Page 33 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
It’s a crude structure, barely holding together, but it’s something.
The moment I tie the final knot, a cold droplet hits my cheek. Thunder rumbles ominously overhead as rain begins to fall.
Shivering, I duck into our small shelter. I pull my cloak over us like a blanket and press myself desperately against Thalric’s side, willing every ounce of my warmth into him.
Cupping his jaw, I press a tender kiss to his cheek, “You have to wake up, Thalric. Please.”
The rain falls steadily against our shelter as cold wind blows through the trees. I curl closer, resting my hand on his chest to feel his heart, each slow beat a precious reassurance.
“It’s going to be all right,” I whisper, hoping he can somehow hear me. “I’m going to take care of you.”
It isn’t until the early rays of the sun spread out across the horizon that I allow myself to fall away into sleep.
CHAPTER 19
AURORA
Sunlight spears through our makeshift shelter, and cold clings to my skin, seeping into my bones, making every muscle ache. The ground beneath me is hard and unforgiving. I barely slept a wink, but none of that matters as I gaze at Thalric.
He still hasn’t awakened.
I rest my hand on his chest once more, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. It calms the worry deep within. He’s told me before that Gargoyles can heal from almost any injury and I hold onto the hope that he will be conscious again soon.
I still as the sound of movement echoes through the trees.
My pulse thunders in my ears as I strain to listen. Whatever it is, it is close. Too close.
Carefully, I reach for a fallen branch. Curling my fingers around the makeshift weapon, I grip it tightly.
Frustration burns beneath my fear, but I push it aside. I will defend Thalric with everything I have.
A woman’s voice, sharp with irritation, drifts on the wind. “Are you absolutely sure we’re going the right way,dear husband?”
There’s something biting about the way she says it, the sarcasm curling around the words making me frown.Husband?I press myself lower behind the cover of our shelter, peering through the gaps between the branches.
A man’s voice follows, smooth, rich, and entirely unbothered. “I am always sure, my dear wife.”
“Is that so?” The woman snorts. “Must I remind you that you got us lost just a few days ago?”
“And yet,” he muses, a distinct air of amusement in his voice, “here we are. Going in the right direction. Again.”
I barely breathe as a large shadow shifts through the trees. My grip tightens around the branch, heart hammering as the figures come into view.
The first thing I see is the beast beneath them.
A Direwolf.
The creature is enormous, twice the size of a horse, with thick, dark brown fur and massive paws. Its amber eyes glow faintly in the dim morning light, scanning the surroundings with a quiet intelligence that sends a shiver up my spine.
A Dark Elf rides atop him. He is broad-shouldered, clad in dark armor with a long black cape. His short black hair is tousled slightly from travel, his sharp elven features striking against the cool gray-blue of his skin. His pointed ears twitch slightly as his glowing blue eyes scan the forest.
Behind him, perched awkwardly in the saddle, is a human woman.
Her expression twisted into a scowl of pure frustration. Rich, deep red hair tumbles in wild waves over her shoulders, and her amber eyes gleam with barely contained irritation. Her dress is splattered with mud, her skirts frayed from travel.
She looks as if she has been dragged through every miserable condition imaginable and blames the man beside her entirely.
The Direwolf comes to an abrupt halt. His eyes meet mine and he lowers his head, his ears flat as he emits a deep growl.
