Stone Romance (Stone Passion #2) Read online

  “You’re not the only one,” she offered, watching his expression as she ran her hand along his gargoyle erection. His stone lids closed and he let out a hiss of pleasure and she smiled: his stone body was as sensitive as his human one.

  “Usually it takes longer for a human to see us,” he said, his words coming out haltingly as he spoke. When she paused in her ministrations, he added, “They cannot see our movements and the magic convinces them that we hadn’t moved.”

  “Lenni was aware of it,” she said wonderingly, remembering her sister’s odd comment when they were sunbathing; ‘It’s like they move but whenever I see them they’re where they’re supposed to be.’ Working out the dilemma, she resumed stroking him, loving the way his stone erection over-filled her hand, the way it was almost too hot to touch.

  “Yessss,” he breathed.

  Her lips curved into a smile as she quickly figured out how she adapted so quickly, “It’s because I watched you change.”

  “Uh huh.” His eyes were squeezed shut, his face twisted into almost painful pleasure, and she wanted to know what his stone flesh tasted like, if it was as lusciously perfect as his human flesh.

  Before she could think about what she was doing or talk herself out of it, she crawled up onto the bed and up onto her hands and knees. Breathing heavily, she ran her hands along the smooth length, knowing that if she were just a smidge more sober she wouldn’t even consider doing something so… taboo, so forbidden. But she had to know.

  Bending her head, she closed her eyes and slid her tongue along the carved slit, nearly coming on the spot as flavor exploded in her mouth. He didn’t taste like a rock; he tasted of moonlight and passion, of sex and Rhys. But he was so large, she couldn’t fit her mouth over the entire appendage, having to settle for licking and sucking the most sensitive part.

  One arm snaked around his waist, her fingers curling into the stone flesh of his ass, holding on to him as she began to lose all of her senses. A broad hand cupped the back of her head, pushing the short strands of hair away from her face but she barely paid any attention to anything other than his penis. Rhys’s hips jerked erratically and she continued the assault by stroking her free hand along his massive stone erection.

  “Jenna,” he rumbled as hot liquid erupted from his cock, filling her mouth and then… disappearing as she swallowed the molten gargoyle semen. Suddenly, her entire body tightened and splintered apart in a disastrously unexpected orgasm and she collapsed onto the bed, lost in sexual nirvana.

  A millennium later a large stone hand gently stroked down her spine and a shiver rippled over her skin, bringing her back to Earth. Rolling onto her back, she looked up at the hulking gargoyle and heaved a voluptuous sigh, “Wow; that was… wow.”

  “In all my years I have never experienced anything like that,” he graveled. “Your mouth is a dream.”

  She huffed out a light laugh, “Because there just aren’t enough women willing to give a blow job to a gargoyle.”

  “No,” he shook his head, his expression serious for a change, even in his gargoyle form. “I’ve had women touch me when I am a gargoyle; not often, mind you, and never because they knew what I was.” He took a shuddering breath, “I didn’t feel them, Jenna; I only feel you. I don’t remember any of the lovers I’ve had before you, Jenna; no other female exists for me but you.”

  Tears of profound passion welled in her eyes as she held his gaze, his words filling her with joy and fear. Licking her lips, she softly asked, “Have there been so many women?”

  “Yes,” he admitted, the word torn from his rocky throat. He hastily added, “Gargoyles are lusty creatures.”

  She smiled slightly at his fumbling, asking, “How old are you?”

  He shook his head in consternation, his expression guarded. “I’ve been around for a couple hundred years; maybe four hundred and fifty, five hundred? To be honest, I’m not sure; time is different for those of us who live for so long.”

  Doing a quick calculation, using the conservative figure of five lovers a year (a very conservative number, considering how gorgeous and horny Rhys was) she gasped, “That’s thousands of women.”

  “Spread out over many, many years,” he clarified, confirming her meager estimate. At her shocked gasp he grimaced, almost in embarrassment, “But you needn’t worry; gargoyles cannot catch any disease, human or otherwise.”

