Gargoyle's Mate (8 page)

***

Lorn left Fatima to the carbon dating while he focused on a recently acquired document given to him by a Russian Protector. Fatima was a diligent scientist, which was to be expected based on her past work. She’d dived into the project with gusto becoming completely immersed in her work. He found himself having to force her to take a break for sustenance after hearing the protests her empty stomach made. It was late but Lorn doubted she’d checked a clock even once. She came in again from the biology labs mumbling something about improbabilities as she put away documents only to begin reaching for a new set of materials.

“I think we’ve done enough tonight,” Lorn said, placing a marker in the bound text he read to keep his place.

“What?” she asked distractedly. “There’s still several more hours of carbon dating to be done.”

“More like weeks.”

“An even better reason to keep working. The sooner this is done the sooner I can get to work helping you with the actual research and translations.”

“Agreed, but it will all be here in the morning,” he promised, rising from the plush wheeled leather chair to his full height.

Lorn silently observed her as she quietly processed everything. She’d reacted the way he’d expect for a human of this era. Even after verifying the authenticity of some of the materials, she’d rather believe the writers belonged to a deranged segment of society instead of entertaining the possibility the words might be remotely factual. He knew one surefire way to counter her disbelief, but in doing so he would be removing all choice of her ever going back to her old life. There was merit in the idea, of course. The way he felt now, he couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving him, but how long would he feel this way? One human never held a gargoyle’s interest beyond a few sexual encounters unless it was their Fledgling mate. Yet Fatima was different somehow.

He could see the fatigue etched in her face even if she refused to acknowledge it. Her thirst for the truth was admirable and there was no denying the critical nature of their work but Lorn wouldn’t prioritize it above her basic needs.

“If you’re tired, please don’t let me stop you from leaving.” She tried to ignore his approaching form but was a dismal failure.

“I think it’s time we both went to bed.”

To her surprise he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. Fatima thought to protest but in the end decided against it. As much as she hated to admit it the hug felt good. Maybe she did need to rest. The day had proved to be a bit overwhelming. If the information she’d seen were to be believed it would rock the foundation of reality. Hours of testing had been completed but no matter how she examined things she kept coming back to the same conclusion. The ramifications of the ideas she read were mind-boggling. What if there were otherworldly creatures out there co-existing with the human race? Would the world be ready for the knowledge? Was she? And what was Lorn’s interest in all this? He’d obviously read several if not all of the documents before recruiting her and seemed to accept it all without question. Why? So many questions and she couldn’t drudge up one acceptable answer.

He could tell Fatima was lost in her own thoughts as he led her back to the corridor housing their rooms. Occasionally she would open her mouth to speak but would close it just as quickly. It was really quite endearing to watch. He could almost see the internal dialogue taking place in her mind. But there would be many more hours of work ahead of them, tonight he wanted her full attention on him. It wasn’t until they stood outside his bedroom door she looked as if she really saw him.

Her eyes rounded in surprise. “Lorn, I don’t think…”

“Good, don’t think. Just feel,” he encouraged.

He’d worked so closely with her all day, fighting against urges to take her mouth beneath his own, touch her smooth skin. He wanted to have her coming again but this time with him buried balls deep inside her. Lorn pushed the double doors open and stepped back to allow her entrance. He expelled a pent up breath he didn’t realize he held when she crossed the threshold. It took incredible restraint for him to hold himself in check.

“
Monsieur
De LaRue, pardon the interruption,” Luc called as he hurried down the hall toward them. Lorn whirled on the young elf to glare at him through the open doors. The younger man flinched as if being visibly struck, but regained quickly.

“
Monsieur
, your father is on the phone. He says it’s urgent he speak with you.”

Lorn swore under his breath, angry over the interruption but even more upset at having the sexually charged male anywhere near Fatima. There wasn’t a human alive who was immune to an elf’s power of suggestion. Luc had used it to his complete advantage while living among the human population, which was why the Elfin Council had banished him, for an undetermined amount of time, to work in Lorn’s keeping. It seemed like a good solution, but with Fatima in residence Lorn wasn’t so certain he wanted Luc to remain in his service.

“I’ll answer the call in my office,” Lorn agreed, dismissing the messenger.

“I want you to wait for me here,” he said after turning back to a bewildered Fatima. “I won’t be long.”

***

Almost of their own volition, Fatima’s legs propelled her into Lorn’s bedroom. The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving her alone in his domain. If she’d thought her own room was large, it was a matchbox by comparison. She shouldn’t be there. It went against everything she’d been saying to him not to mention crossed all sorts of professional lines. For several seconds she stood rooted to the spot having yet another argument with herself. In the end she stayed.

