Page 68 of Howl for the Gargoyle

"I ca—"

"I know I'm being kind of…forward," he said, offering me a crooked smile, his body hunching to appear smaller. "It's just…I feel really drawn to you. Comfortable."

No.

The word was so clear in my thoughts, I had to stop myself from shaking my head in answer. I wasn't drawn to Fletcher. I wasn't comfortable.

I wanted Rafe. And that had gone up in smoke, so…

"I'm not available," I said. Another day, and I might've tried to soften the words, but I let them sit, flat and honest. I wasn't available today. I wasn't available to him.

His eyes winced and I turned, marching for the door without anyone at my side.

Chicago winters were brutal. Every year, I considered the idea of moving to somewhere like Los Angeles, where I'd actually find some vitamin D in December. But every year, the view of the frozen lake, barely visible through the coating of frost on my drafty pre-war windows, made me fall in love with this city and its harsh winter again.

And at least today the sharp wind gave my eyes an excuse to water and shed tears that froze and chipped like shards of glass off my cheeks, trying to seal my eyelashes together. It gave my skin a reason for the raw yet numb sensation that had seized me since the night before. It was a punishment, throwing itself into me as I headed south to my apartment. Chicago was a moody city in winter, temperamental and petty, and that suited me fine.

I passed the cemetery where I'd been attacked on my way home, and the hairs at the back of my neck sharpened and rose in warning, the memory haunting me with the sensation of being watched, hunted.

It followed me home, the starving wolf of winter and the worst night of my life. By the time I turned the corner onto my street, my door in sight, I was convinced I was being watched all over again, dissected from afar.

And in a way I was, but the figure waiting on my stoop made my heart leap into my throat for an entirely different reason than fear. Or maybe it was fear—fear tied to hope, afraid to have it cut away again.

Rafe's wings curled around him, bracing against the wind, and his head hung. His elbows were on his knees, body hunched over, and he almost looked like a statue someone had left on my building's doorstep. But then ice crunched under my boot and his head lifted, eyes darting around and landing on me. He jumped up, and I knew.

I knew this was my mate. And I knew that whatever he said next, it wasn't going to hurt. My cheeks warmed and my tears thawed, and I smiled at him as I walked closer. Rafe grinned back, laughing, eyes bright and light. I wanted the explanation, to know what he'd been thinking last night when we'd seen one another outside of my dad's party, but not right now. Right now, I only wanted one thing.

I ran forward, and he jumped down two steps, still beaming at me. I leapt, my heart taking flight with the motion, and he caught me around my waist, hauling me into his chest, our heads tipping in perfect harmony. We were both smiling too much, teeth bumping briefly, breaths panting in laughter as we nuzzled into one another. My arms tightened around his shoulders, toes just barely finding room on the step where we balanced together.

"I was upset, I didn't know," Rafe breathed.

I nodded, and then I slid my hand over his shoulder, cupping his cold face, and our smiles settled for us to kiss. The taste of him, the cling of the winter cold to his stone, reminded me of scooping snow by the handful as a child, biting into the ice and letting it thaw on its way down my throat. I shivered, and he tried to pull away but I wasn't ready to let go, feasting on firm lips, nibbling at the tongue that stroked against my mouth.

Rafe gasped and I surged in, claiming him and clutching him closer.

Mine, my head and heart growled in unison, the sound following from my chest. Rafe's wings were shielding us from the wind, creating a quiet bubble where our breaths and moans echoed around us. I shifted one arm down to circle his waist, pressing our hips together and rubbing myself against his firm length, whimpering into my starving kiss.

"Hannah," he groaned, hands tightening onto the heavy wool of my coat. "Take me—"

"Yes," I hissed, trying to push him down so I could climb onto his lap and—

Rafe laughed and pulled away, grinning down at me. "Take me inside."

I blinked and glanced over my shoulder, shivering once more. The sky was turning the murky mauve of evening in the city, and my toes were frozen solid in my boots, and we were just a handful of staircases away from my warm apartment—an infinitely preferable place to be naked and sweaty with Rafe. After we defrosted.

"Right," I said.

Rafe turned us, keeping his wings around me to shield me from the wind as we shuffled to the front door. I pulled my keys from my coat pocket, and Rafe crowded against my back, tangling his horns in my hair as he rooted around for my throat to kiss.

The key missed the lock twice, and I had to shimmy free of his hands before they found their way under my coat. Rafe paused, glancing around the small interior landing of my building.

"Tour later," I rasped, unlocking the door on the left that led up to the upper story apartments.

His hand was freezing in mine, and I mentally revised my plan to throw him down on my floor the moment we got inside. Temperature play was fun in theory, but I was already too cold to enjoy icy fingers.

We passed the two second-story apartment doors, but Rafe grew impatient on the half landing before mine. Or maybe it was me who pulled him to the corner wall. Either way, we were out of sight of anyone, alone under the small art deco light fixture that illuminated my stairs, arms wrestling out of coats and around one another.

Rafe sucked on my tongue, and my hands gripped at his horns when I realized I didn't have the first clue about getting a jacket off Rafe's back. Damn wings.

---