Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
One time she’d peered in! It had just been one time, after she’d followed him back to his house and snuck around the premises. She’d wondered if he’d be able to feel her essence from so far away. And then she’d drifted toward the light like a moth to a flame, finding him getting ready for bed, naked, glistening—
“Oh shut up.” She stormed from the room.
She needed a better game plan where he was concerned. He was playing her like a fiddle. It was exasperating.
EIGHT
Austin
“Tristan.” Austin walked into the billiard room, finding the other man with his T-shirt literally ripping at the seams. “Jess’ll have Mr. Tom order you some shirts in your size, be it button-down or T-shirts. Whatever you need.”
The large gargoyle turned from the far corner of the room, revealing a painting in a wooden frame behind him.
“Did my grandma Mimi leave some art out of the art room?” Austin asked, crossing to the rack of cue sticks mounted on the wall.
“Yes, I think she did. I can’t be certain, but that one might be a lost piece of history.”
“Do you like art?”
“Very much.” He met Austin at the rack.
“Have you spoken to Mimi? It’s one of her passions. I’m sure she’d love to talk to a fellow connoisseur.”
Tristan waited for Austin to select his pool stick and get out of the way before studying the selections.
“Sir, may I ask a question?” he asked.
“We’re off duty, Tristan. Your gargoyle culture is a lot more relaxed than my shifter culture. Ivy House is more relaxed still. I’ve gotten used to letting down my guard here. When we’re here, in private company, feel free to address me as Austin.”
Tristan ran his fingers along one of the cue sticks. “We shouldn’t be using these. I will, because I can’t help myself, but they’re relics out of time. Do you have any idea what a collector would pay for these? In this condition?”
“A passion for billiards as well, huh? Should I prepare to be spanked?”
“Probably.” Tristan grinned over his shoulder. “Care to put money on it?”
“Sure. Assuming you finally choose a stick.”
He shook his head but selected one.
Instead of asking whatever had been on his mind, Austin reached for the chalk in silence. Something was clearly troubling the gargoyle, but he figured it would be best to work around to it. Tristan didn’t seem the type to open up easily. Maybe not at all, given his past and Niamh’s inability to find out anything about it. She’d gotten another clue earlier, though, with the nightmare-inducing magic. She’d figure out everything, given enough time.
“How do you feel about the flower incident at the fair?” Austin asked, a good entry point into a conversation.
Tristan surveyed the table, rested his stick flat upon it, and then rolled it. Satisfied that it was straight, he left it there and carefully pulled the balls out of the pockets and collected them at the end.
“Conflicted. I failed. I saw you allowing it to happen, only stepping in when the mi—Jessie was in danger.”
“I have limits.”
“Of course. I apologize, I didn’t anticipate her stepping in front of the—Dave.”
“Neither did I. I’ve always had very shaky results when stepping in front of an enraged basajaun, and that’s in my larger shifter form.”
“I remember from the raid. Has she never seen them incensed?”
“Of course she has. She just…” Austin couldn’t help but shrug. “She has a gut instinct about what people are capable of. And when it comes to her crew, she’s never wrong. With outsiders, like gargoyle leaders or mages, she always expects the best, tends to be sorely disappointed, and reacts…in exciting ways.”
Tristan waited until Austin had set up the balls before walking to the top of the table to break. He leaned over, lining up the cue ball, and from that simple movement it was clear he’d spent a great many hours doing just this. Probably for the last fifteen years. He hit them hard, scattering the balls across half the table and landing two, one stripe and one solid.
“What’s the rule?” Tristan asked. “Do I choose stripes or solids now, or do I need to make another to determine it? Everyone seems to play differently.”
Austin pretended to think about it. “Next ball chooses, I think.” He had also played a lot of pool. A lot of pool. Let Tristan find out the hard way.
“She has a lot of live wires on her team.” Tristan’s shot was perfect, landing the ball and lining up the next shot.
“That’s basically all she has, yes.”
He hit the next—again, nearly perfect—but didn’t quite line up his next shot. He’d falter soon.
“And she’s cool with all of this?” He walked around the table, surveying the many shots he had at his disposal. Stalling.
“All of what?”
“The various species.” He shook his head, staring blankly at the pool table. “The chaos.”