Gargoyle's Mate (7 page)

Her pussy throbbed as his mouth teased her into submission.

“More,” he growled against her other breast. Fatima thought she would come undone.

“Please,” she begged, gyrating her hips against him.

“Tell me you want me.”

“I… I want… you,” she managed between moans of pleasure.

“What do you want from me?” His voice was a guttural. He leveled her to give one hand free dominion over her body.

“I want you… to make me come.” She was lost in the heat he created.

“I want it too,
ma cherie
,” he agreed, inching a large hand up the billowy folds of her skirt.

He tugged her panties to one side, giving him intimate access to her. His thick fingers slid between the lips of her labia to toy with her slit before zeroing in on her excited nub.

She moaned when his thumb pushed against her clit, rubbing her in long, strong strokes. He captured her lips once again, silencing her crooning as one digit sought the warmth inside her. He stroked her with a slow patience.

She was coming apart fast. He added another finger to the festivities and her body responded by coating them with her juices. Instinct took over. She gripped his neck tighter. Worked her hips harder but still needed more.

Lorn fought against the incisors threatening to explode from his mouth. She was tight against his fingers but it didn’t stop his little minx from riding them as if they were his hard cock. She soaked him with her pleasure but he wished it were his tongue fucking her until she begged for him to be inside her.

“Mine,” he murmured against her mouth, stretching her with three fingers now.

“Yes,” she whimpered

Her momentum increased and he answered the call with deeper penetrations.

“The words. Say the words,” Lorn couldn’t explain why but he was desperate to hear it from her mouth.

“No,” she groaned when he partially withdrew. She sought his lips but if he gave in to her kiss again he wouldn’t get what he wanted.

“Say it,” he demanded while adding a few more inches between their face. He saw the longing in her face. The answer was reflected in her eyes. Her hunger matched his, but still he had to hear it.

“I’m yours,” she submitted but he denied her another kiss.

“Again.” He stroked her clit.

Fatima vibrated in his embrace. She was so responsive to his touch. Good.

“I’m…yours,” her answer was a confirmation and a plea rolled in one. Pride swelled inside him. She could claim to not want him any other time but when they were like this the evidence was clear. He eased back into her welcoming warmth. His slow, steady thrusts had her crooning. He dipped in for another kiss. She opened to him with an eagerness which nearly destroyed his good intentions. He wanted to give her pleasure. Introduce her to the carnal fulfillment only he could give her.

She screamed as she came against him with such an intensity her head reared back against the door, eyes closed while she jerked through her orgasm. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

When the world came back into focus, Fatima bit her bottom lip to prevent the curse on the tip of her tongue from spilling out. Lorn’s own breathing was ragged. The thumb he touched to her chin had Fatima looking down and into his intense stare. If she didn’t know better she would think he wanted to devour her. Realization pierced her sex addled brain; he had done nothing to alleviate his own arousal.

“Lorn?” Her voice sounded weak to her own ears.

“Give me a minute,” his gruff response was barely recognizable. He closed his eyes in what she could only assume was an attempt to regain composure.

“We shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted sharply. “What happened has proven how much we desire each other and I don’t plan to back down now or ever.” He looked at her with eyes as dark as a midnight forest. “You’re mine.”

She should wail her denial or at least tell him he was out of his mind. What did he mean by ‘you’re mine’? Who said something like that to another person? In spite of the absurdity of his statement her heart still fluttered at his declaration. She gasped when he shifted to cradle her in his arms. She held her tongue as he carried her through the castle, praying silently no one saw the display. Neither spoke. Fatima stared at him as he deposited her outside her bedroom door.

“If you need anything, my rooms are there.” He pointed to large double door only a few feet away. He reached around her push the door open. “Get some rest.”

Later Fatima stood under the warm spray of her shower thoroughly confused. Lorn had turned her into a quivering mass of nerves, but he hadn’t acted on his own obvious arousal. He could’ve taken her in the hall without an ounce of protest from her. He could have easily pushed his way into her room. She wasn’t sure what type of game he was playing, but if he were waiting for her to knock on his door he had a long wait coming.

