Gargoyle's Mate (3 page)

***

During Dr. Fatima Smith’s lecture Lorn had turned over each syllable she’d uttered but still he’d had a hard time believing what he heard. Humans, in this modern era, didn’t possess the information she presented. So where had her knowledge come from?

When he’d first stumbled across her research he couldn’t resist the slight tug of hope of possibly having found a descendant of a gifted family. Disappointment prevailed when the obvious mark of the Fledglings was not visible on the nape of her neck as it had been with his mother and all other gifted women before her. However, the knowledge she wasn’t a potential mate did not reduce his attraction for her. He was certain there could be many hours of mutual enjoyment shared between him and the good professor, albeit fleeting.

Taking a non-Fledgling lover could only be a temporary affair. It was a simple biological fact that gargoyles, or Protectors as they had come to be called, needed mates to survive. Procreation was essential to the continuance of their species since mated gargoyles typically produced one or two heirs over their lifetime. Mates were also essential to the very survival of gargoyles because without them their lifespan became severely diminished. In the final cycles of life, the unmated slowly transformed into the grotesque statues in popular depictions. His kind was on the verge of extinction and his mother was to blame.

It had been over six hundred years since the mass Fledgling suicides, when the community of Protectors had been torn asunder at their very core. It had taken three hundred of those years and many lives for the community to form some semblance of cohesiveness again. Now, with the arduous task of reuniting the gargoyles behind him, Lorn could focus his attention on more pressing matters such as the location of the Fledglings, if any still existed.

Getting Fatima’s room number was easy enough but it was pure dumb luck she’d opted for a room with a balcony. The vapors from the steaming shower inside wafted through the sliding glass door and confirmed he had the right location. Her musky sweetness enveloped him as he settled his Gargoyle form on the twentieth story perch leading into her suite. Voyeurism had never been a part of his nature which made it hard for him to rationalize why he’d come to her room in his current form. It wasn’t as if he was prepared to reveal his true identity. Yet the compulsion to be near her couldn’t be denied.

He stood in the shadows watching through the thinly parted curtains as she stretched naked across the hotel bed. For the briefest moment Lorn thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. What he saw was enough to instantly send blood rushing to his manhood. Her deep dark skin looked edible displayed on the golden coverlet. She didn’t hesitate in her thorough exploration of her breasts, using both her hands to massage and tweak the dark nipples into firm attention. She arched her back at the sensations her ministrations had caused. His acute hearing picked up on her low aroused moan through the thin glass of the windows.

Dear
god
, he thought. In this gargoyle form he wasn’t hampered by the restraints of clothing, which allowed his aroused cock to strain freely in the night air like a beacon. Firm fingers wrapped around his engorged member as he began a slow stroke, unable to remove his gaze from the beauty.

One hand slid from her breast down the length of her torso, stretching further until it skimmed her dark folds. Seeming eager to end her play she spread her nether lips apart allowing her fingers more access to her pink nubbin.

“Oh yes,” she moaned softly as if encouraging a lover.

Lorn gasped, his hand increasing the pumps over his hardened flesh. He wasn’t sure how he resisted the urge to rip the sliding doors off their track and join her on the bed. There was no reason why she should be alone when there was a granite cock more than eager and willing to fuck her until she couldn’t take any more.

“Faster,” she mumbled and he watched as her digits complied, adjusting their rhythm to match her thrusting hips.

“Yes,” Lorn found himself responding. Her movements became urgent and he knew the friction was bringing her closer to the precipice. Suddenly she went still, thrusting her pelvis skyward, her toes curling into the covers.

“Looorrrnnn,” she called as her climax hit her full force.

“Oh yes, baby.” He found his own release as he heard her call out his name, his seed erupting from him, into the night air and over his fingers in warm spurts. His body shuddered as he milked the last of the fluid from his still hard flesh. He stood transfixed, watching as she relaxed, sated from her orgasm. She looked innocent and serene rolling onto her side to stare at him. Well, maybe not at him, but out into the night where unbeknownst to her he watched.

