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Yanking him down with my teeth, I dug in with all my might, but Orson pressed his hands on my head, trying to stop me with his petrification.
With shocking force, I jutted my head upward, enjoying the crack of his arm when it broke against the pressure of my head.
Yelping in pain, Orson pulled out of my hold, crawling toward his partner.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I growled silently. “I’m not finished with you.”
Once again, Orson spread his wings, managing to barely escape my teeth this time, but I didn’t falter. On my back haunches, I clawed at the cartilage of his wings, creating a tear in the left. Here, the material of his body was fleshier, less granite, but still hard and easier to connect with.
The rip immediately grounded him, crashing his body back down to the hallway floor. Orson landed with a thud, another crack indicating that he had broken yet another bone. I intended to snap every joint in him.
“You think you can get away with hurting me? With hurting my mate?”I snarled telepathically. “You fucked with the wrong shifter, Orson. I thought I’d trained you better than that.”
The gargoyle opened his mouth, and blood poured out, telling me that his fight was almost over, but a small moan of distress distracted me for half a second. I looked toward my mate again and realized for the first time that she wasn’t moving. She sat in exactly the same place she’d been from the moment I’d arrived, her teal eyes like saucers.
“Abby!” I called to her.
With great distress, she turned her eyes toward me, but the rest of her body didn’t move, as if she was paralyzed. Orson seized the moment to launch his attack on me, hands closing over my throat, but he was too weak, the assault ill-planned.
Hissing, I sent him flying back into the wall with a bat of my paw, landing on him as his back crashed to the floor. With my teeth bared, I raised my snout to take out his jugular and end this craziness once and for all.
Chapter39
Abby
What’s happening to me?!
The only explanation I could figure was that Orson had managed to petrify me with his touch when he’d grabbed my throat before Elijah had come in. I willed myself to shift, to help end this bloodshed, but I was unable to do anything but move my eyes.
My gaze flicked from the dueling men toward Etta, cowering in the far corner, between the kitchen and hallway, trying to stay out of harm’s way.
“Etta!” I tried to whisper, but my voice was as frozen as the rest of me.
She sat in her cubby, eyes closed with almost a serene expression on her face.
My vision must be skewed. I’m hallucinating with the gargoyle paralytic.
I didn’t understand why Orson’s touch had affected me this time. He hadn’t even been in his gargoyle body when he had burst into my house. A hazy confusion affected my mind, and I stared pleadingly at Etta.
Her eyes popped open, and she smiled at me.
Why is she smiling?
Gnashing teeth and a terrible grunt again stole my attention away from the fae, my eyes exhaustedly moving back to the fight in action.
I was dying in place, but Elijah didn’t seem to be aware of my plight.
“Elijah!” I cried out to him.
Like the rest of me, my vocal cords were frozen, but the silent plea to my mate seemed to affect him. His head jerked around, and I gaped at him, willing him to understand that I needed him more than he needed to kill Orson in that moment.
My mate froze, blood dripping from his jowls as Orson panted and moaned beneath him. His eyes fixed on me, pupils dilating as they locked into my panic.
He fell back, moving to nudge me with his snout, and tears burned behind my eyes but didn’t fall.
Orson, badly hurt and bleeding in several places, took the opportunity to escape while he still could. Dragging his wounded leg behind him, he pulled himself toward the door as I watched, but Elijah didn’t seem to notice.
“Orson!” Etta screeched, jumping up from her spot to chase after her partner, the pair disappearing into the night, leaving a trail of red in their wake.
