Stone-Cold Lover (8 page)

He paused, adrenaline surging at the light tread climbing fast up the hardwood stairs. He had seconds to escape—

“Cray, wait!”

He turned, hardly able to believe his ears—his
eyes
—as he faced the woman who haunted his every thought. “No!” He sucked in a breath. “
Hide
,” he rasped.

“Not without you.” She took a few steps through the doorway, eyes fierce and head held proudly.

He shifted Adam’s weight with his good arm. A vein in his temple throbbed, his heart jumping like a jackhammer on full speed. “You
must
.” Didn’t she understand? He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t live without her.

At the thought, he lost touch with reality, lost touch with everything around him so that when his head cleared and he finally detected the muzzle of a gun pointed at him from the doorway, it was too damn late to react.

Too late to realize Loretta’s intention as she turned and leapt toward the attacker with a shrill cry.

And like someone watching their own worst nightmare, he saw her jerk to a stop at the muffled crack of the gunshot, heard her breath catch as she fell with infinite slowness to her knees.

Chapter Six

Loretta knew she was in the hospital. The smell of antiseptic hit her nostrils and as she moved an arm, hot pain tore through her body like barbed wire jerked backward.

But it was her gargoyle she sensed above the burning agony and she strove to push through the last heavy layers of consciousness to force open gritty eyes.

The bustling sounds of activity immediately receded as she focused on Cray. Half-open curtains framed him in a halo of sunlight, its warmth caressing his whiskered cheeks, his brow and its white puckered scar…

Impossible!
A strangled cry burst from her lips. And in human form, Cray jerked awake from where he’d slumped in a chair that was too small for his large frame.

“I don’t…believe it,” she choked out.

He was by her side in a nanosecond. He reached over and pressed the nurse-call button. “It’s true,” he said hoarsely, brushing a cool hand over her fevered brow. “You saved my life…and broke the curse.”

All thoughts jammed and then bounced around her mind like the steel orb in a pinball machine. She wished she could rejoice and shout for joy. She couldn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes and weathered an overwhelming swell of anxiety.

Her greatest wish had now become her greatest fear. He was a free man now. Free to stay…or go.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

Everything.
Nothing.

She opened her eyes. “So…what happens now?” she asked, wincing at the searing pain in her shoulder that trapped her immobile on the hospital bed.

“
Shh
.” He pressed a gentle hand to her lips. “We’ll talk later,” he murmured. “For now, you need to rest.”

“But what about those men with guns?”

“Don’t
worry,
they won’t ever hurt you again.”

She sighed, weariness pressing around her. “You…killed them?”

“No.” She heard an edge of regret in his voice. “All three are in the hospital too, under police guard.” His chair creaked. The pad of his thumb drifted over one side of her face. “I’m betting the officers don’t quite know what to make of their tale,” he murmured, darkness coloring his dry amusement.

A nurse came in and they fell silent while her wound-free arm was cuffed to check her blood pressure. Loretta’s eyelids fluttered closed, and even before the nurse had finished, she felt herself drifting back into the folds of sleep.

* * * * *

Loretta shifted in the passenger seat as Cray keyed in a code to activate the security gates guarding a tall, luxurious apartment building.

Her breath caught in her throat as she watched his somber expression. Was this where he’d gently break the news and tell her that he wanted his freedom?

He drove the car down a steep ramp and into underground parking.

“Where are we?” she asked, a lump in her throat.

“I thought you might like to see my home.”

“Oh…yes.” He had his own place?

He parked the car and got out. His footsteps were a muffled staccato on the concrete as he walked around and opened the passenger door before bending low and gathering her close.

“I’m fine…to…to walk,” she said, sounding breathless and more than a little unsteady as he hoisted her effortlessly into his arms.

“Humor me.”

“But what about you?
I saw the blood…so much…”

He shrugged. “What can I say? The bullet went clean through muscle and bone…and we gargoyles heal fast.”

“So you’re still gargoyle?”

“Yes. But it’s no longer involuntary. I can change at will.”

“I’m glad.”

