Page 66 of Gaga for the Gargoyle
I wanted to get ready in the same room as my future husband and spend every last second of my old life with him before becoming Evangeline Basque.
“Of course we do. I’m 1,000 years old.”
“No, I mean like old and wrinkled, gray hairs and shit.”
He chuckles as he buttons up his shirt.
“Gargoyles who reach five digits get wrinkles and gray hair.”
My mouth drops open.
“There are gargoyles who are 10,000 years old?!”
“My grandfather, who is head of the Council of Gargoyle Elders, is one of them. He’s 12,436 to be exact. He once protected early civilizations in Turkey.”
“Holy shit. That’s…old. But fascinating! I’d love to meet him. Your father too. I really hate the rule that tethers you to New York City.”
He gives himself one more glance in the mirror and turns to me.
My handsome king. He wears a simple black dress shirt and pants paired with a black buckle and shoes.
I’m wearing a pastel yellow sundress. My hair is piled up in a messy updo.
He is the night, and I am the sun.
Since I’m still technically human, I’m able to go out during the day, but our wedding is being held a few minutes after sunset on the rooftop of our apartment building—the one damaged during the battle that Xander and his soldiers spent months rebuilding.
“Ready?” I ask, reaching for my king.
Even with heels, I’m nowhere near as tall as him. My head barely reaches his chest, forcing him to lean down to kiss me.
“Ready.”
The ceremony will be quick and simple, because everything else in our lives has been complicated. Xander walks me down the aisle, since my father is no longer in my life. The guest list is small. My mother and my bestie Farrah—who thinks I’m getting married to anotherhuman—and about a dozen of Xander’s soldiers, including Locheran and Thorne.
I haven’t seen much of Thorne ever since he was reassigned to protect the new vampire queen nearly eight months ago. It’s part of a unity plan to eventually reveal supernatural beings to the human world.
Xander’s not quite sold on the idea, but next week there’s some big supernatural conference being held here in the Big Apple that he has to attend to discuss the serious topic.
So much for a honeymoon, not that we could leave the city.
A gargoyle chaplain leads the ceremony, per gargoyle law, and reads us our vows, which we repeat in front of our witnesses.
“I, Evangeline Bishop-Whethers, promise to love my fated mate and king until the day my heart no longer beats. I will stand by him in sickness and in health. I promise to keep the secrets of his kind. I swear to provide the king with at least one heir, though I wouldn’t mind more.”
The attendees laugh at that.
“I, Xander Basque, promise to cherish my queen, to love her until the day my heart no longer beats. I will stand by her side in sickness and in health and provide her with all the heirs she desires.”
Simple vows, but ones full of love and devotion.
The reception is held inside Xander’s penthouse, and we all sip on wine and snack on finger foods. Locheran acts as a DJ, and we dance through the night. My mother left early, and an hour before sunrise, we say our goodbyes to the remaining guests: Locheran and Farrah.
This is only the second time I’ve seen my bestie in the past year. The first time she visited me was on my forty-first birthday in August. She was uncomfortable the entire night. She refused to make eye contact with Xander, and she kept sneering at Locheran, even with both gargoyles in their model-esque human forms.
I tried asking her what was wrong, but she waved off my concern, blaming exhaustion from work and family drama. We don’t talk as much since I moved away. I’m such a horrible friend.
I worried she wouldn’t accept the wedding invitation, but she called me, crying with excitement, the moment it arrived in the mail.
