Sticks and Stones Read online

  Telling herself it was just a dream didn’t lessen her heartache as she swept up broken China and shattered Hummel figurines. Such silly little things, with their cherubic faces and innocent poses, but they reminded her of happier days. One of the pieces looked like it might be fixable with a bit of glue, so she set it aside and took the rest to the bin in the kitchen.

  With tears in her eyes, she returned to the parlor. She couldn’t get at the carpet until she figured out how to move the gargoyle, but she could at least clean the blood off the statue. Fetching a bucket and sponge, she began scrubbing his muscular abdomen clean.

  Then she saw it. His cock. His enormously rigid cock. It hadn’t been that way before. Now it stood like a thick and throbbing flagpole. Back in boarding school, she’d fooled around with a guy who had a cock like this, but she’d still been a virgin and they hadn’t gone all the way. To this day, she regretted not finding out what that would’ve been like. Maybe this was her chance? It was a dream after all. Maybe she could turn this nightmare around.

  She glanced at the gargoyle’s face.

  He stared back at her with glowing emerald eyes.

  Sten had used his stone-form to heal himself in the past, but never had he come as close to death as tonight. The bullet had caught him unaware, sending him crashing backwards as it entered his lung and lodged close against his spine. The vast amount of energy required to enter the duramna and staunch the bleeding took all his concentration. After so many decades standing immobile in the garden, his energy stores were already depleted. He roused from the hibernation-like state with every cell in his body crying out for sustenance.

  Yet the human woman beside him was making him think of anything but food.

  Her dark, nearly black hair was usually up in a messy bun while she worked in the garden, but tonight it hung in silky strands that brushed her bare shoulders. Shoulders that were very pink, very human, feminine, and soft, not angular and blocky like a Khargal female’s. There was no reason he should want to run his mouth along the curve to her throat. To touch every exposed inch of her with his tongue. Except that he did. Her scent filled his nostrils, and despite his weakened condition, mating heat rose inside him. Hondassa.

  She met his gaze and gasped, dropping her sponge and falling backward onto her bottom. Sten sat up, reaching for her, unable to take his eyes off her. Wanting to lay his hands on her. Needing to claim her in a way that should be unnatural for a Khargal. She was Earthian, for Lar’s sake. Even without the Prime Directive ruling his interactions, he should feel no such thing for one of this planet’s soft, rounded females, no matter that he was sworn to protect her bloodline.

  Her bloodline. That must be the reason for his reaction. She was, indeed, Graj’s descendent. Sten had always wondered how his friend had been attracted to an Earthian all those centuries ago, compelled to not only break the Prime Directive, but reproduce. During the centuries of Sten’s watch, Angie’s hybrid forefathers had only produced males, and Angie’s birth had made him believe she’d been sired by someone other than the aging man who claimed to be her father. When William finally died, Sten had considered his long watch ended, certain the female was purely Earthian. He’d only remained in the garden because he had nowhere else to go.

  Now, in his mobile form for the first time in decades, Angie’s pheromones called to him in a way he couldn’t deny. His duty was far from complete. This female had to be a hybrid.

  She edged away from him like a crab, muttering, “Wake up, wake up.”

  “I am fully awake,” he assured her, clenching his fists in an attempt to quell his growing lust. Her panties and tank top left nothing to the imagination, and he needed something to satiate him before he did something rash and violated the Prime Directive even more. “I require food.”

  “Food?” She scrambled to her feet. “Sure. Right. I’ll get you food. Be right back.”

  Within a few seconds, she returned with a bowl and two boxes tucked under one arm. She set the bowl on the floor a few feet away and held up the boxes. “Do gargoyles prefer Caramel-Ohs or Cinnaflakes?”

  “I need meat.” His kind were hunters back on Duras.

  Her face turned three shades paler. “I don’t have any. I usually eat at the diner.”

  He realized his canines were showing and forced his lips closed. “I apologize for frightening you.” Standing, he folded his wings tightly to either side of his spine. “Take me to this diner.”

