Chapter 2

QUINN

Quinn reached his castle and promptly briefed the guards. They took swift action, notifying his father, the king, of his and the mysterious female's arrival and sending ripples of excitement across the gargoyle kingdom. Ignoring the commotion, he navigated the throngs to the castle, gently laying the female's motionless form upon a soft bed to ensure her comfort. Quinn experienced an unexpected shock—a surge of electric awareness that set his senses spinning. The air hummed with an intangible energy, and a familiar scent of honeysuckle teased his instincts.

The setting sun bathed them in its fading glow, painting the scene in shades of pink and purple. The female slumbered peacefully before him. A faint shift in the air whispered of her stirring. Motionless, he stood there, watching her sleep.

Her eyelashes fluttered against the soft curve of her cheek, drawing his gaze down to the ripe curl of her lips and the delicate line of her jaw. Her presence was rich with appeal, from the sun-kissed bronze of her skin to the way her chestnut hair, threaded with shimmering red highlights, tumbled like a silken waterfall over her magnificent wings.

Each of her breaths was a siren song pulling him closer, captivating him. Without conscious thought, he reached out to trace the map of freckles across her nose. Yet, with a gentle restraint, he withdrew, careful not to disturb her peaceful slumber.

A shiver danced down his spine, not from the cool night air but from the sheer, simmering heat of his interest. His patience lurked like a predator's, fueled not by malice but by a hunger he couldn't quite name—a longing that went beyond the whispers of desire, reaching into the unexplored corners of his own heart.

Her arrival was unexpected. One moment, he sat meditating under the lunar glow; the next, chaos erupted with her terrified shriek. What caused her to fall? What prevented her from flying? Hazy images flickered to life: a flash of fear on her face, the warmth of her within his arms…then, pain. After that, memory eluded him.

If Fionnlaith, the moon goddess, had sent her, it differed from the deity's typical ways. Rougher, more abrupt than the usual whispered guidance through their Gothi…he would have to consult with him. Why had there been no warning, no prediction of the female gargoyle's arrival?

The sight amazed him.

A female. A real, living, breathing female. Many moons had passed since he had laid eyes on one, not since the juguai's attack. The monstrous beasts had ravaged his kind. He had believed the female gargoyles were all gone, extinct, wiped out by the ruthless enemy. Lying before him, she appeared like a divine gift, as if the goddess herself had answered his prayers. A surge of wonder, awe, and gratitude flooded him.

The intoxicating blend of honeysuckle, intertwined with a more profound, instinctual scent, emanated from her and seized him—the undeniable aroma of his fated mate.

Mine.

He leaned closer, taking in her delicious scent. The need to possess, to know was like a fire consuming him.

His hand trembled as he reached toward her again. He rubbed a lock of her hair between two fingers before letting it fall. He wanted so much—to hear her voice, "To discover the forces that shaped you, and to make your dreams come true."

The one truth he knew beyond anything, though, was that the woman lying before him was his.

He paced the room, awaiting her awakening.

After her rescue, she slept the entirety of the night and through the following day. His heart pounded against his ribs as he sat and waited, a drumbeat of ancient instinct igniting a fierce protectiveness within him. His gargoyle nature roared, demanding he claim her. Yet, he held back, barely.

As the moon lit up the night sky on the second night, she stirred, her eyelids fluttering and then opening. For a moment, her gaze remained vacant, unseeing. As her eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of her mouth turned down into a small frown. She rubbed her chin with her fingers.

Then she looked at her hands, and she screamed.

Unease sent a shock through Quinn's chest as he watched her jump and stand on the bed. Her clothes hung in tatters from her body. Her eyes darted around the room, and her tail whipped about.

"What the…" she started to say as she gawked at her claws.

She caught sight of herself in a mirror positioned in a corner. A choked moan escaped her lips as she twisted and turned, flinging her arms back as if trying to grasp something unseen behind her. "What … happened to me?" she whispered, the words ragged. "What have I become?" Her voice rose in a desperate plea as her hands, trembling violently, reached out and tentatively brushed against her wings.

The yearning to touch her, to soothe her, intensified, but in her distressed state, a wrong move might send her spiraling further into terror. Taking a deep breath, he withdrew from the shadows.

"It is all right. You're safe." He feared his words might sound hollow. Yet he spoke them anyway, a lifeline thrown into the churning sea of her apparent emotions. He empathized with how she must feel, waking up in an unfamiliar room, disoriented, and with no recollection of how she ended up in a bed.

He wondered if she would remember him, the one who saved her from the fall. The one who rescued and carried her to safety.

He hoped she would, for he wanted her to know that he was not a stranger, but a friend.

He hoped she would, for he wanted her to feel some comfort, some relief.

He hoped she would, for he wanted her to see him as he saw her—a miracle, a gift, a fated mate.

ANA

Ana screamed. A colossal and horrific male creature stood before her, his body illuminated under the moonlight drifting in from the window. Powerful hands gleamed with razor-sharp claws, and gracefully curved wings extended from his upper back while a snaking tail trailed behind. Blond hair cascaded down his back, falling over leathery wings that stretched wide.

The beast resembled a human man in stature, handsome, tall, and commanding, his muscular torso beneath his smooth, sun-kissed skin and appealing human face evoking a sense of desire. His face, the same one that had saved her from falling and intruded upon her intimate dream, now stared back at her.

With soft words, he spoke to her, "It is all right. You're safe."

His words, however, did little to quell the knot of dread tightening in her gut. Was she trapped? She recoiled from his gaze, desperately wishing for him to vanish. Hopefully, she was merely dreaming or hallucinating.

