Stone and Earth (4 page)

“Be careful,
ma petite
.” He used one hand to adjust the angle of his erection, then held himself still while she slowly eased downward, impaling herself on his rigid staff. “Please don’t let me cause you pain.”

“It’s fine.” Better than fine. She sank down ‘til her pelvis rested on his. She was stuffed fuller than she’d ever been. There was some discomfort from the stretching, but it paled in contrast to the overwhelming pleasure.

Once her body had adjusted, she started to move—just a gentle rocking back and forth. The friction was incredible and before long, she was moving faster, relishing every slide of skin along skin. Damien held himself still, letting her set the pace. His beloved face—different but still uniquely his—was racked with the same mix of agony and ecstasy that probably showed on her own.

“Our bodies were made for each other, Damien,” she whispered. Her fingers dug into the solid mass of his upper arms as she rode him. “You could never hurt me.”

“I hope you’re right.” His last word was barely a gasp. They were both too far gone to speak anymore. He groaned and started bucking his hips to meet hers. He palmed the cheeks of her ass and held her tight without using his fingers or claws. They writhed together, reaching for that final peak, higher and scarier than any Katie had climbed before.

And suddenly there it was. She ground her hips down one last time just as she felt the hot rush of Damien’s orgasm. Her consciousness fragmented as every cell in her body seemed to convulse. Her entire universe centered on the hot wash of Damien’s seed and his hard fullness inside her core. Tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed on the skin of his chest as she came. Colored lights burst behind her eyelids, leaving blackness in their wake. Vaguely she felt herself collapse on Damien’s broad chest, gasping for breath. Her eyelids were too heavy to lift, but it didn’t matter. Everything in her world—in the universe—was perfect.

“Katie?
Cherie
, are you all right?”

Damien’s voice was shaky with concern. She nodded into his shoulder. “Wonderful.”

His arms closed gently around her, shifted her slightly to the side so she was pillowed against his throat. “That you are,
mon ange
. That you are.”

* * * * *

Damien parked his Harley in front of the inconspicuous-looking building that housed his new office. He’d much rather be back at Katie’s loft tucked into bed with her, but duty called. Hers had called even earlier. Somewhere around noon she’d gone off to her job. Turned out the mayor had two paranormal task forces. One for law enforcement—the supernatural cop squad as Katie called it—and one for policy purposes. Katie was an architect and served as a housing-issues consultant on the policy team.

He took his helmet off and went into the building. After passing a surprisingly tough-looking desk sergeant—a troll, perhaps—he was ushered into a large office area, scruffy but comfortable and clearly designed for people bigger and heavier than average. He was greeted by a guy almost as tall and broad as he was, with long bronze-colored hair and eyes to match.

“Hi. I’m Bram Logan, your partner for the next few weeks. Welcome to Philadelphia.”

Logan seemed a reasonable sort. He was friendly, though there was watchfulness in his expression that boded well for his skill as a cop. Damien shook his hand and let the other man show him around the place.

“This is Frank McAuley. He’s in charge of surveillance for the unit.” Damien held out a hand, then realized his mistake and pulled it back with a grimace.

Frank gave a rueful smile as Damien’s hand passed right through Frank’s. “Sorry about that.”

“My fault,” he told the incorporeal ghost. “Pleased to meet you, Frank.” This time he affected a brief respectful bow.

He went on to meet several other interesting people before Logan showed him to a pair of face-to-face desks and told Damien to settle in. Damien immediately noted a photo on the other man’s desk—a beautiful blonde with delicately pointed ears.

“Your wife?” Logan sported a wedding band, so it was a safe bet.

Logan nodded, stifling a yawn. “Yep. That’s Twyla.”

“Pretty.”

“Th—” This time the yawn erupted. Logan shook his head. “Sorry. Not much sleep in the past few days. Pixie morning sickness is a bitch.”

“Ah. Well, congratulations, then.” It took a second for Damien’s brain to process the connection. “Pixie? Was she by any chance Katie Calhoun’s previous roommate?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah, the mayor said he was going to see if Katie could put you up for the interim. Everything okay there?”

Damien swallowed hard. It was easy to see that his new partner was fond of his wife’s friend. He’d have to tread carefully. He wasn’t sure exactly what sort of being Logan was, but he looked tough enough to be a threat, even to a gargoyle. “Everything’s fine. Ms. Calhoun seems like a very…special woman.”

Chapter Four

And wasn’t that the understatement of the year, he though later, sitting across from Katie at her kitchen table eating lasagna.

“You never did tell me why you were here in Philadelphia,” she remarked. They’d gone at it like minks on her living room floor the moment he’d walked in. Now they were taking a break for much-needed sustenance.

“The job?” He thought he’d try the easy answer but he wasn’t surprised when she shook her head.

“Okay. The gargoyle population has been having some problems. Our seers claim that they can be fixed by the recovery of certain magical artifacts. And according to the most recent vision, one of the artifacts is here in Philadelphia. So I was sent to try to find it.”