  She laughed. “Fuck, can this dream get any weirder?”

  A dream. The few times he’d revealed himself to one of her ancestors, they’d had similar reactions. If he returned to his position in the garden, she might assume she’d imagined the whole thing. “I will resume my position in the garden as soon as I have eaten.”

  Her gaze slid toward his crotch. “I don’t want to go to the diner. This is my dream and I want to do something… fun.”

  A waft of her pheromones reached him again, drawing his cock upright like a lure. Her breasts strained against her thin tank top, nipples jutting against the fabric. “You don’t know what you ask.”

  “Sure I do.” She moved forward, and before he knew what was happening, had wrapped her delicate hand around the base of his shaft. “I’m not a virgin anymore.”

  He growled low in his throat, all thoughts of food or Prime Directive evaporating. He would satiate himself in more ways than one before returning to his watch. “Are you certain?”

  She licked her bottom lip and nodded, hand sliding up the length of his shaft in a way that made his entire body shudder.

  In one swift move he wrapped both arms around her smaller frame and crushed her against his chest. She let out a gust of air, her pupils wide as she looked up into his face. His lips met hers in a kiss. He knew he had to be bruising her, but her moan was one of pleasure and her arms snaked up around his neck to tangle her fingers in his hair. A part of him felt guilty, like he was taking advantage of her, but the desire raging inside him refused to be denied.

  She opened her mouth against his, inviting his tongue to plunge inside. She felt so warm, so alive, and her scent was like a drug. He spread his hands over her backside, careful to keep his claws retracted, and rubbed his erection against her as he ravaged her mouth. Her breasts teased his chest with their pointed tips. She threw her head back, and he brushed his lips along her jawline to her ear, licking the outer shell before burying his nose in her hair. He inhaled deeply. Hondassa.

  The mating urge was strong. His glands swelled with the need to inject her with his dassa, the fluid that would bind them together. Lar, he wasn’t here to claim a mate. But he could claim the moment, partake in a pleasure he’d never imagined finding on this planet. He pulled back, ripping her tank top down the front.

  Her breasts were perfection—larger and rounder than the females of his kind. He dipped his head and latched onto one, the dark nipple puckering. As he sucked it to further hardness, she rocked her hips against him, her breath coming in tiny gasps. “I don’t even know your name.”

  He nipped the erect nipple and moved to her other breast. “Sten.”

  “Sten,” she moaned.

  His balls tightened and his shaft grew painfully hard. He wanted inside her. He wanted to fill her, to feel her essence around him. To make her scream his name.

  Securing both hands under her bottom, he lifted her, propelling her forward and pinning her against the wall. She wrapped both legs around his waist, the heat of her center directly over his cock. Her thin panties were damp against him, and the head of his shaft throbbed with a life of its own.

  She slid one hand between them, pulling the crotch of her panties aside. “I want you now.”

  Her scent washed up between them. To plunge inside her would be heaven. But if he wanted to return to the garden and leave her satiated with the memory of a dream, he needed to be sure not to hurt her. Then she could wake from her “dream” without a physical trace.

  He gritted his teeth and slowly rubbe
d the ribbed underside of his shaft along her slickness, bumping up over the little bud at the apex. She cried out. Ah, her sensitive spot. He circled the bud, using the head of his cock to tease her. Over and over again, increasing his speed, he stimulated her until she was writhing and gasping, wetness coating them both.

  “Fuck me!” she cried, bucking against him.

  He gave in.

  The sweet embrace of her heat consumed him. Overwhelmed him. He was surprised her small frame was capable of taking all of him, but pleased, and ground his hips against her before pulling back and sliding inside again. The friction was pure ecstasy, building pressure inside him in more places than just his balls. His mating gland was threatening to burst, demanding he claim this female. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last without releasing the venom that would make her his forever. And that would most definitely not be something she could imagine dreaming.