Lorn hadn’t gone to bed hot and bothered since he was a youngling, but it’s exactly what he found himself doing after the icy shower failed to assuage his desire for the woman who slept down the hall. He fought the urge to go to her. Their attraction was mutual. No one could fake her responses. She might not be a Fledgling but every cell in his body knew she belonged with him. What was it about her?

The taste of Fatima’s lips the feel of her was memories which would torment him through the long night. Lorn closed his eyes only to be greeted by the image of Fatima climaxing in his arms. He tried to redirect his attention to the reason he’d sought her out from the beginning. Although her eventual submission would be an added bonus, he needed to keep the research at the forefront. His brethren counted on him and he wouldn’t fail them. Slowly he drifted to sleep with the haunting memories of the past vying for dominance of his subconscious mind.

***

The Protectors had been alerted to unusual vampire and succubus activity in various Germanic regions. The tales were growing and had become too heinous to ignore. A young gargoyle, Lorn along with his brother had accompanied their father and several others to the northern regions while another contingent went southward.

Typically, succubae weren’t worth the trouble of more than a couple of experienced Protectors; however, the vampire component made any situation lethal. Gargoyles and vampires had always maintained a cold truce, partnering on rare occasions against forces which could decimate their numbers without an alliance. Traditionally, vamps and succubae mingled more for the fulfillment of their wild sexual appetites not able to be withstood by human partners. Never had they forged a coalition to fight, especially not against Protectors.

They’d flown in gargoyle form under the cover of night. The scene was grisly. Bloodied human corpses lie strewn in a field once lush with vegetation. Most of the fatally wounded had their throats ripped out as if attacked by wild animals. The unlucky survivors suffered from near fatal wounds or were so severely shocked none could be relied on as witnesses. The Protectors searched through the wee hours of the night for the culprits but came up empty handed for their efforts.

Lorn’s father risked contacting his vampire confidantes only to learn they were just as shocked by the atrocities. Contrary to accepted vampiric mythology, the immortals were not sinister creatures that held human life as insignificant. Vamps, much like Protectors, lived in harmony with humans, resorting to feeding from them when no other food source could be found, and even then only taking enough for sustenance not death. Vampires were thorough at erasing all traces of memory from their mortal prey which allowed them to be believed only as myth and lore.

Exhausted and no closer to solving the mysteries, the Protectors returned to their own holdings promising to regroup in a meeting of the Council of Protectors the following evening.

The absence of the Fledglings was discovered immediately. The one Protector who had been left behind to guard the small group of women was discovered unconscious from a potion slipped into his drink. At first the Protectors worried their women had suffered the same fate as the humans on the killing fields. They’d searched well into the morning until horses from the family’s stable were spotted returning without any riders.

They retraced the animal’s tracks along the seashore. Forced to rely only on their extraordinary sight and hearing slowed their search since salt water dampened their sense of smell. The search party was solemn as they entered the eerily silent cave.

The wail wrenched from his father’s throat, at the sight of his lifeless mate, was so heartbreakingly pitiful Lorn knew the sound would be permanently etched in his soul.

Chapter Five

It was amazing how refreshed she felt after an earth-shattering climax and a night of undisturbed slumber. Even her gargoyle stayed out of her dreams for the second time in countless years. She pushed out of bed with a little extra bounce in her step and a firm resolve.

“Yesterday I was tired and jetlagged, today I’m well rested and ready for anything Lorn De LaRue can dish out.” Fatima gave herself the pep talk while rolling out of bed. She quickly straightened the rumpled sheets and dressed in another of her infamous t-shirts. The word ‘Meow’ blazed in fluorescent green lettering, the pair of capris she pulled on hugged her hips snugly. It wasn’t what she’d normally wear for work but did reflect a long overdue laundry day and her inability to resist tacky t-shirt sales.

“I thought I’d make sure you got to breakfast without a problem.”

Lorn’s voice invaded the room, causing her to jerk around and face him. He easily filled her doorway with his large frame. This morning he was dressed in a blue pullover and black linen pants making him look as dangerously sexy as he had the days prior. Fatima tried not to be startled by his sudden appearance but swore he had the stealth of a cat because she hadn’t heard him come into the room. She made a mental note to remember to lock the door before bedtime going forward.

