Page 18 of Guarded By the Gargoyle

“Goddess,” she whispered. “Please…please d-don’t hurt me!”

And then she went limp in my arms.

7

WILLOW

Icame back to consciousness slowly. As the world swam into focus, I saw two anxious faces looking down at me.

One of them was Goody Albright…and the other was the face of the stone gargoyle-angel who had somehow come to life.

He was back to being an angel again, which was a big relief—his gargoyle side was absolutelyterrifying.But he was also holding me in his arms, cradled against his chest. I noticed that even though he was now a living, breathing man—or gargoyle-angel or whatever—his skin was still the same pearly gray it had been back when he was still a statue. A “Garden Guardian,” as Goody Albright had called him.

The look of worry on his chiseled features changed to one of relief when he saw me open my eyes.

“There you are, Mistress,” he rumbled—he had an extremely deep voice. “Thank the Heavens above. Are you well?”

“I…I think so.” I shifted uncomfortably. Other than Carlo grabbing my face, this was the closest I’d been to any man since my divorce two years ago and it made me nervous—reallynervous. I no longer trusted anyone who was male—be he human, angel, or gargoyle. If he had a penis, I didn’t want him close to me.

“Kael says you fainted,” Goody Albright said, frowning anxiously at me. She pronounced the name “Kay-elle.”

“Who?” I asked. Then my eyes flew up to the enormous male that was holding me. Oh—hemust be Kael. Not that I cared—I just wanted to get down—to get away from him.

“Let me go!” I demanded, struggling in his arms. He must be massively strong if he could hold my chunky ass off the ground for so long. Which only made me want to get away from him more.

“My goodness, Willow—whatever is the matter?” Goody Albright exclaimed.

“What’s the matter? How can you ask me that?” I gasped. “This…this thing—your gargoyle-angel came to life and grabbed me!”

“I did not ‘grab’ you, Mistress,” the gargoyle-angel said with impressive dignity. “I caught you when you were falling—as I will always save you when you are in danger.”

“Stop calling me Mistress!” I exclaimed. “I’mnotyour Mistress.”

“You hold my key,” he pointed out, nodding at the small gold key still in my hand. “You touched me in my stone form and wished for my help—therefore you are my Mistress.”

“No, I’m not!” I protested.

“Oh dear…” Goody Albright murmured.

“What? What is it?” I demanded. “I can tell you’re thinking something bad—tell me what it is.”

“Well, it’s just that since youdohold the key to his locket and you apparentlydidwish for his help, I’m afraid you reallyarehis Mistress now, Willow dear.”

“What?” I squeaked. “Youcan’tbe serious!”

“I’m afraid so. The two of you have entered into a magical contract that is legally binding,” she told me. “As long as you hold the key, he must protect you.”

“I’ll take care of thatright now,”I said. I gripped the tiny golden key tight for a moment, then threw it across the garden.

It didn’t go very far—it wasn’t easy to throw anything while I was being cradled against the chest of a recently-stone giant gargoyle-angel—but I did my best.

However, it didn’t do a damn bit of good. I heard a soft ringing sound,ting-ting-ting,and then there was a golden glimmer between my breasts and I saw that the key had reappeared like magic. Which was probably exactly what had happened—magic, I thought ruefully. The damn thing had even found itself a new chain to hang on to replace the one I had broken in my mad dash to get away from the Hell Hound. It looked like pure gold and it was clasped firmly around my neck.

“Mistress, please do not attempt to get rid of me. I only wish to guard you.” The look on the gargoyle-angel’s face was hurt—as though I had rejected him romantically. “Forgive me for frightening you earlier and allowing my demonic visage to come out—I was overcome with Wrath at the idea that someone had harmed you,” he said.

“Nobody harmed me!” I exclaimed, and then remembered Carlo grabbing my face earlier. “Okay, well my exdidgrab me, but this is nothing to what he used to do.”

“What? What else did he do?” His stone-grey face was suddenly like a thundercloud and it occurred to me that though his skin was still the same color as marble, his body actually felt like it was made of muscle—alotof muscle. There wasn’t a spare inch of fat on him anywhere. Not that I cared—I just wanted to get down.

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