Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

KLAUS

A ll my adult life, I have been waiting for this moment. I stand in the walk-in closet Emmerich and I built when we moved here. It was one of the first things we did, before we even renovated the downstairs bathroom, because we needed a safe, dry space to store the items we brought over from Germany.

Now we'll finally get to start on the perfect nest for our mate.

For tonight, it'll have to be a simple one—enough for her to sleep in and for us to guard her. But if she decides to accept us fully, to mate with us, we'll build something more permanent.

I hope she likes it .

We didn't know who our third mate would be. If it was another male, we would have built this together and perhaps bring an adopted youngling or two into our nest to raise them as a family.

But with Morgan, we will mate in this nest, and if the gods are kind and fate so inclined, we'll bring our children into the world here.

I scrub my face with my hands, suddenly overwhelmed with all the choices. Would Morgan prefer cool silks or soft cottons? Perhaps she would like fur—we haven't stored any of that for the fear of drawing in moths, but if she requested it, we would provide it.

Still, we have to start somewhere, so I take two thick mattress-like pillows made of memory foam from the lowest shelf and carry them out of the closet. We'd left room there, not too close to the fireplace, but a nice, clean space we kept scrubbed and ready. Every week when it was my turn to clean the floors, I would sweep and scrub these flagstones with a mixture of painful hope and despair at having to wait yet another day, another month for our mate.

And then she appeared all by herself, drawn in by gods know what force of nature. Her curiosity, which she apologized about several times, is the reason our roost is complete. I will answer every question Morgan will throw my way, because she wouldn't be here without her scientific, ravenous mind.

"Oh, wow," Morgan breathes as Emmerich brings her to the closet. "What is all this?"

I glance at Emmerich over her head, catching his gaze. He lifts his eyebrows as if to ask whether I want to answer Morgan's inquiry, but now that I've started building the nest, the urge to continue, and quickly, is too overwhelming to deny.

He seems to understand—he must be experiencing the same instinct. But he draws Morgan closer to his side to give me room to work and points to the mattresses I'm hauling over to the living room.

"Gargoyles build nests when mating time is near," he explains. "We will build you a cozy nest, Morgan. You'll be so comfortable there."

"Mating time?" Morgan squeaks, her scent flaring up again.

Emmerich takes a big step away from her, his expression crushed. "Oh, no, you don't—we would never?—"

I loom over Morgan in the cramped space. "This doesn't mean we have to fuck," I tell her. It's imperative that she understands this, and we can't risk driving her away. "But we do want to."

"So much," Emmerich interjects, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

I shoot him a stern glare, then focus back on our human mate. "We will do this as slowly as you like. But now that you're here, we need to build the nest for you. And you need somewhere to sleep."

"Oh." Morgan studies the mattresses I've already spread on the floor and hooked together with clever little clasps. "I-I'm not saying never on the, ah, mating point, by the way. It's just…"

Relief courses through me at her words, so I cup her cheek and trace my thumb over her soft skin. "You've been injured and you only met us today. I understand. There is no rush on any of this. But we want to make sure you're comfortable if you're willing to stay the night." I grin down at her, then add, "So you'll be able to visit the bat colony tomorrow."

Morgan returns my smile, her coffee-brown eyes lighting up. "The bats. Of course." Then she puts her hands on her hips and looks around the closet. "Okay. How can I help?"

Emmerich makes a strangled sound, which could mean he's about to pick her up and carry her straight to the nest—or he's outraged by the insinuation that we, adult gargoyles, need help building a nest from a human.

Morgan doesn't know this could be seen as an insult, though, so I grit my teeth, hoping he won't do anything too hasty.

Then my impulsive mate closes his eyes, takes a deep breath through his nose, and lets it out through his mouth. He opens his eyes and gently takes Morgan's hand. "You can tell us what pleases you," he rumbles, his voice only slightly rougher than before. "We have silk sheets, but I think humans prefer something warmer this time of year."

He draws her to the shelves and shows her the stacks of bedding we'd bought over the years, adding to our collection every time we saw a likely piece. We gathered sheets and duvets, pillows and decorative cushions, and many, many blankets.

I leave them to their exploration of the shelves and return to carrying more foam mattresses out into the living room. I don't generally care much for humans. They are a strange breed, and they have often been unkind to supernatural creatures. But they are inventive, and I'm happy Emmerich and I discovered these mattresses because it means Morgan will be more comfortable sleeping on them than she would have been if we'd merely laid down blankets or furs like our ancestors have done in the past.

