Page 2 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
“Lovely,” he says in a low rumbling voice, and while he’s probably referring to the dress, I allow myself to pretend he’s also saying this about me.
I give him what I hope is my prettiest smile. “What do you say we go have some fun?”
His nostrils flare, a silent battle raging in his gaze. His wings twitch subtly in that way they do when he’s torn about something. But I know him too well—I know the exact moment his resolve falters.
With a low growl of defeat, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we can only stay for a few hours.”
Softly, I bite my lower lip to contain my excitement. “All right.”
Crisp autumn air drifts through the village square. Lanterns bathe the cobblestone streets in golden light, illuminating stalls offering all sorts of things like cider, roasted nuts, hot chocolate, and caramel apples.
Villagers laugh and chatter. Fae and Elves sip mulled wine alongside humans, and Orc merchants trade loud jokes with anyone within earshot.
Off to one side, I notice Brakkus—the Orc blacksmith. His booming laughter echoes across the square as he lifts a tankard of ale, toasting with his Fae friend—Cyran.
“Aurora! Thalric!” Brakkus calls out. “Good to see you both here!”
“And you as well,” I reply.
Cyran walks up to Thalric, clasping his forearm like a brother-in-arms before leaning in to whisper something to him.
“Where are your lovely Guardians this evening?” Brakkus asks, referring to Fiora, Lyria, and Maribel.
“They didn’t want to come.” The lie burns my tongue, and I wince, hoping he won’t mention seeing me here the next time he speaks with them.
“Well, tell them I said hi,” he says cheerfully.
“All right.” I reply, though I have no intention of doing so. The last thing I need is them finding out I snuck off to the festival.
When I turn back to Thalric, I notice Cyran handing him a small pouch, which he tucks into the pocket of his leather loincloth.
I wonder what it is. Before I can ask him, someone calls out. “Aurora! So glad you made it!”
I recognize Reid right away, his short blond hair stuck to his head and face with perspiration as he dances around the square with Sera, weaving and spinning among dozens of other couples. He winks as they pass. “Save a dance for me, will you, Aurora?”
“Of course.” I laugh. “I will.”
Thalric growls low in his chest as he coils his tail around my left ankle. “I don’t think that would be wise,” he grumbles. “Reid might get the wrong idea.”
Sighing heavily, I stop short of rolling my eyes. Reid has been our friend since we were children. Over the past few years, he’s developed a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake.
Thalric worries I’ll become one of them if I’m not careful. I’ve told him repeatedly that Reid is nothing more than a friend, but I don’t think he believes me.
“Oh, stop your growling.” I nudge him playfully with my elbow. “And behave yourself.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Auri. He is overly familiar with females.”
I look up at my stoic Gargoyle and grin. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to dance by myself, then, won’t I?”
Without waiting for him to reply, I wade into the crowd. The music thrums through me, vibrant and irresistible, as I spin and whirl to the jovial tune.
Thalric watches me, a hint of amusement curling his lips despite his attempts to hide it. His heavily muscled arms are folded across his broad chest, wings tucked in to avoid bumping into anyone. He looks deliciously grumpy, like a brooding guardian observing from the shadows.
Impulsively, I twirl toward him and take his hand. “Dance with me.”
“Gargoyles don’t dance,” he mutters.
“Well, tonight, you do,” I insist, pulling him back into the throng of people.
