Page 14 of Fire in Stone

“Oh no.” I jerked my hand away from him. “You don’t get to ask me any questions until you answer mine first.”

Our position wasn’t safe for me for other reasons, I realized. With my knee on his chest, my crotch, barely covered by my long t-shirt, was way too close to his face for my comfort. Needing to build some distance between us, I slid off his chest and stood back, the wooden spike still clutched in my hand, just in case.

“Who are you?” I demanded once again. “Where did you come from? And how did you get in here?”

He slowly moved his eyes around the room, as if wondering about the very same things himself.

“I already answered the first two questions. I’m the gargoyle from that box.” He tipped his head at what was left of the crate. “I’mthe statue, as you’ve put it. I come from the Mountains of Dakath in Nerifir. Sadly, I can’t answer your third question. But you probably know who brought that crate in here. And if it was you…” He regarded the scuffed walls and the dirty ceiling with disgust. “Frankly, I question your taste by your choice of accommodation.”

Was he complaining about the room? Why did he even think he had the right to complain about anything?

I gripped my wooden spike, bringing it forward. “Listen, I don’t have all night. I’m serious.”

He got up into a sitting position and rested his forearms on his bent knees.

“She’s a charming creature,” he muttered under his breath. “But clearly a bit dense.”

“Hey! Cut it out with the insults. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. It’s not my fault you’re not making any sense whatsoever.”

With a long-suffering sigh, he rose to his feet and turned his face up to the light.

“Look at me. Don’t you recognize me?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“Just look.”

Well, he sure was easy on the eyes. Not just handsome, but beautiful, like a piece of art. In the yellow glow of the lightbulb, his smooth brown skin appeared to shimmer with gold. It stretched over his high cheekbones and the hard ridge of his jawline. Dark stubble shaded the lower part of his face. Long, thick eyelashes framed his intense eyes that were ink black like two bottomless, mysterious pools. The longer I stared into them, the harder it was to look away.

As if hypnotized, I moved closer.

A spark of light flickered somewhere impossibly deep inside his irises. I’d seen the similar effect in the obsidian stone that the statue was carved from. My jaw slacked as I stared at him, mesmerized.

“So?” he prompted as I just gaped at him in awe. “Do you believe me now?”

If I didn’t allow his good looks to distract me… If I focused solely on the lines of his features, I had to say they carried a remarkable resemblance to the statue I stole yesterday.

“Oh, my God…” I gasped, and his expression relaxed with satisfaction. “The statue is of you, isn’t it? You had it made in your likeness.”

He blew out a breath, dropping his wide shoulders in disappointment.

“You really are rather slow, aren’t you, human?”

“Amber,” I corrected, tersely.

“What amber?”

“That’s my name.” I propped my hands on my hips. “For someone calling me slow, you’re not so quick yourself, are you?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. I’d expected him to be angry or grow even more sarcastic and insulting, but he seemed utterly surprised. After a moment of staring at me in a silent shock, he suddenly burst into a deep, hearty laughter.

“Well done, little human!” he panted, laughing. “Well done.”

If he enjoyed being put into place this much, I sensed he’d love hanging out with me. I, on the other hand, wasn’t looking forward to spending any more time in his company.

“I’m glad I amuse you,” I said flatly. “But I really need that statue back. I’m sure you can have another one made. Or maybe have a huge portrait painted of yourself instead, the prince that you are.”

“You need proof?” He folded his arms across his broad chest.

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