Minutes later, Emmerich comes out, carrying an armload of bedding, followed by a still-limping Morgan, who is clutching a tasseled pink pillow to her chest. I take it from her, unable to resist nuzzling her temple a little, just to get a whiff of her scent. She reacts immediately, her hand coming to rest on my chest. She gasps when she touches my naked skin, but before she can move away, I put my hand over hers and close my wings around us.

"I told you, you can touch me anytime," I rumble, leaning down to bring my forehead to hers. "I love your hands on me, Morgan."

She moves a step closer, puts her nose right up to my sternum, and draws in a shaky inhale. "You smell so good."

A rumbling purr starts in my chest. She is drawn to me as much as I am to her, but she's human, so she hasn't been taught what to expect, how to recognize her true mates.

"That's your instinct telling you I'm yours." I push back her hair, then dig my fingers into her golden curls and cup the back of her neck to tilt her face up. "If you were a gargoyle, you'd know it on first sight. But we're here to show you. We'll show you everything."

Morgan stares up at me for a long moment, her eyes wide, her pink lips parted, then surges up and kisses me. A bolt of lust slams into me, my entire body going rigid as stone, and my cock thickens in my pants, ready to sink into her soft body. She's more decisive this time, my Morgan, and leads the kiss, stroking her tongue against mine in bold, sensuous strokes. She brings both hands to my shoulders and pulls herself up until her body is flush with mine, her warm curves pressed to my hard chest.

I pick her up without thinking, my hands going to her lush ass to support her weight. She's taller than the usual human woman, and I'm relieved—I can take big handfuls of her and not worry that I might crush her with my strength, that I might hurt her without meaning to.

"Klaus," she breathes when I trail a line of kisses from her mouth to her jaw and down her neck, searching for the spots that make her shiver. "Kiss me."

I obey immediately, fusing my lips to hers again, then suck on her tongue, imagining how she will taste all over. Will she like it when I spread her legs and swipe my tongue over her slick pussy? Because I know it'll be wet for me, I can smell it now, the honeyed notes of her arousal blooming in the air around us.

A door slams, jerking me back to awareness. I was so lost in Morgan, swept away by lust, that I forgot about Emmerich standing right beside us all this time.

But he's not here anymore.

Slowly, I let Morgan down, hissing as her body slides past my front, teasing my erect cock through my pants. Even that small contact is enough for my control to waver, and my hips jerk forward before I can stop them.

Morgan looks down between us, and her breath escapes on a rush. "Oh, wow. Um. That's…that's impressive."

I try not to preen at her words, but they are exactly what a gargoyle likes to hear. I want to show her every ounce of pleasure, right here, right now, but I shake my head, clearing away the lustful thoughts.

It seems like Morgan hasn't yet noticed that Emmerich has left the room. She must have lost herself to the kiss just as much as I had.

I lower my wings and tuck them close, then take a step back from her and finally release her, even though the pounding need in my chest is telling me I'm a fool. But Emmerich has left, and I need to find out what's going on.

"Where's Emmerich?" Morgan peers into the closet. "He was just here."

Yes, and then I kissed you—for the second time.

Was he jealous of Morgan? Or of me? Whatever it was, I had to make it right.

"He's on the roof." I strain my ears to hear his footsteps. "I'll go talk to him."

Morgan catches me by my wrist before I can so much as take a step. "Wait. Do you think… Should I be the one to go after him?"

I watch her for a long moment, studying her earnest expression, her wide eyes.

"What will you say to him?" I ask.

Emmerich was my mate first, and I know him better than anyone. This—adding a new mate to the roost—was always going to be a difficult time, a reshifting of our dynamic, but Morgan might not understand this. She might make a blunder we, as a roost, won't easily recover from.

"Do you trust me?" She takes a blanket from the pile Emmerich brought from the closet and drapes it around her shoulders like a cloak. "I want to learn about you. As gargoyles and as men. And I can't do that if you're the one solving my problems for me."

"I do," I tell her. "But this isn't your problem."

"The hell it isn't," she protests, her eyebrows snapping down. "I barged in here on Christmas Eve and wedged myself between you two. I need Emmerich to know that this wasn't my intention, and if he doesn't want me kissing you, he has the right to tell me so. You looming there might make things harder for him. If I fail, though, you can take your turn."

I straighten my shoulders, a small smile tugging up the corner of my mouth despite the fraught situation. Our new mate seemed so timid at first, but that must have been the initial shock of finding out we exist, as well as her injury. Now that she's healing, both from her fall and the surprise, she's a lioness, all sharp claws and protective instincts.

"All right," I tell her. "But you will allow me to carry you up the stairs. The last thing we want is for you to hurt yourself again."