Chapter 2 – Xander
T he night is quiet. Too quiet.
I’ve been protecting New York City for over four hundred years now, ever since Dutch settlers arrived in 1608 and named the land New Amsterdam. Before ruling my own kingdom, I patrolled the skies over Paris under my father’s reign. He taught me everything about fighting the evil that yearns to destroy the world: the demons from hell and the malevolent creatures from other worlds who slip through the cracks between dimensions.
The Council of Gargoyle Elders chose me over my older brother as king of this new settlement, which seers had envisioned becoming one of the largest cities in the world.
They were right .
I watched as New Amsterdam transformed into a bustling city with humans in the millions. Too many innocent souls wandering the streets needing protection. As New York City grew, so did my army. I have gargoyles in the thousands now, spread around the five boroughs. They’re stationed on top of buildings, keeping watch for any attempts to pierce through our shields of protection.
The shields have become weak as I approach my thousandth year of living. I have six months until I permanently turn to stone.
The life of King Xander the Third of New Amsterdam, his excellency of house Basque, son of King Oberon Basque of Lutetia Parisiorum, now modern-day Paris, comes to an end, all because he couldn’t find love.
I would become the second king in my kind’s history to die because I failed to find my fated mate.
It’s a curse of every royal. We are stronger with our soulmate by our side. I’ve spent hundreds of years in search of the one who claims my heart. I’ve held extravagant balls and invited men and women from across the world. I’ve courted thousands of beings, both human and supernatural, in hopes that they were my fated mate.
Yet I am still alone, and my kingdom is in peril. Evil lingers, waiting for me to fail .
“Your Majesty,” Locheran, my first in command says, approaching me from behind.
It’s a busy Friday night. I stand on the roof of the Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral, staring below at the crowds of people strolling down the sidewalk. Laughter and chatter fill the air from nearby bars and restaurants. The streets are packed with cars unnecessarily honking their horns.
“You’ve been standing here for hours. Do you sense an attack?”
I exhale and rub my hand up and down my face.
“No.”
It’s all I say because I can’t tell my closest advisor that I felt a pull in my chest again tonight. He worries about me, concerned that the curse will soon shut down my body, my organs, and I will no longer be able to rule.
I have six months left. I will fight until the very end.
The pull in my chest started a few weeks ago. I was in my penthouse when it felt as if someone was ripping my heart out. It lasted minutes, if that. I blamed the pain on the curse, until it happened again the next night, but the sun hadn’t fully set yet, so I wasn’t able to emerge to investigate.
The sun temporarily turns gargoyles to stone, and we’re left vulnerable until night falls. It’s a damnation placed on our kind centuries ago after panic spread through a small village in Europe when a child saw a gargoyle flying through the sky while protecting the land. The frantic child’s family went to a witch who knew all about our existence. She knew we were there to keep evil away, but to satisfy the humans, she sentenced us to the night when mortals sleep.
Of course, times are different now and the world stays awake at all hours. Because of this, we’ve developed the ability to mask our true forms.
The problem with not being able to go out in the sun means cities are left unguarded during the day. While we have shields in place, they’re weaker in the sun. Evil beings tend to be nocturnal; however, there are a rare few who can walk during the day.
It’s been decades since the last time we faced a threat. An army of soul-sucking demons from another realm attempted to break through our barriers. The stench of innocent human souls lured them out of the depths of whatever hell they derived from. It was a battle that lasted all through the night until the sun rose and turned some of my soldiers to stone.
Another threat is on the horizon. I feel it in my bones.
The evil infused within this world knows...it senses the end of my reign .
“We should go to the bars. Find you someone to fuck. Your stress is weighing us all down,” Locheran says.
Being the king means all the gargoyles within my kingdom are connected to me. They experience my emotions, my pain.
Thankfully, they don’t experience my pleasure, only emotions that alert them to me being in danger. It allows them to locate me and come to my side to protect me from whatever is trying to cause me harm.
My stress must be taxing on my body enough to be felt amongst them.
“The bars are useless. My fated mate would not frequent one of those vile breeding grounds. It’s all sex, sex, sex, and I can get that with the snap of my finger—”
“Aren’t you a confident motherfucker—”
“Fuck off, Loch.”
He chuckles, the asshole. Locheran has been my advisor since the moment I was crowned king, but we’ve known each other since we were young pups. We’re best friends, and we joined my father’s army together. We’ve killed evil side-by-side. We’re inseparable. Yet he doesn’t face the same fate as me. He can turn one thousand and not have to worry about permanently turning to stone.
He’s yet to find his fated mate, though many gargoyles don’t. For royals, it’s imperative that we do. Only one other king failed to find his soulmate. When he turned to stone, his replacement had not yet arrived, and the city was burned to the ground by a fire-breathing demon. A fire that killed thousands and was blamed on a human’s mistake.
“I will stand guard here until the sun wakes,” I say. “You go. Enjoy yourself. We’ll meet tomorrow night to go over reports.”
Locheran sighs dramatically and walks away without saying a word.
The rest of the night went by without incident, thankfully, because my thoughts were too focused on the pull in my chest and the possible cause. I’ve traced it to the cathedral, and that’s why I’ve been sleeping here lately. The moment night falls, I emerge to the cathedral’s roof to find the source of the connection, only for it to be severed.
That’s the only way to describe it. A connection. A cord tying me to something.
Or someone.