  “Well, that’s relief,” she couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. There were so many women; how many fell in love with the beautiful Rhys, who was so damned easy to love. She almost wished she hadn’t met him, knowing that after he exited from her life he would be taking the colors of the world with him. She’d survive and eventually the colors might leak back in but they would always be muted. But at least she knew that colors still existed.

  She stared up into his face, his stone eyes blank and unnerving. How could he see? And yet he said he could. And not having to stare into eyes that could see into the depth of her soul made it easier to delve into these sticky areas. If Rhys as a man had admitted to having thousands of women it would have devastated her; coming from the mouth of a gargoyle made it almost bearable. Of course, when he returned to his human shape, she wasn’t sure how she was going to react.

  And it was ridiculous to be falling so hard and so fast; hadn’t she learned her lesson with Jeremy? His death had nearly destroyed her. And yet she couldn’t help falling for Rhys, whose laughter brought her back from the dungeons of merely existing. He made her want to embrace life once again and throw caution out the window and not worry about whatever darkness lay ahead. So much had changed in such a short time; maybe things would return to normal in a few weeks. But how likely was that when she was having this conversation with a living statue?

  His stone brows pulled together as he cocked his head to the side, looking like a curious carved monkey. She could use him as a model for a painting of the trio of ‘See No Evil’ monkeys. But he was Rhys, always Rhys, and it was disturbing how she saw him as Rhys no matter what form he took. “What thoughts are going through that beautiful mind of yours, Jenna? You’re brooding and while I find a naked and brooding Jenna sexy as hell, it worries me that you can do so while standing in a small room with a gargoyle.”

  That earned him a reluctant smile but her heart still fluttered madly in her chest. How could he understand her fear when he didn’t have to worry so much about time? “I’m twenty-four and already I feel old before my time,” she confessed, trying to figure out what was bothering her as she spoke. “Yet you… you will always be young and beautiful; you have relationships with other beings that never grow old, never age and I am only a human. I’ll grow old and die and you’ll always be perfect.”

  He cupped her cheek in his warm, sculpted gray hand, his eyes taking in her worried expression. Framing her face in his hands, he stared at her intently. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  Putting her hands over his, feeling the sharp knots of his knuckles, the long, sleek stone of his fingers, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  “There is a ritual that will bind us together,” he told her, his expression intense even in its sculpted monkey form. “I give up my nights for you and at the end you accept my gift.”

  “What gift?” she quirked a smile even as she desperately wanted what he was offering, to have a lifetime with him, to have eternity with him.

  “You become a gargoyle.”

  She stared at him for a full minute, taking in the carved marble nose, the wide mouth, the stone tongue, the sculpted body, before she exploded in laughter. The only other option was to cry. Shaking her head no, she curled her lips into a smile to keep from giving into tears. Then she took a step away from him and wrapped her arms around her body, abruptly feeling vulnerable in her nakedness as she stood before an eight foot tall gargoyle monkey asking her to give up her humanity. “I cannot; you know I cannot.”

  “Not immediately, of course,” he continued, not heeding her words. “But eventually.
”

  “Rhys….” Woodenly, she picked up her robe and slipped her arms into it, covering her body. Tying the ribbon into a loose not, she tried to ignore the fluttery temptation in her belly to just let go and say yes. She would still be a mother; simply one that was a gargoyle at night. The desire was as strong as it was ludicrous.

  “Don’t discount it so quickly, Jenna; we still have time.” His heavy wings quivered as he held his arms out, his muscled body gleaming gray in the light of the room. “I don’t want you to make any rash decisions like your sister did.”

  “But that’s Melanie.” Jenna grimaced, knowing she sounded a little bitter and unable to help it. She didn’t want to think about the cost of being with Rhys; she just wanted to enjoy the time they had together without worrying about, well, anything. “She leaps and somehow things always work out for her. Until now.”

