Chapter Three

The tickle of what felt like wind caressing his cheek pulled Enrique from the darkness he'd fallen into. He smelled something alluring—masculine and deep—and began turning his head so he could get a better whiff of it. Moving sent a spike of pain through his temple, and Enrique couldn't help letting out a soft grunt.

"Don't move, my mate," a deep bass voice crooned into his ear. "I'm getting you to a doctor to check your head. Just relax, keep your eyes closed, and let me take care of you."

Enrique didn't recognize the voice, but he definitely enjoyed the way it caused his body to react. He felt his blood heat in his veins, moving south. The hairs on his arms stood on end within the confines of his sweatshirt.

Except, why does my head hurt? What happened?

Memories came rushing back. There'd been something large flying in the trees. Then, something had struck the tail of his helicopter.

Tension surged through him.

But I don't recall landing my bird.

"Easy, handsome," the deep voice rolled over Enrique again. "We're almost there. Just relax. I've got you. You're safe."

Safe from what?

"Uh, well. Your helicopter went down." The man responded slowly, sounding uncertain. "I, uh, and you hit your head. It's bleeding."

Huh. Guess I said that out loud.

Enrique made certain to keep that thought to himself. He'd never been prone to talking out loud, but the guy said he'd hit his head, and his head sure was pulsing. That had to factor into it.

"You were flying close to the Lindson ranch," another masculine voice commented, sounding a little farther away. "Can you tell us why?"

"Uhhh..." Enrique paused, not wanting to answer that to a faceless stranger. He began blinking open his eyelids, surprised to find them so heavy. "I—"

When his vision cleared, Enrique wasn't surprised to see the night sky above him. What shocked him into letting out a gasp was the features of the male cradling him in his arms. His face was a pinkish-orange hue—coral-colored, his brain supplied, oh-so-helpfully. His features were obviously masculine with high, angular cheekbones and a strong jaw. White canines peeked over his full lips, and Enrique had the most inane thought.

How does he kiss around those?

To Enrique's surprise, the man's lips split into a wide grin, showing off a mouthful of sharp teeth. "I'll be happy to show you... soon, my mate."

"Shit, I said that out loud, too. What the hell's wrong with me?"

"Head injuries can do funny things to a guy," another male stated, drawing Enrique's attention away from the grinning male holding him.

"You're green," Enrique blurted as he stared in shock at the lime-green-skinned... creature... with black wings. "And you're flying." The male started chuckling, and Enrique felt his cheeks flood with heat, telling him he was blushing. Shit. Snapping his attention back to the guy holding him—carrying him, it suddenly hit him—he noted the massive red-colored wings moving over the male's shoulders. "What the hell are you?" Enrique started shaking his head, but the pain stopped him. "I've gotta be in a coma or something, but I can't imagine my brain coming up with this."

"I know it can be a lot to take in, my mate," the male holding him told him. "But this isn't a dream or coma. We're real. We're gargoyles." With a smile, the guy continued, "My name's Trynche, and I'm so very pleased to meet you." Trynche winked and asked, "What's your name, handsome?"

"Uh, Enrique," he answered on instinct. "I'm Enrique Walters." Furrowing his brows, he couldn't help his confusion. "Did you just call me handsome?"

"Sure did," Trynche replied without a hint of embarrassment. "And your body feels perfect in my arms. Can't wait to explore it."

Enrique gaped for several seconds before blurting, "But I'm a human."

"And I'm not." The way Trynche shrugged just a little, jostling him, told Enrique it wasn't an issue to him. "Gargoyles rarely mate with their own kind, so it's normal."

Staring at Trynche's inhuman features, Enrique couldn't help the way his mind went blank. He had no response to that. The male holding him was complimenting him, holding him, and acting as if... they would be a couple?

What the hell?

"You may be jumping the gun a little there, Trynche," stated the guy who'd asked why Enrique was there. As he gaped once more, taking in the flying beast's—gargoyles, they called themselves—medium purple hide and dark-gray wings, the male continued, "I recognized your name. My man has questioned you before about why you've been flying around the ranch, and now, you're here again, but at night."

