*
“And what of the Oracle’s prophecy?”
Fallon snorted. “The usual crap she pulls. Of course Larissa was important to the Gargoyle Clan, she’s going to be the wife of the Clan Leader and make future heirs to the throne. Is it me, or is using untold powers to play matchmaker a little beneath her?”
“The young enjoy getting into mischief. She will grow out of it.”
“That’s an interesting statement. Tell me, how old is she, and how much younger is she than you?”
“Nice try. Back to the gargoyle. Do you truly believe you can trust him?”
Fallon was resting her head on the back of the chair, her eyes closed in tiredness. “I believe we can. Strange to think of gargoyles as allies, but he truly does love her, and the other side wants her dead. As long as that’s the case, he’ll fight like hell for us.”
“Any male fights like hell for his mate.”
“Oh? And what would you know about that?”
“Fallon, who are you talking to?”
Aislynn’s voice cut through the air, startling Fallon so she jerked upright in her seat. “Ais, I didn’t hear you come in.” Fallon rose, bending her neck to the side in a deep stretch. “Talking to myself, as usual. Just trying to come down from the last few weeks. What do you need?”
Aislynn shifted, motioning behind her with her thumb. “Wulver has called us. No rest for the wicked and all that.”
“What’s up?”
“Tec is giving us a complete list of missing items, with Laire providing commentary on how much chaos and destruction each can cause. We need to strategize about Merc and the spellbook, and it seems as though the Master of Monsters will be returning.”
“Great, I can’t wait to see Wulver start humping the furniture again. Something to look forward to. Anything else?”
Aislynn pretended to think for a moment, pressing her forefinger against her chin. “Don’t expect to use your vacation benefits anytime soon?”
“Figures.” Fallon made an after you gesture with her hand, and the two females left the room.
“What do I know of mates? Wouldn’t you like to know…”
The End
Stone Embrace
Chapter One
‡
Now was the answer. The question? If there was one time you wished you were an unashamed alcoholic, when would you choose? Forget the knife, the tension here could hide a pack of werewolves amidst its layers.
They were at the dinner table, Terak at one end and her father at the other, with her and Michael on either side of Terak and the other three brothers in the middle. Michael didn’t look happy, but unlike the rest of the Miller clan, he had no obvious issues with Terak being there.
Terak was in his human form. After an aborted first attempt at meeting her family – where Jack Miller made damn sure to let her know she wasn’t off the hook for bringing over her mate and in the same breath made damn sure she knew he wasn’t happy about it – Terak refused with the full-force of that gargoyle stubbornness to meet her family in anything but his shifted state, saying he would give her family time to know him. The problem with that – THE problem? Try problem number seven-hundred and twenty-three – was illuminated the moment Jack Miller’s eyes took in the tall human next to her. Confusion ruled her father’s face for a long moment when he saw the man beside her, but the detective’s mind pieced together recalled information at lightning pace, and when Jack got it – that everything she told him was true, gargoyles could shift into humans, and so many things Jack had believed since the Great Collision had been a lie – suppressed and impotent fury wrote itself deep into the lines of a face that never once showed those emotions in this home.
Larissa’s tongue was numb from all the times she had bitten it tonight, and she reached for a glass of water more to feel the cool liquid slide over the abused flesh than because of thirst. Under the table she stroked Terak’s hand, the fist the only outward sign of the gargoyle’s own distress.
In their bedroom earlier, it had been he who insisted they come today. “They will never accept me if they don’t come to know me, Meyja. You expect too much, too soon.”
She sat on the bed with her back against the headboard and legs stretched before her. Her gargoyle was putting a shirt over his now-human chest, the sight as impressive as always, and an irrational wave of anger overlaid her already rational anger at her father. Because her gargoyle was trying to cater to her father and gain favor, she was going to be denied the sight of that chest all evening. Stupid parental figure. “I expect my father to respect the male I have chosen to join my life with. I expect him to not act like a jackass.”