I fly home to my penthouse down the street from the Basilica. The building has roof access so I can enter as my true form instead of shapeshifting into a human, which has been draining me of energy lately.
God, why is everything fucked ?
My eyes are struggling to stay open, but I know the moment my head hits the pillow, my worries will keep me awake.
I shower and jack off, trying to relieve some of my tension. I’d much prefer a cunt, asshole, or mouth around my cock, but fucking for fun is less desirable when you’re six months away from a lifetime of stone.
So, I take my pleasure by hand.
Once I’m done, I dress in a t-shirt and sweats, then collapse onto the couch and turn on the television to a local news program. A reporter is talking about a deadly fire at a nearby high-rise apartment. My soldiers informed me of the blaze. I sent them in to investigate, but there was nothing supernatural about it.
I know they’re restless. They sense the threat as well. We’re on edge, waiting for our shields to be penetrated.
My phone dings with a notification, and I unlock it, thinking it will be a drunken text from Locheran. Instead, I find a new app on the home screen.
Kiss-meet.
Did that fucker download a dating app on my phone?
To be fair, we’ve yet to resort to dating apps. We’ve embraced the technological advances of this world, but dating apps? I’ve resisted, because why would my fated mate be on one of these so-called hookup apps ?
Why wouldn’t they be?
Fuck it. What do I have to lose other than my life?
I tap the screen, and it takes me to a page to enter my details. Is this an app for humans or paranormal beings? I play it safe and enter the details for my human form.
Name: Xander
Age: 30
Height: 6’4”
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Black
Location: Manhattan
I tap submit, and it takes me to a page to upload a photo. I select one where my skin isn’t purple, and I have no horns, fangs, mane of blue hair, silver eyes, or flapping tail.
After it uploads, my page is live, and I go back to give it a once-over.
“What the fuck?” I repeatedly poke my finger at the screen, trying to delete the photo, because that’s not what I uploaded.
Did I select the wrong one? The photo on display is of my true form—snapped by Locheran a few years ago on a drunken night. Well, he was drunk. I was his DF—Designated Flyer. I rarely get wasted anymore. It takes too much alcohol in my body to do anything of worth. I let my soldiers party, and I watch over them because they deserve to be rewarded for their hard work protecting this city.
I try to change the photo back to one of my human form, but it automatically reverts to this casual image of the real me. Seriously? Could this weird app at least choose one where I’m in battle gear, or in a suit for fuck’s sake?
My age and height also do not reflect my human form.
Age: 999
Height: 7’
Before I can fix this mess, I get a notification.
One match?
How?
I just signed up! I didn’t even do the swiping or liking or whatever dating apps require.
I stare at the notification for a few minutes before opening it. I’m too curious to ignore how strange this is.
You’ve matched with Evangeline. Human, 40, Manhattan.
A human? Not many know about us. Perhaps this is one of those exclusive dating apps that pairs paranormals with humans. Why else would it specify that she’s human?
This one is quite beautiful. She has a button nose, and her round cheeks dimple when she smiles. She’s five foot one, with blue eyes and brown hair that feathers around her face and bangs. She has beautiful floral tattoos along her arms, shoulders, and chest. Her body is full and round in the most pleasant way.
My cock agrees, hardening despite me draining it of cum just minutes ago.
Evangeline.
The name means divine protector in my world.
Could this be another gargoyle? No. I know every gargoyle in the city. Besides, she’s clearly human. Though, I did try to upload a human photo myself and the app changed it. I have no clue if this picture is of her true form.
I select the option to message her.
What do I say? Will she even respond? Maybe I should let her message me first.
No, I’m too eager to know more about this woman. Just her name and her beautiful face call to me. Her luscious body has my cock begging to be deep inside her cunt.
God, I sound like a fucking asshole. A sex fiend. I’m never like this.
Which is why I need to meet her immediately.
Me
Hello Queen
No. That’s coming off a little too strong. Delete.
Me
Hello Evangeline. You’re my first match on this app. I have to say I’m blown away by your beauty.
Bleck. No. Delete.
Get it together, Xander. Don’t scare her away. I look at her details again. She’s five foot one. I’m seven feet.
Fuck, she’s tiny.
I’m going to destroy her.
I stand up and pace the living room. What the fuck am I going to say? I open Google and search opening lines for dating apps.
There are some good ones, but for the most part, they’re cheesy as hell. I wish this damn app would have let us fill out more information about ourselves. At least then, I could read some of her interests and work from there.
God, what the fuck kind of dating app is this?
Okay. Let’s just...be honest. Be...real.
Me
I’ve been trying to figure out what to say in my first message to you. I’m really bad at this. Dating apps seem so impersonal which is why I’ve never used them before. I’m pretty sure my friend downloaded this one on my phone because I don’t remember doing it myself. I suppose I should thank him though as I’ve matched with you. You’re stunning.
I hit send and blow out a long stream of breath.
Okay. That wasn’t hard. I kept it casual. Real. I didn’t care about grammar or punctuation. Not that I’ve ever been good with that shit, but I’ve learned in these modern times that text messages tend to be informal.
Wait. Should I ask her a question? Did I ramble too much? I suppose I don’t need to add more nonsense.
Wow. 999 years of my life, and I still get nervous when meeting a beautiful being. Except, I’ve never felt this on edge with any other potential lover.
I set my phone down, deciding to let fate take the wheel. I can’t imagine what she’s going to think the moment she sees a gargoyle has messaged her.