5. Kaia

“Let me carry you. You’re being ridiculous,” Thoren the fucking gargoyle says to me as I trip over yet another tree root. You’d think these things would be worn down with how much foot and cart traffic we’ve passed in the last twenty minutes. Probably doesn’t help that he didn’t have any shoes that would even stay on me, let alone make it easier to walk. So, yeah, I’m barefoot. And, yeah, it’s as brutal and cold as it sounds. But the thought of being carried around by the delicious-smelling, hard-as-marble body of Thoren makes my thighs clench, and that’s the last thing this little adventure needs.

“No, I’m fine. Please stop bringing it up.”

He grunts, getting grumpier by the minute.

I ignore him and take in my surroundings. It looks like Earth. There are trees changing color with autumn, their leaves rustling in the light breeze that blows through them. The dirt looks the same, brown and dry from lack of rain. The dust kicks up behind horse hooves and wagon wheels, making it a little bothersome to breathe. I’m just happy it’s not spring. I’d be sneezing up an absolute storm.

“Why’re there so many people on this road?” I ask him, hoping to distract him. “The town looked too small for all these people.”

“It’s a main trade route,” he tells me. “It runs right through Stone Valley and back out into the countryside on either side of us.”

Short and to the point. He is giving me clear signs that he does not want to have idle chitchat. He’s going to give me whiplash with his mood swings. One moment, he’s crouched on the floor, telling me everything will be alright as I fall apart at his dinner table. And the next, he’s running out of his own house like he can’t stand to be around me another minute.

Luckily, it doesn’t take us much longer to get into town. I’m instantly more self-conscious here of the state I’m in than I was on the road. There are more women here, their skin not squeaky-clean but much cleaner than mine. Their hair is all different colors and braided in different styles. Their clothes fit, and they, unlike me, have wrapped leather sandals and boots on their feet.

Oh, and they’re all monsters. I stick out like a sore thumb with my pale skin and blonde hair. I don’t have horns or a tail, no color on my skin or slits in my eyes. It’s strange to be the one standing out. Being born with the privilege of being a blonde white woman, that doesn’t happen often.

“Okay, now I wish I had asked to take a bath before we came to town.”

“Why?” he asks, looking down at me with confused eyebrows.

“Look at them,” I murmur, nodding in the direction of the women around the market stalls. They all glance at me, and their eyes widen when they take in my bare feet and bare legs. “Pretty hair, clean skin. They have shoes .”

“I tried to get you to let me carry you.”

“I’m wearing a glorified sack. I’m freaking freezing.” I gesture down at myself. “How long until we find that shop you were talking about?”

I don’t have his type of money, or any money for that matter. Came with nothing but my birthday suit, but he assured me he didn’t care. In fact, he acted as if it brought him joy . And I was always taught not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I graciously accepted.

“Up here,” he grunts. “Come here.”

Before I can protest, he wraps a thick arm around my torso and lifts me off the ground. I squeal as I fall forward, trying to cling onto his shoulder before I flash everyone behind us.

“Some warning next time!” I whisper-yell into his ear. “Do you want me to show my bits to everyone in town?”

His eyes darken, and the permanent smirk I’ve gotten so used to being etched on his handsome gray face falls.

“No. I do not wish that.”

“Okay,” I drawl, patting his shoulder blade. “Then no more picking me up without a warning. Actually, no more picking me up at all. You can put me down.”

“You were limping. You tripped on too many sticks.” He plops me back down and gestures to the painted blue door of a seamstress’s business.

“They weren’t sticks,” I grumble. “They were practically logs. You’re just too high up to see them.”

A genuine laugh escapes his mouth. It looks good on him.

“Be right with you!” a woman shouts from behind an aging curtain.

“Just me, Aggie!” Thoren’s voice almost sounds chipper. “Brought something for you.”

“Ooh! You didn’t, you cheeky thing!” The curtain sweeps to the side, and a thin, older woman steps out. Her hair is a shock of white — literally. It’s a shock, like she stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. And her skin is a deep red, almost black, like it’s been held over the coals for so long it got charred and angry. It’s all I can do to not let myself stare at her. When she sees me, she falters. “Oh, thought you meant some more of your famous stew!”

Thoren chuckles. “No, sorry. Finished that off last night. This is Kaia.” His big, warm hand touches the small of my back, giving me some comfort as this strange woman looks me over. “Found her in the lake. She needs some clothes.”

“The lake?” she screeches, throwing her palm over her chest.