  “Well, Vaughn gave up his nights for your sister to offer his protection but he did it without telling her what all it entailed,” Rhys admitted, placing some of the blame onto Vaughn’s shoulders. “And when he finally told her, she took off and she didn’t make it back to the castle in time to accept his gift. I’m not going to make the same mistake he did, I’m going to lay it all out for you. I want you, Jenna.

  “But you see, I don’t want only a month with you,” he continued, his words passionate, made even more so by his gravelly voice. “I want a lifetime, a gargoyle’s lifetime.” She opened her mouth to protest but before a sound came out, he smiled ruefully, “I know that you cannot accept my gift right now but we’ll come up with a solution; I won’t lose you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Excitement made his words blur together as he talked, planning and scheming with himself, talking about one day giving up his nights but needing to buy some time so they could have a future. He began to pace the small room, his massive gargoyle body taking two steps before turning to tramp the other way and all she could do was watch, fascinated by how his heavily muscled, behemoth body moved so effortlessly; it was a thing of beauty and the artist in her itched to capture him in that moment.

  She could easily imagine joining him as a gargoyle but she wondered what form her gargoyle would take. A monkey to match Rhys wouldn’t be too bad but she didn’t have the same lightness of spirit that he had. If she were a monkey, she’d be a dour monkey. Maybe a bird of some sort, as long as she had arms. If she were a gargoyle, she’d be able to discover if gargoyle could fuck, if their stone bodies were compatible.

  Her heart pumped frantically in her chest at her traitorous thoughts, trepidation and exhilaration warring. She shouldn’t even be thinking about becoming a gargoyle; she had responsibilities beyond her daughter. But if she were a gargoyle she wouldn’t have to worry about growing old, about dying…. Her eyes flew to Rhys as if he heard her traitorous thoughts but he was still grinning at her, looking much too large even in the over-sized room. Hiding her body beneath a thick robe, she asked, “Um, perhaps we should take this onto the roof?”

  He looked at her and grinned, his monkey face crinkling adorably as he took her in his arms and carried her out the door, having to turn to the side to get through. She felt a little like the actress in the giant gorilla movie, only she adored her monkey. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck, she relaxed in his powerful grip, basking against his scalding body and listening to the sound of his rough voice as he continued talking.

  “When I talk to mother I will ask her if there is some way to buy us time but even if we don’t get any extra time,” he went on as they reached the roof. Color was splashed across the sky, the sight more wonderful and exciting than anything she had seen, as the sun rose over London and she realized once more that she was finally travelling “I can give you my nights in fifteen or twenty years, when Ferris is old enough to understand what’s happening, when she is an adult.”

  “In fifteen years I’ll be nearly forty; will you still want me?” she asked, determined to be rational like her normal self; not this crazy person who seriously considered giving up her humanity. Clinging even tighter to the stone Rhys, loving the feel of the cool early morning air against her heated body, she tried to ignore the allure of an elongated life but it kept teasing her with the possibilities.

  “Absolutely.” He stopped abruptly and looked down at her. She barely noticed the three gargoyles who glared at her as Rhys squatted onto his haunches and set her down next to him. Taking her hands in one of his stone humanoid paws, he said solemnly, “You will accept my gift then and become a gargoyle.”

  Her eyes widened in excitement and then the light dimmed just as quickly when she thought about it for more than two seconds. “I’ll be forty and you will still look twenty-five; how… awful would that be? To spend eternity as a cradle robber?”

  “It would be wonderful because you would be mine. But it’s just something to consider for now,” he hurried on, obviously sensing her distress. Before she could form a thought, he smiled, cupping her cheek in his broad palm “We have time, Jenna.”

  She hated that she wavered so much, that she no longer knew what she wanted. Her old self was reveling in the idea of being set free, in making love to a gargoyle high up in the atmosphere; but she was such a different creature than the Jenna she had become. She had buried so much of herself when Jeremy had died and she hadn’t even realized it until Rhys came along and brought her back to life. But the other Jenna, the Jenna she had become, was still there, still fretting about the future, about everything.

