11

“Okay, let’s try something else.”

I place my palm against his chest. The stone is cold beneath my hand. “Three wishes.” I rub my palm in a slow circle. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Nothing.

“Okay, fine. One wish will suffice. Because apparently I’m negotiating with a gargoyle now.”

I rub harder.

And that’s when something happens.

At first, I think it’s the wine. Because the stone beneath my palm gets warm. Not sun-warmed. Not the lingering heat of a summer day. Actually warm. As if heated from within, like skin.

I freeze.

“What the⁠—”

Something moves beneath my hand. I jerk backward. Except my palm doesn’t immediately come away. Because the stone is changing.

The hard, rough surface softens. The gray color shifts. The broad chest beneath my fingers rises. Rises. As in… it’s breathing.

“Oh, shit.”

I stumble backward.

Rocky moves.

His enormous stone wings unfold with a grinding sound that makes every hair on my body stand up. His claws flex. His shoulders roll. And his face— Oh my God. His face… his grotesque features begin to shift. His horns shrink. His heavy brow smooths. His jaw changes shape.

Stone ripples like water. And suddenly I’m staring into the face of a man. A very large, very handsome man.

Also, he’s naked.

“Oh, SHIT!”

I take another step backward. My heel catches on something. I windmill my arms.

The balcony railing is directly behind me. For one terrifying second, I’m certain I’m about to become a cautionary tale.

LOCAL WOMAN DIES AFTER DRUNKENLY FONDLING GARGOYLE.

But before I can fall, a strong hand wraps around my wrist. Another catches my waist. And I’m hauled forward. Straight into a broad, warm, very solid chest. A naked chest. Attached to a naked man. Who was a gargoyle approximately three seconds ago.

I stare up at him.

He stares down at me. His eyes are the same precise shade his statue had been moments before. A dark slate gray. Which seems deeply unfair.

He should not get to have eyes like that after spending the last week looking like Satan’s favorite gargoyle.

His dark hair is thick and slightly too long, falling over his forehead. His jaw is sharp, his nose aristocratic and straight. His mouth is— well.

It’s a very nice mouth.

I’m noticing a lot of things I probably shouldn’t be noticing under the circumstances. Like the fact that his shoulders are enormous. His chest is covered in a light dusting of dark hair.

And there is absolutely nothing between us but my T-shirt and leggings.

His hands tighten on me.