Enrique winced. Shit. This gargoyle knew about his flights?

Wait a sec.

"Your man?" It wasn't the fact that this male was claiming to be in a relationship with a man. Instead, he wondered, "Who's your man that he'd have talked to me?"

"Sheriff Archer Montgomery," the male replied with a pleased smile, his expression a little vacant. When he refocused on Enrique, he told him, "I'm Lludd, Archer's partner."

"What?" Enrique eyed the other male incredulously. "How is that possible? I've heard about Lludd being introduced around town. I'm pretty sure you in town would cause a stir." Glancing around at the flying creatures in disbelief, he mumbled, "No way this is real. I'm definitely concussed. It's just the head injury."

"It's not the head injury, baby," Trynche countered, tightening his hold as he started toward the ground. "Don't worry." He smiled at him, his expression appearing admiring. "After the doc checks you out, we'll have plenty of time to talk, and I'll explain everything."

Enrique couldn't imagine that anything could explain the rabbit hole he'd somehow managed to tumble into. While he had so many questions, he had no idea where to even start, so he kept his mouth shut. Nothing had made sense since he'd woken... flying... in the arms of a gargoyle.

This can't be happening.

That thought just kept repeating through his mind as Enrique stayed quiet and still in Trynche's arms while he landed. He glanced around, doing his best not to move his head too much in the process. Curiosity was getting the better of him, though, because Enrique had never flown too close to the farmhouse, feeling that would be too intrusive.

Enrique had known the Lindsons were rich cattle ranchers, but that reputation didn't do their spread justice. The main house was the typical two-story ranch home, but it was huge and appeared to have been added onto a time or two. There was a bunkhouse that had an obvious new addition. Not too far away, there was a foreman's cabin with a swing on the porch. A man clearly of Native American descent stood there watching them... and a light-gray-skinned gargoyle stood beside him... with his arm around the guy's waist.

Well, damn. Gargoyles really do have relationships with humans.

"I'll find the doc," the green gargoyle stated. As he walked backward toward the bunkhouse, he grinned at them. "Congrats, Trynche. I'm jealous, man." Turning, he added, "I'm Ruacin, by the way. Welcome to the rabbit hole."

"H-How did he know that's how I'm feeling?" Enrique mused softly. He didn't really expect an answer, but he received one anyway.

"Humans often react similarly to how you are when they first learn of us," Lludd told him. He glanced at him before returning his attention to his phone. Absently, he added, "But don't worry. The pull you feel to Trynche will help you adapt quickly enough." Lludd focused on Trynche. "Better take him in to see the doc. Archer says he'll be here in twenty minutes to talk to him."

Trynche nodded. "Got it." With a smile, he started carrying Enrique toward the bunkhouse. "Let's get you checked out, my mate."

"You keep calling me that. What's that mean?" Enrique muttered, unease seeping into him as Trynche climbed the two steps to the sprawling front porch. "I'm pretty sure I can walk now."

"Not until you get the okay from Doc Glover," Trynche countered as he reached for the doorknob, but the door opened before they reached it. The gargoyle smiled and nodded at the dark-haired guy who swung it wide, saying, "Thanks, Walsh. Much appreciated."

"Sure, Trynche," Walsh replied, stepping out of the way. "Doc said he's setting up in room two." The guy pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. Grinning at Enrique, Walsh waggled his brows. "Congrats, man. Heard bonding with a gargoyle is a helluva erotic act." Resting his hand over his chest, Walsh heaved a fake put-upon sigh. "Alas, none that are here are my mate. Story of my life."

Trynche moved past Walsh, chuckling as he went. "Heard that hasn't stopped you from enjoying a few of theirs' attentions," he teased.

Walsh laughed. "True that."

Enrique frowned, processing that, but there was only one way to interpret it. "He, uh, he has sex with some of you?"

"Sure do," Walsh called, having obviously heard him. Laughter filled his words as he loudly added, "Most paranormals are hung. If you like to bottom, you're in for a helluva treat, man."

