Page 28 of The Gargoyle's Captive

And yet I can’t quite make myself move. He’s a warm presence at my side, with one heavy arm draped over my torso. It feels... nice. I’m sore but pleasantly so. His steady breathing soothes something in me; it’s a sensation similar to when I stand on the beach and listen to the tide come in. I could live like this. I could spend the next seven years playing games with this man and ending up in his bed over and over. I could ride out my time until the bargainer demons share the information I came here to find.

It’s shocking how tempting that is. If I just give in and stop fighting, maybe I’ll get a little peace. The problem is that I don’t know how to stop fighting. I’ve been doing it my entire life. Now that I’m the last Jaeger left, happily sharing the bed of a monster feels like a betrayal. It doesn’t matter that none of the relatives whose opinion I valued would classify Bram as an actual monster. Not when he cares so much, is so willing to let me take the lead, and ensures that I am right there with him every step of the way.

But old habits die hard. I don’t know how to just relax and enjoy this. I keep waiting for the bad thing to happen, even if I don’t know what that bad thing is in this situation.

“Will we be fighting today or fucking... or both?”

I jolt. I hadn’t even realized he was awake. His breathing certainly didn’t change and give me any indication. Then his words penetrate.Both?“This will never work. I need answers, and you need a baby. We’re both destined for disappointment.”

“Most likely.” He agrees so damned easily that it irks me. I know Bram cares deeply about his people; if he didn’t, he would just leave them to the inevitable civil war that would occur upon his passing.How can he care so much and yet be so defeatist?

I didn’t realize I spoke out loud until he answers me. He pulls me closer and tucks his face against my throat. “It’s easy. When life kicks you in the teeth enough times, you learn to expect it. If I were any smarter, I would’ve given up fighting by now. Maybe I would have some peace then.”

Every time he says shit like this, my heart feels like it’s twisting in my chest. I dig my fingers into his hair and pull until he lifts his face and meets my gaze. “Stop that. If you were going to give up, you would’ve done it by now. You obviously have no intention of doing so, so stop with the dramatics.”

“You callmedramatic?” His lips curve, but his eyes stay oh so serious. “You’re the one who keeps fleeing into the night, chasing... I honestly don’t even know what you’re chasing at this point. What will it matter if you get answers now or in seven years? Will it change anything?”

I hate him a little bit for the question. Because he’s right yet also so far off the mark that I want to set something on fire. “You can’t honestly expect me to sit around and play with you for seven years when I know there are answers within reach.”

“I don’t.” He sits up, easily breaking my hold on him. Truth be told, I don’t try very hard to maintain it. Bram climbs off the bed and shakes out his wings with a snap. His aura is a deep ocean blue of contentment. I don’t know what it says about me that I feel a shiver of satisfaction knowing I am partially responsible. It won’t last—contentment never does. But it’s there right now, and that feels like it means something.

I just don’t know what.

Bram keeps speaking, oblivious to my strange thoughts. “Which is why I made a bargain with you the first night. You won’t be able to help yourself; the pull of the answers is too strong for you to ignore.” He gives me a long look. “But you weren’t thinking about answers last night.”

No, I really wasn’t. All I was thinking about was where he would touch me next, kiss me next. Even now, with him standing a safe distance away, I’m achingly aware of the fact that I’m naked in his bed. It would be so easy to...

Damn it, I’m getting distracted again. It’s one thing when I can convince myself I have no choice, but I can’t quite make the leap into doing this now in the light of day. With that in mind, I slip out of the bed, ensuring I keep a careful distance between us as I head for the door. One of the downfalls of never being in a proper relationship is that I don’t know how to navigate fighting in any way that resembles healthy. I’m so conflicted right now, I don’t know which way is up, so it’s better to get out of here before I say something I regret. “I’m going to take a walk.” Maybe at the end of it, I’ll have clarity.

“I never pegged you for a coward.”

That stops me in my tracks. “I’m not a coward.” You can’t be in my line of work. Fear is death. Fear will make you freeze when you should run, run when you should fight. Fear will make you start screaming and lead the monsters right to your door. I’ve spent my entire life eradicating fear from the bottom of my bones and to my very soul. “Conducting a tactful retreat is intelligent.”

“I see. We’re still at war.” He sounds so tired and defeated that I almost turn around. Almost. That way lies ruin. I have faltered already in so many ways. A week ago, the idea that I’d be worried about caring too much about my gargoyle would have made me laugh. Now, that threat is all too real.

I don’t want to hurt him. But I can’t afford to be distracted by him either.

I force my spine straight and shoulders back as I walk through the door without looking at him. He doesn’t follow. I tell myself that’s what I want as my footsteps echo through the empty hallways. How does he stand it? My own family home lies equally echoing and empty—I know that none of my late family members have made the transition to spirits—and I still take great pains not to spend more time there than necessary. The loneliness sinks in too quickly and takes root until I have to leave and rip it out of my soul with my bare hands.

Bram seems to embody the actual stone gargoyles that haunt the eaves of old churches and buildings. Hunched over against the elements, watching from above and isolated. I never felt sorry for those statues. I shouldn’t feel sorry for him. He’s choosing to stay here.

He is...

I stop short as a gargoyle steps into the hallway in front of me. They’re built short and robust with a barrel stomach and thighs that look like they could crush boulders. Like the other gargoyles I’ve glimpsed in the distance since I’ve come here, their only nod to modesty is a wrap around their hips. Gargoyles don’t have the same hang-ups about chests that humans do. It makes sense when one accounts for how challenging it must be to create clothes that accommodate wings.

They don’t say anything, which has the hairs on the back of my neck rising. “Can I help you?”

They study me for a bit too long. “I’m Luna. Their Noble Highness. My family line dates back to the founding of this territory.”

I wait, but they don’t say anything further. “Congratulations?”

They sigh like I’ve disappointed them. “You seem different than the humans I’ve met in the past. I’m hoping so, because I’d like to give you a piece of advice.” They shift their wings in a way that I’m not sure how to decipher. Is it supposed to be comforting or threatening? I don’t know enough about gargoyles to say for certain. “Bram and his family are cursed. He’s not the last of his family line because of a series of unfortunate turns. Anyone who gets close to that family will die horribly. I highly suggest you put some distance between the two of you. And don’t have his child.”

Their tone seems honest enough, and their energy reflects nothing but sincerity. I know better than to trust that, though. If they’re really one of the nobles, they likely learned to lie in the cradle. Learned to hide their energy from the time they were a child. I don’t trust Bram, but I certainly don’t trust a stranger. “Why would you warn me? You don’t know me.”

“Like I said, you don’t seem to be a monster. Everyone knows that you’re trying to escape. That pendant around your neck is a good start, but it’s all too easy to remove. If you have a child with him, the child will die. No one deserves to experience that loss.”

A chill slides down my spine. “Are you threatening me and this theoretical child?” I have no intention of getting pregnant, but that doesn’t stop the strange surge of protectiveness that I feel in response to their words.

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