Cherished By the Gargoyle (Once Upon a Fairy Tale Romance #8)

Chapter 1

AURORA

Moonlight spills across the floor as I ease my bedroom window open. Carefully, I climb onto the ledge and slip out into the back garden. My heart pounds as I pause, listening for any sounds coming from inside.

My Fae guardians are fiercely protective, almost suffocatingly so, and I really don’t want to get caught sneaking out of the cottage again.

Satisfied when I don’t hear anything and that the house is still dark, I pull the hood of my cloak tight over my long brown hair and move cautiously across the grass.

My eyes strain to pierce the darkness as I make my way toward the back gate.

Every rustle, every shift of shadow sends a thrill of tension through me.

My heart leaps in my throat as a heavy thud lands behind me. I spin around and see a large figure crouched in the moonlight, wings spread wide. Gleaming golden eyes with vertically slit pupils lock onto mine, molten and fierce.

“Gods, Thalric,” I hiss, pressing a hand to my chest, “you gave me a fright!”

He straightens, towering over me with his powerful form. His masculine scent of rain and stone wraps around me, grounding and dizzying all at once. Most people would step back when face to face with a Gargoyle, but not me. Something inside me yearns to lean even closer.

He’s dressed in his usual black leather loincloth, leaving the rest of his body completely bare. Impossibly tall, with broad, muscular shoulders, thick layers of muscle ripple beneath his gray skin as he tucks his massive wings close to his back.

Two large sweeping horns curve back from his forehead, highlighting his pointed ears and holding back midnight-black hair that cascades around his shoulders like silk, framing features carved from stone, yet somehow heartbreakingly human.

Many consider his kind to be monsters—terrifying warriors carved for battle, forged by the gods of the earth and the sky. They call them stone-born for their strength and ferocity, for skin as hard as rock and hearts they claim cannot feel.

But I’ve never believed that. To me, Thalric’s power is beautiful—his sharp, angular features and imposing size only add a lethal edge to his handsomeness.

With high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and full lips that seem to be permanently set in a scowl, he stares down at me from beneath heavyset brows with an intensity that makes my knees grow weak.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he rumbles, his voice deep like distant thunder.

He walks toward me, knees bent forward as he balances effortlessly on the front of his feet, heels lifted off the ground and weight poised on three powerful, claw-tipped toes.

It gives him the appearance of always being ready to spring into motion—fluid, and dangerously agile, as if even in stillness he’s prepared to leap into flight or battle at a moment’s notice. A subtle reminder of his predatory and primal power lurking just beneath the surface.

He’s magnificent, imposing, and utterly breathtaking. Despite this, I refuse to let him change my mind.

Crossing my arms, I tip my chin up in defiance. “And yet, here I am.”

“Aurora,” he growls low in warning. The sound rumbles through me, curling heat in my stomach. “You shouldn’t be—”

“Oh, come on, Thalric.” I give him a pleading look. “It’s just a festival. I never get to go.”

“Because it’s dangerous and full of strangers.” He frowns. “People come from all over the kingdom to attend. You know this.”

“Ah yes, the terrifying perils of a harvest festival,” I reply sarcastically. “The small village of Oakvale is such a perilous place. However will I manage to survive?”

Thalric’s tail flicks behind him in agitation, but I notice the faint twitch of his lips.

“Besides, you’re coming with me, so it will be perfectly safe.”

“You planned this, didn’t you?” He narrows his eyes. “You knew I’d discover you sneaking out.”

“You got me.” I grin because he’s absolutely right.

I’ve dropped several hints over the past few days, knowing he’d guess my intent and be nearby.

The truth is, I’m dying to go to the festival with him.

I’ve been in love with Thalric for as long as I can remember, but we’re just friends.

I’m hoping we can dance, and if the stars align, maybe we might even finally kiss.

“Is that a new dress?” he asks.

“It is.” I twirl in place. “What do you think? Lyria helped me with the design.”

Warmth flushes my skin as his eyes travel over the dark green material that hugs my form in all the right places. It’s trimmed with gold thread—a pattern of fall leaves sewn along the collar and edges. I’d hoped it might catch his attention, and from the look on his face it seems to be working.

“Lovely,” he says in a low rumbling voice, and while he’s probably referring to the dress, I allow myself to pretend he’s also saying this about me.

