Stone Passions Trilogy (65 page)

He had watched his immediate brothers make fools of themselves over their women, laughing at them because he was never going to succumb to the madness of love. Armand’s conceit led him into ruin and he became frigidly cold because he gave up his nights to a girl who didn’t love him enough, no matter that he didn’t love her. Vaughn let his dick lead him astray, falling fast and hard for the delightful Melanie. But look where it got him: a statue in every sense of the word until the love of his life died, unless they succeeded in their quest.

Now, Rhys’s chest virtually ached with love and it terrified him. He told outlandish tales just to make her laugh, a sound more beautiful than a host of heavenly angels singing. It scared him how he found serene joy in simply holding her as she slept, feeling her slight weight as she sprawled across his body in contented slumber. Or when she was awake and they talked about everything and nothing. Or when he carried her home from a night out enjoying London after dark.

He loved trailing kisses along her shoulder, her neck, kissing her lightly until she stirred, blinking her beautiful eyes in confusion before focusing on him and giving him the sweetest smile. He drowned in her eyes, which were the most striking shade of blue, seeing farther into his soul than he was comfortable with and he wished she’d see further still. She was so finely crafted it was a wonder she could take all of his cock into her lissome body, almost as if she were crafted especially for him. So far their sex had been pretty vanilla because he was afraid of scaring her off if he introduced her to his darker needs too soon.

But she had made love to him as a gargoyle. Even if his cock hadn’t entered her tight cunt they had made love. There had been no preparing him for the intense pleasure he felt when she touched him as a gargoyle, when she tormented his stone cock with her mouth. Perhaps she'd be okay with something more than vanilla….

She looked up at him, her expression bright as she smiled her sweet smile, “You’re very quiet this evening, Rhys. Have I bored you to tears already?”

“On the contrary,” he crooned, reaching out and cupping her cheek in his hand, loving the feel of her soft skin against his palm. He loved how her eyes darkened and her breathing changed when he touched her. She wanted him with the same desperation that he wanted her. He doubted he would ever grow bored of her, not when he hungered for her so desperately. Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear, “I think I’m going to tie you to my bed tonight.”

Her lips parted and she inhaled sharply, her eyes darkening even more even as a blush stained her cheeks. Those luminous eyes darted to each of his brothers sitting across the table and then to Zin, the small pixie who was serving their food and listening to the conversation with keen interest.

Zin’s wings beat rapidly as she hovered by the table, her purple-rose eyes too large for her slender elfin face. Long strands of purple and rose hair twined and twirled down her slender back. She was braver than most pixies, despite the tales told by other pixies to keep them safe from humans. Zin had no qualms about serving Jenna and urged the others to be braver, that the human wasn’t going to try to capture them or eat them.

Zin was of the opinion that only brown-eyed humans ate pixies and Jenna had blue eyes so she was all right. Rhys had tried to correct her on her misinformation, that generally humans didn’t eat pixies at all. But she insisted that brown-eyed humans devoured pixies in their spare time, at least when they weren’t busy lying in wait for foolish leprechauns so they could steal the pots of gold, or any number of evil things.

There was simply no reasoning with Zin and her fear of brown-eyed humans.

As Zin flew about the room, Rhys leaned closer to Jenna and whispered, “Don’t worry about my brothers, love. They’re not paying any attention to what we’re discussing.”

“It’s safe to assume that it wouldn’t take much to figure it out,” she countered saucily. He loved how she was blossoming right before his eyes.

He chuckled as she lowered her lashes, brushing his thumb over the soft ripeness of her rosy lips. Glancing down, he watched the pebbled peaks of her nipples strain against her damp shirt. Ignoring Zin, his brothers, the other pixies, he brushed his other thumb over one of the taut buds and lowered his voice to a husky growl, “I think the thought of being bound to my bed excites you. I think you’re getting wet just thinking about it.”

