Page 21 of Hearts of Stone

The master of The Eyrie had claimed my stone and, so, I was summoned.

Stone gave way to flesh and I stretched on my plinth, claws raking across the base yet again, then I gave my wings a flap. The sun was no more than a slight reddish stain in the sky, so I was free to see to my new master’s wishes.

Or mistress.

My nostrils flared, my muscles stiffened as I caught a scent on the breeze. Not of roses, though Harold kept the garden full of them, not even of the night blooming jasmine he grew on trellises just for us, but… My ears pricked, my hair shifting across my shoulders before I flung myself off the roof.

“What is it, Graven?”

Carrick, one of my brothers in stone, landed on the ground beside me, tucking his wings into his body as both of us turned towards the back door. Lights were on inside the house and we heard voices, unfamiliar ones. That meant we needed to keep a low profile. The new master should know of our existence, but I knew she wouldn’t, yet. Our labour was owed to those that possessed the power to command us, due to our link to this house, built from the ashes of Wildfyre Hall. Not all of our number were the original inhabitants of the hall, others having been brought here over the ages, bound to the new house, but we were united in our service, so we pressed closer.

“A woman?” I saw the gleam in Carrick’s dark eyes, caught the spread of his wild grin. “So it is as Master Ashley said it would be. Finally a female mistress to serve. Perhaps she’d like me to work out some kinks with my…ahh!”

Carrick being lost for words was always a welcome and rare thing, something I would normally treasure, but not now. Any thoughts for my stone brother were shoved aside as we crept closer. We only caught the silhouette ofher, a mere glimpse through a window, past the darkened sitting room and into the kitchen, but that’s all it took.

Since the first gargoyles, there have been fated mates. Powerful human women had always drawn our kind closer, but, this… I sucked in a breath, almost able to taste the subtle floral scent on my tongue. I shuffled closer and so did Carrick, the two of us glaring at each other when we collided, before we had a realisation.

“She’s—” Carrick started to say.

“Mine.” That word took on a whole other meaning, a savage possessiveness rising from nowhere, drowning me in its intensity, my complete unpreparedness for this moment meaning I had none of my usual boundaries up.

“Mine too.”

Carrick’s eyes glittered like obsidian in candlelight and when he stepped closer, so did I, our chests pushed out, our wings rustling. But the moment we collided, we heard a low, throaty laugh. She was in there, talking to some man. A man who made her laugh. The ability of human men to woo women with levity was well documented in literature, but…

“Ours…” I said in a hushed voice, a pain starting up in my chest.

Humans had spoken to me of this experience before too. Masters that were old and their hearts were failing talked to me of their bodies’ betrayal. Young masters, pining for a woman, would eloquently speak of the more spiritual pain of being separated from the object of their desire, but this… My brows drew down. Was this what it was like? A curious mixture of longing so sharp, yet so sweet, I could only crave more, a need that throbbed hard and true in my heart.

And in my loins.

My hand strayed down lower, noting that my member was now rigid and pulled up hard against my stomach, weeping with need.

“Gods…”

Carrick’s hand slammed down on the closest wall, his fangs locking together. “I need her. I fucking need her. You create a diversion out here to lure the male away and I’ll—”

“Do nothing.” I stared hard at him until he was forced to meet my gaze. “If she is our mistress, we must serve her and if she is our mate…” The servitude gargoyles had been bound to since the Fall would become second nature if she was the one who now owned our house. We would do anything, everything to fulfil her every whim.

“…go upstairs and draw yourself an amazing bath with all the expensive bath salts I saw in the main bathroom and takeit easy,” we heard the male in the kitchen say. “We’ll find some minions to serve us in the morning.”

Carrick looked at me and I stared at him, before the two of us nodded, flapping our wings to launch us back into the sky, only to land back on the roof where the rest of our brethren slept.

“She has not claimed the rest of our brothers’ stones,” Carrick noted as he stared into the blind faces of the still frozen gargoyles, but his expression quickly changed. A wicked smile crossed his face. “But I cannot regret that I will only have to share this moment with you.”

“Our mistress wants a bath,” I told him sternly, because the male was always one of the more reckless members of our flock. “We must serve her, always.”

We opened the roof door and slipped through a doorway made to be large enough for us to pass, making our way downstairs and to the grand bathing chamber. The room smelled slightly musty, the air still, which would not do. I opened the French doors that led out onto the balcony, letting the cool night air sweep in, stirring the curtains. Carrick went to the bath, switching on the taps and filling the massive tub with steaming water, adding a generous amount of the strange chemicals humans called bathing salts. The desire to bathe in minerals made sense to us. We enjoyed similar experiences, the nutrients gained from soaking in mineral rich water made us ever stronger, but this… The room filled with a pretty floral scent, but it wasn’t the right one.

“Some of this,” I said, after sticking my nose in many jars of heavily scented salts, finding one that was floral, but with a woody, almost wild edge to it. “Just a little.” Carrick did as he was told, which was a miracle in itself, but I guess even he could be motivated to do the right thing when his mate was involved. “And some of this.”

I handed him another jar and he added a little more, both of us taking a deep breath in when we were done.

“That’s it,” he said, in a voice as close to reverent as he could muster. “That’s her scent.”

And it would be the one sweetest for me going forward. But before we could discuss anything further, we heard the front door slam and footsteps come up the stairs.

Traditionally, what we were supposed to do was stop and introduce ourselves to our new master, initiate them into the mysteries of the house, if they had not been taught by their forebears, but Master Ashley had made clear our new mistress would know little about us.

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