Chapter 6

QUINN

Quinn navigated the cavernous hall, each step deliberate, each breath measured. His subjects cast fleeting glances at Ana, their curiosity barely veiled by the flickering torchlight. Their whispers, unlike usual, carried murmurs of awe and an obvious yearning hunger for the only female.

Earlier, he had claimed her before his subjects—not yet with his scent, but with a kingdom-wide roar. His voice echoed through the halls, commanding his subjects to keep their distance, for she was his alone. A surge of possessiveness washed over him, a primal instinct that surprised even him. They bowed their heads in deference, unwilling to challenge their prince, at least not yet.

The echo of Ana's accusation, the raw pain in her eyes when she had blamed him for her transformation, still clawed at his insides. He hadn't stolen her humanity, hadn't forced her arrival. Still, her confusion, her fear, hung heavy on him like a shroud.

Hope, a fragile blossom, dared to bloom in Quinn's chest as Ana brushed his arm, seeking solace in a fleeting touch. It was a bridge suspended over a chasm of unasked claims and unspoken fears, a chasm he knew he alone could build across.

Their entry drew a collective gasp. King Hamil, a mountain of flesh beneath a crown of silver, slammed his fist on the throne, scattering food from his beard. "Greetings! I'm Hamil, your King. I welcome you to—" His nostrils flared, and a deep furrow carved into his face. "Why haven't you claimed her, Son? Is she not your mate?"

Quinn bowed his spine a ramrod. "She is, Father, but she shall not have me." He turned and met Ana's gaze. A spark of defiance flickered in her eyes alongside a tremor of terror. It ignited a fire in Quinn's soul and steeled his determination. He raised his chin and locked eyes with his father again.

Beneath the surface of King Hamil's disapproval flickered a deeper pain. The loss of Queen Skadi, Quinn's mother, etched like a scar on his face, cast a long shadow over his father's decisions. Quinn witnessed glimpses of that grief, the fear of the unknown, and the desperate clinging to tradition in its wake. Ana's arrival was a beacon of hope for the future but also a stark reminder of the void left by Skadi, stirring unease and confusion within their realm.

"The female refuses the prince as her mate?" He pushed back his throne, the heavy wood groaned under his weight. "She is the only and the last female in the kingdom. You must mate before another does. Once Gregor learns of the female, the bastard shall take her."

"I shall protect her." Quinn's voice resounded his pledge to Ana throughout the hall. Gregor, his uncle, wouldn't show such mercy. He had witnessed Gregor's ambition unleashed, a crimson tide washing over the land in a failed attempt to usurp the crown. In his uncle's pursuit to possess Ana, Quinn was certain she would suffer greatly.

"Even if she shall not have you?" The king leaned forward, his eyes narrowed.

"Yes," Quinn answered without hesitation. His heart pounded a wild drum against his ribs. He would be her shield, even if it meant shattering the very foundation of their world.

The king grunted again. "Mate tonight." Tradition pulsed like a drumbeat, ordering consummation before another dared attempt to do what his words demanded. Gregor, his uncle, wouldn't give her such luxury. And though he was far away in his castle, Gregor desired nothing more than to usurp Leonad.

Ana, her jaw clenched, her eyes flashing, dropped his hand. "No." The word hung in the air, a single syllable cutting through the tension like a knife.

Pride surged through Quinn. She unflinchingly met the king's gaze, her own blade forged of resolve.

ANA

Ana shook with fear as she faced King Hamil. His throne, carved from a gnarled oak, loomed at the end of the cavernous hall. A braided beard adorned with trinkets cascaded down his chest, littered with the remnants of his feast.

"You can't command me to mate with anyone." Her voice trembled with a mix of defiance and terror. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the suffocating silence. The gargoyle's gaze, frigid and calculating, bore into her. Yet Ana stood her ground, refusing to let fear consume her.

Hamil chuckled, a sound like rocks grinding together. "You're now my guest, and as the last female gargoyle, that gives you … what? Some choice, perhaps?"

