Chapter 16
Gavrel
Mason’s office smelled like leather and coffee, the kind of space designed to make people comfortable while discussing significant financial decisions. I sat across from him, my wings folded tight against the chair back, my tail coiled around one leg to keep it from knocking things over.
“You’re certain about the cash offer?” Mason asked, sliding the paperwork across his desk. “It’s well above the asking price.”
“I’m sure.”
The number I’d written down would ensure quick acceptance. I’d liquidated some investments, transferred funds from France. I’d been saving this money for years without knowing what it was for.
Now I knew. A home for my mate. For Corey. For us.
“The seller’s daughter will be pleased,” Mason said, reviewing the documents. “The house has been on the market for quite some time. Her parents went into assisted living, and she’s been trying to sell it ever since.”
“Will she accept quickly?”
“I’d bet on it.” Mason’s knowing smile suggested he understood more than I was saying. “She wants it settled so she can focus on her parents’ care without worrying about the property.”
My wings spread, satisfaction flooding through me.
“I’ll contact her immediately,” Mason said. “Expect to hear back within our set twenty-four-hour timeframe.”
I rose, and we shook hands. His grip was firm, professional, but his eyes held amusement.
“Congratulations,” he said. “It’s a good house for a family.”
“It sure is.”
I left his office and headed for the building’s roof access. Most businesses in Harmony Glen had accommodations for flying residents. The door opened onto a flat roof with clearly marked landing zones.
I spread my wings and launched upward, catching a thermal that carried me higher. The town spread below, familiar now after days of flights with Corey.
The manor appeared in the distance, its gardens visible even from this height. A group clustered near the rose beds. Sammy’s afternoon tour.
I circled overhead, watching from above, before I angled toward the back of the property, not wanting to disrupt her.
She stood at the center of the group, gesturing toward the heritage roses. Even from this distance, I could see the confidence on her face. Visitors leaned in to hear her explanations.
Pride swelled in my chest.
A child in the group pointed at something, and Sammy laughed. The sound didn’t reach me, but I saw her face light up.
My tail started swishing behind me, satisfaction and possessiveness mixing together. For now, these were her gardens, her tours, her guests responding to her expertise.
Mine, a deep part of me whispered. My mate, thriving in our territory.
I forced myself to continue toward my clearing, landing behind the manor where I wouldn’t be visible from the gardens.
The gnome sculptures waited, the male nearly complete other than paint and the female almost finished. I’d been working on her whenever I could, adding details whenever I had spare moments.
I picked up my smaller carving tools, the ones I used for delicate work. The female gnome’s face still needed refinement. I’d roughed out the features, but they lacked personality.
My claws retracted completely as I worked, the fine tools requiring precision. I added gentle curves to her cheeks, a slight upturn to her mouth. A determined set to her jaw. Paint would come later.
Stepping back, I studied my work.
I’d carved Sammy.
Not obviously. The gnome’s proportions were different, more stylized. But the expression was pure her. That look she got when facing a challenge, equal parts determination and hope.
The male gnome stood nearby, his features reflecting protectiveness. His hand reached toward the female, not quite touching.
I’d created us. A representation of the partnership and permanence I wanted. Two figures facing life together.
The symbolism wasn’t lost on me. I’d created something lasting, built from living material.
I added final touches to the female gnome’s hair, creating texture that suggested movement. Then I set down my tools and stepped back to view the completed pair.
They faced each other, separated by a few inches of space but clearly connected. The male’s protective stance. The female’s confident bearing. Both rooted firmly in the soil beneath them.
“They’re beautiful.”
I turned. Sammy stood at the clearing’s edge, two plates balanced in her hands.
“I brought lunch,” she said, moving closer. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am.”
She set the plates on my work table, but her attention stayed on the gnomes. She moved around them slowly, commenting on the details. When she reached the female, her hand came up, her fingers hovering over the carved face.
“She looks determined,” Sammy said. “Like she’s ready to face whatever comes.”
“Yes.”
Her fingers traced the gnome’s features, the gesture gentle. Wistful.
Did she see herself in the carving? The strength I saw in her every day?
