Chapter 2
Avandair
Only three days left until she’s mine.
I look down from the grand balcony of my mansion.
Below the steep incline of the mountain, the cluster of lights that make up the town are glittering brightly.
Given my superhuman senses, I’m able to pick out the forms of the humans if I look closely enough.
There’s the fruit vendor at the market, sitting smugly with his paunch resting on the wooden table.
The old man who always fishes in the stream is asleep with his fishing rod next to him.
And Winona…while the light in her house spills onto the wet stone streets, I can’t see her through the stone walls of her house.
I turn my head, hunting for her father among the populous crowd at the tavern. He’s usually drinking at this hour while his daughter slaves away at home alone.
I gnash my teeth when I find the bastard with a tankard in hand, boasting to his friends. “You know my girl? I’ve sold her to the gargoyle lord. He paid a fat sum for her, too.”
“That’s because she got fat tits,” one of the men sneers.
“A fat ass, too. I’d have loved to tup her if I had the money,” another one joins in.
Rage thrashes around my body.
He doesn’t treat Winona right. No father in his right mind, especially one who already makes a comfortable living, would sell his daughter for the sake of increasing his social status.
He doesn’t need the money I’ll give him nearly as much as he needs my name so that he can get better clients to purchase from him.
“I’m going to tell everyone she’s Lord Avandair’s whore. That’ll teach them to have some fear for me.” He breaks into a fit of laughter along with the other men seated at the table.
A forceful breath rushes out of my nostrils. My fingers draw into a ball, stone scraping against stone, producing a harsh noise. I come to realize too late that I should have kept my frustrations to myself.
“Gwaah!” Behind me, the shriek of a baby echoes off the gold-veined marble walls.
Swiveling around, I dash to the nursery where my six-month-old son is screaming his stone lungs out. Picking him up, I cradle his tiny form. With his tiny mouth and dark eyes, Grandor resembles his mother more than he resembles me.
There are two horns on his head, which I don’t possess myself.
A protective instinct swells within my chest as I stroke the tiny nubs.
The desire to soothe away his pain is a physical need.
There’s a smidge of red under his gray cheeks.
He flaps his tiny wings frantically, but no matter how hard he tries, he won’t be able to fly until he’s three.
I’ll be the one teaching him how to navigate the skies then.
I hum a tune, feeding him the herbal tonic that I buy from the royal apothecary.
Since his mother died and he can’t drink anything but magical human milk, it’s the best thing I can give him for now.
The perfect solution would have been to hire a wet nurse and pump her full of magical herbs until she started producing magical human milk.
However, not many women in the village who are lactating are ready to offer their milk to a gargoyle child.
Nor can I force them to take herbs they’re suspicious of for the rest of their lives.
The one I hired left in days, claiming she’d die if she stayed.
They’re terrified of me, and having to live at the mansion to feed Grandor makes them scared.
It’s because of the rumors. Humans tend to drive themselves into a frenzy because of the rustling of the trees and the wind’s echoes reverberating in the corridors. They think it’s gargoyle magic, the work of the devil, or some such nonsense.
“Soon, darling,” I promise, rocking Grandor in my arms. “You’ll have a nurse.”
The whole reason I made that blasted deal was because I needed someone to take care of Grandor.
A woman who is loving and whose tits are filled with milk so she can keep my son fed.
I spent an unholy amount of money on the herbs I handed Winona’s father.
If she has been taking them correctly, her breasts should start producing soon.
I should probably go and make sure everything is progressing as expected.
My cock stirs, throbbing with anticipation as I picture tasting Winona’s milk in my own mouth.
Imagining the soft, whimpering noises she’d make while I drain her…
heats my blood until it feels hot enough to melt my stone skin.
I’ve resisted going to her, grabbing her soft flesh and feeling its silky slide between my fingers for weeks, but my patience is wearing thin.
Winona.
The moment I met her in those woods, her scent shook me.
Turned my world upside down. My body had a visceral response to her pheromones.
It was like a firecracker going off in my blood, filling my cock with need.
I was dazed by my response. Then certainty gripped me.
In an instant, I knew she was my mate. The one meant to birth my babes and have them suckle on her teats.
The one meant to take my knot and love me forever.
I don’t lack riches or power.
Both have been easy to accumulate. As one of the high nobles of the Gargoyle Court, my family has enjoyed the king’s favor for centuries. My father was one of the generals who helped King Wrexen I annex the human lands.
The only thing I don’t have is a family.
A warm, caring mate to come home to. Children who’ll kiss me on the cheek and whom I can protect. A mate who will stay by my side and cherish our love.
My previous wife, who was a gargoyle, died in childbirth. I knew she wasn’t who I was destined to be with, but it was a political marriage, meant to strengthen the ties between two of the most powerful noble families of this generation.
My son will now be the most powerful noble in three generations.
When Grandor’s stomach is full of the tonic, he nods off to sleep. Since I can’t focus on the accounts I need to handle, I return to the balcony to study the town below.
Everything’s as it was minutes ago. Giving up any pretense of people-watching, I narrow my gaze until it lands on Winona’s home.
When I finally spot her cooking in the kitchen, my heart returns to its steady, stony taps once more.