Chapter 26
Mason
The heat of the battle still clung to my skin, but it wasn’t the flames or the salamanders that had my pulse hammering in my ears. It was Tess. Seeing her in danger, watching her stand her ground despite the odds, had stirred something primal inside me—something I couldn’t suppress no matter how hard I tried.
She is ours. Protect her. Keep her safe. Claim her.
The voice of my gargoyle rumbled through my mind, deep and absolute. It was more than instinct—it was a command, one I felt in my bones.
The forest was still smoldering as the applicants dispersed, some limping, others dragging their weapons behind them with exhaustion. Tess stood among them, her shoulders squared despite the way her legs trembled. She was trying to brush it off like she hadn’t just faced down a horde of molten salamanders and nearly gotten herself killed.
I approached her, my steps heavy against the charred ground. “Are you all right?” I asked, my voice gruff.
She turned toward me, her golden-brown eyes lighting up when she saw me. “I’m fine,” she said, her tone light, almost teasing. “Thanks to you.”
The knot in my chest tightened. She was trying to laugh it off, but I could see the exhaustion in the way she swayed slightly on her feet. Her hair was a mess, her glasses smudged, and there was a faint scorch mark on the edge of her shirt. She looked like she’d been through hell. And yet, she was still standing. Still smiling. Still mine.
Mine.
The gargoyle in me rumbled its agreement, a deep, primal sound that echoed in my bones. She was my mate—my responsibility. And she’d been in danger. Again. My hands clenched into fists as the urge to shield her, to pull her close and keep her safe, warred with the need to let her stand on her own.
“You shouldn’t have been that close to the front lines,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. My arms crossed over my chest, a poor substitute for the need to wrap them around her. “You were reckless.”
Her smile faded, and she raised an eyebrow. “I was holding my own.”
A low growl vibrated in my throat before I could stop it. “Barely,” I shot back, the words sharper than I meant them to be. “You could’ve been killed.”
She had been incredible out there—fierce, determined, unstoppable. But none of that mattered in the face of the raw fear that had gripped me. Watching her fight had been like witnessing a storm—beautiful and terrifying all at once. And all I could think about was what would’ve happened if she hadn’t made it. If I’d lost her. The thought tightened like a fist around my chest, squeezing the words out in frustration instead of the truth—that I had been scared out of my damn mind.
She rolled her eyes, brushing a strand of purple-highlighted hair out of her face. My fingers twitched at my sides, wanting to do it for her. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
That wasn’t the point. The gargoyle in me didn’t care that she’d survived—it cared that she’d been at risk in the first place. That she’d been hurt. That I hadn’t been able to stop it.
I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, Theron strode up to Tess. “You've done enough. Go get some rest.”
My gargoyle bristled as another male issued commands to my mate, but Tess exhaled, her shoulders sagging slightly. She looked up at me, her expression softening. “Thank you, Mason. For saving me back there.”
Something in her voice—something quiet, vulnerable—made my chest tighten. My gargoyle purred in satisfaction. She saw me. She trusted me. I wanted to say something, to tell her that I’d always protect her, that nothing in this world or any other would take her from me. But the words caught in my throat.
Instead, I acted.
Without waiting for her to protest, I bent down and scooped her into my arms. Her soft gasp of surprise barely registered as I shifted, my stone-like wings unfurling from my back. The leathery folds stretched wide, catching the faint breeze that swept across the battlefield.
“Mason! What are you doing?” she asked, her hands gripping my shoulders.
“You’re exhausted,” I said simply, my voice firm. “You need rest. I’m taking you back.”
She hesitated, her golden-brown eyes searching mine. For a moment, I thought she might argue, but she didn’t. Instead, she sighed and leaned into me, her small frame fitting perfectly against my chest. “Fine. But you’re being overprotective.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My gargoyle instincts were roaring now, drowning out any rational thought.
Protect. Guard. Shelter.