I give him what I hope is my prettiest smile. “What do you say we go have some fun?”

His nostrils flare, a silent battle raging in his gaze. His wings twitch subtly in that way they do when he’s torn about something. But I know him too well—I know the exact moment his resolve falters.

With a low growl of defeat, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we can only stay for a few hours.”

Softly, I bite my lower lip to contain my excitement. “All right.”

Crisp autumn air drifts through the village square. Lanterns bathe the cobblestone streets in golden light, illuminating stalls offering all sorts of things like cider, roasted nuts, hot chocolate, and caramel apples.

Villagers laugh and chatter. Fae and Elves sip mulled wine alongside humans, and Orc merchants trade loud jokes with anyone within earshot.

Off to one side, I notice Brakkus—the Orc blacksmith. His booming laughter echoes across the square as he lifts a tankard of ale, toasting with his Fae friend—Cyran.

“Aurora! Thalric!” Brakkus calls out. “Good to see you both here!”

“And you as well,” I reply.

Cyran walks up to Thalric, clasping his forearm like a brother-in-arms before leaning in to whisper something to him.

“Where are your lovely Guardians this evening?” Brakkus asks, referring to Fiora, Lyria, and Maribel.

“They didn’t want to come.” The lie burns my tongue, and I wince, hoping he won’t mention seeing me here the next time he speaks with them.

“Well, tell them I said hi,” he says cheerfully.

“All right.” I reply, though I have no intention of doing so. The last thing I need is them finding out I snuck off to the festival.

When I turn back to Thalric, I notice Cyran handing him a small pouch, which he tucks into the pocket of his leather loincloth.

I wonder what it is. Before I can ask him, someone calls out. “Aurora! So glad you made it!”

I recognize Reid right away, his short blond hair stuck to his head and face with perspiration as he dances around the square with Sera, weaving and spinning among dozens of other couples. He winks as they pass. “Save a dance for me, will you, Aurora?”

“Of course.” I laugh. “I will.”

Thalric growls low in his chest as he coils his tail around my left ankle. “I don’t think that would be wise,” he grumbles. “Reid might get the wrong idea.”

Sighing heavily, I stop short of rolling my eyes. Reid has been our friend since we were children. Over the past few years, he’s developed a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake.

Thalric worries I’ll become one of them if I’m not careful. I’ve told him repeatedly that Reid is nothing more than a friend, but I don’t think he believes me.

“Oh, stop your growling.” I nudge him playfully with my elbow. “And behave yourself.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Auri. He is overly familiar with females.”

I look up at my stoic Gargoyle and grin. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to dance by myself, then, won’t I?”

Without waiting for him to reply, I wade into the crowd. The music thrums through me, vibrant and irresistible, as I spin and whirl to the jovial tune.

Thalric watches me, a hint of amusement curling his lips despite his attempts to hide it. His heavily muscled arms are folded across his broad chest, wings tucked in to avoid bumping into anyone. He looks deliciously grumpy, like a brooding guardian observing from the shadows.

Impulsively, I twirl toward him and take his hand. “Dance with me.”

“Gargoyles don’t dance,” he mutters.

“Well, tonight, you do,” I insist, pulling him back into the throng of people.

Reluctantly, he follows. His large frame is a bit stiff and awkward at first, with his wings folded tight against his back, but as we dance, he gradually relaxes.

He slides his tail around my waist. The touch sears through the thin fabric of my dress, intimate and far too thrilling. I laugh with delight as he spins me away before twirling me back to him as we dance beneath the golden glow of the lanterns.

My heart melts as a rare smile curves his mouth, flashing a hint of his dagger-sharp fangs.

Gods, he’s so handsome.

We dance to several more songs before the band decides to take a small break.

“Aurora. Thalric.” The Fox Shifter, Mayor Finley, smiles as he approaches. “So lovely to see you two here.” He gestures to one of the vendors across the way. “Tressa’s spiced pumpkin cakes are delicious. You should try one.”

I glance at the various stalls around us. While the spiced pumpkin cakes sound good, I think I’d prefer something a bit sweeter. As soon as I spot a cart selling caramel apples, I dart toward it. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Thalric. “I’m going to get something sweet.”

Sugary sweetness fills the air, mixing with the spicy, warm scents of autumn as I weave through the crowd. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Thalric’s following, trying his best not to bump into anyone.