Page 37 of Howl for the Gargoyle

CHAPTER 14

Hannah

I was trying not to watch the clock the next night, drowsing in the bath with Rafe all wet and hard and slippery around me in the least sexual way. It was just genuinely tricky to take a bath with him and not go sliding down his chest and into the water. His arms were heavy over my shoulders, and his wings were hanging over the back edge of the massive clawfoot tub.

"We're running out of time," I whispered. Moonrise was less than half an hour away.

Rafe rubbed his cheek against my wet hair, and there was an odd squeaking sound, damp strands against his stern and polished skin. "Deep breath," he whispered.

I sucked in air like I was surfacing from the ocean. He'd been reminding me to breathe most of the night, and I'd either been too tired or too relaxed from a recent orgasm to be annoyed by the repetition. Also, it did help.

"We're not running out of time. We're just trying to spend it in whatever way I think might keep you most relaxed," Rafe said. I twisted enough to shoot him a glare, but it was obvious that I wasn't the only one who'd been thoroughly fucked in the past twenty-four hours because Rafe just beamed back at me, all casual and handsome and tempting.

It was impossible for my body not to respond to those heavy-lidded eyes, warm and dark, perfect lips full and inviting. But the nerves outweighed the irresistible attraction, and Rafe seemed to know as much, combing fingers through my hair carefully and nodding.

"Let's get dried off. Need anything to eat?"

I shook my head. If I ate anything now, I'd throw it up during the transformation. I slid forward in the tub so Rafe could haul himself out behind me. Rafe had kept me well and beautifully fed, every meal thoughtfully balanced and full of iron and protein. But my insides were tossing around like a little buoy on a stormy ocean, and I knew I couldn't keep anything down.

He groaned as he moved, hands braced on the side of the tub, and I turned to watch him, water sluicing down his body.

"Sore?" I asked, frowning.

I was sore, in a delicious but persistent way, and I couldn't imagine how I would feel tomorrow.

He shook his head. "Water and gargoyles have a bit of a beef with each other. Logically, you'd think we'd be impervious to water, but actually our skin is even more absorbent than humans'. The added weight is a trip."

"That's why you don't get your wings wet?" I guessed.

And the dork shot me finger guns in affirmation. Rafe was never what I expected. Not because he was a gargoyle or not human. If anything, it was the opposite. He was smooth and seductive with me one moment, and then almost puppyish and giddy the next. He cooked like a trained chef, but I'd caught him hoovering down a bag of sour cream and cheddar potato chips with a side of pickle spears in a post-sex refuel earlier. When we were relaxed with one another, unwinding and panting with breath, he could be outrageously goofy, almost innocent.

I hadn't expected to see so much of the person in him. Not that I hadn't known it would be there—I'd just imagined the professionalism of sex work might require more of a persona then a person—more guarded, or at least more carefully cultivated for a client. But there was no way the incident with the chip bag had been any form of seduction.

I knew his body in a way I'd only known a couple others, and he knew mine…best of anyone. Or at least he would by morning. But I liked the little glimpses of Rafe as much as his expertise in my pleasure.

Rafe dried off with a towel, tossing it in a hamper, and then grabbed another one, holding it out in front of him in offering. I glanced at the clock again. Twenty minutes and counting. My bones were already aching, and my claws clicked against the porcelain of the tub as I pushed myself out of the water.

He scooped me up, lifting me over the edge of the tub and immediately buffing me with the soft towel, humming under his breath. He wasn't watching the minutes, wasn't worried about what came next. I couldn't shake the fear, and if I wanted to send him out of the fence for the next part, I needed to do so now.

"You won't want it for long, but here," Rafe said, sliding one of my arms into the soft sleeve of a waffle knit robe. "I think we should go outside before you shift."

I opened my mouth to tell him to go, to leave these awful hours to me, but what came out was, "Okay."

At least one of us will know what we're getting into, I decided. Rafe finished dressing me in the robe, moving to my front to tie the straps loosely around my waist.

"I want you to stay stone the whole time," I said, and he paused with his hands on my waist.

"Hannah, I'm going to be—"

"I can leave scratches on you when you're not stone. And that's when I'm not even fully transformed," I said, rolling my lips between my teeth as his eyes bounced between mine. "Please."

Rafe sighed and nodded, flexing his wings once. He grew larger when he was stone, features thicker and blunter, muscles denser. I didn't usually notice the differences, but in my defense he usually turned to stone after hours of fucking, when I was more or less out of my mind. He looked more predatory like this, his horns slightly longer and sharper, jaw cut with rough angles.

"Sometimes, it's better when I'm not stone," Rafe murmured, wincing, and I caught my breath. He was familiar again, still brutal but just as beautiful.

I shook my head. "No, stay like this. I need to know I won't hurt you."

His gaze flicked up, lips parting on an automatic thought, but he shut them again just as quickly, swallowing hard. "You won't. Not because of this. But you won't. Come on."

---