Stone Passions Trilogy (112 page)

“You won’t die, Dragon-Mate” Fray whispered and Ferris had a brief moment of absolute peace. Holding her arms out to the side, she closed her eyes and fell. The wind rushed past her face and she had a slight panic attack that perhaps she shouldn’t have trusted the golden pocket dragon. After all, he spent most of his time as a tattoo on her body and couldn’t really have the power to keep her from splattering all over the sidewalk. She was sorely tempted to dredge up the powers she had spent years suppressing and simply fly away, if such a thing were even possible.

Fray's velvet rough laughter wrapped around her as the sensation of falling became the sensation of floating. Morbidly curious, she opened her eyes and watched the modern world blur around the edges before fading to whiteness and she thought perhaps she had died and her soul was flying off to Heaven.

Except as she watched the white clouds faded. She stared in fascination as the landscape changed before her eyes, the buildings being built in reverse, the roads being rolled up to nothing, until the land was a mass of farmlands and then acres of massive trees. With a whoosh she was flying over the virgin country, across a massive body of water, to a world made of stone and bricks and wood.

Then she was falling and her arms and legs flailed out, her heart jack-knifing in her chest. But she simply fell a foot and landed on a soft, feather bed. The room’s only light came from the open windows, letting her see the dark wood, gorgeous tapestries and heavy furniture that dominated the space. It was like something out of a historical movie and she swung her legs over the side of the bed and started to stand up to explore her new surroundings.

But her legs got tangled in the calf length linen chemise and she frowned as she sat there and straightened the material out. It quickly became apparent that her body was not her own. With a sharp inhalation of breath, she studied her hands more closely, seeing that the pale flesh was wrong and where was the midnight blue fingernail polish? Running her fingers over her face, her blood burned as it pulsed through her body: her face was the wrong shape, her nose had a slight bump and her mouth was too small. In dread, she ran her tongue over her teeth followed by her fingers when she felt the uneven teeth.

Flying off the bed, she looked around for a mirror or a reflective surface or anything to find out what was wrong with her. There was nothing on the walls or the dresser so she stepped back and looked around the room, her hands on her slightly wider hips. With a frown, she looked down at her body and saw that her breasts were also smaller than she remembered and she seemed a little closer to the floor. Was that right? Did she shrink a couple of inches?

Slowly, trying to take in the changes to her body, her surroundings, she made her way over to the armoire and pulled the doors open to find a stranger staring back. She almost apologized and closed the doors before she came to her senses and realized that the stranger in the armoire was her, looking at her from a highly reflective piece of metal. Her long brown hair was even longer but it was now blond; her blue-green eyes were a warm, chocolaty brown; her face was a little rounder in shape and she was very pale, as if her skin had never seen the sun.

Touching her mouth, she manually pulled her lower lip down to examine her teeth, not especially shocked to see they were slightly colored and crooked, though not too badly. When she curved her lips she found she had a nice, rather shy smile. A hysterical giggle escaped and she slammed her hand over her mouth, watching in surprise as her brown eyes flashed blue-green. Leaning closer, she watched as the color morphed back to the warm brown and she frowned.

“The eyes are the hardest to disguise and their true color keeps shining through.” Fray’s familiar deep voice murmured from behind her. Spinning around, she saw the golden dragon lounging on the bed, his lips curved into a brilliant smile. “Under heightened emotional situations, they’ll flash between your color and her color.”

Ferris took a moment to absorb his words, her pulse fluttering madly as she put it all together. Still, she was afraid to ask, afraid she already knew the answer. “Who am I?”

Fray’s smile grew even wider. “Do you really need to ask?”

Ferris put a hand against her stomach to quell the butterflies that were whooshing around in her belly as she anxiously looked around the room, realizing why it looked like a set in a historical film. She was Katrina, the evil bitch who broke Armand. Turning back to her image, she had to admit that Katrina didn’t look evil. Instead she looked young, maybe twenty, and incredibly… innocent. And so bloody sweet it hurt Ferris's heart to look at her. Even her crooked teeth were endearing.

