Gargoyle's Mate (5 page)

***

How had things gone from bad to worse so quickly? She watched as Lorn rose to his full height to tower above her. His gaze was steady. Something feral reflected in his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. She half expected he would deny her request to leave, or maybe it was wishful thinking on her part.

She yelped in surprise when his arm snaked around her waist to pull her close. Her hands went up in automatic reflex which only served to trap them between their bodies. His head descended slowly. For several seconds Lorn’s mouth hovered over hers. She could have turned her head away but something compelled her not to move. Fatima’s heart raced with expectancy. Her lips parted of their own volition like an open invite. He pressed forward. It was a seductive coaxing. Sweet and assertive. Or at least it’s how it started. Soon the kiss turned more demanding. Possessive. His tongue sought hers with hunger. Arousal simmered in her, hitching with each thrust until she pulsed with longing. All too abruptly it ended. He relaxed his hold, then dropped his arm altogether. She took a few steps backward. From the look in his eyes she could tell he didn’t want to stop. Disappointment flooded her.

“Something more you want?”

His question didn’t register immediately. Yet when the words penetrated her hazy mind she gave in to instant embarrassment then outrage.

“Absolutely not, I-I didn’t even want the kiss and I definitely don’t want anything else from you.”

“There goes the banner of truth. Since we will be working so closely together I think it’s imperative we be honest,” he finally replied after what seemed like an eternity.

“The operative word is work, nothing more. If you can’t agree to a strictly business relationship here and now then I won’t be going to France, job or not,” she issued.

There was another long pause before Lorn responded. “I will only do as you wish.”

“Good.” She exhaled. “What I would like right now is to return to my hotel.”

He bowed slightly in compliance although when their eyes met again the look he gave promised they were far from being done.

Chapter Three

Gordy had rung Fatima’s room four times in the last two hours and got the downstairs attendant after each attempt.

“No message,” he bit out, letting the phone drop into the cradle.

Where the hell could she be?

He knew the answer before the question had fully formed in his mind. Lorn De LaRue was responsible. He wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the way the man ogled her like she were a choice steak and he were in desperate need of a meal.

A gentle knock sounded, and interrupted his internal rant. He jerked the door open to the surprised face of the female grad student he’d spent the previous evening with in lieu of Fatima. Only a dead man wouldn’t notice how absolutely stunning the strawberry blonde was, with her classical features, stony gray eyes and perfect upturned mouth. She smiled at him seductively, displaying perfect teeth. The rest of her was equally as traffic stopping. She seemed to be curved in all the right places with large breasts which greeted him immediately. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her womanly form.

“I thought you might like an evening snack.” The woman continued to beam prettily, holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and a basket of strawberries in the other.

Although his first instinct had been to slam the door on his uninvited guest he quickly changed his mind as he took in the barely there peach halter top and matching mini skirt which left little to the imagination. It wasn’t her fault he was in a foul mood but she might be able to help him exercise away some of his frustration.

“Sure,” he agreed, swinging the door wider to allow her admittance.

***

Fatima was grateful for two things as she checked out of her hotel two days later. First she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Gordy. After her embarrassing night with Lorn she’d come back to the hotel only to find four messages waiting for her at the concierge station. Feeling guilty, she made three tries, over the remainder of the conference to contact him without success. Knowing Gordy, he was probably pouting and thought his absence would teach her a lesson. Secondly, Lorn had also made himself scarce. There were no more sightings of him at any of the talks and Fatima wondered if he had changed his mind altogether about his ‘research’ project. Unfortunately, Lorn’s assistant arrived on the last day with an itinerary for her overseas voyage. He’d also requested an itemization of materials and personal effects she might need for her work and stay. She spared no expense in her request, taking satisfaction in exercising a little revenge through her list of items. If he had a problem he could simply call the whole thing off and walk away as if their paths had never crossed.

Fatima was glad when she finally closed the door on her small two-bedroom condo. Its familiar surroundings engulfed her like a welcoming embrace. She plopped down on the overstuffed cushions of her sofa, ignoring the flashing red light of the phone sitting on a side table. She knew she couldn’t avoid the messages for too long because in twenty-four hours she would be heading out on a new flight to New York in preparation for her international journey.