“Thanks, I appreciate the thought.”

“Did you sleep well?

“Who wouldn’t, the bed is a slice of heaven. Plus there wasn’t a teenage neighbor waking me up with a morning ode to rap,” she said lightly.

“And that’s all it was?”

“Combined with jetlag plus the time differential and I’d say those all provide the right ingredients for a sound sleep.”

“Of course, you’re right.” he said although the look he wore expressed something different. “Shall we go?

Seeing an opportunity to escape a potentially dangerous situation, she agreed. The last thing they needed in their presence was an available bed. He stepped aside to allow her to pass.

Lorn watched as she gingerly picked at her breakfast, trying her best to ignore him. He marveled at his overwhelming desire to possess her body and soul. Last night he’d only meant to kiss her, to make her feel a fraction of the need consuming him when she was around. He hadn’t meant for things to go so far so fast, but because they had there would be no turning back for either of them.

Just thinking of how eagerly she responded to him set his blood to boiling. Now he noticed how prim and proper she was, hiding under the veil of professionalism while she ran down her modus operandi for her research approach. He listened with half an ear, fully aware of the fluctuations in her heartbeat when she looked at him.

“Perhaps we should get to it?” he asked when it was obvious neither of them was interested in anything else on their plates.

“What?” Her voice raised a notch.

Lorn chuckled, something he couldn’t remember doing in a long while. “The lab.”

“Oh.” She blushed.

“Of course if you’d much rather do other things,” he offered.

“I’m here to work… not…socialize,” she sputtered.

“Is that the name for it these days?” he asked with mock innocence.

***

In the lab Lorn turned into a different person. Although he did crowd her on occasion, which she assumed wasn’t accidental, he proved to be a very competent assistant.

“You’re trying to prove something based on a myth.” She looked at him in frustration an hour after they began. “We first need to focus on supporting evidence of the existence of gargoyles before we go into some farfetched hypothesis about humans and gargoyles reproducing. In these documents no one ever questions the reality of gargoyles. They speak of them the way one would talk about a neighbor.”

“Would it help you if we carbon date some of these?” he suggested.

“Why? They were obviously written by people with two feet firmly planted in fairytale land. They talk about elves, sprites, werewolves, succubae and vampires.” She sighed in irritation. “At any moment I’m waiting to see Bigfoot’s name mentioned.’

“Sasquatch texts are listed in section 532 under indigenous inhabitants of Northern America.”

“You’re joking.” She stared at him incredulously.

He returned her gaze evenly.

“Come on, you can’t be so close to this to not realize the fantastical when it’s staring you in the face.”

“I could ask the same of you,” he countered. “You’re so ready to pass everything off as fiction without even opening your mind to the possibility there might be proof right in front of you.”

“Don’t you think if any of these creatures actually existed the world would know by now?”

“Not if they didn’t want to be known,” he answered simply.

She shook her head at the ridiculous notion

“Fine lets carbon date the text.” She indicated the book in her hand.

Sometime later, Fatima rechecked her notes for the fourth time, certain she had done something wrong. Maybe she’d missed a step or mixed the wrong solutions.

“If you do it twenty times it won’t change the outcome,” Lorn said, leaning against a stainless steel counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Okay, suppose this is from around 600 AD, but carbon dating will not tell me if its author was in full control of his or her faculties.”

“Perhaps you‘d like to check each of the over fifteen hundred volumes in there? Surely you can’t think everyone was crazy?”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

By 10 p.m. Fatima was only a fraction of the way through the texts and ready to scream in frustration.

This can’t be right
, she silently lamented, shaking her head at the stack of text she’d checked and double check. Although only a fraction of the documents were carbon dated she had yet to find a piece to disprove Lorn’s neatly scrawled index cards associated with each item. He had chronicled the year written, author, date of acquisition and country of origin. It was unfathomable to believe none of the works was a fake, yet the proof was staring at her with alarming results. She was determined more than ever to plow through the volumes.