Please let there be a way to escape.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice gentle. "Did the goddess bring you here? Why are you so afraid?"

Her body felt traitorously pulled to him, drawn by some irresistible magnetism. His eyes held a blend of raw power and mysterious secrets that captivated her, overshadowing his monstrous nature. Heat flared in her chest, a disloyal ember yearning for his touch.

A heady mix of spice and vanilla, intoxicating and addictive, filled her senses and lured her to him. He caught her in a paradox, a dance of emotions. Her body swayed toward him instinctively before she abruptly pulled back. Her fingers trembled, aching to bridge the gap between them, yet she held them back, a wave of horror washing over her as she confronted the depth of her longing.

She was breathless, dizzy, and consumed. Lost and tangled in a web of confliction, she yearned for him while desiring to escape. Amid the chaos, a single, undeniable truth emerged: absurd and dangerous as it seemed, he drew her, body and soul.

She slammed the door on the feelings, the attraction, the connection. A desperate mantra echoed in her mind: "It's not real, not mine, not right."

"Who…what are you?" she stammered, the words barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

This pull, this madness—it wasn't hers. He must have bewitched her, muddied her thoughts. She hated him for it, for making her feel this way, for making her question herself, for making her want him. And she feared him for what he could do to her, for what he could make her do.

"I'm Quinn. The prince of the gargoyles." He stepped toward her, his movement graceful despite his imposing size. Each stride brought him closer, and with each footfall, the air crackled with an unseen energy.

She stepped back, her feet sinking into the mattress. Then, reaching down, she grabbed a blanket, gripping it as a pathetic shield. A shiver ran down her spine, causing her to quiver. Her thoughts churned with disbelief and hope. Dream? Nightmare? A cruel hallucination.

Wishing this reality to be different, she refused to acknowledge what she witnessed and sensed. Regretting her reading choice the night before, she realized the eerie stories of monsters and magic must have gotten under her skin. She pinched herself and experienced real pain. Her brain swirled with confusion.

His fangs glinted in the light, reflecting off their edges. Her eyes widened. "Did you bite me…turn me into a gargoyle?" The whispered question barely escaped her lips.

"Our bite doesn't change you. When we bite, our venom shall temporarily paralyze or give unexplainable pleasure…" With a smirk, he added, "…depending on the type of prey." He drawled in a deeply accented voice of a rich tone but with harsh vowels.

She took it as a double entendre… meaning the victim was either food or a sexual conquest. She gasped. Did gargoyles eat humans? Cold sweat beaded her forehead, at odds with the sensual vibrations his voice sent right to her core.

He stepped closer.

"Stay away," Ana ordered. "I'm human—" She broke off, looking at her claws. "I was human—" She fisted her hands, wincing as the sharp points to dug into her flesh. "What…What did you do to me?" Her body trembled, and breathing became difficult.

"I have done nothing to you," he said, his manner pleading.

She crumpled to her knees on the bed, trying to piece together what happened. "The lightning. It must have changed me." It hadn't just struck her; it had shattered her reality. The term human no longer fit; it had been replaced by…monster.

"What do you mean?" He took another step toward her. "How did you imagine you looked before?"

"Human," she screeched. "I certainly never had wings! Fangs! Claws! Or a tail!"

His brow furrowed, concern painting lines on his face. "Are you hurt?" His gaze flickered over her.

"Hurt?" she repeated. "If you mean mentally scarred, then yes. Yes, I'm hurt. How could I not be when I woke up in a strange place with a strange creature, and my body changed into that of a monster?" She glared at him. "Why am I here?"

Wearing only leather pants and a chest strap with a sheathed sword, he loomed near her, an enigma of moonlight and muscle. An undeniable pull tugged at her. "Where is here?" she asked.

"You're in Leonad," Quinn bowed, then met her eyes. "As for the why, I had hoped you knew."

She gasped. "How would I know that? I was sitting…" She shuddered, the memory of the collapsing walls, the unearthly light, a gaping maw in reality all crashing over her. "I… I need to go home," she stammered.

His gaze softened, a flicker of something that resembled—confusion. "I understand your fear," His voice carried a warmth that seemed to war with the primal edge of his nature. "But I assure you, harming you couldn't be more contrary to my intentions." He lifted his hand in a vow. "I swear it."

"Where's my cat?" Her eyes darted from shadow to shadow, seeking the familiar comfort of her feline companion.

The figure before her bowed slightly, a gesture of regret. "My apologies, I don't know of this cat."

"Please, make me human again and send me home." Hands trembling, she clasped them together in a silent beg.

"I don't have the ability to do that." Quinn met her gaze. "You're a gargoyle, like me." He ran a hand through his hair. "No idea how it happened, but I assure you, gargoyles are born, not made." He paused, studying her. "Maybe a head injury caused some confusion? Either way, I can help you navigate this uncertainty. We'll get you through the darkness and figure this out together."

He stepped closer. Her martial arts training flickered in her memory, a feeble counterpoint to her rising panic. She knew she wouldn't stand a chance against this imposing gargoyle.

A bizarre urge to touch him, to feel his closeness, warred with her common sense. Raw strength contrasted with surprising gentleness; he radiated an undeniable charisma and beauty. Kind or not, though, he posed a threat. Pinching her nose, she forced herself to focus. One truth was certain: she would fight for her life.

Quinn closed the distance, and even through her fright, an electric synergy crackled. Something ancient, something otherworldly, rustled within her. Fear mingled with a strange exhilaration as he drew near.

"You did this to me." Ana's body trembled with anger and terror, but beneath it, a steely resolve simmered.