Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Because you were so fascinated by the art, and it intrigued me. I wanted to see your face.”
His eyes sparked, their glow enhancing. “And when you snuck closer still?”
“We’re at snuck now, huh? You’re not accusing me of crawling anymore? That’s good, at least.” She made a show of adjusting her hair and then her boobs before turning sideways and leaning against the siding that badly needed a new paint job. “You were so in rapture that I wanted an even closer look. Was that for show?”
He shook his head slowly, smug amusement in his expression. “I love art, paintings especially, but photography is nice, too. The alpha was right—that sculpture Nikken gave the female is excellent. It’ll find a good home in that room.”
“She hates being called ‘the female.’”
“I wondered. It’s pretty clear no one knows what to do with her. She’s a female but brand new, with no family ties or status. She’s operating out of a thriving township run by her mate and clearly has some serious funds at her disposal, along with a small but powerful list of guardians, most of them not gargoyles. She’s an anomaly, but she’s the only living female gargoyle. Calling her ‘the female’ denotes the ‘otherness’ of her whole situation.”
“She can tell. That’s why she hates it. Word of advice?”
“Since you’ve been making bang-up choices so far this evening, sure, whaddya got?”
She gave that (admittedly funny) dig a blank-stared beat of silence before replying, making him chuckle. “Put your faith in the ‘otherness’ of her situation. Put it in the ‘otherness’ of her people. She collects eccentrics no one else wants and makes us shine. She isn’t just powerful in her magic; she’s powerful in her ability to unify outcasts. She builds them up—as does her mate—and she makes them stronger than they ever could’ve believed. Get on her side, or she and her people will run over you and flip you the finger as they do.”
He was silent for a moment. “That speech started so promising and ended so colorfully. Tell me, are you in public speaking?”
“Fine, whatever. Don’t take it seriously. See what happens.”
He did get serious then. “I assure you, Natasha, I am. I do not go into my job blindly.”
“No. You go into your job raving about essences and old magic and hoopla that makes me question your grip on reality.”
He blew out a breath and looked away, and if he was trying to hide his sudden wariness, he wasn’t doing a very good job.
“You spoke of a potion. You said it masks sight and sound. Smell.” He looked back at her. “Not from me, it seems. I can sense presences, yes. The best guardians can. But I can see you, as well. I don’t know why.”
She studied him closely through the eyes of someone who had done a lot of interrogations of all kinds. Someone who had been interrogated herself, or found herself at the end of a knife blade, needing to read the other person so she’d know what to say to survive. He’d fooled her in that art room, but he would not fool her again. And right now, reading him, noticing his small cues, she could tell he was lying. He knew why, or at least had some guess.
She let him keep his secrets, though. For now. She’d ferret them out on her own. They hadn’t looked into the guardians much. That was an error she planned to rectify immediately. If she lived past this encounter, obviously.
“Your appearance is different, though,” he continued. “Hazy almost, like a…dreamscape.”
“Do your dreams usually feature angels of death?”
His smile gave her deliciously dangerous butterflies. The worst kind. “Only when your face, or body, graces my night.”
“Super sorry I asked. What about all that stuff about haunting inhabitants and old magic and leading men down into the Beyond?”
His eyes flashed—visibly flashed, like a light—before his face settled down into a carefully controlled expression. “The quality of your appearance right now, your glowing beauty—you look like an ethereal agent of hell. Like a sprite from the Forgotten Wood, or a wandering haunt. They assume the face of…someone you know. Someone familiar. They use it to get close to you. To seduce you. And then they…” He shrugged like all of this was no big deal. “They cut out your heart, feast on your organs, and steal your soul to use for their own devices.”
“Yeah, totally.” She nodded as though she’d ever heard of a supernatural eating organs and feasting on souls. “And you thought I was one of those things? Wandering the halls. Sneaking into rooms. You thought Jessie would be chill with that?”
“She has an army of demons—”
“Calm down with the hell and demons. Those are dolls. They’re alive in this house and in a little disrepair from fighting the murderous gnomes— Okay, yeah, I hear myself talking. It’s not so far-fetched to think something might be haunting the halls. Except you know that I’m a mage. When you saw me all hazy, why would your first thought be she’s a sprite, I must kill her! Would you not take a second and assume there’s magic at work?”