“Buck naked,” Thoren adds, and my cheeks flame. I shove him with my hip and give him a look that could kill. Too bad I’m not a witch right now.

“Never in my life!” Aggie laughs. “Well, let’s get you some clothes, then, dear.” Her soft hand gestures that we should follow her through the curtain.

“I don’t need much,” I assure her as we follow. “Just a couple things. I won’t be here long.”

I feel Thoren tense behind me.

“No?” Aggie asks as she goes through swathe after swathe of fabric, all different colors but the same thick cotton-like look to them. Can’t wait to get out of one scratchy outfit and into another. “Well, that’s a shame. But we’ll get you fixed up. I just need to take your measurements so that I can get a few things started.”

“Oh, is there anything I could wear now?” I ask, realizing that this is not just a store where there are all different sizes hanging on racks. This is going to take a while. “It’s just, I don’t have anything ,” I emphasize.

“Of course, dearie. I have a couple things you can take until I finish up your own items, okay? They’re simple, but they’ll hang much more nicely on you than his tunic will.”

I doubt that. Her waist is probably the size of my thigh, but I would try anything. Maybe they’re like magically enchanted clothing that would fit me perfectly, and I could walk out and join the throng of people like I was one of them. That would help soothe the burning pit of anxiety in my stomach.

“I’ll be out front.” Thoren’s voice rumbles behind me. “Aggie, settle payment with me, please.”

“Yes, yes,” Aggie says, shooing him out as she rolls out her tape measure. “Now, let’s see about those measurements!”

After an hour at Aggie’s place of business, I’m walking out with clean, bandaged feet and an outfit consisting of pants and a long-sleeve shirt that actually fit. And they’re not itchy! There’s a belt wrapped tightly around my middle, and I discreetly loosen it once we’re far enough away from her that she can’t scoff and tighten it again. I guess she wasn’t a fan of how baggy I like my clothing.

Aggie, come to find out, is a demon — of sorts, anyway. Not a demon in the way humans with religion understand them, but similar. She comes from a whole different realm, which she promised to tell me all about when I came to collect the clothes. They’ll be ready in a couple of days, she said. But I’m hoping to be out of here by then, and that makes me feel guilty. Guilty that Thoren just spent all that money on things I won’t be able to use and also guilty for leaving him.

Which is stupid. It makes no sense that when I think about leaving Thoren my chest gives a tight squeeze, like I’ll be leaving him alone or something. He was alone before he met me, so nothing will change there. But I do wonder what it will be like to go home, leave all of this behind and not be able to tell anyone else about it. Because if I did, good lord. I’d probably end up being committed.

“So, the woman we are going to see next?—”

“The woman who can see things,” I say, still trying to understand how this all works.

“Selah, yes. She isn’t a witch or a healer. She’s actually a gargoyle.”

“Oh, really?” I’m shocked. As far as I knew, Thoren didn’t have any gifts . “Do you have any gifts?”

“I was not blessed in that way by the Gods.”

“Right. Instead, they gave you insane muscles and a cantankerous attitude.” I grin up at him, letting him know it’s just a joke. I know there’s a softer side to him.

He grunts, his lips tipping into a smirk. “Yes. But as I was saying, Selah is my sister. My youngest sister, actually. And she can be…”

“A lot?” I ask, grinning up at him. He damn near blocks out the sun he’s so tall. A brief image of me climbing him like a tree flashes into my mind.

“She’s the youngest in the family. She was coddled.”

“By you, I’m guessing?” I laugh at the look he gives me. It was definitely him that did all the coddling. I could see it now, Thoren running after his sister as a toddler, her laughter bouncing off the walls of the house. That image… does unfortunate things to my lady bits.

I was broody before I met Thoren, and it seems the more I’m around him, the stronger that feeling gets. I need to lock that shit down because I am not staying here, and it’s not like he can come back to my place with me. One, why would he even want to? We’ve known each other for less than twenty-four hours. Two, can you imagine what people would do if they saw a seven-foot, gray, horned and tailed gargoyle walking around Seattle? Three, who knows if we’d even be compatible? Christ, I’ve seen that thing hanging between his legs, and unless my vagina can unhinge itself somehow, that baseball bat isn’t coming anywhere near me.

“If anyone can figure out how you got here, it’s Selah.” His deep voice pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts of monster dick and half-human, half-gargoyle babies. “We’ll try our best to get you home, Kaia. I promise you.”