Chapter 10
Hadrian
“Everything alright, Alk?”
I look up to find my coach, Rip Shorthorn, sinking onto the couch next to me with a seasonal mead in his hand.
Smiling, I nod and wave at the rest of the team who are playing touch football in his enormous backyard while the coach’s grown sons grill steak and vegetables for a post-game family-style meal.
We don’t always do this after home games, but when we do, it’s one of the only times I hang with the team afterward.
“How you feeling about things, son? You’ve been here for a few months now…”
His deep voice is comforting, reassuring.
I like him as a coach more than I thought I would.
I’d been so hopeful Manorin would take the Punishers job and I’d get to play under him still.
That was the main reason I stayed at the Protector Academy as long as I did.
But Rip reminds me of Manorin in many ways—quiet, observant, doesn’t suffer fools and sees through monsters to what they really are.
In a short time, I’ve come to rely on him more than I imagined I would. I’m glad I kept an open mind.
He takes a deep sip of his mead, throat bobbing as he enjoys the brew, crossing one muscular leg over the other.
“I’ve noticed you don’t party with the younger guys. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a fit thing or you not feelin’ welcome.”
I shake my head, leaning onto my forearms. “Nothing like that, Coach. The team has been incredibly welcoming. I’m just a homebody.
” Waving at the grill and his sons, I smile.
“This is more my speed than anything else. Shit, if I had it my way, the team would spend their free time helpin’ me fix up my ranch.
I like to get my hands on things and work, I guess.
Never was much of a partier. Do you think it’s a problem? ”
He smiles, the move pulling his thin lips wide and exposing bright shiny fangs.
“No, son, I don’t. I never used to be able to understand that perspective myself, though, until my calves came along.
I loved to go out with my team and party.
But now? I don’t even like traveling for games.
Perfect night for me is spending time with family, eating a good home-cooked meal and staring at my beautiful mate over a dinner table filled with our calves and grandcalves. ”
“That sounds perfect,” I breathe, my mind going immediately to Bluebell and our near kiss earlier.
I was so close. I could have—should have done it.
I’m regretting it now. But once we cross that line, there’s no coming back from it.
The knowledge that I tried it will always be between us, and it’ll be awkward if she doesn’t reciprocate.
But part of me is pretty sure she will based on the way her scent changes near me, especially since I moved home.
My comm watch pings before I can say anything else, and the coach takes his leave. Jasper’s name hovers over the band.
When I answer, he’s laughing, and Jack’s yelling something in the background. “Great game, Hay!” Jasper yells. “You out with the team or what?”
I take a swig of my mead. “At the Shorthorns’ ranch having dinner.”
“Come out with us!” he shouts into the watch. Sounds of a scuffle follow the loud demand. That’ll be Jack starting shit like he always does.
“I should stay here for a little while longer,” I hedge, looking at my teammates as they wave me onto the field to join the tag game.
“Fine,” Jasper says with a groan. “But we’re getting Bluebell outta her head tonight ‘cause she’s been working too hard at the Bodice and she’s being rude as hells.
I gotta butter her up because I’ve got about fifteen things I need her to do next week.
Come join us, it’ll be fun. Might even go swimmin’ in the gulch after, if you’re down. ”
Bluebell at the bar? Bluebell possibly swimming in the gulch?
We don’t swim clothed in the gulch.
“I’ll be there,” I manage, taking another deep swallow of my drink as everything inside me tenses and tightens in anticipation of seeing her.
Knowing I can’t dip immediately out of this shindig, I head onto the field to join my teammates. I manage an entire half hour of play before I can’t take any more. Irish goodbye-ing my way out of a party ain’t my way, but I do say goodbye to the coach before I head out.
Flapping up into the sky, I relish the cool breeze on my face as I bullet toward downtown.
I pass a few other gargoyles on the way, waving as we glide along the currents.
When downtown comes into view, several of the buildings wriggle their roof tiles at me.
Below, Main Street is full of revelers, lights strung from one side to the other like we do for every home game.
Or maybe it’s because of the new human Shroud called to town.
They joined us for a few minutes of dinner, but it was clear they wanted nothing more than to be alone.
Vela seems lovely, but all I could think about was how it’s the second time in a few weeks I’ve seen a human and gargoyle couple who looked blissfully happy.
