Page 41 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
As I set the food between us, my gaze drops to the necklace around her throat. Heat lances through me, sharp and possessive. It’s the starlit gemstone I gave her.
As we eat, she stares into the fire, her gaze distant. “I don’t even know what to say to them… to my parents,” she murmurs. “I thought they were dead my whole life. And now I’m supposed to stand before them like nothing happened?”
Her voice cracks, and I clench my fists. I want to tell her I’ll stand beside her, that she won’t have to face any of it alone. But the words lodge in my throat because I know it will not be my place.
As her personal guard, my place will be in the shadows behind her, constantly watching—guarding and protecting her from any danger.
“And Ryllen.” She swallows hard. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know what sort of man he is. What if he’s cruel?”
Ryllen.His name is a blade to my chest. Flexing my toes, I dig my claws into the dirt, fighting the urge to roar. A snarl curls my lips. If he is cruel, I will end him. Without hesitation or mercy.
“I won’t let him harm you,” I vow, even as my heart whispers,‘because you are mine and I will die before I let anyone hurt you.’
“You love me,” she says, her voice soft but certain. “I know you do.”
I go still, the truth burning in my chest.
“I don’t care about the curse.” Aurora slips her palm into mine, my larger hand seeming to swallow her dainty one as her eyes search my own. “I choose you, Thalric.”
Her words nearly undo me, and my tail curls possessively around her ankle.
Gods, I want her. I want to claim her, to tell her she’s mine and always has been. But if the curse takes her and I am not the one who can break it, I would doom her with my selfishness.
Clenching my jaw, I force myself to retract my tail as I pull back my hand.
Aurora’s eyes shine with tears as her voice wavers. “Are you really going to pretend you don’t feel the same?”
I stare into the flames, jaw tight. “Our fate cannot be changed.”
“I don’t care about fate.” Her honey brown eyes burn with determination as they meet mine. “If you truly love me—”
“It doesn’t matter, Aurora.” The lie sears my tongue. I love her more than anything, and because I love her, I must push her away. “You are the Princess of Briarwyn, and I am to be your guard.” I clench my jaw as pain threatens to tear my heart in two. “That is all I can ever be to you. Nothing more.”
Her breath catches, but I don’t dare look at her again. If I do, I’ll give in to the primal instincts roaring through my veins, demanding that I mark her and claim her as my mate.
So I keep my eyes on the fire and let the truth burn me alive.
Instead of answering, she draws in a shaking breath and my heart breaks as I smell the salt of her tears.
Gods help me, but I cannot stand that I’ve made her cry. And even though I know it’s wrong, I cannot stop myself from reaching for her.
With a ragged sob, she flings her arms around me, and I pull her into my lap, enfolding her in my wings as she cries againstmy chest. “It’s not fair, Thalric.” Her voice shakes with emotion. “It’s not fair.”
“I know,” I murmur into her hair.
If I could, I would hold her forever and never let her go. But I cannot. To do so could damn her to an eternity of enchanted sleep, and I love her too much to risk this.
Aurora eventually drifts to sleep. Carefully, I carry her into the tent and tuck the blankets and furs around her smaller form. After a while, her breathing steadies, though I can still see the faint tracks of tears on her cheeks.
I rise silently, careful not to wake her, and check the forest around our camp. The night air is damp and heavy with the scent of earth and pine. My eyes sweep the trees, searching for anything that might be lurking.
The ground tells me enough. Those tracks I saw earlier are half-washed by mist now, but I see a sapling snapped clean at the base, bark scraped by something large. They were here not long ago, and every instinct in me worries they could return.
I flex my claws, forcing back the growl rising in my throat.
I return to her side and sink to my haunches, wings half-furled as I keep watch. Her face is peaceful now in sleep, framed by firelight, her lips parted faintly as if whispering a dream. My chest aches so fiercely it’s nearly unbearable.
Staring out at the darkness, I swear that nothing will touch her. Not the beasts that stalk these woods. Not Malvara—the Goblin witch. Not even fate itself.