  He needed her to come. Needed her to find her pleasure so he could find his. He pounded into her, angling his hips so he banged against her clit. Her heels dug into his backside as she clung to his shoulders, mouth open in what looked like a silent scream. Then her core tightened and her eyes flew open, meeting his gaze. The pulsing rhythm of her climax drove him over the edge.

  With a roar, he let loose his orgasm, driving into her even deeper, every muscle in his body shuddering with release. The force of his ejaculation seemed to catapult her into a new frenzy, and her fingertips dug into his skin as she screamed his name. With a shuddering exhale, she slumped against him. For a moment, he feared maybe he’d killed her. Then she sighed and wrapped both arms loosely around his neck, murmuring into his neck, “Best. Nightmare. Ever.”

  3

  Angie leaned her cheek against her statue’s hard chest, barely able to catch her breath. He smelled divine, both salty and sweet in a way that felt addictive. She hoped she didn’t wake up anytime soon; as soon as she had her strength back, she wanted to be with him again.

  Sten shifted away from the wall, holding her against his chest. One huge hand cradled the back of her head as he murmured words she couldn’t understand into her hair. He carried her through the door toward the stairs, but when he reached the bottom step, he swayed and his grip slackened.

  She released her legs from around his waist. “Are you okay?”

  The light from the parlor glowed through his leathery wings as they stretched into an impressive span behind his back. His upper lip curled, revealing the sharp teeth she’d spotted earlier. “I must hunt.”

  A spike of fear lanced through her. “Hunt? For what?”

  He swayed again, bracing himself with one hand on the banister. “At this point, anything I can catch.”

  Angie swallowed. That was what she was afraid of. “If you need protein, I have a can of tuna in the cupboards.” She shifted to edge past him. “Let me get it.”

  He blocked her, one hand cupping her face and stroking a clawed thumb over her cheek. “Go to your bed, Hondassa. When you wake, all will be as it was.”

  For some reason, the claw gave her a shiver that wasn’t entirely fear. What was that word he kept saying? “What does Hondassa mean?”

  A pained expression pinched his features, and he dropped his hand. “Nothing of importance.”

  She looked past him into the parlor. To her left, the rifle lay at the base of the stairs exactly where she’d set it. Things were too exact. Too consistent. Was she really dreaming? Pulse beating hard in her throat, she pinched the skin on her forearm hard enough to make herself flinch. “I’m not asleep.” She frowned up into his face. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”

  “It is as you believe it to be.” His eyes tightened, as if he was desperate for her to agree.

  Lifting both hands, she placed them flat against his chest, ran them down his abs, stopping short at his waist. Below her palms, his cock rose as if anticipating her touch. Her heartbeat sped up. She’d just had sex with a gargoyle. A living, breathing gargoyle. “This is real.” She met his eyes once more, pulling sharply away. “You’re alive. How?”

  He edged backward toward the door. “You would not believe me if I told you.”

  She was trembling, every instinct in her body telling her to flee. And yet, there was no way in hell she was going to let him leave without answering some questions. Without taking her eyes off him, she bent to retrieve her rifle and aimed it at him. “Stop. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me who you are and what’s going on.”

  Raising both hands, he said, “There is no need to fear me. I have safeguarded your family for generations.”

  “You broke into my house!”

  He tilted his head. “You shot me.”

  She raised her brows. “Because you broke into my house.”

  “Acknowledged. Although to be fair, I only entered in pursuit of another man.”

  She glanced toward the closed exterior door. She’d almost forgotten there’d been a second person here when she came down the stairs. “My dad used to tell me the family had a guardian angel.” She surveyed the clawed wings rising above his shoulders. “You don’t look like an angel.”

  “I am not an angel.” He retracted his wings until she could no longer see them. “But I am here to watch over you.”

  “Really?” She narrowed her eyes. “You told me I was dreaming, then proceeded to take advantage of me. How’s that watching over me?”

  His gray-skinned face darkened. “You are the one who said you were dreaming. I simply did not deny it. And I did not initiate the interaction.”

  “But you went along and let me think it was a dream.”

