Page 1 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
CHAPTER 1
AURORA
Moonlight spills across the floor as I ease my bedroom window open. Carefully, I climb onto the ledge and slip out into the back garden. My heart pounds as I pause, listening for any sounds coming from inside.
My Fae guardians are fiercely protective, almost suffocatingly so, and I really don’t want to get caught sneaking out of the cottage again.
Satisfied when I don’t hear anything and that the house is still dark, I pull the hood of my cloak tight over my long brown hair and move cautiously across the grass. My eyes strain to pierce the darkness as I make my way toward the back gate. Every rustle, every shift of shadow sends a thrill of tension through me.
My heart leaps in my throat as a heavy thud lands behind me. I spin around and see a large figure crouched in the moonlight, wings spread wide. Gleaming golden eyes with vertically slit pupils lock onto mine, molten and fierce.
“Gods, Thalric,” I hiss, pressing a hand to my chest, “you gave me a fright!”
He straightens, towering over me with his powerful form. His masculine scent of rain and stone wraps around me, grounding and dizzying all at once. Most people would step back when face to face with a Gargoyle, but not me. Something inside me yearns to lean even closer.
He’s dressed in his usual black leather loincloth, leaving the rest of his body completely bare. Impossibly tall, with broad, muscular shoulders, thick layers of muscle ripple beneath his gray skin as he tucks his massive wings close to his back.
Two large sweeping horns curve back from his forehead, highlighting his pointed ears and holding back midnight-black hair that cascades around his shoulders like silk, framing features carved from stone, yet somehow heartbreakingly human.
Many consider his kind to be monsters—terrifying warriors carved for battle, forged by the gods of the earth and the sky. They call themstone-bornfor their strength and ferocity, for skin as hard as rock and hearts they claim cannot feel.
But I’ve never believed that. To me, Thalric’s power is beautiful—his sharp, angular features and imposing size only add a lethal edge to his handsomeness.
With high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and full lips that seem to be permanently set in a scowl, he stares down at me from beneath heavyset brows with an intensity that makes my knees grow weak.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he rumbles, his voice deep like distant thunder.
He walks toward me, knees bent forward as he balances effortlessly on the front of his feet, heels lifted off the ground and weight poised on three powerful, claw-tipped toes.
It gives him the appearance of always being ready to spring into motion—fluid, and dangerously agile, as if even in stillness he’s prepared to leap into flight or battle at a moment’s notice. A subtle reminder of his predatory and primal power lurking just beneath the surface.
He’s magnificent, imposing, and utterly breathtaking. Despite this, I refuse to let him change my mind.
Crossing my arms, I tip my chin up in defiance. “And yet, here I am.”
“Aurora,” he growls low in warning. The sound rumbles through me, curling heat in my stomach. “You shouldn’t be—”
“Oh, come on, Thalric.” I give him a pleading look. “It’s just a festival. I never get to go.”
“Because it’s dangerous and full of strangers.” He frowns. “People come from all over the kingdom to attend. You know this.”
“Ah yes, the terrifying perils of a harvest festival,” I reply sarcastically. “The small village of Oakvale is such a perilous place. However will I manage to survive?”
Thalric’s tail flicks behind him in agitation, but I notice the faint twitch of his lips.
“Besides, you’re coming with me, so it will be perfectly safe.”
“You planned this, didn’t you?” He narrows his eyes. “You knew I’d discover you sneaking out.”
“You got me.” I grin because he’s absolutely right.
I’ve dropped several hints over the past few days, knowing he’d guess my intent and be nearby. The truth is, I’m dying to go to the festival with him. I’ve been in love with Thalric for as long as I can remember, but we’re just friends. I’m hoping we can dance, and if the stars align, maybe we might even finally kiss.
“Is that a new dress?” he asks.
“It is.” I twirl in place. “What do you think? Lyria helped me with the design.”
Warmth flushes my skin as his eyes travel over the dark green material that hugs my form in all the right places. It’s trimmed with gold thread—a pattern of fall leaves sewn along the collar and edges. I’d hoped it might catch his attention, and from the look on his face it seems to be working.
