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Interesting.
“We’re dealing with a lot of powerful magic. It isn’t safe for a human, certainly not one that just found out about the Strange for the first time twenty minutes ago,” Titan snarls.
“It’s a human party.” The long, wild-haired gargoyle named Knox chimes in as he pushes off the hallway wall and saunters in my direction. My eyes widen as I note the two-pronged tail that swings behind him. “We haven’t sensed any Strange in the building or around Freddy. No one but us and the coven even believe the Keystone exists, so no Strange will be out in the open, throwing around their magic.”
“You said so yourself. Unless you see a clear opportunity, this is just reconnaissance until the unveiling.” Stiel, the one with the curled horns fitted tightly to his angular face, turns and gives me a firm smile and a nod as he answers.
There is a long moment of silent looks between the two gargoyles that makes me wonder how often Titan ignores Stiel’s advice. Still, it seems there is a clear sense of mutual respect between them all and easy deference to Titan as their leader.
“Dredd?” Titan breaks the staring contest and jerks his chin towards the gargoyle at the back of the hall. I’d noticed him immediately when he’d entered earlier because, unlike Titan and the three other gargoyle’s, whose granite skin is smooth, his right side is pocked with small gouge marks from shoulder to thigh, and a chunk of his left wing seems to be missing. He’s also the only one of Titan’s brothers to not look my way.
“I’m going to check in with the coyote shifters and the werewolves. See if they’ve heard anything about the Keystone.” Dredd shakes his head, his heavy wings shrugging, as he heads down the hallway.
“They still think the Relic Room surviving the fall is a legend,” Titan calls after him.
“Yeah.” Dredd waves back at him with his spiked tail. “So if they’ve heard anything, we’ll know it’s real.”
Titan’s face darkens and tenses with worry. Dredd doesn’t seem to like me all that much, and I pray that doesn’t sway any of the other gargoyles from my cause.
“It’s a wrap party, Titan,” I say sweetly, letting a flirty glint soften my gaze. I look from his eyes to his lips and then lower. I might be in the middle of an episode ofTheTwilight Zone, but getting what I want from men puts me in my comfort zone, and instantly, my body relaxes. I shake my head and, with a laugh, add, “I’ve handleda lotworse. Seriously, this will be easy. Fun, even.”
Titan’s stone eyes darken, and from somewhere deep and cavernous, a slow rumble builds in his chest. The entire room tenses. No, not tenses—the roomisstill. No one seems to breathe, but the air gets hot and thick, and suddenly, the other stone beings are pushed to the periphery of my vision, and the sharp pain of the ring squeezed tight in my palm dulls to nothing.
“We’re done here. Everyone out,” Titan bellows before turning back to me. “We need to talk.”
Knox seems about to say something, but then thinks better of it and heads down the hall. Granite scrapes against marble as the gargoyles leave with cautious chuckles, and Eden follows with the sharp clip of her heels behind them.
Rook turns back at the last second, cautiously interjecting into the roaring silence, “Drusila will be here at noon.”
When the hallway is finally clear, I remember I’m only in a blanket and Titan is naked. I wonder how Eden managed to never look down, but then I suspect her eyes were focused on someone else.
“I should get dressed.” I’m desperate to know if Titan will pay to keep me around longer, but with the sudden shift in his mood, I decide to wait. I start to move towards the rumpled white heap of my dress on the chair, but he grabs it before I get it. “What are you doing?”
I wait for him to hand me my dress, but he seems to have forgotten he has it. I swallow hard as he clenches the ball of fabric that used to be the borrowed dress in his claws.
Sorry, Safiya. I’m going to owe you a new dress, but just maybe I’ll have the money to pay for it.
“When have you had to handle worse?” His voice is doing that low, patient rumble thing again, the one that makes knees feel weak as the uncomfortable desire to obey rises in my belly.
That desire, I’d felt it last night and never before. Not once with the men I’d dated or been a sugar baby to had I wanted to drop the character of seductress. I like the role. It’s comfortable and easy—everything that Titan isn’t.
“Are you going to let me get dressed?” I snap, but the harsh tone sounds forced to even my own ear.
“Just now, you told the entire room you’ve handled worse. I want to know when and what that ‘worse’ was.” Titan’s voice is direct, but his natural gravel is smoothed over, like he wants to make sure I don’t misunderstand a single word he’s said.
My shoulders jump as I laugh until I see that he’s serious. This isn’t the first time that a sugar daddy has felt the need to turn into Captain Save-A-Hoe, but it never stops being annoying. I exhale, my body caving in on itself, as I sink onto the corner of the bed.
“I appreciate the concern, but I was just saying the wrap party isn’t a big deal. I’m joking around. You basically just proved that you need my help to know how to react like a human,” I clarify. “I enjoy my time as a sugar baby. It saved me when I was struggling the most. And I have good friends who’ve shown me the ropes from the start. I’ve been doing it awhile now, so I know what the red flags are. Other than a few assholes who waste my time, like Harris, I like what I do.”
Titan doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me with those intense marble eyes, and it’s clear he’s processing what I’ve told him.
“Anyway”—I chuckle, needing to fill the silence—“with sugaring, it’s clear what everyone is there for. It’s straightforward, honest, and I like that. I’ve been screwed over way more by people who should actually care about me.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
My body, which had been gently bouncing on the bed as I laugh, comes to an abrupt stop as I see Titan’s face.
“I believe you about your work. You’re smart, baby girl. Beautiful too. And I know why someone would want to take care of you.” His voice is strained, the broad muscles of his chest and neck tense, like every word he says is painful and forced through gritted fangs. “I don’t like that someone hurt you.”
