Page 45 of Howl for the Gargoyle

Rafe was frowning now, holding my gaze. And it wasn't like having this conversation with Kiernan or George, where I knew they were trying to think of the argument to counter my concerns. Rafe was just listening.

"I don't know if I can do it," I admitted softly. "It's not even about my willpower, it's… Is it possible to be on the road, with my bandmates and another whole band of people I don't know, who all want to enjoy themselves, enjoy this incredible moment we've found ourselves in, while I'm fighting with every inch of me not to give into all the impulses that I know will completely unravel my control?"

Rafe didn't answer, not that I needed one from him. And for a moment, I did feel sick to my stomach, but then I took another bite of the omelet, and goddamn Rafe was a good cook. I sighed as I chewed and the queasy feeling evaporated into a kind of hollow calm.

"You have to set boundaries," Rafe said.

I blinked at him, and he licked his lips.

"You just… It's not about what they can do themselves, it's more about making sure they know what you can't do and them respecting it, right?"

"I suppose."

"And I guess we need to figure out what you do with all the energy after a show," he mused. One of his knees bent up and he rested his elbow on it, holding his chin in his hand as he thought.

We.

I wish you could come with me, I thought, staring at him as he mused over my problem, all muscle and beauty, dark eyelashes fluttering and wings stretching and flexing absently.

"I like to run," I said.

Rafe smiled, eyes falling back to me. "I thought so. You have the body."

My eyebrows raised. "Oh, do I?" He nodded, smirking, and I rose to my feet, twisting side to side. "This body?"

"Those legs," Rafe said, staring at the legs in question with more hunger than he'd given his plate.

My plate was cleared. Maybe he would share…

I circled the table, and Rafe shifted, leaning back on his hands and watching me. I was in an oversized T-shirt, and I knew the hem was short enough to offer him quite a view from this angle. He reached for my calf and squeezed the muscle. I sighed and let my eyes fall shut for a moment, and he turned the squeeze into a massage.

"You know what else runner's legs are good for?" Rafe murmured, lifting my foot and drawing it to the other side of his hips.

"I do, as a matter of fact," I said lightly, blinking my eyes open and smiling down at him. His eyes were fixed to my pussy, shadowed by the T-shirt. "You didn't finish your breakfast."

"I'm hungry for something else on the menu," Rafe said, and I laughed as he grabbed my hips and pulled me down to his mouth.

My runner's legs wrapped around his shoulders, and together we put them through their paces.

The song came in little pieces. A line that followed the whimpers of Rafe's pleas as I'd licked him clean under the table. A bridge that exploded with the stars in the sky the night I'd transformed. A final trill, the sound of the bubbles popping in the bath on our last night. I would need Kiernan to help me put it together properly, but there was a start of a melody humming in my throat.

Rafe rubbed his cheek to mine, stone body warmed by the water, solid and sturdy, arms and legs draped around either side of me.

"Whatever that is, it's sexy as hell," he rasped in my ear.

My breath caught and I stiffened in the bath, blinking at the flickering candles. Rafe's arm caught around my shoulders, stroking fingers across my chest.

I'd been…not singing, not exactly. Working out notes, an absent little call of music.

"Sorry, was I not meant to notice?" Rafe asked, chuckling a little. "Awfully skittish for a rock star."

My mouth was parted, and the room shimmered as tears rose, and my breath grew uneven before Rafe and I realized I was crying.

"Shit. Hannah?"

"I—I—" I swallowed hard and shook my head, and Rafe sat up, but only so he could wrap himself around me, drawing my knees into my chest and locking his ankles over mine, arms holding me together.

"I lost my voice."

---