Chapter 3 – Evangeline
M y alarm jolts me awake, and I pick up my phone, prepared to throw it across the room. Ugh. Why the hell did I set my alarm? It’s Saturday and my day off.
Birdie jumps on my chest and starts making biscuits, her claws digging into my skin through the thin fabric of my sleep shirt.
“Okay! I’m up, I’m up!”
She jumps down, and I throw the covers off my body, then drag my ass to the bathroom to relieve myself and brush my teeth.
I feed Birdie her dinner, make myself coffee, and toss two frozen waffles into the toaster. Once my sad little breakfast is nice and crispy, I slather it with butter and syrup and sit on a stool at the counter to dig in .
My phone beeps with notifications. I start with texts, first answering my father to assure him I haven’t been mugged or murdered.
Next, I respond to my bestie, Farrah, asking about plans for my birthday in August, which is still a couple months away. I’d love to do a singles cruise this year. Farrah is my age and swears after too many failed relationships that she’ll never get married.
She still lives upstate in Macedon and teaches at the same school where I worked as a nurse before moving to NYC. She gives me all the gossip about my ex and other assholes in that town who I no longer care about—but love hearing the tea on.
My boss also texted me, asking if I’d pick up an extra shift next week, which I agree to, since I could always use a bigger paycheck.
I skim through my emails but don’t see anything pressing. I’m about to go to my social media accounts, where I never post but mostly lurk and doom scroll, when I spot a red bubble hovering over the Kiss-meet app.
My heart kicks into gear and pounds against my chest.
Did I get a match? How? I didn’t even swipe or heart any profiles.
My finger shakes as I tap the icon. Why am I so nervous? Maybe it’s because I’m forty years old on a dating app.
You have 1 new message.
A message? Holy shit. Okay. It’s fine. You can do this.
I open it, holding my breath.
Xander
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 smile.
He thinks I’m stunning.
I don’t let the compliment get to my head, because Farrah—who’s been bullying me into getting on the dating apps—warned me about love bombing.
I tap on Xander’s profile and burst out laughing.
What the hell? He has horns and fangs and… lavender skin .
Just like in my dream.
Suddenly, it all makes sense.
I’m losing my mind, because surely this can’t be real. Am I still asleep? A dream within a dream? Dreamception?
I look at Xander’s photo again. I mean…he’s fucking hot. He’s not wearing a shirt and abs ripple up and down his torso. His meaty chest and cords of muscle along his arms and shoulders are like art. His hair . It’s dark blue and disappears down his back. His eyes are silver, and his fangy smile could light up a room.
He has horns . I can’t help imagining myself clutching them while I ride his…
My eyes trail down to his sweats and the massive bulge.
If this is a cosplay costume, it’s one of the best I’ve seen.
If?
I mean, it has to be cosplay, right? The horns, fangs, tail, and wings...but if it’s cosplay, why would he be wearing sweats? Why not warrior’s gear or even a suit? This is clearly a candid someone took of him.
If … because I always believed those stories my mother told me about supernatural beings who lived in the shadows and blended in with humans. I pretended I didn’t believe her because she asked me to keep it a secret.
Our little secret .
All my life hearing her stories about the supernatural, yet I’ve never met one. Could Xander be my first? I’m going into this with an open mind.
Me
Good news! I’m also bad at this so we can be bad together
I add a kissy face and hit send.
Wait.
Did I really just say “let’s be bad together?”
That’s opening myself up for an unsolicited dick pic.
Though, if he really is a supernatural being, he might not have a human-like penis. Would it be ribbed for my pleasure? Would he have TWO?
Okay. Wow. I’m horny.
My phone chirps with a response, and my face flushes, my heart could bruise my chest with how fast it beats as I read his reply.
Xander
That was…quite the response. One that has me desperately wanting to be bad with you. But I am a gentleman so I will refrain and instead ask if I could take you to dinner.
Me
Why can’t we do both?
Xander
Both?
Me
Yeah. Have dinner then be bad.
God, what is wrong with me? This man…this being …has me acting feral.
Xander
Evangeline…I do not think you know what you’re insinuating.
Me
I know exactly what I’m insinuating.
Xander
Ok. I’ll play. You want to be bad? Fuck the small talk. Let’s meet. Tonight at 8. Mulberry Street in front of old St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
Me
A church? Are we going to sin and ask for forgiveness after?
Okay, now I’m being naughty.