Her blush deepened but she raised her lashes and looked at him. The tip of her tongue touched his thumb and it was his turn to draw in a harsh breath. She leaned forward and for a moment he thought she was going to kiss him. Instead, her slender fist wrapped around his cock beneath the loose material of his pants and he hissed in pleasure. Brushing her thumb unerringly over the tip, she smiled a sultry smile, “As if just thinking about it hasn’t made you hard enough to ravage me right here and now.”

He put his hand over hers as she continued to stroke him, loving the brain-frying sensation of her hand on his cock. Without thinking, he pushed his pants down just enough to free the ravenous beast, wanting, needing, to feel her hand on his naked flesh. Her eyes darted to where Zin still hovered, the little pixie’s eyes lit with knowing amusement but he didn’t care, he needed her to touch him.

Rowan appeared behind him and put his hand on Rhys’s shoulders in a brotherly grip, “We’re heading out soon. Are the two of you joining us again?”

“Of course,” Rhys agreed easily. “We’ll be there shortly.”

“Don’t forget about us and start fucking again,” Rowan grinned. “There’s a club we want to hit before all of the tourists show up. And you might want to put your dick away. We generally frown on fucking where we eat… unless there’s a party. Then it’s all right.”

“Okay.” After watching his three brothers saunter off, he turned back and saw Jenna watching him with a slight frown.

She tugged at her hand and reluctantly he let her go, amusement and denied release twisting him up. Chuckling, he tucked his cock away and shrugged, “I suppose we can’t spend all of our time together making love.”

“Unfortunately,” she said primly, folding her hands in her lap, a slight smile curving her lips as she took a bite of the food. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and he could see the sparkling laughter in the deep blue pools of her eyes, “Of course, if we were to spend all of our time making love then I would also get to enjoy you when you’re a gargoyle and when would I sleep?”

“If that were to happen I don’t think
I’d
be able to walk by the time we reached Greece,” he teased, though he was more than a little serious. “Once we arrived I doubt you’d be able to carry me through Athens to get to the docks and the boat that will taking us to mother’s island.”

She cocked her head to the side and asked, “Your mother has an entire island to herself?”

His lips parted as he realized something very important: he hadn’t told her who his mother was, just that she was a gargoyle. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, taking her hand in his, ignoring her tempting breasts and his unruly cock. She watched him with an open and curious expression, totally oblivious to the bombshell he was about to drop. “Um, my mother is, er, Medusa.”

She simply stared at him for several long, drawn out heartbeats. Catching her lower lip between her pearly white teeth, she arched a single, elegant eyebrow, and remarked with suspicion, “Medusa is your mother.”

“Yes.” He nodded his head, desperate for the ability to read her thoughts, at least about this. For the most part, he enjoyed discovering her bit by bit but this was too important, it was his mother. “Medusa.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, abusing her poor lip by chewing on it. Reaching up, she placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Damn, I can’t tell if you’re running a fever or not because you always run so hot. Are you sure you’re not ill?”

Grabbing her hand, he brought it to his lips, holding it there as he spoke, “Medusa is my mother, Jenna, and the myths surrounding her are simply that: myths.”

“Um, your mother is a myth,” she remarked with bemusement.

“Sweetheart, you’re having this conversation with a gargoyle in the penthouse suite of a group of gargoyles with pixies serving a meal prepared by a demon,” he grinned, pleased when her fingers curled just enough so she could touch him with their tips. “Is it really that hard to believe that my mother is who I say she is?”

“Yes?” she faltered, her expression clearly stating her befuddlement. “It’s just, well,
Medusa
. I’ve known about her since I was a little girl and read about her in a book of mythology that Lenni had checked out of the library.”

“Wh….” He had to clear his throat before he could continue, absurdly nervous to hear the story from her luscious lips. He was even more nervous to see her reaction. “What myth did you read?”

“After the first tale I tried to read all of them,” she said, shaking her head a little, clearly a little dumbstruck. “My favorite, and the most tragic, was the story of her falling in love with a god and being cursed by a bitter goddess who was jealous of her beauty and their love. The jealous wretch turned her into a hideous beast that turned men to stone with a single look and then the witch encouraged the hotheaded Perseus to kill her.

