Page 18 of Gaga for the Gargoyle
Xander palms my cheek. “I’m sorry I worried you. I had sensed something, but it wasn’t inside the penthouse.”
He drops his hand and turns to Locheran.
“The shields are intact, but the barrier outside the window to my living room was approached. The smell was off, as if it was disguising their scent to trick me. Thorne and Elara can give you the full report.”
Xander turns back to me.
“Please, Evangeline, let me explain.”
I should leave. This is crazy. I’ve just met the man and instead of us having an intimate night together, I’m being rushed out of his penthouse due to a threat.
Yet the idea of leaving makes me sick to my stomach.
I take his offered hand, and he leads me out of the apartment. I’m not sure if it’s the vodka or the adrenaline pumping throughout my body, but my vision wavers, and I almost stumble to the ground. Xander notices and immediately scoops me into his arms like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold.
The elevator ride up one floor to the penthouse is quiet, and I rest my head on his chest, suddenly exhausted. I listen to his heart. It beats as fast as a high school drumline playing at a football half-time show. I’d say it’s beatingtoofast, but maybe that’s normal for gargoyles. Unless he’snervous. Why would he be? Because of me? That doesn’t make sense. He’s a king. I’m nobody.
He pauses just inside the penthouse to sniff the air and survey the space. He must be satisfied by what he finds because he continues walking until setting me down on a stool at the kitchen island.
He fills a glass with water and sets it in front of me.
“Drink all of it.”
“Yes, sir.”
I give him a wink and drink. While rehydrating, I scope out the place. It’s mostly open concept. The kitchen is in a corner, with sleek metal appliances and marble countertops. There’s a massive island in the middle with a table off to the right, big enough for four people. I assume the French doors past the table open to the dining room.
The living room is tall, at least two stories, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a breathtaking view of the Empire State Building.
Xander’s apartment is also a bachelor pad but with more expensive taste. His couches are leather—or faux leather, I’m not sure. Chestnut hardwood floors, a rug with intricate designs. There’s a fireplace with a television hanging above it. Artwork adorns one wall with another full of bookshelves. Books and odd collectible items fill the shelves.
I want to snoop. I wonder what types of books he likes to read.
When I finish my first glass of water, he refills it and hands it back.
“I’m ready to listen when you’re ready to speak,” I say, taking a drink. “Start with you being a king.”
“I was going to tell you eventually. If tonight went well, that is. It’s not really something you confess on a first date, you know?”
“Understandable.”
“So, yes, I’m a king. I rule an army of gargoyles that protect New York City.”
“Protect from what?”
“From evil.”
“Is that what you sensed tonight? Outside your window? Something evil?”
“Yes.”
“You think this evil wants to...what? Kill you? Take over the city?”
“Typically, yes.”
“But?”
“There was something different about this being. I don’t think it was here for me.”