“They’re a set,” she said, not quite a question.
“They are.”
She looked at me, her expression complex. “What will you do with them?”
“They’re for the botanical gardens. I think we should put them near the hedge maze.”
“Yes, that would be wonderful.”
My tail curved toward her, seeking contact.
She noticed, stepping closer until we were only a few feet apart. “You put a lot of care into these.”
“I wanted them to be right.”
“They are.”
We stood there for a moment, the midday sun filtering through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the clearing.
“Lunch,” she said, breaking the moment.
We ate at a picnic table, my wing creating shade as the sun shifted higher. She asked about my morning, and I told her about the house offer, watching her face carefully.
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “When will you know if they accept?”
“Within a day.”
She nodded, pushing pasta around her plate. “It’ll be good to have your own space. The manor will be crowded with all of us here.”
“It’s only ten minutes away. Close enough to still be part of daily life.”
“Right. Of course.”
But her expression suggested she was already preparing for distance, for separation.
I wanted to tell her the house was for all of us, that I was building a nest for my mate and our child. But the words stuck in my throat. It was too soon. Too much.
So instead, I helped her clear the plates and walked her back toward the house, my tail brushing her leg with each step.
The afternoon passed. I helped Jim in the south garden while Sammy worked with Emma on the café’s herb garden.
My possessive instincts hummed with satisfaction. This was our territory, our work, our partnership.
For dinner, I helped her prepare meat and vegetables while Corey did homework at the kitchen table. The domestic rhythm felt as natural as breathing.
“Jake got ice cream for good grades,” Corey said, looking up from his math worksheet. “His mom took him to that place in the next town with all the weird flavors. I mean, they even have dirt flavor!” He snickered.
Dirt?
“That’s nice,” Sammy said, stirring sauce on the stove.
“Can we get ice cream sometime?”
“Maybe this weekend.”
“What about tonight?” The words came out before I’d fully thought them through. “I could fly us to town after dinner.”
Corey’s head snapped up. “Really?”
Sammy turned from the stove, concern flickering across her face. “It’s a school night. And it’s already getting late.”
“We’d be quick. Thirty minutes, tops.”
Anticipation built inside me. The image of carrying both my humans to town, providing treats and making them happy filled a deep hole in my chest.
“Please, Mom?” Corey said. “I finished all my work. And I promise I’ll go straight to bed when we get back.”
Sammy looked between us, worry warring with Corey’s excitement.
“Please?” I added, letting my tail do a hopeful swish.
Her lips twitched. “You’re both terrible.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Fine. But Corey, you’re in pajamas the moment we get home. No arguments. And no dirt ice cream.”
“Deal.”
We ate and then Corey bolted upstairs to change into warmer clothes. I followed Sammy onto the back porch, where she grabbed a cardigan from the hook by the door.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I know you’re trying to be nice.”
“Let me do this for both of you. Please.”
Her expression softened. “Okay.”
Corey thundered back down, wearing a hoodie over his t-shirt. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
The logistics of carrying both of them required thought. I positioned Sammy against my chest as usual, then carefully brought Corey between us, his back against her front.
“Hold onto me,” I told him. “Your mom will keep you steady from behind.”
His small arms wrapped around my neck while Sammy’s hands settled around his waist. My tail and arms curved around both of them, providing additional security.
“Everyone secure?” I asked.
“Yes,” they said together.
I launched upward, my wings working harder with the extra weight. But the strain felt good. Every powerful downstroke carried my family higher.
Corey’s laughter filled the air. “This is so sick. We’re all flying together.”
Sammy’s quiet chuckle vibrated against my chest. The sound settled something in me that had been restless since morning.
The flight to town took longer than my solo trips, but I didn’t mind. Corey pointed out landmarks, his running commentary covering everything from “that’s where Jake lives” to “I think I can see my school from here.”
My tail and arms remained curled around them both. Every instinct I possessed sang with satisfaction.
When we landed outside the ice cream shop, a few people glanced over but didn’t seem surprised. Harmony Glen had enough supernatural residents that a gargoyle with passengers barely registered as unusual.