“Medusa’s story fascinated me and I have always believed she got screwed over,” she huffed an incredulous laugh as she gaped at him. “You’re telling me that she wasn’t killed by some punk and she’s your mother?”

“Yes.” Relief flooded him as she spoke so fervently on his mother’s behalf and while her version contained some truth but it wasn’t the complete story.

Her hand slammed over her mouth and her eyes widened in alarm, “Oh, god, don’t tell me you and your brothers are the sons of that union.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, carefully, watching the color leech from her face in an imitation of his gargoyle when he returned to stone. “But I think you already know the truth.”

“But you told me you were only a few hundred years old,” she wheezed, having difficulty with grasping the reality of his existence. “The myth of Medusa has been around for thousands of years.”

“It’s part of the curse,” he admitted softly, wondering how much he would be allowed to tell her before the fates stepped in and stopped the words from coming. Unless they had no intention of stopping him, which was worrisome in and of itself, what were their intentions? “The myths were created for her protection, for
our
protection.”

So far, the fates had been amazingly lenient. Perhaps it was because of the journey the two of them were taking and the fates wanted her to be prepared. It might have been better for Vaughn and Melanie had the fates not been so stingy when they were courting. He remembered how fiendishly curious Melanie had been, and how little information any of them had been allowed to give her. But he doubted it would have made a difference because the girl had been hopelessly in love with his brother from the moment they met.

At Jenna’s questioning look, he moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, “My parents are given a few years together when the stars align or the planets come together, or some such nonsense, every five hundred years and they always have three sons.”

“Three gargoyles,” she clarified. “Like you and your brothers?”

He nodded, “Yes. And before you ask, my London brothers are the result of my mother’s and father’s time prior to my pod of brothers. We joined Artaire, Bar and Rowan in London when we were still young and then we arrived in the New World when we were old enough to guard our own territory.”

For a few minutes he talked about the changes that he had witnessed in his lifetime as she listened in rapt fascination. Knowing that there wasn’t a lot of time to go into a great deal of depth, he just highlighted the wonder of the past century, going from horse-drawn carriages to driving in cars to flying in planes to travelling in space.

“So, your mother is a gargoyle, too?” she asked tentatively, her eyes wide and her pupils large. “Of course she is. You told me that on the plane, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered simply, watching her as she picked up her fork and pushed the food around on the plate. “You can imagine what her gargoyle form is.”

She slowly nodded her head, her eyes troubled as she took in everything he was telling her. Her face was so expressive he could see the wheels spinning and it was fascinating. She had such a quick mind and it enchanted him as much as it turned him on. He could have saved the conversation for when they were closer to the island but he knew that she would need the time to absorb everything and be prepared.

“Can I get you anything else, Master Rhys?” Zin asked in her crystal clear, high-pitched voice.

“I’m good,” he grinned, patting his stomach. For the first time in his life he was too nervous to eat anything more. His brothers would be shocked. “Thank you, Zin.”

The little pixie turned to Jenna, her purple-rose eyes growing even wider, as she breathlessly asked, “And for you, human?”

Jenna blinked and looked at Zin, staring at the small creature for a moment in bewilderment before she returned to the present. Her lips curled into a smile but her eyes were still troubled, “Oh, no, thank you.”

“Perhaps a plate of fruit?” Zin offered, obviously reluctant to leave the human.

Jenna’s smile relaxed and she nodded, “Um, sure.”

Zin beamed, buzzing away to gather a fruit tray, her hair fluttering about her wings. Within moments she had returned, bearing a platter over flowing with exotic and not-so-exotic fruits. With an elaborate flourish, she set it on the table, her eyes darting to Jenna to gage the human’s reaction. When Jenna smiled her approval, Zin puffed up in pride. “If you need anything, just holler for a dog.”

“I think you mean whistle,” Rhys corrected.

“No, holler,” Zin countered, opening her mouth and letting out a piercing whistle. As Jenna and Rhys slammed their hands over their ears, Zin smiled in self-satisfaction, “See? Holler for a dog.”

“Yes, quite,” Rhys grumbled, giving the point to the pixie because her holler was very much a whistle.