Whatever reprieve she might have felt was coming to a rapid end and she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding fillings its place.

***

In his human form, Lorn had already embarked on his private flight to Amsterdam. He was due to arrive after midnight, and would complete the last leg of his trans-Atlantic trek in his gargoyle persona. He relaxed his head against the cushioned headrest, allowing his eyes to drift closed as a picture of Fatima’s beautiful mahogany face assaulted him. He could still feel her lips on his. The soft fullness of her mouth left him craving more. Her scent was a part of him now.

He wondered how the intimate recesses of her pussy would taste, how she would respond as he drove his tongue into her deliciously warm tightness. He yearned to hear her call out his name in desire as she’d done in her hotel room. Had she thought of him nibbling on her clit while she fondled herself so enthusiastically? His cock grew hard at the idea of what he would do to properly introduce her to the art of lovemaking.

He was pleased with his decision to request her immediate presence at his home because the urgency he felt to have her was almost overpowering. It had taken his very best efforts not to attempt to see her again before she’d left Michigan. Never had a woman affected him so, which partially reawakened a concern he’d pushed to the back of his mind. How close was he to turning? Departing his current consciousness for the isolated existence of the dark side did not hold any appeal. His thoughts drifted back to the lovely Fatima and a calm settled over his very soul. There was something truly special about this woman.

***

Gordy drifted out of a sleep induced haze feeling slightly disoriented.

A sultry voice greeted him “You’re finally awake.”

“Is it morning?” he asked.

“No, my darling, it’s evening.”

“What?” He sprang up in bed, instantly regretting the sudden movement as a pounding in his head threatened to split his skull open.

“Easy, my darling, you are not fully well.”

What? He settled into the satin cushions he hadn’t remembered adorning his hotel bed.

A
nd what the hell was it with this
‘
my darling
’
crap?

“You must relax, gain your strength.” The soothing quality of her voice seemed to will his tired limbs into submission. Instantly Gordy felt at peace and would’ve drifted back to sleep if it weren’t for the butterfly kisses she trailed down his exposed abdomen. He exhaled slowly when he felt the warm, moist mouth of the woman encircle his cock. The blood rushed to his limp flesh in a sudden injection of desire.

She moaned as she took him deeper in her mouth. She deep throated him several times until he was a mass of quivering sensations. Gordy felt helpless to do anything but feel, enjoying the pressure of her tongue as it laved at the pronounced veins of his cock. He felt his climax grab him quickly as he was wrung dry by her sucking mouth.

***

Although Fatima was no neophyte to travel excitement still bubbled within her from the moment she awakened to embark on her trip. The feeling only subsided slightly after the flight landed and she tiredly nestled into the comfortable luxury of waiting car, manned by another cap cwearing servant. She watched in exhausted joy as the city skyline gave way to lush countryside. They passed one vineyard then another or perhaps it was all one and the same. She was too fatigued to pay attention to where one began and another ended. Lulled by the easy rhythm of the vehicle and the never-ending greenery, Fatima fell into a weary slumber.

She had no concept of how much time had passed when the car stopped. Bleary eyed, she blinked at the imposing wrought iron gate which separated them from what looked to be a dark road ahead. She leaned forward for a better view but wasn’t able to see exactly where the black metal ended beneath the dim illumination of light. The driver pressed a button on the leather console which triggered the gates to swing inward. They pulled slowly up the long drive. Her first sight was of manicured foliage which abounded in a sea of green.

“My god!” she exclaimed in a whisper when what could only be described as an old world castle came into view. She didn’t care that her nose was practically pressed up against the passenger window like a child on a tour of a candy factory. Who wouldn’t be impressed by a structure which looked as if it were transported out of the 14
^th
century?

“
Mademoiselle
” the young driver, extended a hand through the open rear door.

“
Excus
é
moi
.” Fatima blushed at being caught gawking. She took his offering and stepped onto the pebbled drive, staring up at the three-story aged structure with its stone walls and high minaret. Another man, much older, yet perfectly preserved, stood at the top of the steps leading into the house.

“
Mademoiselle
.” He bowed slightly’ she caught the twinkle in his blue eyes, which reminded her oddly of Lorn’s personal assistant and current driver.