Fatima explored the room slowly touching each item in his sparsely decorated space obviously he valued books more than household trimmings.

“Oh my,” she uttered as she came to stand in front of his fireplace. Prominently displayed above it was a massive portrait of a gargoyle posing like an aristocratic king in all his nude glory. Fatima was in awe of the larger-than-life image of the gray-skinned creature. She tore her stare away from his heavy penis hanging imposingly between thickly muscled thighs, her gaze traveled up his corded stomach, past the wide expanse of his chest.

Massive wings, large enough to wrap his body, stood wide on either side of him. Her gaze stopped on his strong facial features. He wasn’t grotesque like one might suspect of a gargoyle. In fact… he was quite handsome. He actually reminded her of the creature who’d visited her so many times in her dreams over the years. An odd sense of familiarity set in as she studied the long dark mane of hair swirling around him. Green eyes stared back at her from the picture, pinning her in place. They were Lorn’s eyes.

***

“What is it, sire?” Lorn began quickly after a cursory salutation.

Not one for pleasantries himself, Krail De LaRue seemed to overlook his son’s abruptness. “We’ve lost another one.”

“Who?” Lorn asked with complete understanding.

“Vladimir,” Krail answered on a sigh.

“Damn!” He’d spent many years at the Krosovich compound after the Fledgling suicides. Vladimir was senior to him by only a hundred years, but the slight gap was never felt amongst the friends.

“We will get him back, sire,” Lorn promised.

“I know you will try.” The hopelessness in his father’s voice struck a nerve.

“I have acquired the services of the woman I mentioned to you before,” he added.

“And you are certain she is not --”

“No, she’s not a Fledgling.” As much as he would’ve liked to declare the contrary, he couldn’t give his father false hopes.

“But her writings?”

“Are of a scholarly associate professor,” he enlightened.

There was a long pause. “We will be bring Vladimir to the castle by the next moon rising.”

Normally his father’s old world way of speaking was a source of ribbing, but there would be none tonight. The gargoyles had lost a great Protector, hopefully only temporarily.

***

Fatima lie awake, secure in the room that would be hers for the next year. The portrait of the gargoyle with Lorn’s eyes remained fixed in her mind.

“Fatima.” Her name came like a whisper through the door after a gentle tapping.

He’d go away, she convinced herself.

There was another succession of knocks, more demanding this time. The following silence was strangely deceptive; she listened intently for any sign of him. Mere seconds had gone by before she heard the lock give. The door slid open.

“Please leave,” she demanded, sitting up quickly in bed as she spoke.

“Why didn’t you stay in my rooms?” He asked, ignoring her protest.

“Because it wasn’t a good idea; we agreed before I came here on the nature of our relationship.”

“Is there no room for modification?” He stalked toward the bed.

“Not – not where we’re concerned.”

He arched a brow at her. “And yesterday?”

“Should never have happened, you promised to keep this strictly professional.”

“Hmm, I recall promising to do only as you wished, and if memory serves you admitted to wanting everything we did.”

“Well I don’t want you here now,” she stated firmly.

“Really? Is it here you don’t want me?” He took another step. “Or perhaps here.”

“You know damned well what I mean.”

“Do I? Perhaps my English is failing. I’m sure you could help me with it, professor.” He took the remaining steps to bring him to the edge of her bed.

Fatima waited until the last moment to move, hoping to catch him by surprise. She lunged for the side of the bed which might provide the best opportunity of escape. Instead all she succeeded in doing was getting her ankles secured in his firm hold. Lorn easily flipped her over onto her back, and with one tug brought her face within a breaths reach of his own. She lay with him on his knees between her thighs, her nightshirt riding up just below her breasts.

“Nice,” he said, fingering her bikini briefs. “But I like it better when you don’t wear any at all.” He punctuated his comment by giving the offending garment a swift jerk on either side.

Fatima gasped at the feeling of the skimpy material being ripped from her body. She waited for the expected fear to set in at his aggressive behavior. It never came.

“Would you like me to stop?” he asked as he began to gently palm her hairless mound. “Or maybe you would like me to fuck you with my fingers again?”

She whimpered at the reminder and the combination of his sensual caress. Her body was on auto response. She pushed her hips up to meet his large hand.

“Look at me,” he commanded, when she closed her eyes against the pleasure he caused.

She complied, and was rewarded with one long finger pushing into her welcoming heat.

“Do you want more?” His voice was husky.

“Oh yes,” she begged.

“Good, because I want to give you more.”