  Lowering his head, he nodded. “You are correct. Loss of blood must have weakened my restraint. I apologize.”

  “You can apologize by telling me who you are and what you’re doing here.”

  His teeth flashed with predatory sharpness. “If I do not have sustenance soon, I will not be able to tell you anything.” He sagged to one knee, one hand pressed over the spot where his wound had been.

  Realizing he was grimacing, not trying to threaten her, she lowered her rifle. “I should call an ambulance for you, but I don’t know what they’ll do.”

  That seemed to rouse him, and this time his bared teeth were aggressive. “Do not call your authorities. You will undo everything I have worked for.”

  Stomach once more clenching in alarm, she asked, “Worked for? What do you mean?”

  “There are entities on this planet that would kill to get their hands on me. And on you. Do not call the authorities. I will heal with time.”

  Regardless of how scary Sten looked, she didn’t think he meant her any harm. And her father had always spoken as if the family guardian was real. She wondered if he’d ever had an encounter like this, though. Well, not exactly like this. Remembering their passion, she sighed. She didn’t have anything resembling meat in the house except for tuna. “Stay here. I’ll get the tuna.”

  Sten leaned forward, bracing himself with his free hand on the floorboards, and nodded.

  Turning, she rushed to her kitchen. She hadn’t had much money for groceries recently, especially after buying the sofa. The now broken sofa, she reminded herself, but then shook off her anger. Sten claimed he’d been after an intruder. For all she knew, he’d prevented her from being murdered in her bed. The sofa was a small price to pay.

  She flung open the door to the kitchen pantry. The shelves held a few jars of garden vegetables, a tin of coffee, a bag of dried pinto beans, and two cans of tuna. She hated fish and had bought the tuna as a treat for the cat. But Sten wanted meat, and tuna was all she had.

  Opening both cans, she upended them into a bowl, juice and all, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Did he like mayo or relish? She pictured him hunting down a deer and tearing into it raw with those fierce teeth of his. He might not like the fact the fish was cooked, let alone condiments. She decided not to doctor it unless he asked. Before heading back, she grabbed her apron and put it on to cover her torn ta
nk top. She felt like a French maid in a porno, but at least her tits were no longer hanging out.

  Back in the parlor, Sten sagged on the floor near the exit, his wings curled around him. Next to him, both boxes of cereal lay on their sides, a few crushed flakes scattered over the hardwood floor.

  He turned his head to meet her gaze. “These Caramel-Ohs lack nutritional value.”

  Suppressing a laugh, she set the tuna on the floor next to him. “You sound like the Menu Planner at my boarding school. Here. It’s tuna. I have mayo and relish if you’d—”

  He snatched up the bowl and upended it into his mouth, downing the contents in what appeared to be a single gulp. Then he cocked his head at the bowl and took a huge bite out of the ceramic.

  “Hey! That’s my Fiesta Ware!”

  His teeth crunched loudly, and he swallowed. “It contains minerals to assist my healing.”

  She watched in horror as he took another bite from the bowl. Then he reached for the broken Hummel figurine she’d set next to the curio cabinet. She lunged forward. “No! Stop!”

  He cocked his head. “Do you have other materials I may consume?”

  She thought of the broken figurines she’d dumped in the waste bin and sighed. They were garbage anyway. At least if he ate them, they’d go to good use. “Don’t touch anything. I’ll be right back.”

  Rushing to the kitchen, she pulled out the bin. She’d changed the bag before bed last night, and the only things in it were the broken figurines. Retrieving the largest pieces, she set them on the counter one by one, part of her returning to thinking she must be in a dream. Either that, or the kickback from the rifle had given her a concussion. She felt someone watching her and looked up to find Sten leaning against the doorframe. The look in his eyes was definitely hungry, but she got the sensation it might be for something other than food. Or pottery.

  She gestured toward the pieces on the counter. “You can eat these.”

  He moved forward, his gaze never leaving hers. His presence seemed to fill the room, forcing her back a step until she bumped into the sink. Slowly, he picked up a shard, crunching robotically.