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"The first day I saw you," Ryker says softly, a faint, tender smile touching his lips. "You were sitting on that bench downtown, sunbathing with your bright purple and lavender hair. I looked at you, and for the first time since I could remember, I didn't feel alone. You had purple hair. I had purple skin. It sounds stupid, I know, but it felt like a sign."

Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I swallow down the lump caught in my throat. I inch closer to him on the narrow bed until my shoulder is pressed against his arm. "It wasn't stupid, Ryker," I whisper, leaning my head against him. "It was the universe bringing us together."

Ryker lets out a long, slow breath, resting his cheek against the top of my head. One of his wings unfurls, sweeping around my back to wrap me in a warm embrace. He tucks me securely against his side as we lay on his tiny mattrass. The scent of vanilla and crisp rain surrounds me.

"I don't know who I was before," Ryker whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know if I was a human who transformed, or a statue that came to life. I don't even know if I have a family out there somewhere looking for me."

"We'll figure it out," I say firmly, pressing a quiet kiss against his collarbone. "I promise you, Ryker. You aren't alone anymore. We're going to find out where you came from."

Ryker doesn't reply, but his wing tightens around me, holding me flush against his side as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go. Within minutes, the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest slows down as he drifts off into sleep.

I lie there listening to the calm, steady thud of his heart.

He thinks he’s some forgotten monster with no past. I don’t think he realizes his knowledge of tailoring and thread work is a clue. It isn’t just a strange fluke. Ryker has a story. He has a history, a talent that belongs to a real, living person. Somewhere out there, there are answers waiting for him.

Gently, So I don’t wake him, I reach for my phone on the nightstand, keeping the screen’s brightness dimmed as low as possible. My fingers tap through my contacts until I find the person I’m looking for. Scrolling down until I find the number for my private investigator. He’s a high-end, discreet investigator in Korea who has deep connections to international records and post-Wave transformation registries in the US.

I type quickly, keeping the message short and precise.

I’m cashing in on my favor. I need you to run a missing person search on gargoyles who vanished or transformed around the ten-year anniversary of the Halloween Wave. Specifically, looking for tailors, fashion houses, or designers here in the US who vanished around that time. Send me anything you find.

I hit send. Locking my phone, I set it back on the nightstand.

Ryker spent the last ten years protecting himself while searching for answers, and now he’s spending his days protecting me. He thinks his past is permanently lost in the dark.

He’s wrong. I’m going to find his roots no matter what it takes. I’m going to give him answers. I have the money and resources.

Crawling back into bed, I wrap my arm around his broad waist, bury my face against his warm, purple chest, and let his steady heartbeat lull me to sleep.

Chapter nine

Teagan

The roar of the crowd at the Creelin U football stadium is loud with an infectious, excited energy. The September air carries a sharp, crisp breeze, that only adds to the lively atmosphere. To my left, my brother is practically vibrating in his seat. He’s holding a pair of oversized foam monster claws and waving them frantically as our team lines up on the field.

"Let’s fucking go!" Ethan bellows. He glances over at me with a wide grin. "Teagan, tell me you’re actually watching this shit! It’s literally our first game of the season!"

"I'm watching, I'm watching!" I laugh, adjusting my purple baseball hat lower over my forehead to try and keep a low profile. It’s totally failing. "Though to be fair, I still don’t really understand the rules." I never really was a sports person.

"The guy with the ball runs that way," a deep, rumbling voice murmurs into my ear, causing my cock to jump. Gods, his voice. "If the guys in the other color tackle him before he reaches the end, it’s bad. If he makes it, everyone screams with joy."

I turn my head, catching the cocky-as-fuck smirk on Ryker’s lips. Even in a casual dark hoodie and black jeans, my gargoyle bodyguard is so damn attractive. His leathery, purple-hued wings are folded tightly against his broad back and tucked in so he doesn't hit anyone around us. His eyes sweep over the crowd calmly, but every few seconds, those eyes drop down to meet mine.

Ever since the night in our dorm when I held him while he admitted his fears about his lost past, and I secretly messaged my private investigator, the air between us has been charged with… something. All those carefully placed professional boundaries are barely even there, and neither of us is doing a damn thing about it.

"Thank you, Coach Gargoyle," I tease. "Your knowledge of monster football is truly inspiring."

Ryker's tail flicks gently against the bleacher bench behind me as he grins. "I aim to serve, Mr. Dae."

"Hey! Focus!" Ethan nudges my shoulder. He points down toward the field. "Kieran’s lining up again!"

I shift my attention back down to the game. Down on the field, our campus team is clashing against Shuford, another monster university. Shuford’s front line is massive; a wall of towering shifters, if I had to guess. But Creepin U’s defense is holding strong. I think.

I spot Kieran’s jersey on the field. Something’s wrong.

My stoic, grumpy roommate doesn’t look like he’s having a good time. Creelin U is currently up by several points and as far as I can tell that’s a good thing, but there’s something off with his body language. His shoulders are hitched up around his ears, his head is down, and another player near him violently rips off his helmet during the timeout.

"He looks furious," I say softly, leaning closer to Ethan. "We're winning, right? So why does Kieran look like he wants to punch his teammate?"