Chapter 2 – Locheran
Iwill not fuck her.
I will not fuck her.
I will not fuck my best friend’s wife’s best friend.
Farrah is tempting me.
She’s dancing with Evangeline in the middle of the makeshift dance floor.
They’ve been dancing for at least thirty minutes.
The song currently playing is awful. One I used to hear all the time when I went clubbing in the early 2000s.
I can’t remember the name, but it talks about getting low, a window, a wall, and sweat dripping down balls.
Seriously?
Whatever.
The song was on the list given to me by the bride after Xander asked me to be the DJ.
Not that I’m paying much attention to the lyrics of any of the songs tonight.
I’ve been watching Farrah move to the beats.
She’s not a terrible dancer either. Right now, her arms are above her head, and she’s swaying her wide hips.
She does this move with her hands next, twisting them in the air before burying them into her red hair.
She’s let it down from the elegant updo she wore to the ceremony, and it falls in loose curls over her shoulders.
My eyes trail down the rest of her thick body… from her perfect breasts and soft stomach to the pale leg poking out of the slit of her green dress.
That leg is calling to me.
I need it wrapped around me.
Farrah closes her stunning blue eyes as her hands smooth up and down her sides and—oh, shit, she just tripped over her own foot.
Thankfully, Evangeline was there to catch her.
Okay, now that I overhear Farrah animatedly speaking to Evangeline with slurred speech, I realize she’s quite drunk.
It takes a lot of human booze to get me wasted.
Faerie wine is a different story. That shit will fuck me up.
Still, it’s been a while since I was as sloshed as my beautiful mouse is right now.
What the hell?
Why did I just refer to Farrah as a rodent? As my rodent?
I mean, she is cute and tiny like a little mouse, and I just want to hold her in my hands and kiss her little button nose.
Okay.
The five glasses of whiskey I’ve had must be affecting me more than I realize.
All the guests have gone home for the night, and Xander signals to me to shut down the dance party.
I hand over my DJ station, which is just a laptop hooked up to some speakers, to the staff Xander hired to set up and take down equipment. I’m ready to go home, drop my human form, and fuck my hand to get thoughts of Farrah out of my head.
“Locheran!” Evangeline yells my way, stopping me from escaping. “Can you walk Farrah to a guest apartment?”
I narrow my eyes at her. She’s up to something.
And I’m terrified.
She made it clear before I even met her best friend that I had better keep my dick in my pants. She said, and I quote, “Farrah means the world to me, and she’s off limits to fuck boy gargoyles. Only serious, relationship seeking supes allowed.”
Pfft. Whatever. It’s not like I plan, or want, to be single forever. I just haven’t met my mate yet.
Xander met Evangeline on a dating app. One I’d never heard of because I’ve had them all. I searched and searched and hoped that app would magically appear on my phone like it did Xander’s and match me with my mate.
But it’s been a year and it’s as if the app never existed.
It’s fine. Maybe I’m not destined to have a mate. Many gargoyles never find one.
I had hoped Farrah was destined to be mine, but I’m convinced she hates me. When I first met her last year while celebrating Evangeline’s 41st birthday, she wouldn’t stop sneering at me.
I know this because I couldn’t take my eyes off her all night.
She looked amazing in her flowing skirt and shiny crop top.
Not only did she captivate me, but every douche canoe in the club kept staring.
The way they leered at her, licking their lips, adjusting their hard-ons, and smirking like she was a prize to be won.
The moment one of those men would make a move, planning to approach her, I’d step in and shake my head.
I was prepared to cut off the hand of anyone who tried to touch her.
Like tonight.
I wanted to grab the bartender by the throat and rip his wings off his back for flirting with her. He’s one of Xander’s soldiers—young and cocky—worse than me. There’s no way I was going to let him get near Farrah.
Maybe he didn’t know she’s Evangeline’s friend. I’ll make sure all the gargoyles are aware that she’s off-limits.
Because if she’s going to be underneath anyone, it will be me.
I would love nothing more than to have Farrah screaming my name while I bury my cock deep inside her.
These feelings, while unusual for me, aren’t consuming me like a mating connection is said to do. And the only reason I’ve refrained from acting on my attraction to this woman is because Evangeline will literally kill me when I inevitably break Farrah's heart.
When I don’t make a move toward the women, Evangeline adds low enough that only I can hear, “I am your queen, you know. Don’t you have to follow my orders?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Farrah’s cheeks turn a lovely shade of red as I approach, and she quickly looks away. She’s struggled to look at me since the moment we met. I assumed it was just shyness, but a woman who commands all eyes on her on a dance floor like she did tonight has not an ounce of shyness in her.
It’s me.
She doesn’t like me.
It’s for the best, I suppose.
“My lady,” I say and hold out my arm.
My little mouse—not my mouse!—Farrah lets out a shaky breath and gently wraps her tiny hand around my forearm. Her skin is cold, yet it lights a fire that burns throughout my entire body.
