Chapter 13 – Forrest
FORREST
We talked before we left the barn and agreed that neither Marcus nor the Elites would know about our night together.
For some reason, it doesn’t ease my tension.
The idea of being free from our commitment to our people somehow felt right.
I didn’t want to use Medusa as an excuse, but I liked that it made everything feel easy.
Today, I get to fly with her to our next destination in Greece. I’m not looking forward to getting there, or seeing Marcus, not when I have her riding me in the air.
Twice I almost asked her if I could drop my pants and just start fucking her in mid-air.
I think she’d enjoy it, and I know my swollen dick would too.
But I think we got a free pass on our drugged night together.
If we did it again, we’d have to accept that we broke the rules and deserved the consequences. Even though I wouldn’t mind it one bit.
Her hand strokes the back of my neck. My gaze snaps back to her.
“You looked lost in thought,” she says.
My eyes lock onto her mouth. “I was just remembering what it was like when you sucked my cock.”
Her cheeks turn red. “And?”
“It was fucking amazing.”
She shrugs. “Well, I’ve had lifetimes to learn just how to give it to a man the way he likes.”
My dick swells uncomfortably in my pants. “I hope you didn’t have too much practice, because I’d like to think mine is the first you’ve had.”
She rubs against me, and I groan. “Is that right?”
I’m losing my god-damn mind. “Gargoyles are known for being a bit… possessive.”
“Really?” And her brows rise above her glasses.
“Uh-huh.” I’m breathing hard. “Some even call us jealous creatures with insatiable appetites for pussy.”
She lets one of her hands drop from around my neck and slide down my chest. I stop breathing, watching as her small hand slips lower and lower until she’s gripping me through my pants. “I’d say based on this, there’s probably some truth to the rumors.”
I thrust into her hand, and she grips me tighter. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”
Very slowly, she starts to stroke my dick. “Are there any rules about someone getting you off?”
I’m in heaven… or maybe hell, I’m not sure which. “Not a one.”
The next few minutes are spent with me trying to keep flying, trying not to send us spinning into the god damn ocean while she strokes me through my pants. When I finally come, my entire mind goes blank for a second, and then my vision becomes strangely bright.
“You really know what you’re doing with a cock,” I tell her, panting.
She leans up and bites my ear, her breath warm against my skin. “My turn.”
When she takes my hand and slips it between us, I swear I’ve become her servant. Her worshipper. She is now my god damn goddess, and I’ll fall on my knees in front of her any time she wants.
I touch her wet folds, and she moans into my ear.
Listening to her harsh breathing as I stroke her slowly, teasing her wetness, is enough to make me hard again. When she starts to grind against me, panting my name, I’m about to say fuck everything and tear my pants off. My fingers plunge into her, and then she begins to rock against them.
Her hands grip my shoulders tightly, and then she orgasms around my fingers. Riding me like a god damn horse. When she finally collapses against me, my fingers still buried inside her, I kiss the top of her head in absolute wonder.
The gargoyle side of me is screaming that this woman now belongs to me, which makes no sense. I’m not a virgin. I’ve fucked a lot of women in my life.
But I’ve never felt this way before.
I reluctantly pull my fingers out of her hot pussy, smooth her dress down, and fly a little faster, realizing we’ve fallen far behind. “You’re kind of amazing,” I tell her.
She looks up, and her sun-kissed face looks flushed. “Thanks, you’re not bad yourself.”
The rest of our flight is spent with me holding her as closely as humanly possible, and trying to make her laugh. I’m careful not to tell her too much about the gargoyle way of life. I’m not completely nuts after all, but I also want to get to know her, and for her to get to know me.
I don’t have a clue why.
Maybe it’s because I know there’s something special about her. I also know our time together is limited.
When we finally reach Greece and set down in a park within the city, something has changed. Medusa seems uneasy.
“Where are we?” she asks.
“Greece.”
Her arms wrap around her chest again.
“You okay?” Gargoyles can’t help themselves. Our drive is to protect the innocent. And Medusa is screaming of innocence right now.
“I’m fine,” she says, but she won’t look in my direction. “But what are we doing here?”
Harold and Byron come from one part of the large park. I can sense Harold’s unease, but Byron is back to pretending like he’s a badass. His face is pulled into a frown, and his hands are clenched.