The dance hall comes into view at the far end of Main Street.
A line out the door tells me it’ll be slammed inside, but if I know Jasper, he was probably already there when he called me.
I consider going home and changing into something better than my post-game jeans and black tee, but I’m so ready to see Bluebell, I don’t consider it for very long.
Dropping into the street, I’m careful to tuck my wings without knocking into anyone despite the gathered crowd.
I get more than a few stares and whispers, but thankfully the minotaur bouncer at the door lets me bypass the crowd and head inside.
Groans follow me, but it’s one of the perks of being a PG local—we don’t wait in the line.
Inside, the dance hall is packed from floor to ceiling with monsters of all species.
A long two-story bar takes up most of the left and middle of the narrow building.
The mechanical bull and a stage are somewhere off to the right, although I can’t see them.
Outcroppings of seats scattered around the ceiling are best-suited for winged monsters like myself, so I hop into the air and drift up to the nearest available one.
Perching myself on a thin ledge, I look around the room, twitching my ears this way and that to pick out the various voices.
Knowing Jasper wouldn’t be caught dead on the mechanical bull, I focus on the bar area first. Jack’s a bourbon guy, Jasper’s into tequila, and I don’t even know what Bluebell’s into these days because every time I see her, she’s working.
That’s when I spot her down below. She’s on the godsdamned bull, one hand thrown back in the air and laughing raucously as she nods to the pixie in charge of running it.
He flips a switch, and the bull starts rocking back and forth slowly.
Hoots and catcalls rise from the audience as she rolls her hips easily in time with the machine, a smirk on her face.
It’s too easy for her. She grew up around here. She’s probably never ridden a real bull, but we’ve ridden horses since we were kids.
She shouts, and the pixie turns a dial. The bull moves a little faster, spinning this way and that, but all she does is press her knees tighter in.
Her blue lips pull into a satisfied smirk when the bull spins and she goes nowhere.
A couple of males shout from the crowd, and something hot and possessive inside has me snarling.
Bluebell’s hips move when the pixie turns the dial again.
She shifts her upper body back and forth in time with its bucking, but all I can stare at is how her body rolls and rocks.
I’m always hot after the physicality of a game.
Even so, I have to mop sweat from my brow as I stare at her.
Maybe it’s seeing human and gargoyle pairs all over lately, but I can’t pull my eyes from Bluebell’s trim waist or that gorgeous head of black-and-gold hair.
The space buns are gone, and her locks are long, waving down her back to tickle the top of her pants.
I had my hands all over that body earlier when she fell. For a moment, terror filled me, and all I knew was I couldn’t let anything happen to her.
I should have kissed her. Godsdamnit.
I’m not normally a male to waffle like this. Being decisive is a character trait I pride myself on. But this thing with Bluebell? It’s got me tied up in damn knots.
“Hay!”
A voice drifts up from below, pulling my attention away from Bluebell riding the bull. Glancing down, I find Jasper and Jack down below with three drinks. Jack’s talking to a pretty female gargoyle, and Jasper’s staring up at me expectantly.
Dropping off the ledge, I flap my wings once to land in the crowd without slapping anyone. Jasper hands me a drink with a huge smile.
“Nice game, dude. Listen, I’ve been thinking. We should be helping you more with your place. Wanna work on that tomorrow? Jace is down to help, too, if he can raid your library once it's done.”
I grin at that. Jace and I are kindred spirits when it comes to books. Clinking my glass with Jasper’s, I nod. “Sold, buddy. I’m ripping out carpet tomorrow, so it’ll be a smelly good time.”
He groans. “Fuck, I shoulda asked next week once the carpet was out.”
Rolling my shoulders, I take a drink of the bourbon. “Could be worse, you coulda offered when I was dealing with the septic tank.”
He scrunches his nose, pale eyes flashing with disgust. “Let’s don’t talk about that at all.
If I never have to think about you taking a shit, it won’t be soon enough.
I gotta study all morning for my level-three test, though.
Then we can charge more and travel for work.
This prep is kicking my ass, but I’m tryna set a good example for Jace.
I don’t think Jack’ll ever do it if I do. ”
“Unsurprising. Jack’s happy to just go along with whatever you two do.”