“What kind of artifact?” She sipped her red wine and played with the long antique necklace she always wore. With her dressed in nothing but an oversized hockey jersey and him in his boxers, it was hard to keep his mind on anything but sex, even the survival of his own race.

“A belt,” he told her. “Part of the original regalia of our ruler. When the gargoyles were created, we were given four talismans to protect our people. Over the years all four have been lost.” And without them, his people were dying.

“Created?”

He should have known her agile mind would seize on that. He sighed and started at the beginning. “Originally the gargoyles were one of the many tribes known as Goths. When we lost a major battle to another tribe, my people were given a choice—either be completely eradicated, or be transformed.”

“Transformed?”

He nodded. “Into guardians of a sort. By night we would be our natural selves, but by day, we would take on the aspects of demons and be set as stone statues on the cathedrals and castles built by our conquerors. We were granted four powerful objects to sustain the magic—a belt, a crown, a ring and a cup, each representing one of the four elements. In the hands of our chieftain and his mate, they balanced the negative power of our demonic curse.”

“Over the centuries our sentence was lightened as we performed acts of valor and mercy. We still transformed by daylight, but were only required to turn to stone to heal from an injury or illness. Later, even that change was only forced for a small portion of our lifespan as an encouragement to renew the population. Now we make our first transformation at puberty instead of in infancy and after we’ve reproduced the change becomes optional.”

“But somewhere along the way, the four artifacts were scattered and lost. Without them, our people are suffering. Babies are far less common. More and more of our children fail to survive the first change. And even adults in their prime are beginning to succumb to disease.”

“Do all of your people live in Montreal?”

“No. We began in what is now southern France, so our enclaves tend to be in areas settled by the French. The two largest on this continent are in Montreal and New Orleans, but there is a small colony in New York and in a few other cities. As far as I know, I am the only gargoyle currently in Philadelphia, though.”

“When you find this belt, will you return home?”

He stared into those piercing green eyes. “I had thought to. Now—I don’t know.”

“Do you know where to look?”

He shook his head. “I do not even know what it looks like. All I can do is remain alert and hope to recognize it if I see it.”

“I’ll help, of course.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “As will my coven. We’ll find the belt, Damien, goddess willing.”

There was silence for a moment. She toyed with her food, but he could see she was still worried about something.

“What is it,
cherie
?” He hadn’t let go of her hand and he gripped it tightly.

She nibbled her lip. “It didn’t occur to me until this morning that we didn’t…use anything. Not last night or this morning. Or then again when you came home. I’m an earth witch, which means fertility is part of my nature. I’ve always used protection before. I’ll admit I’m a little worried.”

Something clenched in Damien’s stomach at the thought of this vibrant creature growing round with his child. But he shook his head. “Don’t worry,
petite
. Gargoyles can only breed with other gargoyles. There is no chance we have conceived a child.”

“Oh. Good.” She toyed with her food some more and he fancied he heard a trace of disappointment mingled with the relief. “Doesn’t that make for an awfully inbred population?”

“There is a way. In the past, when one of my race found a mate, they were able to perform a conversion process, if the mate was willing to adopt the life of a gargoyle.”

“Only in the past?”

Damien nodded. As much as the idea of converting Katie to be his bride appealed, it was out of the question. Her life was far too precious to risk for such a thing. “It is too dangerous now. Perhaps once the regalia is found it will be safe again, but at the present time, it is not a risk I would be willing to take. In the last few decades many of the mates have failed to survive the conversion process.”

* * * * *

Katie’s mood was melancholy and contemplative as she cleared the kitchen and made her way up the stairs. Damien was in the living room using his laptop to contact his family back in Quebec, so she decided to take a few moments to center herself. How could she have fallen so hard for him so fast?

She stood by the window in her bedroom and lit a candle, then murmured the words to a spell for reflection and understanding. She held herself still while comprehension dawned. Ah. She was worrying about the wrong question. The how didn’t matter. The fact was she had fallen in love with Damien St. Pierre. Now she had to decide what to do about it.

Number one was to help him with his quest. That was a no-brainer. All of her contacts, all of her powers would be at his disposal. Secondly, she could help him by providing unconditional emotional support. Her love was a gift to be freely given with no expectation of return. While she hoped he would someday love her, she wouldn’t demand it. She’d felt a moment of hope when he’d described the conversion process, but she could only take the risk if she was convinced he truly loved her and wanted her as his mate. Otherwise she would continue as she was—his lover and his friend.

With that she decided that Damien’s spirits would benefit from a little lighthearted fun. She opened her toy drawer and perused the selection before deciding on a couple of all-time favorites. Her decision made, she shimmied out of her Flyers’ jersey and into something a little less comfortable.