“Marcus will meet us there.” Byron doesn’t look at her. “But first we need to find some new clothes and try to blend in a little.”
I glance at Medusa. Her little dress is beautiful, but definitely a bit dirty, and she isn’t wearing shoes. And the rest of us? We don’t look much better.
“Probably a good idea. So, where to, boss?”
Byron looks like he’s trying really hard not to roll his eyes as he turns and leads us through the park.
I shift, my skin turning tan, and my wings disappearing.
Now all of us can be seen by the people we pass by in the park.
And it’s definitely a good idea that we change our clothes, because we’re getting a lot of suspicious looks.
The three of us find whatever will fit us at the first clothing store.
Jeans, t-shirts, and some basic jackets make us look a little less like we just spent a few days sleeping in barns and fields.
Byron also purchases a leather backpack, which he shoves the fertility statue and cuffs into before slinging it onto his back.
We take Medusa to a clothing shop next to ours.
She selects her clothes a little more carefully and slips into a changing room.
We’re lounging around feeling out of place, with a nervous sales lady flittering around us. After living as long as all of us have, we easily slip into the local language, but even without the language-barrier three massive men make the woman nervous. Or maybe it’s the way Byron is glaring.
I’m pretty sure the tightly-wound gargoyle is about to lose his shit when Medusa comes striding out of the dressing room. “This will work,” she said, walking past us to the shoe area.
But the three of us? We can’t stop staring.
She looks fucking beautiful. The dark jeans she wears hugs her in all the right places, and her white tank-top is partially see-through.
She wears a lacy white bra underneath, but the combo is strangely alluring.
Because the way she acts… it’s like she has no idea how hot she is.
She grabs a pair of socks and has the sales lady bring her a tiny pair of boots that somehow fit her small feet. At last, she stands up. “Ready, boys?”
Harold doesn’t say a word. He goes to the cash-register and pays for her stuff, and then we’re all hurrying out of the store.
I rush to catch up to her.
“You’re looking good.”
She smirks. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
I don’t know why, but I take her hand. For a second her hand is stiff, but then she relaxes it and curls it around mine. I know it’s stupid, but I like this feeling. Like we’re a couple enjoying a day out together in the city.
“This place looks so different than I remember,” she says softly.
I’m kind of surprised she didn’t visit Greece more. She’s Greek after all. Wouldn’t she visit her hometown every so often?
“When were you here last?”
She stiffens. “More than two thousand years.”
“Geez.”
While we walk, she seems to grow more and more uneasy. Her steps grow slower. Every time she looks at an old building, she pauses for a really long time, her expression far away.
At last, Byron turns to glare back at us. “Come on, Marcus is going to be there soon, and we don’t want to be late.”
“Where are we going?” Medusa asks again, but the attitude has left her voice. She just sounds... worried.
Byron glares as we catch up to him. “No questions.”
People glance our way and move around us. I almost tell Byron he’s making a scene, but he seems to realize it. Turning, he continues walking.
We move up the hill now, heading for our destination. Medusa moves slower and slower until at last she stops completely. People move around us, but her gaze is panicked.
“Where are we going?” she repeats, and I’m right, she sounds scared.
Byron stops ahead of us and glares back. Before I can answer, he’s storming towards us. “What the hell is the problem?”
“We’re going to Athena’s temple,” I finally tell her.
Her hand pulls from mine, and she steps away from us. Her hands move up, gesturing as if to push away from us. “I won’t go there.”
“Why not?” I ask.
But Byron is quick to respond. “You’ll go where we tell you to.”
“I won’t,” she says, taking a step back.
A few people glance our way, moving around us on the sidewalk.
“Medusa,” he hisses, almost under his breath.
And then, to our shock, she leaps off the sidewalk and races toward the trees that cover the sides of the hilltop that lead to the temple.
It takes all of us a second too long to react, and then we’re hurrying after her, careful not to alarm the humans.
When we reach the safety of the trees, we bolt after her.
Byron is the first to reach her. He snags her around the waist, and they almost go tumbling to the ground. Suddenly, she’s kicking and flailing in his arms.
We reach her. All of us exchange the same, what the hell is going on? Look.
“What’s wrong?” Harold asks, and he sounds upset.
“I won’t go there!” she shouts.