Ana clenched her fists. "I'm not a gargoyle," she hissed. "I'm a human." Sweat beaded on her forehead, a chilling counterpoint to the heat radiating from the king's monstrous form.

Hamil tilted his head, studying her with unsettling intensity. "It has been many moons since we last saw a human," he mused, stroking his chin with a claw. "I don't remember one with wings."

At his words, a chuckle rippled through some members of the crowd.

Ana swallowed, her throat dry. "I just… I want to go home," she whispered, her voice cracking. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the grotesque scene before her.

"This is your home now, little one." His face hardened. "And I'm not accustomed to such insolence. Refusing my command to mate with the prince." He growled.

"It's been a strange day for me, too," Ana muttered under her breath, then added, "I'm not supposed to have a tail."

He boomed his words echoing through the hall. "You shall be stripped and forced to walk around naked if you continue with your disrespect."

Ana swallowed, the bile of fear rising in her throat. Sarcasm occasionally was her shield, but here, fighting this primal power, it felt like a paper fan against a hurricane. She gritted her teeth, the urge to lash out at this barbaric king warring with the need to survive.

Quinn stepped in front of her. "Father," he rumbled, his tone surprisingly steady, "she is a stranger to these lands. She knows naught of our ways."

His gaze hardened on Quinn. "See that she learns quickly," he spat. "You have one moon cycle. If not, she shall be available for other suitors." He swiveled his head back to Ana. "Between whom she shall and must decide, or I shall mate her myself." The throne groaned as he shifted. "Now, sit and fill your belly."

What the hell! The king continued to talk as if she wasn't standing right in front of him. Ana's head spun. A moon cycle? Suitors? Her stomach churned. The thought of being forced to choose between additional repulsive gargoyles, or worse, the king himself, was enough to curdle her blood.

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the grotesque scene before her. "Please," she choked out, her voice trembling, "I just … I need answers. How did I get here? What happened to me?"

"I can't answer what I don't know." Hamil banged his fist on the armrest. "Now eat!" The king gobbled another bite of food, chewing with his mouth open. Spittle flew as he chomped.

Quinn's hand, warm and reassuring, closed over hers. He guided her to a table, pulling out a chair with a soft creak. He helped settle her wings before offering her a gentle smile. It was a minor act of kindness in this bleak world, a flicker of light in the encroaching darkness.

"Tell me." She turned to Quinn. "Why did the king just dismiss me and not listen?"

"My apologies if our way is strange to you, but he is just enforcing our traditions." His hand brushed hers. "I shall help you to adjust."

Despair clawed at Ana's soul, icy tendrils constricting her heart. In this grotesque nightmare, where gargoyles leered from every shadowed corner, hope tasted like dust on her tongue. Freedom, if it existed, would prove difficult.

Yet, amidst the choking bleakness, a single ember flickered: Quinn. Her anchor, her only link to sanity. Trust remained a venomous whisper at the back of her mind. What if his impeccable manners and secret smiles were just a facade? Though, among the doubt, a unique voice whispered. His kindness, however, carefully curated, felt genuine.

The hall throbbed with a grotesque symphony of feasting. Guttural laughter and chomping jaws formed a macabre counterpoint to the court's hushed gossip. Yet, for Ana, the room faded into a muted blur. Her focus narrowed to the gargoyle beside her.

A gnome refilled her goblet with a rose-tinted liquid. She forced a smile, murmuring thanks before her gaze dipped into the swirling depths. The aroma, a heady mélange of unknown florals, offered no clues. The first sip was a revelation, a tangy tango of exotic fruit and vanilla that washed away the metallic tang of fear.

Her eyes darted to the windows, their heavy drapes framing a terrifying scene of a mountaintop too frightening for her to fathom. Escape, if it existed, was as elusive as the whispers of heart.

Around her, the gargoyles silently watched, their eyes tracing her every movement while their noses twitched as if sniffing the air. She squirmed in her seat, biting her lip and avoiding eye contact. She sensed their tension and hunger as if starved of female company for far too long. The sexual energy, a frightening cocktail of lust and longing, left her feeling vulnerable. Their tongues flicked out, licking their lips.

