“I am not here to hurt you. I am here to protect you. All I want is to protect you,” I growl. “You do not understand the danger you are in!”
She jerks in my embrace, the only indication she hears me at all. “Please.Please, just let me go.”
My lips twist. “Not until we speak. I am awake because of you, and because of that, you are no longer safe!”
She is tense despite her terror dispersing. She hitches, trembling as she wraps her hands on my banded arms and grips my tough flesh, shoving me away from her. I don’t give, waiting for her to flail again, except she doesn’t. She settles. Slowly, surely, she surrenders.
“If I release you, will you listen to what I have to say?” I ask, my voice thickening. Her body is warm and supple compared to mine. She is all soft whereas I’m jagged and cold. I have very few edges that could not be used as a weapon.
I could easily hurt her. So very easily. One thrash of my wings would send her flying across the room. I need to be careful.
“If you release me—” she breathes around the words “—I’ll… I’ll listen. Yes, I’ll listen.”
Satisfied, I let her go. She stumbles away, unbalanced as she backs into the corner of her room, and then she pivots, picking up a solid wooden stick. She brandishes it.
I miss her softness, her warmth immediately. My fingers curl as I lower my arms and clench them at my sides.
“That stick will do nothing against me,” I say with amusement.
She grips it tighter. Her hair has fallen wildly around her. Its beauty catches my eye.
“You’re… You are…” She’s shaking so much she can’t form the words. Her gaze wanders over my form.
“The one who can protect you—”
“The gargoyle from the museum.”
“That too,” I agree, tucking my wings inward.
“How?” Her gaze snaps to them and returns to my face. She has blue eyes. Blue like the summer sky. She blinks them wildly, straightening those thick glasses she wears. I want nothing more than to pull them off of her face and crush them in my hand. “How is this possible? How are you speaking? Are youalive?”
I cock my head to the side. “You invoked me. You bled on me and then woke me with my name. Don’t you know this?”
She seems surprised. No one has ever attempted to invoke me without understanding the risk. Now it seems she did it by accident.
When she swallows, her throat bobs, attracting my eyes to the column of her throat. It flutters like butterfly wings, stealing my attention. It’s delicate, like the rest of her. My hand could easily wrap around it.
Bats eat butterflies. And if I am like any creature in this realm, it is a bat. They surround me even now.
She points her stick, glancing at her hand where there’s a small cut that is healing. “I did no such thing.”
“You did, otherwise I would not be here.”
It is easy to falsely blame her for this meeting, and I enjoy the surprise and the curiosity in her gaze. I need to learn how she reacts—is she truly as wonderful as she seemed from the depths of my dark slumber or is she Adrial’s pawn?
I suspect she is not.
Perhaps someday I will admit my role in our bonding. A truth I’m still ashamed of.
After the monastery was destroyed, I made a promise: no more humans would be involved.
It was a promise I could not keep. Not with her blood on my wing, an opportunity to bond with her. Iwantedher to awaken me. It was rash, selfish… I did not resist a connection with her. Curiosity, another new emotion, overcame me.
I am not supposed to feel this way—it is dangerous to have affection for a human—but after all these centuries, I have developed beyond the intentions of my angelic makers.
She shivers. “I’m just a clerk. I run the museum when Hopkins is out. You’re mistaken. You have got to be mistaken.”
My brow furrows, and she tenses, clutching her stick closer to her chest. Her pulse trembles. “You said my name.”