My mate was hurt, and nothing else mattered. All I knew was that I had to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere I could make sure she was okay. Somewhere no harm could reach her.
Mine to shield. Mine to claim.
With a powerful beat of my wings, I launched us into the air. The ground fell away beneath us as I carried her toward the dormitories. Tess clung to me, her arms tightening around my neck as the wind whipped past us. She didn’t say anything, but I could feel the tension in her body gradually easing. She trusted me. That thought settled something deep inside me, even as my instincts screamed at me to do more. To claim her. To make her mine.
I landed softly on the balcony outside her room, my boots barely making a sound as they touched the stone. Without putting her down, I pushed open the glass door and stepped inside. Her suite was cluttered but cozy, the scent of books and lavender filling the air. Her cat, Whiskey, stirred from its spot on a chair, flicking an ear before settling back into sleep.
I set Tess down gently, my hands lingering on her waist for a moment longer than necessary. She looked up at me, her eyes tired but grateful. “You didn’t have to go all gargoyle mode on me, you know,” she said, her lips quirking into a small smile.
“You were about to collapse,” I said, crossing my arms again. “Someone had to make sure you didn’t.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
“You need water,” I said, ignoring her half-hearted protest. I grabbed the glass from her bedside table, filling it in the kitchen before handing it to her. She drank without complaint, but her movements were sluggish, her eyelids drooping.
“You should eat something,” I said, my voice gentler now.
Tess shook her head, setting the glass aside. “I just… need a shower first. I feel gross.”
She tried to stand, but her legs wobbled, and I was there in an instant, steadying her with a hand on her arm. She looked up at me, her eyes soft and trusting, and it took everything in me not to pull her closer.
“Let me help,” I said, my voice gruff. It wasn’t a question. She hesitated for a moment before nodding, too tired to argue.
I led her into the bathroom, starting the shower while she leaned against the counter. The steam filled the small space quickly, and I turned back to find her fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, her fingers trembling from fatigue. My chest ached at the sight.
“Here,” I said softly, stepping closer. “Let me.”
Her gaze flicked to mine, searching for something, and whatever she saw there made her nod. I undid the buttons carefully, my hands brushing against her skin as I worked. Every touch sent a jolt through me, my gargoyle instincts roaring louder with each passing second. She was mine. My mate. The knowledge burned through me, primal and undeniable.
A low growl rumbled in my chest as I slid the fabric from her shoulders, my fingers lingering against the warmth of her skin. The scent of her, soft yet unmistakably hers, filled my lungs, igniting something deep and possessive within me. I wanted to shield her from everything that had hurt her, to ensure nothing ever came close again. But more than that—I needed her to feel it. To know, without a doubt, that she belonged to me just as I belonged to her.
My hand drifted to her waist, my thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against her hip. Her breath hitched, her pulse fluttering beneath my touch, and my gargoyle rumbled in satisfaction. The urge to mark her, to claim her in a way no danger could ever undo, coiled tight in my chest. My lips hovered near her temple, the words nearly spilling free.
Mine. Always.
Instead, I exhaled slowly, grounding myself. She needed care first. Rest. But soon—soon, I would make sure she understood just how fiercely I intended to protect her.
When she peeled off her shoes and slid her pants down her legs, my breath locked in my throat. The soft glow of the bathroom lights traced the curves of her thighs, the dip of her waist, the lush swell of her hips. My cock had been hard as a rock since we entered her space, but now? Now it was damn near unbearable. She was stunning—every inch of her. Strength and softness woven into a form that had haunted my thoughts for far too long.
She stepped under the spray of water, her head tilting back as the warmth washed over her. When she swayed on her feet, I caught her without thinking, my hands firm on her bare skin. “You’re done,” I said, voice rougher than I intended. “You need to rest.”
“I can finish,” she murmured, but I shook my head.
Without a second thought, I stripped off my own shirt and stepped into the shower with her. The water cascaded over us, and I kept my touch gentle as I helped her wash away the grime of the day.
