Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
CHARLI
Terror races through me at the sight of Andros’ fangs elongating.
In a blink, his eyes change from a rich, caramel brown to dark red with a predator lurking in their depths.
He roars for me to get out. The need to run engulfs me, but I subdue it until I’ve cleared the door to his office, then I kick off my shoes and sprint.
People turn to gape, but a minute later, Andros roars, and everyone scrambles for the exits.
Teague. Teague. Teague.
The litany is the only thing keeping me safe. I race toward our office in bare feet, ramming into people and walls as I slip and slide through the chaos. My shoulder slams into our office door, and I grit my teeth as pain cascades down my arm. Damn it.
My breath rushes out. I forgot. He’s not here. Fear and fury collide deep inside, and I press a hand to my tight chest in confusion.
On my way. Don’t stop.
My brow furrows at the sound of Teague’s voice, and I spin, searching for him, but I’m alone. Screams rip through the air, bringing a fresh wave of terror. Which way?
Stairs.
I don’t question the voice in my head. Instead, I slam open the door to the stairway, my feet flying down the steps.
The door above opens, and the roar of a lion echoes down the stairwell, locking every one of my muscles.
Pitching forward, I try to grab the railing but miss and fall down the remaining steps, slamming into the concrete wall at the bottom.
Excruciating pain explodes across the front of my head. Everything spins. I raise a shaking hand to where it hurts the most. Wet, sticky blood. A trickle slides down my temple. Have to keep going.
Shaking, I drag myself to my knees. Large hands grab my arms, and I scream, punching repeatedly at my captor.
“Charli, sweetheart. It’s Teague. It’s me. You’re safe,” he says, pulling me into his arms. His chest heaves as he holds me tightly. “Andros is contained. Macklin’s got him. He can’t hurt you.” His voice is raw and real, not in my head.
Shuddering, I bury my face into his neck and breathe him in. “Promise?”
His arms tighten around me. “Promise.”
“I called for you.”
“I know. I heard you, sweetheart. I came as quickly as I could.” He gently sweeps the hair back from my forehead and curses. “We need to get you to a healer.”
Shifting my body, he stands, lifting me with him. “Unfortunately, they’re all out at the farm for hatchling season.”
“Hatchling?” I ask with a groan as my body protests every step we descend.
He hesitates. “Dragons are called hatchlings when they’re born.”
Immediately, I begin shaking my aching head. Vampires. Lions. Dragons. It’s too much. “No dragonsss. Doctor.” I frown when I hear myself slur. Why does it feel like I’m drunk? “Sleepy.”
Teague lifts my chin. “Damn it. Don’t go to sleep, Charli!”
“M’kay,” I tell him, opening my eyes. I stare at his slick skin. Am I hallucinating? Reaching out, I slide my hand across his bare chest. Hard muscle flexes under my palm. “Are you naked?”
He grunts. “I’m wearing shorts.”
Stairs blur as we race by. My brow furrows. “It’s winter.”
“The cold doesn’t bother me,” he says with a shrug. My head lolls back, and he stops. “Charli! Talk to me, sweetheart.”
I force my eyes open. “I like that.”
He races down the last steps and out onto the sidewalk. “What do you like?”
“Sweetheart,” I admit with a heavy sigh. “I’ve never had a guy call me something sweet.” Frigid winter air slices through my sweater, and I shiver. “Cold.”
He spins in a circle. “David, give me your coat.”
Heavy wool drapes over me until I’m covered. Burrowing into it, I smile. “Thank you…sweetheart.” I frown. “Nope.” Doesn’t fit him. I stare up at the handsome, dynamic man who’s staring down at me with a fierce scowl on his face. “Mad?”
Lines smooth, and there’s a rush of warmth in my chest. “Not at you.”
Darkness closes in on me until the only thing I see is his face.
“Open your eyes, Charli!” he orders, his tone urgent.
I smile, but my lids are too heavy.
“I’ve got you, Charli. Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He takes a deep breath.
A deep whooshing sound surrounds us. His arms become a steel cage, wrapped tightly around me as freezing air whips my hair. I turn my face into his warm chest and slip into the cool darkness.
A blunt finger slides over my face, tracing every feature.
Teague.
I’m here.
“Can you open your eyes?” His low voice is like a warm caress, tempting me, but I press my face into his hard chest. “That’s okay. Sleep a little longer.”
I snuggle into him, automatically inhaling the cologne he favors. I like this dream. Feels real. Until his hand skims down my back. That’s odd. I never let anyone touch me there, not even in my daydreams. The tips of his fingers slide across my lower back. Skin against skin.
Heart pounding, I tear open my eyes. Teague’s gorgeous face is inches from mine.
Propped up by a pillow, he stares down at me.
I stretch, and his body presses mine deeper into the mattress.
We’re in his bed. Together. I scramble to sit up, dislodging the hand at my back, and look down.
Exhaling at the sight of my blouse and pants, I slump in relief. Not naked.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.” There’s a troubling expression on his face. “The healer patched you up. Ten stitches.”
My brows draw together, and I lift a hand to my forehead, where I find a thick bandage. An image of the stairs pops into my mind. Andros. Those fangs. Terror rolls through me, making my heart thump wildly in my chest.