He smiled to himself. Her fantasy lover had been him. This confirmed it. She might not be a Fledgling but she would be his.

Fatima stiffened. Had she seen something outside on the patio? Ridiculous, she dismissed. She was twenty stories up on an isolated side of the hotel overlooking a man-made lake. The only thing out there was probably a poor sleeping pigeon she’d surely awakened with her orgasm. Well, she’d say one thing for Lorn DeLaCrazy, he was a great fictional lover, she thought before her heavy eyelids began to flutter closed. Her last thought was if she would see her beloved gargoyle in her dreams.

Chapter Two

Fatima stared down at her cell phone as it displayed the duration of her last call. Thirty-three minutes and fourteen seconds flashed back at her. Thirty-three minutes and fourteen seconds was all it had taken for her life to be properly turned upside down.

The day started off great. Her six o’clock wakeup call actually came at six, the hotel’s gym was virtually empty leaving her a choice of equipment for her morning regiment; she’d somehow missed Gordy at breakfast and lunch, plus there was no sign of Mr. De LaCrazy. All in all it was turning out to be a banner day. She was looking forward to an afternoon seminar on ‘The Anthropology of Folklore,’ taught by a female professor who she strongly admired, when her cell buzzed. The familiar name of the Dean of Anthropology, her boss, flashed on the screen.

“Dr. Hansen,” she had answered, a little surprised to be hearing from him. “Did the university burn down?” she quipped

He chuckled. She liked her boss, an older man in his late fifties who looked more like a friendly old grandpa than the dean of two social science departments.

“No, but I was just made aware of a potentially substantial donation to the university with a large stipend to be allotted to Anthro.”

“Wonderful,” she answered, but waited to hear how it related to his phone call to her.

“Apparently, a donation in the amount of two million dollars has been pledged.”

“Wow,” was the most intelligible thing she could think to say.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” he replied. She could hear the smile in his voice.

“So what did we do to earn this endowment?”

“Not we, you.”

She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “Me, but… I don’t understand.”

“Let me start at the beginning. There is a foundation, the Council of Preservation, who seem to be very interested in your research on gargoyle folklore.”

“Oh, no,” Fatima groaned. “Listen, I ran into a whack job yesterday that approached me about something similar. He’s obviously a few cards short of a full deck.”

“Well, when you have the kind of financial backing he does it changes one’s title from whack job to eccentric.”

“You mean he could be legit?” She couldn’t suppress the disbelief lacing her voice.

“I can assure you the C.O.P is very much a legitimate organization with a strong international presence.”

“Please tell me Lorn De LaRue is not a member?”

Dr. Hansen chuckled. “He is not only a member, but happens to be the president.”

“Great!”
Fucking great
. “So what does he want?” she asked, hoping he’d only tried to sell his cockamamie story to her.

“You or more precisely that beautiful brain of yours.”

“Hansen, he thinks gargoyles really exist,” she accused in a whisper.

“Then you will just have to prove him wrong.”

“How do you prove a given?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but you’ll have several months to work on it, assuming you take the project.” He paused.

“You mean I have a choice?” she asked hopefully.

“Well…in life there are always choices…and consequences.”

Fatima didn’t really need a billboard to see the writing on the wall. “What about my classes? I can’t just drop everything.”

The famous Hansen humor returned. “Why not? Indiana Jones did it all the time.”

“Yeah, and you see what kind of trouble he got into.” She tried to sound light although she felt slightly queasy. “So when are these sacred documents supposed to arrive?”

“They won’t. You’ll be going to them.”

What!

“And where exactly might I be going?”

He did his infamous impression of Bob Barker. “My dear, you’re taking an all-expense paid trip to France.”

***

Fatima tried again to focus on what Dr. Leslie Hoffman was saying but her mind just couldn’t wrap itself around the subject matter.

According to Dr. Hansen she would be leaving the day after she returned from her Michigan conference.

