And he would not be the kind to leave his bones on the floor again, either.
He was dwelling in these sulky thoughts, counting down the minutes until the sun set and he could shake off his day-dust, when a key turned in the lock.
He groaned internally. The humans were back to torment him further. Perhaps they’d wash his feet this time to really drive it home.
But instead of the cloaked keepers he expected, a different figure slipped into the room, carrying a bucket. He recognized the long-haired female who smelled sharply of citrus and herbs.
She was the one whose illegal garden he’d confiscated. The one whoclaimedshe wasn’t a thief, although the lie was obvious now that she was creeping around his dining room, opening drawers and pilfering silver spoons.
She glanced at him over her shoulder as she stowed them under the rags in her bucket. Then she stood on tiptoe to freethe gilded cup he’d been awarded when he became a commander from its shelf.
Was she stupid or suicidal? The sun would set any minute now, and even if she escaped his quarters, she’d be locked in a tower of gargoyles twice her size with a bucket of stolen goods. Not to mention, he’d seen her every move. With his testimony, she’d lose both her hands and maybe her neck.
Unless she thought he wouldn’t turn her in. After all, he hadn’t when he caught her before. Maybe she believed he lacked morality…or worse, lacked loyalty to his kind. The assumption infuriated him.
He was a fool. Duped by those wide, brown eyes into thinking she was innocent as a calf, when she was a criminal at heart, one who thought to exploit his compassion because she didn’t even try to leave before the sun set.
The instant the last beam of light slipped behind the horizon, heburstout of the thin shell of stone that had formed during the day. Her neck was in his grasp in a second, her edible scent filling his senses.
“Devious little worm,” he snarled in her face, shaking her slightly in his anger. Her bucket clattered to the floor, loudly spilling its contents. “You think to steal fromme? After I showed youmercy?”
She bared her tiny teeth and sank them into the only place she could reach: the meaty section between his thumb and forefinger. He nearly dropped her, not because it hurt—her teeth were too blunt to fully pierce his hide—but because he was so shocked that she was fighting back.
“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.
She glared up at him and bit him again. When he didn’t react, she gave a screech of frustration and kicked his shin. From the look on her face, it hurt her foot more than his leg.
“Enough,” he growled. “You are only making it worse for yourself.”
“Good!” she shot back, surprising him yet again. “Go ahead, bite me! You know you want to!” She sank her teeth into his hand a third time, this time sending a small twinge of pain up his arm.
He dropped her, wincing as he flexed his fingers. The last thing he needed was to have his deployment delayed because he was stuck in a mason’s bed getting his tendon repaired. The Sixth Watch would assign another commander to his wing and leave without him. The thought pained him more than the bite.
The woman launched herself at him, taking advantage of his momentary distraction, but he blocked her easily, holding her at arm’s length while she flailed her limbs, tearing at him anywhere she could reach. He herded her until her back was against the wall, where he pinned her in place for her own safety until he could figure out how to contain her enough to deliver her to the Nadir.
“Bite me!” she begged, her eyes welling with those pointless, corrosive human tears as she squirmed against his hold. “I stole from you. I attacked you. I deserve it!”
“What in Tael-Nost are you trying to accomplish here? Do you have a death wish?” He had heard of humans scaling the outside of the Tower to fling themselves off a high tier, but he’d never heard of one trying to provoke a gargoyle to anger. “Let me tell you something, little human. Gargoyles don’tbite.”
“You bite prey,” she insisted, her cheeks reddening. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. She was still trying to get away, though, arching her back so her breasts pressed into the hollow of his palm. It made him too conscious of her strange, soft body. He didn’t like how it made him feel. “You bitegoblins.”
“We kill or we don’t kill, nothing in between.” Therewasone exception, although it didn’t concern her. Gargoyles bit theirmates to establish a mind bond. It let them share feelings and find each other anywhere. But the mating bite was a sacred act, not merely hunger or violence. Certainly not one he’d share with a human, no matter how delectable she smelled or soft she was. “If you want to die, you’ll have to find another way, but I doubt you’ll have much opportunity in the Nadir’s gaol.”
The perplexing little human’s olive skin paled to an unhealthy grayish color. He didn’t understand how she was so fearful and so brave all at once. “Please, don’t turn me in. They’ll take my hands. You might as well kill me outright.”
“You should have considered that before you stole from me,” he hissed, fury rising in him. He’d devoted his life to solving human problems and now she gave him even more. “I do notwantyou to lose your cursed little hands, but you are the one who thrust the responsibility upon me. Your mutilation will weigh on meforever, but what choice do I have? You have given me none.”
She let out a shuddering breath and slumped against the wall, ceasing her struggles. “I’m sorry. I was being stupid. I was angry at you for ruining my garden and wanted to get you in trouble, so I was trying to provoke you enough to bite me. But I wasn’t really stealing. I wouldn’t have taken them. You still have all your spoons right there.” She nodded toward the mess on the floor, like it was proof of innocence rather than guilt.
“Brandt?” came Ghantal’s croaky, just-woken voice, seconds before the door to her chambers opened. Instinctively, he thrust the little female behind the heavy tapestry wall-hanging and stepped in front of it to hide her from view. His mother appeared, rubbing her eyes and stretching her wings. “Is there trouble? I heard a noise.”
“No trouble. I was just counting the cutlery and dropped some. Go back to sleep,” he added more gently. “Rest until you haveto dress for whatever skyball you’re attending tonight. The hunt took a lot out of you, and you’ll want to dance.”
“It’s a Fledging feast,” she corrected, yawning. “But you’re right, there will be dancing.” She retreated to her nest, the heavy oak door thudding shut behind her.
“Why did you hide me from your mate?” came a smothered little voice.
He extracted the human from the dusty tapestry. A few strands of her dark hair had loosened from the long plait down her back to curl appealingly around her hairline.
