Chapter 13
Winona
“I’m glad we picked this outfit for you.
I want all the nobles in attendance to be mesmerized by you,” Lord Avandair looks me straight in the eye as he says this.
The significance is not lost on me. He wants the entire world to know I’m his.
His child is growing in my belly, sealing our fate together.
Nothing makes me feel prouder than being tied to this gentle, protective gargoyle.
He’s a million times more beautiful than any human man I’ve ever met.
“You must look resplendent at the party. At least half as gorgeous you look naked under me.”
“Won’t they…won’t the nobility look down on you for being with me, my lord?
” The knot of worry in my mind refuses to untangle, though.
My life was pretty difficult and suddenly, I found this gargoyle who freed me from everything.
It’s too much. I’ve been bathed in sheer goodness ever since I found Lord Avandair.
I can’t help but worry that something will ruin this happiness.
That someone will drive a knife into the pure, fragile love that we have found.
“They know how hard it is to find a mate. They might be surprised, but they cannot question fate’s will” he says. His hard fingers squeeze mine. “It’s time to go now, Winona.”
I follow his lead. The moment we breach the entrance of the grand ballroom, a swell of sound crashes into me.
It’s the musicians I procured: they’re playing a moody aria for the nobles to dance to.
The high notes of violins and horns saturate the air, filling it with grandeur.
It’s a complete contrast to the silence that I’ve gotten used to experiencing at Slate Manor.
Grandor is lying in a golden crib at the center of the room, being cooed at by people.
Lord Avandair must display him since he’s the future heir.
The nobles here are gathered to witness the forthcoming glory of the Avandair family. As expected, everybody seems to love him.
My presence produces a ripple of gasps in the ballroom. Pairs of glowing eyes lock on me. Judging. Disappointed. Confused.
Reinforcing my insecurity, the one I’ve been carrying around all this time: I’m not good enough for Lord Avandair. He’s the highest of high nobles, a gargoyle, a loving father, and a wealthy man.
And I am…just me.
Every step against the stone floor rings in my bones. Our feet move in unison. When we approach the ballroom, Lord Avandair’s muscles grow stiffer than boulders under my hand. He’s nervous.
“They will love you.” There’s too much force behind those words like he’s trying to convince himself. “You look magnificent today.”
Avandair is always right. On this occasion, he might be wrong, though. We stop amidst a group of gargoyles. Tension rises through my spine. Their eyes, various colors of green and amber, are scrutinizing me like I’m a pest.
“Who is she?” An older gargoyle thunders. “A human?”
“My mate,” Avandair replies, his confidence unaffected. “Her name is Winona. She comes from the town. Her father is a merchant. We’re announcing our bond today.”
“A common girl.” Another gargoyle sneers. “What’s so special about her that you’d want to marry her?”
“She’s so plain. What are you thinking, Avandair?” The assessment, delivered in a sharp voice by a gargoyle bearing a noble insignia, cuts right to my bones. “She can’t be your mate. This is ridiculous!”
“I’m certain she is,” Lord Avandair replies. His shoulders are raised. Frustration is seeping into his body language.
I watch on helplessly as the gargoyles argue about my suitability for being part of the great Avandair family. The worst part is that none of them believe I could be his fated mate. Or that Avandair even has a fated mate.
I should tell them that I’m pregnant. That Avandair’s seed has taken in me and I’m increasing with our precious child as we speak.
But I’m petrified by my own self-doubt. Avandair, too, has fallen silent.
His jaw is rigid, his lips grinding into a thinner line.
I hear the crunch of stone as he curls his fingers into fists.
I know why he’s insecure.
It’s because of me.
He’s dashing, eloquent, wealthy, and charming. I might be hard-working and loyal, but in the eyes of society, I’ll never be his equal.
“Can you leave me for a moment?” he says. His voice is low and soft but there’s fire in his eyes.
I withdraw from the group of important gargoyles. It’s not like I want to be there, being judged by their cold, monstrous eyes.
Showering my lungs with a few deep breaths, I rub at the knot of tension stuck in my throat. No matter how many times I tell myself I deserve to have this beautiful life with the magical monster who put his baby in me, I can’t convince myself. Am I really good enough for him?
My naked shoulder brushes against the rocky skin of a female gargoyle. Her eyes narrow immediately.