A chorus of gnomes filled the hall with a sweet serenade. Nimble acrobats tumbled and twirled beside them, their tiny bodies defying gravity with practiced grace.

When their singing ceased, a fiery-haired gargoyle ascended the platform. He raised a flute to his lips, and a melancholic melody spilled forth. The song resonated deep within her, a mournful lament for forgotten dreams and hidden desires, squeezing away the oppressive weight of fear. The king's barking, clattering silverware, and court whispers faded, leaving only the enchanting music.

As the performance unfolded, the bustling gnomes replenished dishes with tireless efficiency. When the musician concluded, Ana turned her attention to the feast before her. She struggled with the utensils; her unfamiliar claws fumbling and clinking against the metal like tiny bells.

The feast, a relentless tide of plates and platters, washed over her. The bitterness of the wild greens mingled with the honeyed kiss of the berries, a complex duet on her tongue. Spicy nuts crunched, reminiscent of macadamia but with a wilder edge.

Gnomes, flitting like fireflies throughout the meal, refilled goblets as quickly as they emptied. Then came the main course, a magnificent beast roasted to a golden crisp, its skin shimmering under the flickering torches. The creature appeared colossal as the diminutive figures struggled to carry it on a tray. A rainbow of unfamiliar vegetables, some twisted and knobby, others smooth as polished stones, clustered around the roast like a court of loyal subjects.

"What's this?" she asked, as she pointed to the glistening meat.

"Wild nuid," Quinn said, his smile as warm as the candlelight. "A favorite of mine."

The first forkful was both delicate and robust, a whisper of pork, a shout of chicken. "Oh, I understand why," she breathed, already reaching for another morsel. "And these?" she gestured to the rainbow of vegetables.

"Red is cusgor," Quinn plucked one from his plate, "And green, that is altus." He popped the bite into his mouth. Afterward, he continued to detail the aspects of their meal.

The feast culminated with a dish of jewel-toned fruits, each bathed in a velvety crimson sauce that oozed sweetness like molten honey. As the flavors swirled on her palate, a wave of contentment washed over Ana, chasing away the anguish that had clung to her like a shadow.

She turned to Quinn, stifling a yawn. "I need to rest. Please excuse me?"

He nodded, the candlelight casting a golden glow on his face. "Of course," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "I shall escort you to your chamber." He rose, the chair legs scraping upon the stone floor, then turned toward the king. "Sire, our guest requires her respite. May we retire?"

The king's eyes met hers, a glint of something predatory flickering within their depths. "Both of you?" he boomed, a goblet slamming against the table. "Splendid! We shall see you at the moon ceremony."

Ana ignored the king's leer, her eyes fixed on Quinn's hand as he intercepted a flitting gnome. "Thank you, my friend," he said. "The food was exquisite. My father and I appreciate your efforts."

As Quinn led her away, her mind was already swirling with questions. The glint in the king's eyes, the gnome's frantic service… they were threads in a tapestry she couldn't decipher. And somewhere beneath the surface of her contentment, a prickle of unease had grown.

"How did he know we weren't mated?" Heat rose to her cheeks as she spoke.

He looked at her with a smile. "Because we mark our mates."

Widening her eyes, she gulped and swallowed, then squeaked out, "How?"

"When we mate, males release our mark into females. It is a special essence other males detect. Once marked, another shall not attempt to mate with you."

"Oh!" She found that a little unnerving but quickly recalled the king's words. "He mentioned seeing humans," she started, her voice low. "How is that?"

He pressed his finger to his soft smile. His eyes grew distant. "Hundreds of years ago," he began, his tone tinged with nostalgia, "those with the knowledge or ability graced our kingdom with their presence through portals. But, I know for some, it came at a cost. Alas, for a century now, we have witnessed naught but silence."

"Why did they come here?"

"To learn of our realm," he said. "During those visits, they bestowed upon us much wisdom. Their skill of farming spread through the fertile lands, leaving a trail of abundance in its wake. The echoes of their music still danced through our memories, a symphony that brought solace and joy to our hearts."

