His chest rises sharply and falls when he sighs.
“I’ll go check on Cyrus and see if he’s up for the trip downtown. We need to get going soon.” It’s well past midnight, which leaves less than twelve hours before Harlow’s estate will be overrun with creatures willing to kill me to take my place.
When I push open the door to the attic, I find Cyrus crouched in his true form, looking like the demons of lore our kind were supposedly created to ward off. He turns his head to watch me enter. His gold and green eyes burn with knowledge when he looks at me.
Keeping me in his sights, he allows me to circle him. I run my palm over his rough, stony exterior. Other than Harlow, I haven’t had the opportunity to touch many gargoyles, at least not ones I would caress in this manner anyway. I know he can feel my touch, and although it’s different in this form, it’s still evocative.
“I’m going to visit the club shop. I want to speak with the wrench, and you need a ride.” My eyes follow my fingers until I’m standing in front of him again, and then I raise my gaze to his. “Would you like to come with us?” I offer, knowing he might prefer to stay here and continue to connect with our home, though I can already feel his presence pulsating within the walls of the church.
“I will accompany you,” he rumbles stoically.
“Be ready in ten?”
Instead of answering, he rises to his full height, which is near the ceiling at the peak, and shifts to his other form, which I appreciate just as much, especially since he’s nude and looking scrumptious. I stroke my hand over his beard, and he leans down to place a soft kiss on my lips without prompting. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to their open affection, but I hope I don’t. I love the surprise butterflies.
“I’m ready,” he says against my lips.
“You are? Just like this?” I reach down and stroke him once as my fingers wrap around his length. He grunts and thrusts into my palm. He was already growing hard, but I can feel him thickening and widening my grip.
“Lore!” Modeus shouts up the stairs. I wrinkle my nose and snap my hand back, knowing I got caught. “Aren’t we supposed to be leaving?”
Cyrus drops his forehead to mine. “I could fly him across town and be back in a flash,” he offers sweetly.
I pat his chest, feeling his short hairs against my palm. “He’s right, and we have all day when we get back.”
“You will be sleeping,” Modeus says, pushing into the attic. “Resting for nightfall and what’s to come.” His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks far more serious than I’m accustomed to.
“You’re lucky you’re so pretty and have a dick that can make me talk to God.” I pretend to glare at my demon.
“That’s not God, princess, it’s all me. Later, you’ll get on your knees and pray to your deity.” I roll my eyes, but his words still bring a smile to my lips. He slaps my ass hard when I sulk past him and praises, “Greedy,” like it’s the best compliment he could give.
* * *
Arrivingat Mickey’s is a relief. Cyrus is a big backpack, and my bike wasn’t exactly made for a second rider to begin with. It would have been easier to let him drive like he asked, but I couldn’t do it. I might be okay giving up power in the bedroom, but not when it comes to my ride.
The two large bay doors are open as we approach. Mickey ambles out with a dirty rag in one hand and squinted eyes. “I was wondering if you’d make it over.” She waves us into the huge pole barn and tosses the rag on a small station, where there’s an engine on the table.
There are a few other members milling about. Most of them continue to work, but a few openly observe us as Mickey leads us through the shop to the back, where her apartment is. The entire place smells like grease and gas. I fill my lungs as the memory of Harlow bringing me here for my first ride comes to me unbidden.
I push the recollection down to relive another time, but I’m grateful for the reminder. I wonder if little things like this will always make me think of him, and I wonder how long it will be before it doesn’t hurt so badly.
Mickey acknowledges my newest and last mate with a head nod. “Cyrus.” It’s clear they know each other. While I immediately want to know all the details, I curb that line of questioning when I realize that could be a good thing, because it means she might know about Adder.
“New rides are not the only reason we came,” I tell our long-time club wrench.
“I know that,” she replies and perches on the arm of her sofa. It’s a far cry from clean, but that doesn’t bother me. “That’s why I brought you back here.”
I decide to get right to the point. “What can you tell me about Adder, my cousin?”
Mickey sends a look in Cyrus’ direction but quickly returns her gaze to me. “Not much, unfortunately, other than his momma is a witch and Harlow always thought she had something to do with Arley’s death,” she admits.
That’s not news. Cyrus already told us Harlow thought the witches had a hand in my uncle’s death. “Why was this all kept from me?”
“You would have had to ask your daddy to be certain, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was because he wrote the both of them off once he realized there was nothing he could do for his dead brother or his kid. The witches wouldn’t give the boy to your father, and he couldn’t take him without causing a war he didn’t want his club fighting because Arley was too dumb to steer clear of stank puss.”
Could it really be that simple? “Do you know where Adder is?”
“No.” She elongates the word. “As far as I know, Harlow didn’t either, but I can’t be certain. He was his own man.” That’s Mickey’s way of saying my dad kept to himself.