Feeling his cheeks once again burn, Enrique kept his mouth shut.

Just what the hell is going on around here?

Except, when Trynche walked into what must have been room two, Enrique's jaw sagged open once more. While the room was set up as the standard examination room found in any clinic, the doctor waiting by the counter setting up stuff was definitely not the norm. A gargoyle with pale-blue skin and golden-colored wings turned and smiled at him.

"Holy shit," Enrique whispered, his eyes going wide with his obvious surprise. "Y-You're a d-doctor?"

"I am," the blue male replied with a reassuring smile. "I'm Doctor Glover." He turned his attention to Trynche. "Lay him on the bed so I can take a look at him."

As Trynche obeyed, placing Enrique on the bed, he had the irrational desire to keep hold of the big, coral-colored gargoyle. He stayed the need and forced himself to relax on the bed. When Trynche sat on the side of the bed and took his hand, Enrique didn't protest, and he wasn't certain why.

Why do I find this gargoyle's presence comforting? Shouldn't I be shitting myself right now? Or at least trying to run away?

Enrique flinched when Glover reached for him, eyeing the male's sharp black claws.

Yeah, that's the reaction I should be having... to all of them.

"Try to relax, Enrique," Doc Glover urged, reaching for him again. "I won't hurt you."

"You're totally safe," Trynche assured, squeezing his hand to reassure him. When Enrique met the gargoyle's green eyes, he saw warmth within their depths as he continued, "I would never put you in a situation that could harm you." After Trynche uttered a soft scoff, his smile turned wry. "Well, not on purpose anyway." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Life happens, after all."

"Yeah, it does," Enrique whispered, knowing the truth in those words. "I still don't understand—"

Feeling Glover's fingers touch his jaw, Enrique snapped his mouth shut and tensed.

"Easy, Enrique," Glover encouraged again. "I just want to see how bad this wound is." As he softly spoke, he slid the claws of one hand lightly up Enrique's face to his hairline, pushing strands out of the way. "Yeah, that doesn't look too bad."

"He'll be okay?" Trynche asked, sounding worried.

"Doesn't even need stitches," Glover replied. "Just a couple of butterfly bandages after I clean it up."

"You sure?" Trynche pressed. "It looked like a lot of blood, and even with a helmet on, I found Enrique unconscious."

Glover smiled. "Try not to worry too much, Trynche. Head wounds bleed a lot." Focusing on Enrique again, he told him, "I would get a new helmet, though. Sounds like something cracked or came loose in there when you hit your head."

Enrique instinctively nodded. "I will." Anytime a helmet took a hit, it was a good idea to inspect it or replace it.

Lying quietly, Enrique kept a firm grip on Trynche's hand as Glover went through the process of cleaning and bandaging his head. He found the male's movements gentle with a surprisingly kind and patient bedside manner. Every step of the way, Glover explained what he was doing.

As Glover finished up, it occurred to Enrique that it wasn't actually for his benefit. Instead, Glover kept glancing at Trynche. Enrique realized that the gargoyle sitting next to him, still holding his hand, was watching the doctor like a hawk, as if ready to step in should he hurt or upset Enrique in some way.

Instead of finding the action overbearing, Enrique felt... cared for, cherished even. It was... nice, really nice.

Why?

"All set, guys," Glover stated, taking a few steps away from the bed. "How's the pain level, Enrique? Want an aspirin?"

Enrique began to ease into a sitting position, and Trynche quickly moved to help him, sliding an arm behind his shoulders. His head ached a little at the move. After a second of hesitation, Enrique slowly nodded.

"Yeah. An aspirin would be good."

Glover nodded and retrieved a bottle from a cabinet. After handing over a couple of small white pills along with a bottle of water, he told him, "If the ache doesn't ease in the next half hour, please let me know."

Once Enrique had taken the pills, enjoying the cool water flowing down his throat, he nodded. "Thanks, Doc."

A knock sounded at the door, drawing everyone's attention. "Come," Glover called.

When the door opened, Sheriff Archer Montgomery stood there, his expression solemn as he eyed Enrique.

Time to face the music.