Xander
If you don’t stop being a brat then you’ll definitely be on your knees praying for penance.
Oh, fuck.
Xander
And it won’t be God’s name you’re calling.
Holy shit.
My nipples are painfully hard, my panties soaked as his words paint pictures in my head: Him fucking my mouth. Him taking me from behind. Me begging to come.
Me
See you at 8 bad boy.
I add a winky face emoji and close out of the app, too scared to see his response. I’m also freaking out just a little bit.
I’ve never sexted someone before. My ex wasn’t into it. Not that my texts to Xander could even qualify as sexting. They were rather tame, but boy was it exhilarating.
I’m also nervous because I’ve never had a one-night stand. People do it all the time, so why can’t I?
I’ve only slept with one man: my ex, Brandon. I met him as a freshman in high school, and we began dating the next year. We talked about splitting up after graduation, but our colleges were only an hour apart, so we stayed together.
Brandon doesn’t like change. He had a life plan: get his law degree, get married, land a job at a firm. He got everything he wanted.
We were married for fifteen miserable years. Well, not all of those fifteen years were horrible. He was a decent husband for our first five years of marriage, then he slowly lost interest. I’m pretty sure he cheated on me with his secretary.
He fought me on the divorce. He didn’t want it, claiming it would make him look bad amongst his colleagues. I didn’t care. I served him papers a week later. He made sure to punish me for leaving him too. He knew all the loopholes to get everything in the divorce. All I got was Birdie, but she was all I needed.
Fuck that asshole.
I wasted too much time on him. I never got a chance to live.
Now it’s my turn to be careless and free. I deserve this. Tonight, I’m going to fuck a stranger. I’m going to let him destroy me.
I wonder if Xander uses that tail during sex?
I check the time. Nearly six. I have two hours to prepare my body .
Shower. Shave—everything. Lotion.
I keep my makeup simple, choosing cherry lip gloss and brown eyeshadow for a light smokey eye. I style my hair to feather around my face.
The summer night is hot, so the red dress I choose is short, with spaghetti straps to show off my tattoos. It also has built in support, which I don’t need a lot of since I’m a member of the itty-bitty-titty committee. I look sexy as hell in this dress, and I hope I won’t be wearing it long.
With one more look in the mirror, I slip on my black heels and grab my clutch.
The walk takes less than five minutes since I live close to the landmark cathedral. The moment the metal fence surrounding the building comes into view, my heart beats faster.
I become lightheaded, which always happens when I’m near this church. The dizziness doesn’t last long, only when I’m in this area. I never really thought about that being strange until tonight.
I’m too anxious to dwell on that thought though.
I arrive at the gate, but it’s locked. Sweat gathers on my lower back and at the nape of my neck.
Yep. I’m nervous. God, I hope I don’t look a mess. At least I smell good. Before I left, I sprayed myself with one of my favorite perfumes, which has hints of strawberries and marshmallows.
I turn in circles, looking for my lavender man.
“Um, Xander?” I say out loud.
“I’m here,” a voice from behind says, making me jump.
I whip around, ready to throw punches, and find Xander standing an arm’s length away, his eyebrows furrowed.
I tilt my head to see him. And I mean all of him, to the tip of his horns. His wings may be tucked to his back, but they’re unmistakably there. His tail whips back and forth behind him.
“So it’s not cosplay,” I whisper.
His pinched forehead grows deeper, and he frowns. “I don’t understand.”
“You have horns and wings and a tail. What are you?”
He takes a step back and shakes his head.
“You shouldn’t be able to see my true form. I masked myself. I…”
When I move closer to him, he freezes hauntingly still. Like a statue. God, he’s beautiful. And he smells fantastic, like leather and bergamot. He’s dressed in all black, a tunic and dress pants. It’s casual yet stylish and slightly old-fashioned.
I reach up my hand and place my palm on his chest in the middle of the v of the shirt. His skin burns underneath my touch, but I don’t pull it away. He’s smooth, like stone...or marble. But it’s not hard nor cold. I want to run my hands all over his body, and I’m not sure why. Almost as if the moment we made eye contact, waves of euphoria were shot throughout my body.
Does he feel the same?
“What are you?” I ask again, my voice soft and low and in awe of this being before me.
“I’m a gargoyle,” he growls and grabs my neck, squeezing hard enough to make me yelp.
Instead of being scared, I’m turned on, and I whimper as he tightens his hold.
“My question, Evangeline, is what are you? ”