“Really?” he asked with a raised brow, clearly unconvinced.

“
Yes!
Even with wings, you’re more human than many people I know.”

A sigh shuddered from him. “I’m pleased you think so.”

A little thrill arrowed down to her toes.
“So, you’re a true shapeshifter now?” At his nod, she probed, “Are you aware of any other changes?”

He managed a shrug. “Not that I’m aware of. Though whether or not I age now, or am still immortal, remains to be seen.”

He paused at a wall with huge shiny metal doors. On a keypad he entered identification and it dawned on her that they were at a private elevator.

“I own the building,” he said before she could formulate the question. The doors swished open and he stepped inside. “I lease it out but the penthouse suite is all
mine
.”

The doors closed and little red numbers flashed as the elevator shot them smoothly skyward. She lifted a hand and smoothed her hair, oddly self-conscious. The close confines of the elevator heightened the simmering awareness that was a constant between them.

She closed her eyes and absorbed his heartbeat, profoundly grateful that she was in his arms as giddy anticipation filled her.

There had been so very many men in her life but none like her gargoyle. With Cray, she wanted to scratch far below the surface, uncover the real Cray, the man and everything in between.

But could
he
forget
her
past? Her lashes flicked up. “All those men, they meant nothing—”

“I know.” He wound a piece of her hair around his finger and tucked it behind her ear. “You had many lovers,” he agreed. “You were seeking affection but in all the wrong places.”

Emotion welled in her chest. A single tear trickled down her cheek. He brushed it away with the pad of his thumb and added huskily, “You used sex to fill a void. I understand.”

“Why do you care now?” she asked thickly. “You made it clear you were nothing more than my guardian.”

“I do care. Very much,” he said quietly.

The elevator stopped, the doors opened. But they didn’t alight. Her pulse skittered but she quickly banished wishful thinking. So why this jagged hole in her chest where her heart should be?

“I cared that you were hurting. I cared that every time your father saw you, he was reminded of the wife he mourned. Lincoln abandoned you at a time when you needed him most,” Cray said, his expression resolute beneath the dim overhead light. “But it’s time for you to move on, accept that what happened to your mother was
never
your fault.”

Breath wheezed in and out of her lungs. “How can I? I did nothing to help her.
Nothing.
”

He stared at her hard. “You were a child. It was nobody’s fault
but
the kidnappers.” His face softened. “Your father focused on work to erase the pain. He didn’t consider your hurt too.”

A strangled sound tore from deep in her chest. Cray was right. She’d shouldered the brunt of her mum’s disappearance, and not one person had ever told her it wasn’t her fault.
Until Cray.

Another whimper escaped. His words had liberated the shackled piece of her, freed the constant, dull ache trapped deep inside. It seared through her mind, tearing at the foundations of her belief.

His arms were hard and strong around her, propping her against the solid safety of his chest while she heaved gut-wrenching breaths.

“Dad blamed me for…for not looking out for M-Mum.”

Cray’s chin rested on her head, his breath warm on her scalp. “No. You blamed yourself, sweetheart. Lincoln was so full of his own guilt for not protecting his
family,
he couldn’t comprehend how
you
felt.”

She wrapped her good arm around the back of his neck. Her fingers twined through his thick hair. “I know…I know you’re right,” she whispered.

“Then let the past go,” he said huskily.

She drew in a heavy breath then gave a shaky nod and looked up. “What…what about you? You must miss your family?”

His eyes darkened. “Yes.”

His cheek rasped beneath her palm. “Yet you’ve been alive so long…”

Did the pain of loss never disappear?

His eyes flashed, revealing the emotional wounds that ran deep. Another shadow veiled his gaze. “I’ll never forget my family. I can’t lie—I still miss them very much.”

“I hope you…you at least had a chance to say goodbye.”

His shoulders bunched. “No. I wasn’t able to.”

“The curse?”

“Yes. I was forced to leave England, compelled to guard an apathetic, European prince. Not long afterward, my parents and little sister died from diphtheria.”

