Chapter 5 – Evangeline
I ’m acting like a cat in heat.
But the way he called me a naughty kitten? It was sexy as hell!
I’m definitely being naughty.
My overactive hormones seem to be overshadowing my fear of heights. I feel safe in Xander’s arms. His words and nearness calm me in a way I can’t explain. It made me forget we were hundreds of feet in the air. Or would it be dozens of feet? I don’t even know, but the longer we hover, my body flush with his, the more my fear transforms into excitement.
Xander flies us a few blocks away to a high-rise. He must be rich. This building is full of luxury units. I remember seeing a listing for a unit when I was apartment hunting that was three times more than what I pay for rent. My building is an old, pre-war walk-up with appliances that haven’t been updated in the last twenty years. At least I live close enough to work that I can walk.
We land on the roof—smoother than a plane landing on a runway—and I attempt to dismount the gargoyle, but he tightens his arms around me.
“I can walk now.”
“I know,” he chuckles, and the deep, hearty sound vibrates throughout my body.
“I’m too heavy. Just let me walk.”
“Does it look like I’m straining? Can you see me sweating?”
My hands mindlessly run up and down his muscular arms. They’re massive. Okay, fine. I suppose he’s got that supernatural strength going for him.
“Convinced?” He raises his brow—perfectly sculptured like the rest of his body.
I realize I’m still petting him and squeezing his muscles. I can’t help it. His skin has such a unique texture. It’s soft despite appearing hard, and it’s coated with fur-like hair.
“Sorry, I’ve never been carried around before.”
“Ever?”
“Not as an adult, no.”
I’ve been fat my whole life. There are things I’ve never experienced like being picked up by a man and carried around as if I weigh nothing. Things I’ve been limited to because I was either too self-conscious (like wearing crop tops out in public), or because my body wouldn’t allow it (like being comfortable on airplanes or amusement park rides).
These things used to bother me. I let the world tell me I wasn’t worthy, and then my ex-husband’s verbal abuse solidified those views. It wasn’t until my fortieth birthday last year, when Farrah and I took a train into New York City to celebrate, that everything changed.
I wore a skintight dress. I put on make-up and cut my hair and dyed the grays away. For once, I cared about my appearance—instead of letting Brandon convince me I wasn’t hot enough to care—and I looked fucking amazing.
That night, I had men hitting on me left and right. And even though I wasn’t at a point to let them take me home, I still felt beautiful. That’s when I realized my whole life had been a lie. It was never about how the world viewed me, but how I viewed myself.
“Evangeline.” Xander’s deep voice startles me, and I jolt in his arms. “Where did you go?”
“Sorry,” I whisper.
He walks us into an elevator and pushes a button. The doors close, and he presses my back against the wall, then reaches up and clutches my chin between his fingers .
“Never be sorry.”
I smile.
“What if I do something that deserves an apology?”
He leans in and rubs his nose up and down my cheek.
“Then you atone.”
He presses his velvet soft lips to my neck, and I gasp when he sucks and laps his tongue over the skin.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes, sir.” The words come out in rasp.
“Sir?”
I can hear the smirk in his voice. He liked me calling him that.
His hands drop down to my ass, and he squeezes, grinding his thick cock into my pussy, hard enough to make me moan.
“We’re not going too fast?” he asks, trailing his lips across my jaw.
“No.”
“Tell me what you want.”
Before I can answer, the elevator doors open, and Xander pulls away from the wall.
“I want to walk.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. I want to see your place.”
“Hmm. Maybe I want to take you—”
His words cut off, and he stills. He sniffs the air and growls.
It’s not the sexy growl from earlier either.
“What is it?”
I barely get out the words before he’s rushing me back inside the elevator. He pushes a button for the floor below, and when the doors open, another massive gargoyle is there waiting.
“Locheran,” Xander says, handing me over as if I’m a child. “This is Evangeline. Protect her. Send Thorne and Elara to the penthouse.”
I can’t even protest being left in the arms of a stranger because Xander is back inside the elevator, the doors closing, before I’m able to process what’s happening.
“Um...”
Locheran turns to walk down the hallway.
“Please put me down. I’m not a toddler.”
“I don’t know, you are kinda short,” he muses, setting my feet on the ground.
“Says the man with horns and a tail.”
“You can see my true form?”
“Am I not supposed to? I saw Xander as a gargoyle when we met.”
“Interesting.”
“What else am I supposed to see? ”
He ignores the question and takes his phone out of his jeans pocket to make a call; I assume to the ones Xander told him to send to the penthouse.
I finally get a good look at this gargoyle.