"Is that why some things seem familiar to me?" She tapped her lip.

He nodded. "In turn, we embraced their teachings, their ways becoming intertwined with our own. We adopted their practices and their methods and incorporated them into our daily lives."

"Have you ever visited there?"

He smiled. "Not I. But with a sense of kinship, my kind ventured into their domain to forge connections and unravel the mysteries of their realm." A wan smile graced his lips. "There are many similarities between our worlds."

"What do you mean, we? How old are you?" She scrutinized him. He looked youthful for his age, barely past his mid-thirties.

"I'm but a mere three hundred and twenty-seven."

She would have spit out her drink… if she'd had one. How did he look so young? "Incredible," she said with a slight shake of her head.

"Can I meet one of those portal makers?" she asked.

"Nae, there are none in Leonad." He turned and looked at her with a smile. "Nor do they readily divulge their secrets."

She sighed. In the stories, gargoyles were stoic protectors, silent and ever-watchful, nothing about sexy creatures. "And I thought gargoyles were made of stone."

He chuckled. "I assure you I'm not stone." He clasped her hand gently and brought it to his lips. His warm breath sent shivers skittering up her arm. With a shaky exhale, she withdrew her hand. "But from my understanding, the humans that came here crafted figures of us to don their building as guardians."

"Yes, but they didn't do you any justice," she said.

"Ah … so you approve of my appearance?" He smiled, a radiant expression that lit up his face.

She spun away, her cheeks scorching.

"Let us continue our walk," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Upon arriving at her room, she turned to the prince. "Thank you." She gripped the door handle. Before she could escape inside, he moved behind her, his heat warming her wings, his scent a dizzying elixir that seemed woven for her alone. Her knees weakened, and she gripped the door handle for support.

"The neamhaidh ceremony is tonight," he whispered, his words carrying a bit of excitement.

"What is that?" She looked up at him.

He paused, his gaze lingering on her lips as he traced a finger down her bare shoulder, sending a shiver through her. "A ritual bathed in moonlight, a tribute to her celestial grace." His tone dipped lower, a seductive promise. "You shall enjoy it." He hesitated, moving his hand to cup her cheek. "I shall collect you when it's ready to start." The prince leaned in, his breath grazing her neck. A shudder rushed through her body as his warm exhale danced across her skin, filling her with anticipation. It sent a tingle down her spine as when he scented her.

"Delicious."

Her body trembled. She longed for his touch, his kiss, his every caress, but instead, he stepped away, leaving her to wobble as she reined in her desires. She clenched her jaw, desperately seeking control over these overwhelming feelings. Life wasn't fair! Quinn ignited a passion within her like no other, and this prince wasn't even a man.

The words stuck in her throat, barely a wisp escaping her quivering lips. "Stop," she managed, her gaze darting toward him, legs like jelly beneath her. He pivoted, concern etching lines on his face. Dizziness washed over her, stealing her balance. His hand shot out, firm yet gentle, catching her before she collided with the cold stone wall. Leaning against it, she sucked in a deep breath, finally gathering the strength to utter, "Thank you..." the gratitude genuine, her eyes meeting his, "...for saving me."

A smile crinkled the corners of his warm eyes, but before it truly blossomed, she bolted into the room and slammed the door shut. Pressing her forehead upon the frame, the smooth, unforgiving wood contrasted to the churning tempest within. Tears welled, blurring her vision as she slid down, sinking to the floor.

Quinn. He offered kindness, a flickering candle in a suffocating darkness. Yet, it wasn't enough. It wouldn't mend the chasm yawing between her and him. The events of the night replayed in her mind, a whirlwind of terror threatening to consume her. Memories roared like a raging river in her ears, dragging her deeper into the abyss. Why her? Why did this new body betray her so, yearning for Quinn so viscerally?

With a surge of frustration, she pounded her foot on the floor, causing a loud thud. She lifted her hands, covered her face, and let out a scream, echoing her anguish into the emptiness.