“Hello,” I curtsy because I don’t want to be chided for not remembering my manners.
“You’re the one Avandair is claiming as his wife?” Her long, thick pewter nose releases a forceful snort. “Do you think he means it?”
Her derision stings. At her suggestion that Avandair isn’t serious about us, fury strokes my veins.
But I make every effort to maintain my equanimity despite the hostile treatment that I’m receiving from other gargoyles.
It must be hard for them to accept something that they’ve never seen before—a human mated to a gargoyle.
“He said he was my mate. That he’d love me forever,” I reply.
“And I have no reason not to believe him.”
“He feels responsible for you, stupid girl. It’s his guilt that's driving him to be stupid. He has never forced anybody to work for him but he paid your father so he could have you.” “Not only that, he probably gave you the herbs I procured for him. That was underhanded for a man who is usually honest to a fault.”
“The herbs…” I drift off, remembering Papa giving them to me, telling me I need to eat them or Lord Avandair will know. “I knew about them. He told me.”
“He’ll still regret it, though. Making you take them by deception. Gargoyles are not above manipulation but for Avandair, his protective instinct is stronger than his instinct to win.”
I know that better than anyone. “He said he knew the first time he saw me.”
“Romantic fantasies, those.” She scoffs.
I’m beginning to realize that no matter what I tell her, her mind is made up. She’s convinced herself that Avandair has deluded himself and me into thinking that we’re mates.
I slink away quietly, tears exerting pressure behind my eyeballs. This night was supposed to be our union as gargoyle and wife, a celebration of our new family. Instead, it has been a series of ride questions about our right to be together.
“Winona, wait!” Avandair screams from across the cavernous space as he watches me flee the ballroom. He’s holding Grandor in his arms. The child is asleep. “Put Grandor back in his nursery. All this attention is stressful to a child.”
I do as I’m told. Grandor feels so cozy against my chest that’s overflowing with motherly cream. I can’t relieve myself if he’s sleeping, though. After depositing him in his crib, I return sullenly.
Avandair is perched right by the entrance, waiting for me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I think you should be with someone better than me. At least all the other gargoyles think so.”
“You are the best,” he replies, brushing his fingers lightly over my exposed collarbone. “There’s nobody better than you and if they think there is, then they’re wrong.”
“I know we’re mates.” I sniffle. “But what if that was a mistake? What if we were not meant to be?”
“You’re mine, Winona and nothing can change that.” Avandair flattens his palm against my pregnant stomach. “It’s time we proved it to them.”
He pulls down his head. His mouth melts against my lips.
The kiss is deep and fiery, getting fiercer when he runs his thumb over my stiff, distended buds.
Heat roars to life inside me. The distance between us since morning has felt impossible and cold.
My aching desire to be joined with him fuels the long, passionate kiss.
His hard stone tongue scrapes against my soft mouth, sending sparks of magic dancing through my blood.
The texture of his tongue is exquisite—it’s stone but it’s smooth, polished stone, unlike the hard, textured stone of his chest. Tracing the edge of his stony organ leaves me wet and clenching for more.
“There are people here,” I say, shocked.
“They need to see how strong our intimate bond is, how badly my body lusts for yours or they’ll never believe it.”
I understand what he’s saying. But I never expect him to start dragging down my gown right then and there, in front of all the people in attendance. He settles my naked body in his arms, carrying me to the center of the room where everybody can see us.
Having so much attention lavished upon my bare form should humiliate me, but it’s strangely empowering.
I’m snuggled tight against my gargoyle’s chest, the warmth radiating from the stone sending tickles to my pussy.
My cunt flares to life with lust, doubly aroused by the scandalous whispers and hostile noises.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
“For everyone who doubts that Winona is my mate, here’s my proof!” Avandair thunders. The echo of his voice is loud enough to reverberate all the way down the mountain to the town.
I luxuriate in his certainty, his primal possessiveness. He rests his hand on my pregnant stomach, cradling the growing life inside.
“She’s with child. My child,” he says. “You all know what that means. Humans can’t carry a gargoyle’s seed unless they have a fated connection.”
“It can’t be!” Somebody rasps.
But in the aftermath of that, the whole crowd falls silent. Their rapt attention is locked on us, waiting for further confirmation or denial.
Nobody can stop us, no matter how much they dislike it.