Emotion clogged her throat. She’d endured much death too. But to lose a whole family while bound to protect someone you didn’t care about? No wonder he understood her, understood her guilt and pain.

“Cray, I’m so very sorry.” She meant it with every shard of her being.

Something passed between them, a shared understanding. Then, as if collecting himself, he strode through the elevator doors. Automated lights flooded on, dazzling them, and the moment was gone.

He set her gently onto her feet. And suddenly everything seemed awkward, contrived, as if they were young lovers experimenting with sex for the first time.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked brusquely.

“Please.” She followed him to a cedar bar.

“Scotch, vodka?”

“Scotch.
Thank you.”

Even when he was fully dressed in jeans and a white dress shirt, she couldn’t help but admire his body as he bent and selected a bottle from the lower shelf. He was built like an athlete. Wide shoulders, long, muscular legs and a flat stomach with a washboard ripple.

As he splashed the amber liquid into squat glasses, she asked, “Why did you bring me here? Why now?” When he turned, eyes hooded as he handed her the drink, she urged, “Tell me. Please.”

He took a swallow and then placed his glass back onto the bar. “I didn’t plan it. But I realized you didn’t want to go home…you never were comfortable there.”

He’d known! The harbor mansion had never felt welcoming. She’d always felt like an outsider looking in, never quite fitting into the world her father had expected her to inhabit.

She placed her untouched drink by his, studying his unreadable face. “You’re right.
But so what?”
She
needed
to hear how he felt without having to always second-guess him.

“You want me to spell it out?” he growled. “Want me on my knees, groveling?”

“It would make a nice change,” she said, deadpan.

His expression shifted and suddenly he threw his head back and let out a deep belly laugh, the sound rich and pleasurable as it rolled off his tongue and bounced off the pristine walls. His stare glittered, eyes eating her up.
“Touché.”

She didn’t say a word, just stared and stared. Then he abruptly dropped onto his knees, his face open and letting her know it was her move.

She didn’t need coaxing. She moved toward him and he opened his arms, drawing her against him. His mouth lifted to meet hers and they kissed softly at first, exploring each other with tender restraint.

He pulled back a little, looking into her eyes with utter seriousness. “I have to ask you one last time because, God help me, I’ll never have the courage to ask again—is
this what
you want? Am
I
what you want?”

Loretta stepped back. “Yes.” Oh yes. She licked her swollen lower lip, eyeing his heat-stoked gaze, his sensual mouth. He was giving her control.

She lifted a hand, tracing the jagged scar along his brow and realizing it would be a permanent reminder for him of his human days long ago, before he’d become indestructible.

He must surely know she loved everything about him. His flaws were just a small part of his beautiful package. “I want no one else.
Just…you.”

His breath hissed out, and suddenly they were in each other’s arms again, their mouths fused while each peeled the clothes frantically off the other.

Time was a luxury they had now, with Cray freed from his curse. But their hunger was urgent, primal,
needy
.

With their clothes scattered around them, he stood and propelled her backward, the wall suddenly against her spine. She eagerly wrapped her legs around his hips, emitting a gasp when the head of his cock nudged her slit, opening her to his sex.

He thrust forward and her head abruptly rocked back, a cry of pleasure-pain tearing from her lips as he filled her to the hilt.

He held the position for just a few seconds but it seemed long minutes as she writhed in his hold, so very desperate for more. He pulled back, the head of his cock just barely nudging her slick entrance, and she almost shrieked with the need to have him back inside her.

His ice blue stare anything but cold, he flashed a look that was wholly possessive as he demanded throatily, “Tell me you want me.”

Her chest heaved as she fought for breath, her breasts quivering. “I want you,” she gasped. And she knew as only a lover would—this time he wanted her to beg, not reassure.

His cock sank into her pussy a few inches, the cords along his neck straining. “I’m not sure I heard,” he grated out softly.

She drew in a breath, her nostrils flaring in response. The scent of male, of sex and passion, had her almost coming from arousal alone. “I
want
you! I want you so bad it almost hurts. I want all of you inside me!”