Examining herself in the reflective surface, she pulled the gown taut against her body to examine her new shape. As she thought: her hips were slightly wider and her breasts were slightly smaller. While her body was thin it wasn’t exactly toned, as if Katrina didn’t spend her days at the gym. Ferris snorted at her own thoughts; she didn’t think there were modern gyms in Elizabethan England.

Spinning around, she faced Fray again, a smile stretching her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if the smile was from excitement or sheer terror. “Exactly how far back did you take me?”

“The beginning,” he grinned.

Looking outside at the setting sun, she squealed in delight and threw on a robe. She grabbed a thick, wool blanket and rushed through the country manor as if she had navigated the mid-sized mansion all of her life. She didn’t spare a second thought questioning the skill. In her haste to get outside to the garden she didn’t waste any time looking around at her surroundings either.

She knew she passed several people on her headlong rush to get to Armand but she didn’t stop to chat or explain why she was running around in nothing more than a simple chemise and robe. There was no time. In moments the sun would be setting and Armand…. She smiled to herself: Armand would be changing back to a man and she had one more chance to see the transformation.

Skidding to a halt, she picked her way through the garden and all of the statues in it. Really, there was little wonder Armand thought he would pass by unnoticed in the extensive statue garden. With all of the fantastical beasts that took up residence there, a mythological griffin could easily belong because who in their right mind would think a statue could simply appear?

Further back, where the statues were covered in vines, she saw him, the proud griffin that was Armand. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the magnificent gargoyle, his gray stone skin nearly golden beneath the setting sun. His eyes kept glaring at her and if she were anyone else she wouldn’t have noticed and her brain would have automatically assumed he was as he always was. But she was Ferris, Dragon-Mate of Fray, mother of gods, and a little bit of a goddess. She saw him as he truly was and it took everything in her power to keep from wrapping her arms around him and hugging him and never letting him go.

Tentatively, she reached out her hand and ran it across the hard, marble thigh, loving the warmth of his stone skin. A sound hissed out from between his stone lips as he tried to will her away. She felt the tendrils wrapping around her and she almost melted as Armand’s phantom fingers urged her away. He wasn’t as powerful as he was in the future but she knew that it would only be a matter of time. Also, spending sixty some years as a statue would make him stronger since a gargoyle who gave up his nights received a surge of power in return.

Ignoring the pleasurable ache, she kept her eyes on his face, waiting for the moment the sun set completely and he was a man once more. The last time she watched him change she had been up close and very personal. And then everything went to Hell and she ended up back in the late 1500’s as Katrina.

How did she know what era it was? Or, for that matter, how to navigate the house?

The last of the light flared briefly as the sun set and then the magic moment came and she held her breath as cold gray stone became warm living flesh. The bulky muscles of the gargoyle became the sleek muscles of the man and as her eyes drifted downwards over his hard body she remembered she was supposed to be a virginal miss.

Blushing, she could only stare as she held the wool blanket up, offering it to the incredibly young Armand. He wore an expression of panic as he gaped at her with wide, beautiful green eyes, as heightened color stained his cheeks. None of the jaded-ness was there in those green depths, just youthful mischief and embarrassment. He looked the same age he did in her time but she knew he couldn’t be more than forty or fifty, maybe a little older. Quickly, he grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around his lean hips, covering the very masculine part of his anatomy.

“You’re magnificent,” Ferris breathed, unable to tear her gaze away from the younger version of the man she had loved for so long. There was no darkness in his eyes, no coldness. He was simply Armand in all of his exuberant youth and her heart ached a little bit in her chest.

Despite his initial embarrassment, his cockiness asserted itself in no time and he gave her a smile that melted her panties, had she been wearing any. “So, aren’t you a little bit curious about me, about what you just saw?”

Her blush deepened, moving down her throat as she lowered her lashes and tried to act demure, “Of course. It’s not every day one sees a statue become a man.”