He’s got a similar build to Xander. Muscles for days. He’s not as tall, that’s for sure. I’d say he’s a little over six feet. His hair is a lighter blue, and his skin is a darker shade of purple. Okay, are all gargoyles sexy?
Locheran isn’t as sexy as Xander, though.
Ugh. Xander. I’m so confused right now.
The moment Locheran is done with his phone call, I plant my hands on my hips. “Can you tell me what the fuck is going on?”
He smiles briefly before his face drops back to serious. He waves his hand down the hallway to indicate we walk and talk. His palm finds my lower back, as if he’s expecting me to run off and try to escape.
Not that I feel like a prisoner. What’s crazy is I don’t want to leave, even after what just happened.
“Xander sensed a threat.”
“A threat? Does that happen a lot?”
“Not often, but he is a king, so it does happen.”
“Xander is a king?” I ask, my voice an octave higher.
“Shit. He didn’t tell you?”
“Um, no. He didn’t. We literally just met. ”
Locheran stops in front of a door at the end of the tan and brown hallway. It’s very drab and nondescript for a luxury apartment building.
“What are you, his guard or something?”
He smiles again and the skin crinkles around his violet eyes.
“I’m the commander of his army.”
“Xander has an army?”
Locheran laughs this time. Glad he thinks I’m funny. “I’ll let him explain everything.”
He nods his chin at the door. “This is my apartment. It’s warded. You’ll be safe here.”
“Is Xander’s apartment not warded?”
He pauses before answering, carefully crafting his response. “It is, which means whatever got inside is more powerful than our shields.”
“Shouldn’t you be helping him?”
“I am merely following orders, and that involves protecting you.”
“Seems like a waste of resources if you ask me.”
He nudges me, and we walk inside. The doors automatically lock behind us.
What the hell? I’ve never seen technology like that before. It must be a rich person luxury.
Or something supernatural .
“You’re sure these locks will hold? You say the place is warded but if the king’s shields weren’t strong enough, then how do you know yours are? And what do you mean by warded?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Start answering, Commander.”
The nickname makes him smile again. He shakes his head as he walks into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes. I need booze.”
He nods and extracts two glasses out of the cupboard, then grabs a bottle of whiskey and vodka from a cabinet. He holds them up, one in each hand, for me to choose.
“Vodka, please. Neat.”
He fills the glass halfway and hands it to me. I choke it down and give the empty glass back for more.
He raises a brow, and I point at the glass. He shakes his head at me again.
“Don’t judge me. I’m trying not to freak out here.”
“Not judging. Just...entertained.”
He hands me the refilled glass and sits down at the table across from me.
“So you’re not freaking out. Why is that?” Locheran asks, eyeing me over his glass as he takes a drink of his whiskey. “Did you know of our existence before meeting Xander?”
“Yes and no. It’s a long story.”
“Would you like to share?” Locheran muses.
“Not really.”
“Okay then.”
I’m relaxed enough now to scope out the place. It’s totally a bachelor’s pad: empty white walls, bare minimum furniture, including a brown couch and recliner, a coffee table, and television mounted on the wall.
“You live here?”
“Yes.”
“You should...paint. Hang some art or something.”
“I should, huh?”
“Sorry, that was rude.” I sigh. “Okay. Please tell me what’s going on.”
He takes a long draw of his liquor as he forms his answer. I assume he’s going to leave out details. Maybe censor things a human shouldn’t, or can’t, know.
“The locks on the door are infused with the magic of our shields. Yes, they should work.”
“Should?”
“They’ve worked up until now. There’s never been a breach of our units or Xander’s penthouse.”
“Why now then? ”
“He should really be telling you this.”
I take two large gulps of my vodka and shake my head. “No. Either tell me, or I leave.”
I won’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. I seem to be important to Xander for some reason even though we just met.
Locheran purses his lips. “Xander’s wards are only as strong as he is. He’s...weakening.”
“Weakening? Why?”
He shifts in his seat as I refuse to break eye contact with him. “I can’t tell you that. If you want to leave, then go. But that’s not something for me to share.”
“Is Xander sick?”
The commander is clearly uncomfortable. I want to keep pressing him, but I don’t know this man. He’s a supernatural being. What if I make him angry and he...attacks me?
Except, I don’t sense malice from him, just like I didn’t fear Xander harming me. I wish I could explain that. I finish the rest of my drink and jump out of my seat for another.
This vodka is starting to make me feel real good. Aside from the two frozen waffles for breakfast, I haven’t had anything else to eat tonight. I kinda expected to be eating at a fancy restaurant right now with Xander, so I’m drinking on an empty stomach. Plus, I rarely drink, at least not the hard stuff. I’ll have a glass of wine here and there.