She stumbles, possibly feeling this electrifying moment too, which causes me to stumble as we enter Xander’s penthouse and walk down the hallway to the elevator.
I lead her inside and hit the button for the 57th floor and the moment the doors close, she lets go of my arm.
I frown, saddened by the loss of her touch, until she appears in front of me.
“Kiss me,” she says.
She jumps—literally jumps—into my arms.
I catch her, my hands cupping her wonderfully plump ass as she buries her hands in my hair.
Her lips are on mine before I realize what’s even happening.
Fuck.
They’re so soft and eager.
Her tongue pries my lips open, and I abide, letting her devour me. She hums and whimpers and my cock awakens to the sounds.
My true form aches to burst through; my fangs fighting to drop and sink into her neck.
I groan.
I can’t do this.
It’s wrong.
She’s intoxicated and I’m not.
“Farrah,” I say, breaking the kiss. She moves her lips along my jaw and down my neck to the crook where she lingers. “You’re too—”
My words are cut off when Farrah lets out an impressive snore and goes limp in my arms.
Is she… did she fall asleep?
Wowww.
I have to say, this has never happened to me.
When I hook up with one-night stands, they’re never drunk. I make sure they’re of sound mind.
I’m not a monster.
I mean, I am, but I’m a good monster.
The elevator doors open, and I carry Farrah down the hallway to apartment 5B where Xander had someone bring her overnight bag earlier. I free my arm to enter the code assigned to this unit then tap the key fob—Xander insists I carry one that works on all the guest units for security purposes.
The studio is minimally decorated with stark white walls and cherry hardwood floors. The only splash of color is the abstract art that hangs on the walls while the furniture is a drab tan.
I bring Farrah to the bed and turn back the covers. When I lay her down, she stirs and mumbles something about horns.
Or maybe she said horny.
She’s not the only one.
I’ve never fucked a human in my gargoyle form—only human-presenting supes like vampires and shifters—and I so badly want to shift to sink my bulbous cock deep inside her.
“Loch?” Farrah whispers.
I quickly look away, realizing I’d been staring at her.
She sits up in bed and looks down her body.
“Ugh. I need out of this dress.” She clumsily stands and reaches behind her. “Can you help me?”
I freeze.
If I unzip her out of that dress, I will want to worship the body underneath. I’ve been struggling not to do just that all night long.
“I can’t reach, Loch.”
Loch.
Only my close friends call me that, but they’ve never made my heart drum inside my chest the way Farrah’s sweet voice does as she croons the name.
I swallow hard and step forward, closing the gap between us. I suck in a sharp breath as I take the zipper and slide it down.
“There you go,” I say, immediately stepping back.
She starts stripping, and I silently curse, spinning around to give her privacy.
I need to go.
I walk away from the intoxicated little mouse, and I’m seconds to freedom… seconds from leaving and returning to my apartment where I can tend to my throbbing cock.
“Lawwwwwk.”
She draws out my name in a whine. And damn if I don’t find it adorable.
“Stay with me?”
I keep my back to her because she’s still dressing. The rustle of the fabric teases me.
“I… I can’t.”
She huffs, not in frustration but of something more like defeat.
“Right. Of course.”
“Farrah,” I warn. “It’s not because I don’t want to. I do. But you’re drunk and I’m not. You should go to sleep—”
“I’m not tired!”
“You literally fell asleep in my arms.”
I hear her climb into bed, so I finally turn around. Only to find her passed out already—her arms splayed above her head.
And she’s snoring.
Gosh. She’s cute.
I shake my head and go to the kitchenette to pour her a glass of water.
I set it on the table beside the bed, then grab two aspirin pills from the bathroom medicine cabinet and place them next to the glass.
I tear off a piece of paper from the notepad on the office desk in the corner and pick up a pen from the holder.
Once I finish my note, I tuck Farrah under the covers, and leave, making sure the door is locked and the protection wards are secured.
I force myself to walk away because if I don’t, I’ll crawl into bed so I can cuddle her in my arms and wake up beside her.
But I can’t.
She’s human. She’s Evangeline’s best friend. Off-limits unless I’m serious about a relationship.
I don’t allow myself to be in serious relationships. I prefer casual sex because it makes it easier to let go of someone whose soul isn’t bound to yours.
I couldn’t do that to Farrah. And even if we tried to be in a relationship, she’d keep aging while I remained the same for hundreds of years to come.
Even if she’s the first human, the first being, who’s made my heart wake from its centuries long slumber—which I can’t understand for the life of me.
I mean, she’s beautiful. Gorgeous. Her face lights up when she’s talking to Evangeline about something that excites her.
Her laugh is dainty and infectious. But she’s also shy and hesitant around me—I love the way her cheeks burn red when I’m close.
My near visceral reaction to her is confusing, especially since this is not how I felt the first time we met.
What changed?
It doesn’t matter. I need to stay away.
I can’t ruin this.
I can’t ruin her.