The elegant exterior was something to behold but she was bowled over by the beautifully maintained foyer. She felt as if she’d stepped back in time to an age when damsel were perpetually in distress and lords were literally master and king of all they surveyed.

“I will show you to your room so you may settle in,
m
onsieur
De LaRue will be back shortly.”

“Thank you. May I ask your name?” If there was a hierarchal structure to be obeyed in the household she would definitely categorize herself among the servant class, after all she was employed by Lorn De LaRue like the rest of the staff.

“Of course, where have my manners gone. I am Pierre. My son Luc escorted you here and I believe you met eldest son Mike in the States.”

“Yes.” So that was it. She realized why he’d seemed so familiar. “It’s amazing the three of you work for Lor… Mr. De LaRue.”

“Actually several members of my family work for him,” he added as he led her up a grand staircase. “Mike has resided overseas for nearly fifteen years. You will meet my wife and daughter later when
m
onsieur
De LaRue introduces you to the rest of the staff,” he continued.

Fifteen years
? She wanted to ask him more about it but became sidetracked while they walked down a long corridor passing a series of rooms. An eclectic collection of tapestries adorned the walls seeming to tell a story. Fatima paused in front of one, studying the brutal images. She identified gargoyles, humans, what appeared to be vampires, werewolves, large fairylike creatures and several other figures she couldn’t quite pinpoint. It appeared as if they were embroiled in a monstrous battle. She noted the humans were poorly outmatched with swords against gargantuan creatures with fangs, claws and obvious superior strength.

“It’s quite ghastly, I agree.” Pierre stepped beside her, his voice seeming to catch in his throat. “This way,” he encouraged after several seconds of quiet contemplation. Fatima followed him, watching as he tugged on the black knit cap he wore.

She wondered its significance because Mike had worn one like it in Michigan, as did Luc. Did it denote some sort of caste? She shook her head. The sort of thing didn’t exist in modern day France. Neither do fully functioning castles, she reminded herself, unless they were part of a tour package for foreigners.

“Please make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be in a couple of hours. Perhaps you would like to freshen up or have a nap after your long journey?”

His offer sounded like heaven. She hadn’t had a chance to fully recoup from her Michigan trip before flying across the world. Pierre showed her all of the surprising modern amenities her room had to offer before closing the heavy wooden door as he left. The interior was massive and she took in the beauty of the space from its high ceilings and fireplace to the four-poster bed that would have taken up her entire bedroom back home. As an interesting contrast to the dark wood tones the room was decorated in deep blues and yellows, her favorite color combination.

Could Lorn have known? She dismissed the thought just as quickly as it had come. A gentle knock on the door caused her heart rate to go into overdrive. Self-consciously she touched her neat ponytail, trying to calm her erratic pulse.

“Come in,” she called, bracing herself for the devastating image of Lorn De LaRue. Instead Luc the driver, weighed down with a couple of her suitcases, staggered inside.

“Where would you like these?”

“Um…anywhere,” she whispered, upset with herself for feeling disappointed.

“Don’t bother with unpacking. My sister will take care of it for you,” he continued as he strutted back into the hall for another batch of cases.

Fatima’s gaze was drawn to his firm backside, molded perfectly in jeans.

Nice
, she thought before turning to grab one of the bags containing her summer wear. She was dying for a shower and change of clothes.

“Is there anything else?” he asked as he arranged the last of her cases near the wide bed.

“No, thank you,” she replied, pulling out a cotton shirt and skirt. When she realized he made no move to leave she looked up.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” he asked slowly, enunciating each word.

Images of her in his arms, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, bombarded Fatima. She gasped aloud at the vivid pictures.

Boy, am I jetlagged
, she thought.

“Luc!” Pierre seemed to appear out of nowhere. “I believe you have other duties to attend to instead of loitering around here.”

The young man looked annoyed before nodding in her direction. “Perhaps another time,” he added before turning away.

The door was drawn closed in his wake, but not before she heard Pierre launch into a language she couldn’t identify.

Dismissing the entire exchange, Fatima made her way to the luxurious adjoining bathroom, determined not to be distracted by thoughts of Lorn or his horde of cap-adorned employees. She was there to do a job. One she was certain wouldn’t require an entire year of her time, because anyone in their right mind knew gargoyles didn’t exist.