Stone Guardian (36 page)
Below them was a deserted park. He needed to end this or he would lose his sanity.
He landed with a hard thud, his usual grace absent as he stumbled. Wasting no time he fell to his knees, placing her with gentle care on the ground before he fell above her, his wings flaring out behind them.
Larissa’s breaths were jagged as she watched him. He plunged into her, the tightening of her body against the sudden invasion bringing him to near climax.
No, not without her. He fought against every nerve in his body begging him to plunge again, to race toward climax. Instead he stroked inside her with small, even movements, movements that made her breath labored and her back arch.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, her hips squirming against his, pushing him harder inside her. Using her heels, she pulled him in. “Deeper, Terak. Get as deep as you can in me and make me come.”
Her words broke any restraint and now he only knew her, to pound inside her and pour himself into his mate, to mark her so deeply no one who beheld her would ever doubt to whom she belonged, and her cry of satisfaction while her body clenched around him signaled her acceptance of that claim.
His head fell back as he came inside her, growling and cursing at one of the strongest orgasms of his life came over him.
Long moments later when their breathing normalized, she looked up at him. Her eyes were dreamy, her lovely breasts bare and covered by a light layer of sweat. She lifted her hands, delicate human fingers stroking over brow bone and pointed ears, pulling strands of his much thicker hair. “Why would I want to be with anyone but you?”
He leaned down, kissing her mouth, letting her surety overcome his doubts. “We are supposed to meet with your father soon. I doubt he will be happy if I bring you to him in this condition.”
“We’ll stop at my apartment to get cleaned up.” She smiled, a light teasing cast to her mouth. “Don’t be overworried about making a bad impression. No matter what you do, Dad’s going to hate you on sight.”
Terak reared back. “I thought you said that he would accept me?”
“Oh yes, he’s going to accept you. He has no choice on that. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to like you. You are taking away his baby girl, after all.”
“Is it always like this with humans?”
“Welcome to the family.”
Zemar waited outside, silent and still, a living statue hidden in the ragged shadows cast by the building.
The acolyte arrived, oblivious to his presence. The boy’s focus was on the pouch he carried. He stroked the pouch with a hand that trembled with the slightest touch, the way most caressed a lover. The boy was laughable in his overt desire for power, a power he could no more wield than a toddler rule a nation.
Would the boy be foolish enough to run with the dagger? It was a powerful temptation, promising untold power to one who could master it.
No, no running for this one. The sheen of sweat coating his face even on this cold autumn night, the wide eyes and shallow breaths answered the question. He coveted, but he would obey.
The boy was right to let his fear triumph over any ambitions he might harbor. The dagger would only destroy him.
The boy approached the door. Zemar melted from the shadows to enjoy the panic of the boy before he registered who stood before him. The boy bowed, holding forth the weapon for Zemar to take. “Master,” was all he said.
Zemar spoke no words to him. The blade now in his hands, he went into the building, taking the elevator to the top apartment.
The apartment was an expansive space, leather and chrome shaping the interior. The far wall was made of glass, and from this dizzying height the effect was the city laid bare, showing its soft underbelly in submission.
A couch was situated in front of the window and Zemar approached it. Reign sat in the middle, his arms draped over the back of the couch, the drained body of a young woman on the ground, her red hair a blanket over his feet.
Reign did not bother to take the dagger, merely continued his observation of the city. “Fallon?”
“She is still alive, my Lord.”
Reign’s rich laugh filled the air. “As if she were ever in any danger from the fools that were present.” His eyes darkened to black-red. He murmured, “The only one who will take Fallon is me.”
Zemar watched his Master stroke his hand over his lips while his gaze stayed on the window. With a negligent movement, Reign reached out his hand. Zemar obeyed, handing the dagger over.
Reign studied the blade, twisting it in his hand to go over every inch with his gaze. “How many did she kill?”
“Dozens, my Lord, until her sword was dull with the blood of her enemies.”
Reign stroked the edge of the dagger with his forefinger until a drop of blood was drawn. The blood absorbed into the blade. “Only that? I will see her bathed in blood before me.”
*****
“And what of the Oracle’s prophecy?”
Fallon snorted. “The usual crap she pulls. Of course Larissa was important to the Gargoyle Clan, she’s going to be the wife of the Clan Leader and make future heirs to the throne. Is it me, or is using untold powers to play matchmaker a little beneath her?”
“The young enjoy getting into mischief. She will grow out of it.”
“Well that’s an interesting statement. Tell me, how old is she, and how much younger is she than you?”
“Nice try. Back to the Gargoyle. Do you truly believe you can trust him?”
Fallon was resting her head on the back of the chair, her eyes closed in tiredness. “I believe we can. Strange to think of gargoyles as allies, but he truly does love her, and the other side wants her dead. As long as that’s the case, he’ll fight like hell for us.”
“Any male fights like hell for his mate.”
“Oh? And what would you know about that?”
“Fallon, who are you talking to?”
Aislynn’s voice cut through the air, startling Fallon so she jerked upright in her seat. “Ais, I didn’t hear you come in.” Fallon rose, bending her neck to the side in a deep stretch. “Habit of talking to myself, as usual. Just trying to come down from the last few weeks. What do you need?”
Aislynn shifted, motioning behind her with her thumb. “Wulver has called us. No rest for the wicked and all that.”
“What’s up?”
“Tec is giving a complete list of missing items with Laire providing commentary on how much chaos and destruction each can cause. We need to strategize about Merc and the spellbook, and it seems as though the Master of Monsters will be returning.”
“Great, I can’t wait to see Wulver start humping the furniture again. Something to look forward to. Anything else?”
Aislynn pretended to think for a moment, pressing forefinger against her chin. “Don’t expect to use your vacation benefits anytime soon?”
“Figures.” Fallon made an
after you
gesture with her hand, and the two females left the room.
“What do I know of mates? Wouldn’t you like to know…”
The End
Note from Danielle Monsch:
Hi peoples! Hope yinz out there have enjoyed the book and thank you so much for buying the first in my
Entwined Realms
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Born to the pothole-ridden streets of Pittsburgh, PA, Danielle Monsch started writing in a time long ago, a time when there were not enough vampire stories to read and she had to write her own to fill the void. Yes, such a time of darkness did indeed exist.
Danielle writes stories full of fantastical goodness and plenty of action, but always with lots of romance (and a bit of woo-hoo!) mixed in. Vampires and Werewolves and Demons and Angels, Sword & Sorcery, Fairy Tales, Updated Mythologies and the like – if it's out of the ordinary, it's fair game for her stories.
When not writing, Danielle reads comic books and watches cartoons (though she says she reads manga and watches anime, because saying it in another language makes all the difference). She listens to music, plays D&D, follows XKCD, watches movies with the Rifftrax on, and is mom to two amazing little girls and wife to her favorite guy in the world. Contact Danielle by emailing her at
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