She felt the immediate loss of him and sobbed in protest. She watched with lust-filled eyes as his legs slid from underneath his body, allowing him to sprawl between her compliant thighs.

For several seconds she wondered what he would do to her next. She didn’t have long to wait. Like a cat lapping up cream, Lorn’s tongue snaked out, delving between the folds of her labia, taking one long taste.

She turned her head into the rumpled bedspread to muffle the sound of her pleasure. She felt him spread her folds exposing her to him. Her breath hitched while her toes curled into the soft sheets. His tongue stroked her hard nubbin. Her hands threaded into his silky hair while she ground into his eager mouth. He sucked her clit in and out in rapid motions, and she crooned her enjoyment. She was close. Tension coiled in her body.

He pushed two fingers into her throbbing pussy while he lapped at her clit with strong forceful movements.

“Lorn!” she shrieked as her body exploded into a series of contractions and spasms around his digits.

He removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. It was long and thick as it pushed inside her core. She jerked with every flicker he served up. He stroked his tongue back out again to push on her sensitive clit once more. She was drained but he was relentless. He dragged her legs over his shoulders, holding them in place while he started another round of attention on her clit.

A second orgasm took hold. It stretched through her and bloomed until she went limp.

Fatima snuggled into his chest as he carried her the short distance from her room to his suite. She felt weak and satiated. It wasn’t long before she was being tucked into the soft sheets of his bedding. She sighed contentedly. The temptation of sleep seduced her tired mind. She closed her eyes and waited for him to slip in bed beside her. Instead she watched through heavy lids as he walked towards the patio doors and stepped out onto the balcony.

“Lorn,” she mumbled but her heavy limbs prevented her from moving. Through hooded lids she watched the balcony. He’d left the glass doors slightly ajar allowing the evening breeze to waft through the opening. She could feel her mind drifting to the precarious place between the dream world and consciousness. It was there she saw him.

Her gargoyle. She sighed and smiled. His back was to her but there was no denying it was him. He turned his neck to look at her over his shoulder and just when she would have called out to him, he leapt from the balcony into the night sky.

Chapter Six

Fatima came to a groggy wakefulness. Her nightshirt rode her hips allowing rich textured sheets to caress her bare skin. She stretched languidly. Early morning sunlight shone from behind her closed lids.

“Good morning.” The all too familiar male voice greeted as one arm snaked around her waist, dragging her the short distance separating them, and bringing her into oh so intimate contact with every naked inch of him. She stiffened.

“Oh,” Fatima muttered, feeling the stimulated length of him against her ass as he nuzzled her neck. His warm breath sent goose pimples cascading down her back. She’d never been this close to a naked man. Given the circumstances it should have been an uncomfortable situation at best. Yes, they had been intimate but he was still a stranger. But it would be absurd for her to deny her attraction to him especially given her current location.

His lips traced the nape of her neck and set off a bevy of flutters in her stomach. The breath against her skin was hot but she shivered.

He inhaled her intoxicating scent deeply, wanting to bury himself inside of her tight warmth. He could with just a little maneuvering but had vowed to take their ultimate joining slow. He wanted to wring out every ounce of her pleasure.

Lorn rose up on one elbow, positioning her until she lay on her back.

“I want to see every inch of you,” he said with intensity, feeling her melt from his heated words. “I want to taste all of you, bury my cock so deep in you it takes your breath away.”

“What do you want me to do?” Her voice was weak with compliant desire.

A wave of pleasure shot through him at her utter submission.

“I want to see all of you,” he repeated, even as he rose to a sitting position, one leg folded in front of him, the other long limb hanging off the side of the bed. He knew he would need to tread carefully. There would be no turning back. Neither man nor gargoyle could go without having her now.

“Look at my eyes,” he ordered gently.

Her gaze shot up to meet his, like a child caught doing something wicked.

“Now sit up,” he instructed. She complied and tucked her legs beneath her to face him on her knees. Even mussed from a full night of sleep she was beautiful. The most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Remove your top,” he instructed.

He saw her hesitation before reaching for the shirt’s edges and lifting it over her head.

Lorn considered her with controlled hunger, following the path of the material as it traveled leisurely up her body. He was eager for his hands to follow the same trail over her flat soft stomach, his tongue dipping in her concaved belly button. His fingers ached to cup the delectable swells of her breasts in his hands, tweaking one nipple while he fondled the other between his teeth and tongue. He saw it then. A dark mark resembling wings and his world tilted on its axis.

He swore. Loudly.

“Did I do something wrong?” Fatima started nervously, crossing her arms over her chest to shield her breasts.

