Page 40 of Gaga for the Gargoyle
Her cheeks blush, and she chews on her lower lip. “Purple, but I swear I’ve loved that color since I was a kid. Though now it makes sense, with you being my fated mate.”
I want to ravish her for that answer.
“What about you? Favorite color?”
“Brown.”
“Brown? No one likes brown. Why?”
I shrug. “Maybe because it’s the color of my fated mate’s hair.”
“Touché.” She giggles and swipes a bite of tomato from the pile. “Tell me about your family.”
I pause because I rarely speak about my family. My parents were never the loving type. That’s how most royals are. They’re all about ruling their kingdoms and staying professional, keeping their emotional attachments minimal as battles tend to take our kind to an early grave.
“Well, my father rules over Paris, and my older brother Magnus is his commander.”
“You have a brother?”
“And a sister. You’ve actually met her,” I say. “Elara is my sister.”
“Wait, really?” She frowns. “Why didn’t you introduce her to me as your sister?”
I pour the chopped tomatoes in a bowl and add it to the lineup.
“Elara likes to separate herself from me. She doesn’t want to be known as the king’s sister. The other soldiers tease her enough about it already, calling her princess. I guess I’m so used tonotaddressing her as my sister, I didn’t think to introduce her to you that way.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense. Also, I don’t think she likes me.”
“Elara doesn’t like anyone,” I chuckle.
“Well, she needs to get over that. I could really use a friend. I haven’t made any since moving here a few months ago. Except for my coworkers, and we’re always working or too exhausted to hang out on our days off.”
“Elara’s not really...friend material.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll charm her.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
I work on my glass of wine while waiting for the chicken to finish cooking. Evangeline is already on her second glass. It’s quite nice having someone to drink with, to share my life with, to cook meals for.
“How did you become king of NYC? Did your brother not want the role?”
“My brother is a warrior, not a leader. I was chosen for this role by the Council of Gargoyle Elders because while I fought in battles alongside my brother and father, I also sat in strategy meetings and shadowed my father when he made executive decisions. All my brother cared about was fucking and fighting.
“When they chose me over him, he was furious, and he challenged me to a brawl. Winner gets New York City.”
“Guess you won.”
“I did, and he’s refused to speak to me since.”
“And the Council never considered him for king of any other city? Even after all these years?”
“My father will not allow it. My brother makes rash decisions that cost lives. Elara claims he’s changed over the past few decades. They’re close and speak almost every day. She says my father keeps him in check. He gave him the commander title to satisfy his need for power. Seems to be working.”
Evangeline takes a sip of her wine. “Wow. I’m sorry your brother’s an asshole.”
I laugh heartily because this human always amuses me, even when recalling tough moments of my past.
