Red-Hot Lover by Mel Teshco

Author:Mel Teshco
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc.
Published: 2013-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

“No.” Her answer shocked even her. It wasn’t until that moment that she knew it was an impossible request, despite her earlier thoughts to the contrary. “I am a gargoyle. You can’t take that away from me. No one can.”

His hands dropped. He shook his head. “You’re right. Of course you’re right, I know that.” He moved back, releasing a jagged breath. “What was I thinking?”

She followed him and took hold of his arm. Sometimes the best defense was direct attack. And she really, really wanted to attack him right then, make him pay for wanting to take away her only escape from the terrible memories haunting her every single day. “Why don’t you tell me, Saul? What were you thinking?”

He shook his head. “Bloody hell, Zee. Don’t you see? I don’t want to lose you. Not again.” His eyes closed, concealing his pain. “But your fierce independence, your free spirit, it’s a big part of you and I can’t change that. I don’t want to change that!”

Her fingers tightened on his arm, squeezing the taut muscle. “Trussing me up with rules is what pushed me away the first time.”

He nodded, releasing a heavy breath. “I know.” He grinned ruefully. “Mortal rules don’t apply to you. They never have. You’re no one’s puppet.” The hand he moved to cup beneath her chin was all gentle tenderness this time. “I can’t believe I just tried to change that.”

She released a sigh, tension ebbing. Everything was going to be all right.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Let’s dance.”

“But your men are waiting.”

“It’s my party, my birthday. And I want to spend it with you.”

He drew her back into the showroom they’d vacated. The women were still there, drinking their coffee and tea, a couple of them tossing back champagne in slender flutes. Their eyes went wide as Saul walked her out onto the polished wooden floor that occasionally served as a dance floor.

He pulled her into his arms, nodding at the man who’d returned to play piano. A dreamy, romantic piece filled the room, at complete odds with the women’s stares that cut into her back like hot blades.

“We’ve got a rapt audience,” she said with an arched brow.

“Mmm. Every single one of them is wishing they were you.”

Yes. They each want to be the woman in your arms. Her laugh was half hysterical. “Not if they saw the gargoyle side of me.”

He pulled his head back. “You look nothing like those gargoyle statues that guard cathedrals. You hardly change at all in your winged form.”

True. Except for a thickening of her spine and her huge wings, there wasn’t a lot of visible change, despite the tales to the contrary.

“You don’t like me as a gargoyle.” Funny, having said it aloud, bitter emotions immediately churned within, her vision swimming with the threat of tears.

His nostrils flared. “I love you in any form. What I despise is the fact your wings, your love of flying, means I may one day lose you.

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