Lorn exhaled deeply, momentarily ignoring her actions. He wasn’t looking at her breasts, but at the mark just inches below her collarbone. It couldn’t be. But everything in him declared it to be true. Fatima bore the mark of the Fledgling. He regulated his breathing, remembering how she’d fingered the exact spot several times.

It was obvious she felt self-conscious under his quiet scrutiny but for the second time in his life was at a loss for what he could do to next.

A Fledgling.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Don’t,” he ordered through clenched teeth. “You should never shield yourself from me.”

Fatima stared at him in disbelief. What was wrong with him? One minute he was turned on, looking as if he were ready to pounce on her, the next he sat there with an accusing stare as if she’d done something wrong. Well he could sit there and play Sybil with his emotions, it didn’t mean she had to stay and watch. She glanced to where her discarded nightshirt lie on the floor then to the closed set of doors across the room. Worst case scenario she could run to her room naked. She rationalized her options.

“You wouldn’t make it,” he said as if he followed her train of thought. His attention focused again to the mark on her chest.

Obviously the sight of it bothered him. He’d certainly stared at the damned thing long enough. As far as birthmarks went she’d always thought it was fairly nice, almost as perfect as a tattoo. She felt a special affinity to it because it was the one thing she’d shared with her mother who called it their butterfly wings. Funny, Fatima always thought it resembled something far more enigmatic.

“Does it throb?”

How did he know? She wanted to ask him why he would pose the question. Birthmarks weren’t supposed to have associated sensations. In fact hers hadn’t until recently.

“Yes… well, not so much anymore,” she confessed nervously.

He nodded as if in understanding.

“Come with me,” he said stood and extended his hand to her.

Warily she accepted it, unsure of the change in his mood.

Naked, he led her to a spacious connecting bathroom. In front of a sizeable picture window sat a sunken bath, large enough to fit four people of his considerable stature. In the opposite corner Lorn guided her to a glass shower built for two. He pulled her in behind him. Rotating briefly to turn on the water and adjust the temperature. Warm spray streamed from nozzles on either side of the shower, drenching their nude forms. Fatima continued to watch him, trying to gauge his next move.

“Don’t worry,
ma cherie
, I want you now more than ever, if that’s at all possible.” He accentuated the statement by tracing the outline of her face with the back of his hand. Fatima shuddered at the contact, closing her eyes, enjoying the feel of the roped veins on the back of his hand.

His heart sang an elated chorus.

A real Fledgling! And not just any Fledgling but the one created for him. He swore again under his breath at the wasted months. There she’d been right under his nose. All of the emotional triggers were there; it explained his indescribable draw to her. He’d wanted to mate with her but thought it was the consumption licking at his heels.

He would have to report this to the Council, let them know Fledglings still lived. They would want to meet Fatima and learn everything about her family history, trace her lineage to other possible marked women. He knew others on the brink would protest his claiming her for himself, but there was no way he would let her stand before his brethren to choose another mate. It was a completely selfish move but he wasn’t willing to give her up; if he did it would surely push him completely over the edge into darkness. Besides, he knew she wanted him, felt it in every reaction to his touch. By her own admission, her mark had responded to him, the real true indication they were destined as mates. She would be his forever.

Lorn dipped his head, unable to resist the need to kiss her again. Fatima yielded to him, accepting the firm pressure of his lips. He easily slid his tongue into her mouth, all the while drawing her closer to his soaked body. The water felt hotter against her skin as he plundered her mouth, his hands sliding down her wet back to cup her derriere. The length of him pressed into her stomach, his cock jumping in anticipation of what was to come.

Effortlessly, he lifted her against the wall, moaning his satisfaction into her mouth when she wrapped her long legs around his waist. He trailed hot kisses down her neck, dipping his head to take one rigid nipple in his mouth. She dug her hands in his hair, arching her back in offer for him to take more.

“Is this what you want?” he mumbled around her nipple after giving it a firm tug. The sensation traveled down her body further inflaming her already pulsating core.

“Yes,” she whimpered, wanting to touch him, have him aching the way she did. There had to be a law against what he was doing to her with his tongue and teeth, sucking her until her hips rocked of their own volition. She was on the edge when Lorn redirected his attention to her neck again.

“You are mine,” he ground out. “Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Say it.” He suckled her neck firmly.

“I’m…I’m yours.”

“Forever.”

“More,” she begged.

She felt the sharp prick of teeth penetrating her delicate skin, the pain only accentuating the peak she could no longer prevent. She yelled her orgasm into the echoing room.

Fatima didn’t remember him turning off the shower or them coming back into his bedroom, but there they were, slightly damp on his bed, while he lazily rubbed a hand up and down her stomach.

“What happened?”