“You should really forget what you just saw,” he murmured, stepping closer and brushing his forefinger along her jaw. Heat sizzled along her skin and it took all of her will power to not lean into the caress and sigh in pleasure. Even five hundred years in the past his touch still affected her profoundly. She would never grow tired of such a simple yet powerful act.

“I have no desire to forget,” she whispered, daring to lift her lashes and catching the surprise and hint of something more in his laughing green eyes.

He grinned at her, “My brothers are going to kill me for being discovered by a human.”

Cocking her head to the side, she wondered if he was talking about Vaughn and Rhys. But then she remembered how the younger gargoyles were fostered by older gargoyles. That meant he had to be talking about the London gargoyles, a triad that Ferris had only met once, and only briefly at that. As gorgeous as they had been they had been even more world-weary than Armand and their ingrained apathy made her pity them.

He arched his arrogant eyebrow and she realized that he expected her to say something. Or do something, possibly faint. With a coquettish smile, she said, “They’ll only kill you if you tell them.”

He threw his head back and laughed, a deep, rumbling belly laugh that washed over her and through her, leaving a melted pile of Ferris in its wake. “Then I must be off before my brothers discover my transgressions. Thanks for the blanket, Miss?”

“Fe….” She was about to give him her name before she stopped herself just in time. Slowly, the name coming to her as she spoke it, she murmured, “Featherstone. Miss Katrina Featherstone.”

Her brows pulled together as the name spilled from her lips. How had she known Katrina’s familial name? Her thoughts were interrupted when he took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. As his hot breath moved over her skin, she didn’t even remember her own name. His eyes smiled as he warmly murmured, “It’s an honor, Miss Featherstone.”

The heat of his lips spread through her body and all the way to her toes. Catching her lower lip between her teeth and trying not to squirm, Ferris tried for seductive and squeaked instead, “And you are?”

His smile was back and his green eyes danced with laughter, making her breath hitch almost painfully in her throat. A dark and brooding Armand was deadly; a light-hearted and teasing Armand was catastrophic, and she wasn’t sure if it was in a good way or a bad way. His lips moved and she forced herself to listen to his words, smiling as he said, “Armand Nosuntres, at your service.”

“You're a gargoyle," she hurriedly stated, desperate to keep him near and never let him out of her sight again. At his single nod, she racked her brain trying to figure out what she could say that would make him stay. When he smiled and turned to leave, she blurted, "What do gargoyles do?"

“We are the guardians between this world and the world beneath,” he explained quickly, his cheeks washed with color. He looked like he would rather be anywhere but in that garden but she didn't want him to go, not yet. “We protect humans from the dangers that lurk beyond their understanding and we erase the memories of those that stumble upon our world."

"Oh, don't erase my memories," she quickly pleaded.

Startled, he looked at her, truly looked at her. Gently, almost kindly, he said, "It would be better for you if I did."

"It wouldn't," she protested fiercely. "I know it wouldn't."

A slight smile quirked his lips as he touched her cheek with the tip of his fingers. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

"No," she whispered, staring at him with her heart in his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound warm and carefree. Shaking his head, he winked at her and said, "I really must be off.”

"I'll see you again, won't I?" Hope swelled in her chest at the possibility of having a different life with Armand. Maybe he was her destiny in the past.

"Maybe." He ducked around another statue and picked up a bundle of clothes before he bounded out of sight, leaving Ferris staring after him with her heart in her throat and a smile on her lips.

Suddenly, the air rushed over her and she was surrounded by the white fog once more and she cried out, “No!”

“Relax, Dragon-Mate,” Fray’s voice said calmly, the heat of his body wrapping around her thigh. “We’re just moving a little further along.”

Before Ferris could process his words, the room solidified and she found herself in a dark room with another person pressing hot, passionate kisses along her throat. She would recognize his scent anywhere and before she could think better of it, she clutched his shoulders and moaned, “Armand.”

She felt the smile against her skin as his hand moved along her breast, the hot palm burning her skin. Why were they in the dark? She would give anything to see his beautiful face, to look into his eyes as they made love. Would it be different making love to Armand when he didn’t hold such darkness, such loneliness, in his soul?