Maybe I shouldn’t have poured this third glass.
“Xander is on his way back now.”
“What do you mean? How do you know? Did he text you? Or is it some gargoyle magic thing? Also, how do I address him? King Xander? Your Majesty? His Highness?”
I hiccup and giggle.
Shit. I might be tipsy.
Before Locheran can explain, Xander walks through the apartment door and rushes over to me.
“Are you okay?”
He cups my face in his hands and brushes a piece of hair out of my face. I swat his hand away, and he frowns.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say and take another swig of my vodka.
Xander stands up straight. “Are you drunk?”
I wave my finger at him. “No, sir. Just tipsy.”
He glances at Locheran, who shrugs. “She’s an adult. She can do whatever she wants.”
“Leave him out of this. Tell me what’s going on, Your Majesty.”
Xander regards Locheran again, who shrugs for a second time.
“It slipped out. ”
Xander holds out his hand for me to take. “I’ll explain everything.”
I eye the hand, then gasp and grab it. “You have four fingers?”
I turn it over as if I’ll find the fifth finger hiding somewhere. How did I not notice this sooner? I suppose I don’t count fingers on a human when first meeting them.
“We have four toes too,” Locheran chuckles. I notice the scowl Xander gives him. “Well, four toes and a back claw.”
“Shut up! No way!” I lean over, trying to get a view at either gargoyle’s feet and nearly fall out of my chair.
“Evangeline,” Xander barks, righting me in my chair and reeling me in from my amazement. His commanding voice speaks directly to my lust because all I want to do is behave.
“Please, come up to my penthouse. It’s safe now, I promise.”
“What was the threat? I want to know before going up there.” I try to take another drink of vodka, but Xander grabs the glass from me and hands it to Locheran.
I cross my arms and pout.
“Kitten,” Xander says, his voice soft.
“Kitten?” Locheran snorts. The king must give him a warning look because the commander straightens and clears his throat .
Xander palms my cheek. “I’m sorry I worried you. I had sensed something, but it wasn’t inside the penthouse.”
He drops his hand and turns to Locheran.
“The shields are intact, but the barrier outside the window to my living room was approached. The smell was off, as if it was disguising their scent to trick me. Thorne and Elara can give you the full report.”
Xander turns back to me.
“Please, Evangeline, let me explain.”
I should leave. This is crazy. I’ve just met the man and instead of us having an intimate night together, I’m being rushed out of his penthouse due to a threat.
Yet the idea of leaving makes me sick to my stomach.
I take his offered hand, and he leads me out of the apartment. I’m not sure if it’s the vodka or the adrenaline pumping throughout my body, but my vision wavers, and I almost stumble to the ground. Xander notices and immediately scoops me into his arms like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold.
The elevator ride up one floor to the penthouse is quiet, and I rest my head on his chest, suddenly exhausted. I listen to his heart. It beats as fast as a high school drumline playing at a football half-time show. I’d say it’s beating too fast, but maybe that’s normal for gargoyles. Unless he’s nervous. Why would he be? Because of me? That doesn’t make sense. He’s a king. I’m nobody.
He pauses just inside the penthouse to sniff the air and survey the space. He must be satisfied by what he finds because he continues walking until setting me down on a stool at the kitchen island.
He fills a glass with water and sets it in front of me.
“Drink all of it.”
“Yes, sir.”
I give him a wink and drink. While rehydrating, I scope out the place. It’s mostly open concept. The kitchen is in a corner, with sleek metal appliances and marble countertops. There’s a massive island in the middle with a table off to the right, big enough for four people. I assume the French doors past the table open to the dining room.
The living room is tall, at least two stories, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a breathtaking view of the Empire State Building.
Xander’s apartment is also a bachelor pad but with more expensive taste. His couches are leather—or faux leather, I’m not sure. Chestnut hardwood floors, a rug with intricate designs. There’s a fireplace with a television hanging above it. Artwork adorns one wall with another full of bookshelves. Books and odd collectible items fill the shelves .
I want to snoop. I wonder what types of books he likes to read.
When I finish my first glass of water, he refills it and hands it back.
“I’m ready to listen when you’re ready to speak,” I say, taking a drink. “Start with you being a king.”
“I was going to tell you eventually. If tonight went well, that is. It’s not really something you confess on a first date, you know?”
“Understandable.”
“So, yes, I’m a king. I rule an army of gargoyles that protect New York City.”
“Protect from what?”
“From evil.”
“Is that what you sensed tonight? Outside your window? Something evil?”
“Yes.”
“You think this evil wants to...what? Kill you? Take over the city?”
“Typically, yes.”
“But?”
“There was something different about this being. I don’t think it was here for me.”