“I believe some call it the little death,” he answered, watching her reaction.

“Did you bite me?” she asked, her hand reaching up to touch the soreness on her neck.

“Did it hurt much?” he queried.

She shook her head.

“Good, I don’t want to ever cause you pain.”

Her heart warmed to him even more. What was it about this man?

He pinned her with a hungry look. “I think I’ll go crazy if I don’t have you,
ma cherie.
”

“We can’t have that.” She smiled coyly, wanting him more than she wanted anything in her life. Before he could stop her, she straddled his waist with her thighs, bending to give his surprised mouth a delicate kiss.

“Fatima, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I disagree, Mr. De LaRue,” she said before silencing him with a kiss meant to show him just how wrong he was.

Fatima took full advantage of his surprise, eagerly moving her lips over his, darting a teasing tongue in his mouth. She was torn between watching his responses and losing herself completely to their kiss. Prompted by his acquiescence she became bolder in her actions, dropping down the mere inches needed to rub her warm core against his length.

“Damn,” he grunted against her lips, his hands going to her hips to still her sensuous movements. “You’re not ready.”

“Like hell I’m not,” she objected, not sure how she managed to wiggle free from his strong grip. She gave him one last long kiss before sliding slowly down his body, trailing kisses as she went. At his navel she dipped her tongue in gently, circling the damp orifice before moving further.

“Fatima, I can’t allow this.” His words were firm but his reaction wasn’t quick enough to deflect her from her target, and what a wonderfully large target it was.

Certainly she wouldn’t be able to get all of him in her mouth, but she’d damn sure be willing to try. She tasted his cock with a flick of her tongue before firmly grasping him with one hand. Shouldn’t her fingers be able to touch? She wondered briefly.

“What are you doing, woman?” he growled, as she eased her mouth over his tip, only able to take a small portion of the veined appendage. Steadily she worked her mouth over him while pumping the rest with her hand. She let her tongue trail over his shaft’s thick base, lapping him as if he were her favorite flavored Popsicle. She would have returned to sucking if he hadn’t managed to maneuver away from her inquisitive mouth.

“Are you trying to make me spill my seed in your mouth?” he demanded.

“There’s a thought.” She smiled up at him, encouraged to know she had him so close.

“You are turning out be quite the vixen,” he commented, reaching for her.

“I’m trying. After all, I’m learning from a very apt teacher,” she agreed.

“Well, why don’t I educate you on my version of the alphabet.” He lay back again, bringing her on top of him.

Ready to question him about the whole ABC thing, she was startled as he slid down between her legs until she hovered just above his face.

“Hold on,” he warned, wrapping his arms around her thighs to pull her down.

“Oh my,” she gasped when his tongue came in contact with an already excited clit. Bracing her arms on the massive headboard as Lorn did wonderfully erotic things to her sensitive nub, she tried to maintain some semblance of control while he caressed her over and over. She looked down in aroused awe as his mouth dived in; his lapping tongue was intent on strumming her into frenzy. She couldn’t last long. She rode his face while his tongue alternated between plunging into her creaming canal and licking on her hard nub.

“Ohh… I’m gonna come!” she screeched as the orgasm took hold of her. She rode the wave out until the end; pumping against his vigorous tongue.

With the haste of a man at his limit, he flipped her onto her back in one easy movement, positioning himself above her. He pushed into her in a painstakingly slow motion, her sheath stretched to accommodate his girth.

Fatima exhaled bit by bit as he entered her, pressing forward for what seemed like forever until met with the impending barrier. His cock jerked inside her but he didn’t attempt a full breach. She realized he waited for her to become accustomed to him.

“Don’t stop,” she encouraged.

“Thank you,” he growled, retreating slightly only to plunge balls deep inside her. His grip on her waist was steadfast, keeping her anchored for his plundering cock. The obstacle surrendered easily to his sure movement. Her price was piercing pain radiating from her core and momentarily blocking out her earlier pleasure.

Above her Lorn stiffened again. His features were a contortion of sympathy and unrequited fulfillment. She knew he would wait however long she needed to accustom herself to him but she wanted to end his torture. She thrust her hips upward lodging him even deeper inside her. She didn’t realize she could be so totally filled by another person.

He made a sucking sound between his teeth. His gaze searched hers as if for further confirmation.

“Please,” she managed glad to feel the pain subsiding.

He moved then, slow shallow thrusts which deepened with each stroke of his cock. Her earlier soreness forgotten she basked in the budding pleasure he was creating. She lifted her hips to match his downward thrusts. She throbbed from the friction he created. Her nails sank into his back as she frantically increased their pace.