  How was she to reconcile the two aspects of her personality when they were so different? Rhys talked about a world she hadn’t even known existed a week ago, a world her sister had never stopped believing in. Her eyes were open now and she was going to experience as much as possible before the hammer came slamming down.

  “Humans are not allowed up here during the day,” the eagle-gargoyle growled. Jenna had known that they were living gargoyles, the same as Rhys, but hearing them speak brought it home how vastly different her new world was.

  “I should go,” she murmured, grabbing the ends of her sash and tightening the knot as her eyes fell on each gargoyle: the eagle, the boar and the almost human. Rhys’s stone fingers wrapped around her arm and she froze, slowly turning her head until she was looking into the gray eyes of a gargoyle monkey.

  “I’ll explain everything at dinner, Jenna,” he vowed. “You won’t go into this blind.”

  Numbly, she nodded her head before fleeing back to the safety of her room. She was going to take a quick shower and then take a walk, clear her head a bit while she took in a few of the sights.

  As long as she was with Rhys reality could go to hell. She’d deal with the fallout when she returned home, where mythological creatures didn’t fly in private jets, where fairies didn’t make promises that they rarely kept, and where men did not walk as a stone gargoyles during the day.

  Chapter 12

  Rhys stared at Jenna as she sat at the dining table; mouthwateringly damp and so damn beautiful it made his chest ache. As soon as the sun set he had joined her in the bathroom, where she had been pampering her body with a luxurious bubble bath. Once he joined her, it took several hours to finish up and the only reason they still weren’t in the tub was a certain pixie had rapped at the door, demanding their attendance at dinner since the chef had prepared a special roast.

  There hadn’t been time to dry their hair if they had any desire to not alienate the London brothers’ chef, a temperamental Oianr demon, a creature one did not piss off. In their rush, they had simply thrown on some jeans and t-shirts. And now Rhys was paying the price as the white material of her shirt adhered to her naked breasts, showcasing them to his great satisfaction and torment. Her short black hair clung to her cheeks like strands of the finest silk, her lips were rosy and plump and her skin glowed. She was breathtaking, making him feel like the luckiest man or gargoyle in all of the worlds.

  She was embracing this adventure with her whole heart but he
knew that eventually the euphoria was going to wear off and she was going to come crashing back to earth. He would be there for her when she fell; he just hoped he didn’t push her too far and make her run screaming into the night. There were other, much more pleasurable, ways to make her scream and he wanted an eternity to explore each one. As a gargoyle he had always been a lusty creature but he was discovering a whole new level of lust when it came to Jenna.

  Poor Vaughn never stood a chance when Melanie came into his life.

  His brothers were trying to act as if they didn’t notice her perky nipples pressed against the front of her damp t-shirt but they were only male. They had bellowed at him for an eternity after she fled the roof but he hadn’t cared; she was his mate and he knew it to the depth of his soul. Nothing they said could have wiped the smile of his face; he hadn’t even felt the need to taunt them with what she had done to him before they went up to the roof.

  Artaire, Bar, and Rowan were still a little wary around her, even more so since he had brought her up to the roof. He knew what they were thinking and while he appreciated their concern he told them that he had to make his own decisions. For hours they tried to talk him out of even considering the possibility of giving Jenna his nights, each regaling him with their own romantic disasters, but he was already lost.

  And as Jenna explored the area around the manor, he surrounded her with his aura to keep her safe. It was strange but the imps that had plagued Melanie were strangely quiet; perhaps they had learned their lesson when they had caused so much heartache. He could only hope the little fuckers kept their distance; he had even less tolerance for them than normal, which was close to none. If he weren’t so enamored, he would think it was pathetic.

  He had watched his immediate brothers make fools of themselves over their women, laughing at them because he was never going to succumb to the madness of love. Armand’s conceit led him into ruin and he became frigidly cold because he gave up his nights for a girl who didn’t love him enough, no matter that he didn’t love her. Vaughn let his dick lead him astray, falling fast and hard for the delightful Melanie but look where it got him: a statue in every sense of the word until the love of his life died, unless they succeeded in their quest.