* * * * *

Damien was shutting down his laptop when he heard music wafting down the stairs. Katie had confessed earlier that she shared his preference for jazz, so the smooth sound of a saxophone was no great surprise. It was almost five in the morning. He didn’t have too much time yet before changing and Katie would need sleep before she had to rise and go to work. He closed the lid on his computer and bounded up the stairs two at a time. He might not be able to make Katie his mate, but while there was life, there was hope. The seers said the artifacts could be found. If they were, he could marry Katie if she’d have him. Until then he wasn’t going to waste a moment of the time he was blessed to spend in her company.

When he reached the bedroom the lights were off and the room was lit by fat white candles. Katie sat in the center of the bed, her long legs folded into a lotus position. Damien’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he saw what she was—or wasn’t—wearing.

Black. Leather. Yum. His brain was able to come up with words, but not to string them together. Fish. Net. Stockings. He licked at his lips, afraid he was drooling. Spike. Heeled. Boots.

“Done working?” Her voice was a soft purr which matched the velvet kitten ears she was wearing on a headband. She wore some kind of little leather corset thing and a black silk thong. Black lace gloves covered her wrists and forearms but left her fingers free. In one hand she idly twirled the dangling ends of her long necklace, the antique gold one with the red and green stones.

He nodded.

“Good.” She uncoiled her legs and rolled to her feet beside the bed. She crooked one finger at Damien. “Come here.”

Obediently he stepped forward. His raging erection tented the front of the boxer shorts that were his only clothing.

“What a good boy you are.” She traced one finger down the center of his chest. “And good boys get rewarded.”

He could see the laughter bubbling up under the surface. He was nowhere near a submissive, but that was okay since she wasn’t really a dom. This was just a game and he loved the fact that she felt safe enough to play. He smiled back and wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? And what happens to bad boys?”

Her grin melted what little wall he had left around his heart. He felt it go, felt himself fall all the way in love with her when she giggled and replied. “Oh, they get rewarded even more.”

She slid her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and worked them to the floor. When he stepped out of them, she put both hands against his chest and lightly shoved him onto the bed. He went willingly, happy to enjoy whatever her inventive mind had planned.

“Scoot up.” There was a big pile of pillows padding the wrought iron headboard. Damien immediately followed instructions and reclined against them. True to her word, Katie rewarded him by climbing onto the bed and straddling his hips. His cock strained upward, brushed against the scrap of wet silk between her legs before she scooted forward and sat on his chest.

The first thing she did was lean down and kiss him. His arms wrapped up around her as her lips softly nibbled along his, tasting and exploring. He tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back with another smile.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her finger playfully near his nose. “Not yet. Now close your eyes.”

He did, content to let her take charge. He felt her lean over, heard the clatter of plastic as she took something off the nightstand. Then his eyes flew open in shock as she snapped a handcuff around his wrist and manacled it to the iron bedpost. While he lay there stunned, she clipped the other wrist to the opposite post. She perched on his chest, grinning.

“You realize I could break these if I wanted to?”

Her musical laugh warmed his soul. “Honey, if you hadn’t noticed, the cuffs are plastic.
I
could break them. And I have no doubt if you really put your mind to it, you could rip the headboard apart. Relax and have some fun, okay? Today was your first day at a new job. You’ve earned a little playtime.”

He had to concede the point. And since she was wiggling her delectable ass down his body, he quickly decided she was right. She stopped with her pussy riding the ridge of his erection and teased him with her damp heat. Then she reached over and pulled a couple more objects from the nightstand.

“What now?” He didn’t even try to keep the chuckle out of his voice.

“No talking.” She waved a small paintbrush at him. “Or you’ll force me to add a blindfold.”

She dipped the brush into a small jar and began to paint a design on his chest. The fine hairs tickled against his skin, but it was worth the minor torment to watch Katie’s face while she worked. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and squinted as she meticulously traced symbols on his skin.

“What—”

“Ah!” She shook her head, reminding him he wasn’t supposed to speak. He nodded his apology and was rewarded with a quick buss on his chin before Katie went back to her work. She shifted her hips occasionally as she worked, rubbing her cleft along the ridge of his aroused cock.

“There!” She straightened up and inspected her artwork. “Perfect.”

Then she moved. At first he was disappointed to lose the weight on his erection, but she turned and swung the other leg over his hips, ending in the same place she’d started but facing his feet. The new position robbed him of the sight of her face, but he was compensated with a view of her luscious ass. Forgetting the cuffs, he moved to fill his hands with her cheeks, but was brought up short by the restraints. Sure, he could have snapped them in a heartbeat, but he was having fun. So he stared instead, mentally lining up all the ways he was going to pay her back. They’d both enjoy every minute.

She painted something on his thigh and he realized the design on his chest was heating up. Apparently whatever paint she was using had warming oil in it. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant, but it was increasing his arousal, making him even hotter for Katie, more impatient to be inside her. She finished her artwork on one leg then switched to the other. She’d started humming along with the stereo and her hips swayed in time to the music, which added to the friction on his cock. He moaned when she lifted off him again, this time coming to rest between his legs, facing him.