Inside, people stood in line, waiting to order their treats. An ogre worked behind the counter, her pale green skin complementing the mint-colored walls. A vampire couple sat in the corner, and a family of brownies occupied a table near the window.
When it was our turn, Corey pressed against the display case, studying the dozens of flavors.
“Can I get two scoops?” he asked.
“You can get whatever you want,” I said.
Sammy shot me a look that suggested I was spoiling him. I didn’t care.
The ogre smiled at Corey. “What’ll it be, kiddo?”
“Um, birthday cake and cookie dough. No, wait. Maybe mint chocolate chip instead of birthday cake. Actually—”
“Take your time,” the ogre said.
I wanted to be the person Corey looked to for ice cream runs and homework help and everyday normalcy.
“I’ll have birthday cake and cookies and cream,” Corey finally said.
“Good choice.” The ogre scooped them up, glancing at Sammy and me. “And for you two?”
Sammy ordered salted caramel. I asked for chocolate, mostly because it seemed safe. The container of “dirt” ice cream was half empty. A popular item.
The ogre handed Corey his cone and prepared ours.
I paid, carefully handling the delicate cone with my claws retracted.
We found a table outside, the evening warm enough to be comfortable. My wings spread, creating shelter around our small space.
Corey attacked his ice cream, getting it all over his face within seconds. Sammy grabbed napkins from the dispenser on the table.
“Have you had ice cream before?” Sammy asked.
“Gelato, occasionally. But I didn’t seek it out.”
Sammy shook her head, smiling. “We’re teaching you all the important things.”
“Very important,” Corey said, his mouth full. “Ice cream is wonderful.”
This moment felt more valuable than anything I’d carved.
“Can we do this every week?” Corey asked.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Sammy said.
But she didn’t say no. And the hope in Corey’s expression mirrored the feeling inside me.
“Comfortable?” I asked as we lifted off later.
“Mmhmm.” Corey’s head rested against my chest, his arms loose around my neck.
Sammy’s hands steadied him from behind. “I think someone’s going to fall asleep mid-flight.”
“I’m not,” Corey said, following it up with a big yawn.
Within minutes, Corey’s breathing evened out, his small body going limp.
My protective instincts went into overdrive. I adjusted my hold, ensuring he couldn’t slip, curling my tail around both of them more securely.
I’d never carried anything more precious. Every movement became calculated, every wing beat measured. The flight took twice as long as normal, but I didn’t care.
Keeping them safe mattered. Being someone they could count on just as much.
The manor appeared below, its windows glowing with warm light. I descended slowly, touching down on the lawn with barely a sound.
Corey didn’t stir.
“Should I wake him?” Sammy whispered.
“I’ll carry him.”
She nodded, stepping back to let me adjust my hold. I cradled Corey against my chest, his head on my shoulder, one hand fisted in my shirt.
Inside, we moved quietly through the house. Sammy led the way upstairs, opening Corey’s door and pulling back his covers.
I laid him down gently, and he mumbled something incomprehensible before curling onto his side.
Sammy removed his shoes and dressed him in pajamas, Corey never waking.
After covering him with the blankets, she kissed his forehead, the tenderness in the gesture making my throat tighten.
We retreated to the hallway, pulling his door mostly closed.
“That was fun,” she said softly. “He’ll remember this.”
“So will I.”
She leaned into my side, her hand finding mine. We stood there for a moment, the house settling around us, the intimacy of the shared bedtime routine more significant than words.
This was what I wanted. Not just stolen moments or passionate encounters in storage sheds, but quiet evenings and sleeping children and standing together in the hallway.
My tail curved around her leg, holding on.
“I should let you get some rest,” I said, though I didn’t move.
“You could stay with me tonight if you want.”
The invitation hung between us, layered with meaning beyond the simple words.
“I want.”
Her smile spread. “Good.”
She led me to her room, and I followed, my wings brushing the hallway walls, my tail twitching with anticipation.
Tomorrow would bring Virginia’s meeting and whatever challenges that entailed. But tonight, I had my family safe and content, my mate’s hand in mine, and the beginnings of a home taking shape.