Read Online Stone's Kiss by Lisa Blackwood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa Blackwood
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the other until she stood at the end of the bed.
The opportunity was too tempting to resist. After a moment’s consideration about the foolhardiness of what she was about to do, she tugged the comforter off the bed in one slow pull and reached out with shaking fingers.
Her hands collided with solid heat. Keeping her touch light so he wouldn’t wake, she slid her fingertips along warm skin. The deep rise and fall of the chest confirmed he still slept deeply, too exhausted to have heard her get up or to notice the comforter’s lack. He was curled in a fetal position, his tail tucked around him like a cat—the biggest damned cat she’d ever encountered. It was nice studying him while he slept; he seemed less scary that way.
Even curled on his side, his eight–foot frame dwarfed the king–sized bed. One massive wing stretched out behind him while the other blanketed him like a cloak of shadows. His head rested pillowed on his bicep, and one arm still reached out to where she’d been tucked against him. His fingers, with their two–inch claws, were uncurled, relaxed in sleep. If he’d had a nightmare, he could have gutted her. Her eyes travelled the length of him again. While he wasn’t human, he was certainly male. Overprotective guardian non–withstanding, he’d be finding himself different sleeping arrangements very soon.
Without conscious thought, her fingers found his hand and touched the black, curving claws. She really should be running away, she reminded herself. Instead she sat on the edge of the bed and explored the gargoyle.
Oddly, she could deal with the strangeness of the gargoyle better than seeing her family in their new roles. Or seeing a man she’d known all her life turn into a unicorn. Like something out of a fevered dream. Abnormal. Surreal and completely creepy.
That the gargoyle seemed the most normal part of her life didn’t bode well at all.
She stroked his mane for several minutes. Calm returned, followed by clearer thoughts. With a confidence she didn’t know she possessed, she sat on the bed and investigated the spiky ridge of fur between his horns. If she thought she could get away with it, she would have tried to brush his mane for him, but the motion might wake him, and she rather liked watching the gargoyle sleep. She wasn’t sure why or how, but he was a natural part of her existence. Like air and food and water, her gargoyle had transformed into a component she needed to live.
From downstairs, the distant beep of the kitchen timer reached her ears. At the noise, the gargoyle made a huffing sound as he buried his muzzle under the edge of her robe until his entire head vanished beneath a fold of the dark–green fabric. His horns and ears stuck out and she started to laugh.
“No, I stand corrected. You’re not cat–like. You’re more dog–like.” His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, but he still didn’t wake up. Instead, he’d burrowed farther under her and threatened to push her off the side of the bed. “Definitely dog. I don’t suppose I can teach you to fetch breakfast? Oh, well. At least …”
Her next words froze, forgotten on her tongue. Angry voices drifted in her window. She tensed as they came closer. The gargoyle exhaled a grunted exclamation and in one beat of her pounding heart, he was fully awake. His powerful tail snaked out and reached around her shoulders. That heavy, unstoppable weight forced her forward and down until she was sprawled flat on the bed, the gargoyle poised over her. Then he leaped from the bed, tearing sheets and dislodging the top mattress with the strength of his lunge. The sudden jolt rolled her like a limp doll and she was facing the window in time to see him clear the distance in one bound. He landed on all fours, his tail lashing back and forth. He made no noise as he reared up onto two legs and braced his arms on either side of the window while he watched the goings on below. She inched closer to his side. Voices
The opportunity was too tempting to resist. After a moment’s consideration about the foolhardiness of what she was about to do, she tugged the comforter off the bed in one slow pull and reached out with shaking fingers.
Her hands collided with solid heat. Keeping her touch light so he wouldn’t wake, she slid her fingertips along warm skin. The deep rise and fall of the chest confirmed he still slept deeply, too exhausted to have heard her get up or to notice the comforter’s lack. He was curled in a fetal position, his tail tucked around him like a cat—the biggest damned cat she’d ever encountered. It was nice studying him while he slept; he seemed less scary that way.
Even curled on his side, his eight–foot frame dwarfed the king–sized bed. One massive wing stretched out behind him while the other blanketed him like a cloak of shadows. His head rested pillowed on his bicep, and one arm still reached out to where she’d been tucked against him. His fingers, with their two–inch claws, were uncurled, relaxed in sleep. If he’d had a nightmare, he could have gutted her. Her eyes travelled the length of him again. While he wasn’t human, he was certainly male. Overprotective guardian non–withstanding, he’d be finding himself different sleeping arrangements very soon.
Without conscious thought, her fingers found his hand and touched the black, curving claws. She really should be running away, she reminded herself. Instead she sat on the edge of the bed and explored the gargoyle.
Oddly, she could deal with the strangeness of the gargoyle better than seeing her family in their new roles. Or seeing a man she’d known all her life turn into a unicorn. Like something out of a fevered dream. Abnormal. Surreal and completely creepy.
That the gargoyle seemed the most normal part of her life didn’t bode well at all.
She stroked his mane for several minutes. Calm returned, followed by clearer thoughts. With a confidence she didn’t know she possessed, she sat on the bed and investigated the spiky ridge of fur between his horns. If she thought she could get away with it, she would have tried to brush his mane for him, but the motion might wake him, and she rather liked watching the gargoyle sleep. She wasn’t sure why or how, but he was a natural part of her existence. Like air and food and water, her gargoyle had transformed into a component she needed to live.
From downstairs, the distant beep of the kitchen timer reached her ears. At the noise, the gargoyle made a huffing sound as he buried his muzzle under the edge of her robe until his entire head vanished beneath a fold of the dark–green fabric. His horns and ears stuck out and she started to laugh.
“No, I stand corrected. You’re not cat–like. You’re more dog–like.” His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, but he still didn’t wake up. Instead, he’d burrowed farther under her and threatened to push her off the side of the bed. “Definitely dog. I don’t suppose I can teach you to fetch breakfast? Oh, well. At least …”
Her next words froze, forgotten on her tongue. Angry voices drifted in her window. She tensed as they came closer. The gargoyle exhaled a grunted exclamation and in one beat of her pounding heart, he was fully awake. His powerful tail snaked out and reached around her shoulders. That heavy, unstoppable weight forced her forward and down until she was sprawled flat on the bed, the gargoyle poised over her. Then he leaped from the bed, tearing sheets and dislodging the top mattress with the strength of his lunge. The sudden jolt rolled her like a limp doll and she was facing the window in time to see him clear the distance in one bound. He landed on all fours, his tail lashing back and forth. He made no noise as he reared up onto two legs and braced his arms on either side of the window while he watched the goings on below. She inched closer to his side. Voices
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