“He’s not here,” Teague assures me, rising to his knees and placing a comforting hand on my arm.
I gulp at the sight of his bare chest. Is he?
My mouth drops open, then closes as I glimpse black shorts slung low on his hips.
Damn. Although I’m not sure if I’m cursing because he’s wearing shorts or because he isn’t naked.
I lick my lips. Not going to lie. Never seen a body like his.
I silently snort. Not that I’ve ever been in bed with a man.
Boy, yes. Unable to help myself, I stare at the way his broad chest tapers into a slim waist stacked with line after line of abs, then flows down to the sharp cut of his hips.
Mesmerized by all the skin and muscles displayed before me, I tentatively reach out, desperate to touch all that tanned skin, then stop midway. What is wrong with me? Mortified at what I almost did, I pull back, looking anywhere but his chest.
“Charli,” Teague murmurs, but when I shake my head, he changes tactics.
Look at me.
I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head.
Touch me.
Shocked, I open my eyes. “How are you doing that?” When he raises an eyebrow, I cross my arms over my chest and level him with a look. “I can hear you. In my head. This isn’t the first time either. At the office, when I was running from Andros, it was you, wasn’t it? I wasn’t imagining it.”
His fingers spear through his hair, messing it up even further. “When you were in danger, you called to me. Do you remember?”
“All I could think of was getting to you,” I reluctantly admit, remembering how I kept repeating his name. I gasp. “You heard me?”
It’s his turn to hesitate.
“Is this a supernatural thing?” I ask, starting to freak out. “Can everyone hear me? Can they read my thoughts?” Horrified at the idea, I slap a hand over my mouth.
“Depends on the supernatural. Some, like shifters, can speak to each other if they’re in the same clan or family. But no, everybody can’t hear you,” he replies. “And I can’t hear all your thoughts. Only the ones you send to me.”
“Is a gargoyle considered a shifter?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
“We are, but that’s not why you and I can hear each other,” he says. “When you and I met. We clasped hands, palm to palm, and there was a connection. Do you remember feeling anything that day?”
I think back to when we met. The overwhelming sense I got when I slid my hand into his. “It felt like I was falling off a cliff. Why?”
“Supernaturals have.” He stops. “We have… You’re my mate, Charli. It means we’re meant for each other.” His blunt statement isn’t what I expect to hear.
“Like a soulmate?” I murmur, completely confused. I look at his handsome face and perfect body, then down at myself. My fingers twist in the sheets. “Can’t be. We don’t match. You’re. You. I’m…me.” Scrawny, flat-chested, scarred.
He takes a deep breath. “Close your eyes.” He gives an exasperated sigh when I don’t immediately comply. “Please, close your eyes.”
I close them. “Now what?”
He slides off the bed. “I’m going to walk into the living room. Tell me when you feel something.”
Okay. He moves, and the odd vibration I’ve felt off and on since we met flares to life. It’s like a string, connecting me to him. As he walks around the living room, I turn, knowing exactly where he is. But it’s not this faint feeling anymore. It’s solid. Persistent.
I feel you.
I open my eyes the minute he steps into the room.
“You’re my mate, Charli,” he states with conviction. He comes over and grabs my hand. “Raine had a vision of you as my mate.” Teague lets that sink in for a minute.
I shake my head unable to believe it.
“We can speak to each other telepathically. We can feel each other. We’re mates, Charli.”
I continue to shake my head. “It’s impossible.”
“Why, sweetheart?” he asks softly. “Talk to me, Charli. Is it because I’m a gargoyle? Or is it the age difference? Something else? Whatever it is, I can work on it.”
Stunned that he thinks it’s him, the words pour out of me as if the dam I built so carefully is crumbling under the weight of everything I’ve tried to keep hidden.
“It’s me. I’m not who you think I am. I’m broken.
Scarred. I’ve lost everyone I ever loved.
I’m terrified every time I have a vision.
I don’t know how to live a normal life.” I hiccup as a sob catches me off guard.
“Not to mention, I’m only here for six months. ”
He cups my face with both his hands. “Oh, sweetheart. I waited a thousand years for you. If the Fates didn’t think this was right, they had plenty of time to change things.
” He takes a deep breath. “I’m so thankful they didn’t, though.
You’re more than I ever thought possible.
You’re incredibly resilient and strong. Independent as hell.
To the point that it drives me crazy. You’re brave even when you’re scared.
Creative. Smart. Hard-working. And so damn beautiful, I ache to see you every morning. ”
He expels a long breath. “I’m sure you’ve figured out I’m not exactly a prize. I’m impatient. I suck at romance. I have a hard time recognizing boundaries. I haven’t always made the best decisions, and others have paid the price.”
He sweeps a hand down his half-naked body. “And physically, you’ve only seen this side of me.” He chuckles. “My gargoyle form is a map of scars from past battles and, quite frankly, ugly as fuck.”
I snort in disbelief, but he lifts a shoulder. “It’s true.” His mouth firms. “And even though I’m clearly getting the better end of this deal, I need you to understand… Now that we’ve met, there’s no way I’m giving you up. You and me. We’re permanent. Temporary is off the table.”
My breath is unsteady as I realize he’s staking a claim.