My eyes traced the lines of her body, the curve of her waist, the way her damp hair clung to her skin. She was beautiful. More than that, she was mine .
“Mason,” she said softly, her voice pulling me from my thoughts. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I asked, my throat tight.
“For always making me feel safe,” she said, her golden-brown eyes meeting mine. “For being here.”
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “Tess...”
She placed a hand on my chest, right over my heart. My breath hitched. She felt so small against me, but the weight of her touch unraveled something deep inside me. I wanted to pull her closer, to bury my face in her damp hair and lose myself in her scent—something warm and familiar, like honey and midnight rain.
“You’re my anchor, you know that?” she murmured, her fingers tracing slow, absent patterns over my chest. “You’re the one I can always count on.”
My pulse pounded beneath her fingertips. She had no idea what she did to me—how badly I wanted to claim her, to make sure she never doubted how much she meant to me.
Before I could stop myself, I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing against her cheeks.
“You’re my mate,” I said, the words spilling out before I could think better of them. “You’ve always been my mate.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled—a soft, knowing smile. “I thought so,” she whispered. “I’ve felt it, too.”
I froze for a moment, stunned by her words. She’d felt it too? The bond? The pull? The undeniable truth that she was mine? My instincts screamed at me to hold her, to never let her go, but the rational part of me—the part that had spent years believing I wasn’t good enough, that I was broken—hesitated.
“Tess…” My voice was rough, strained, as I stepped back slightly, though my hands stayed on her face, unwilling to lose that connection. “Being my mate… it changes things. It’s not something you can just walk away from. It’s forever. I don’t—” My voice caught in my throat, and I had to force the words out. “I don’t know if you’d want to be tied to someone like me.”
Her brows furrowed, her golden-brown eyes searching mine with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. “Mason,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the vulnerability that flickered across her face, “it’s okay. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I’ve always known you were special to me. Always.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. She’d loved me? Me ? The broken boy who could barely protect himself, let alone someone else? The man who carried scars—inside and out—from years of pain and violence? I shook my head, disbelief warring with the overwhelming need to believe her. “Tess, I’m not… I’m not what you deserve. I’ve done things, I’ve—”
She cut me off, her hands covering mine where they cradled her face. “Stop,” she said firmly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her own vulnerability. “Stop deciding what I deserve. Stop thinking you’re not enough. You’ve always been enough for me, Mason. Always.”
Her words made something inside me crack wide open. But even as hope began to seep in, doubt lingered. “Do you really know what you’re saying?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Do you really want this? Want me?”
Her gaze softened, and she stepped closer, her body brushing against mine. “Do you want me?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady. Her vulnerability was palpable, and it broke something in me to see her like this—so strong and yet so open, so willing to put her heart in my hands despite all the reasons she shouldn’t.
I didn’t think. I couldn’t. The words tumbled out of me, raw and unfiltered. “I’ve never wanted anything more than you, Tess. Never.”
And then I kissed her.
It wasn’t a tentative kiss, wasn’t careful or restrained. It was everything I’d been holding back, everything I’d been too afraid to admit I felt. My lips claimed hers with a desperation that bordered on feral, my hands sliding from her face to her waist, pulling her closer until there wasn’t a breath of space between us.
She responded immediately, her hands tangling in my hair as she pressed herself against me. Her lips were soft, warm, and tasted faintly of the lavender soap she used. The kiss deepened, and I felt her sigh against me, her body melting into mine. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of, and yet it was so much more—more real, more intense, more her .
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard, the steam from the shower curling around us like a cocoon. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from the kiss, and she looked up at me with an expression that stole the air from my lungs.
“You’re mine,” I said, my voice low and rough. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a truth that I couldn’t deny anymore.
Her lips curved into a small, shy smile. “And you’re mine,” she whispered, her fingers brushing against my jaw. “You always have been.”