“There you are,” Gordy whispered as he slid into the empty seat next to her.

She nodded her acknowledgement, feigning interest in the topic of the ongoing lecture.

“About last night.” He leaned in close and Fatima could feel his hot breath warming her ear.

“Not now,” she returned his hushed tones.

Gordy was silent for several moments before continuing. “Who was the man you were talking to yesterday?”

“What?” She barely registered what he said.

“The freakishly tall Neanderthal you were so cozy with after you dismissed me.” His tone was accusatory.

She sighed. “His name is Lorn De LaRue,” she provided, wondering if she should inform him it probably wouldn’t do to insult a potential benefactor. She stopped herself preferring not to broach the topic with Gordy and risk a discussion on a subject still too unbelievable for her to accept.

“Lorn.” He said the name as if it left a bitter taste on his tongue.

She chose to ignore his reaction. There were more important things to worry about like how the hell she was going to get out of this mess without the university losing their donation and she her job.

***

“Fatima.” The slightly familiar voice called softly as Lorn seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Her heart flipped at the seductive caress of his tone. They were on a break, which Fatima needed even if it was to be short lived. Gordy was driving her crazy with all his questions and attempts at conversation.

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to face the man who’d instantly climbed to number one on her shit list. He was impeccably dressed in all black, sporting a fitted mock turtleneck which clung hungrily to his corded muscles. Like before, his long dark hair was pulled into a plaited ponytail and hung down his back.

“We must talk,” he continued in his deep accented voice.

“You’re absolutely right,” she agreed, resisting the urge to give him a piece of her mind in front of everyone milling about during the recess.

“Fatima,” Gordy urgently called as he rushed toward them. “Where are you going?” he asked all the while eyeballing Lorn.

Is it really any of your business?
She thought, but instead introduced the men.

“Lorn, this is Dr. Gordon Singleton. Gordy, Lorn De LaRue.”

Gordy mumbled a barely audible hello while Lorn merely nodded.

“Are you going somewhere?” Gordy asked again.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Fatima promised, before turning to leave the crowded conference area.

Lorn followed as she led them through the hotel lobby and outside. She didn’t stop until she found a quiet alcove to properly put him straight.

“You had no right calling the university. Do you realize how much you’ll be disrupting my life? I have classes, not to mention my own research, my friends, and what about my plants?”

“Is this Gordy fellow one of your friends?”

For several seconds she just blinked at him. Obviously the imposition he would be putting on her life meant nothing. Her temper flared at the inconsideration but she quickly took hold of it.

“He’s a colleague and of course a friend too, not that it’s any of your concern.” She sounded breathless as she began to touch the spot below her collarbone. “Our university is very excited over your generous gift, but I’m sure there are others who could better meet your needs.”

The look he gave her seemed to say he strongly doubted her suggestion.

“And I still have connections at the CDC if you feel you really want a cellular biologist.”

“No. I want you.” The finality in his response sent a shiver down her spine.

She was sure he meant to follow the statement with ‘to do the research’.

“And if I refuse?”

He cocked his head. “We both know rejection is not an option.”

Why did she get the feeling they were not talking about research any longer?

“I have arranged for your passport to be updated,” he stated. “My assistant will meet you at the courtesy desk at five thirty with the necessary paperwork and a camera for your photo.”

“You can’t just --” She cut off her own protest. Most people couldn’t update a passport in the manner he suggested, but the rules were certainly very different for someone who could hand over two million dollars for a fool’s errand.

“Afterward we’ll have dinner,” he continued.

“I don’t think so. You may be blackmailing me into participating in this ridiculous wild goose chase but I draw the line there.”

Lorn regarded her silently before continuing as if she hadn’t spoken.

“There’s still much we need to discuss, unless of course you’d rather forgo the remainder of today’s seminars and meet now?”

She hated to admit it, but what he said made perfect sense. She was scheduled for another lecture in an hour and a panel discussion soon after, if they were going to meet it would have to be later.

“Until tonight,” he finished as she quietly acquiesced.