She missed her friends.
She’d never felt so alone when surrounded by people. Back at the coven, it didn’t matter. With the guys, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go without cracking. “We’re supposed to be friends. A team. You’re treating me like royalty, but I’m just a hunter, nothing more or nothing less. It’s what I’ve trained to be all my life.”
She placed her hands flat on the wall of the castle, able to feel it hum under her touch. “I will do my duty, but you need to decide what you want. If you can’t be the team I need, then you have to let me go.”
A loud Viking horn blared in the wake of her words, filling the deafening silence, and she almost jumped out of her skin.
The alarm.
She turned, expecting to see the men run for the door, but none of them moved.
“Morgan—”
But she didn’t hear the rest of what Kincade said because the stone beneath her palms sent shocks through her hand. When she glanced down, a movement in the garden caught her attention.
Or more precisely, the gargoyle statue.
As she watched, cracks zigzagged up his form, the stone encasing him crumbling into shards at his feet.
Awe rippled through her as she saw the gargoyle stretch, his powerful muscles almost hypnotizing to watch. That wonder changed to unease when he arched his spine and released a challenging roar.
“Um, guys?” Morgan carefully backed away from the wall.
Her necklace twisted tight around her neck, and she reached up to touch dozens and dozens of long, thin pieces of metal, almost like feathers, forming a delicate set of wings.
She barely registered the other statues breaking free of their prisons when the gargoyle’s head snapped up, and her eyes locked on his pure black orbs. The beast took a few running steps before his wings snapped out, and he took flight.
Morgan was drawn forward against her will, following his progress.
When she thought he would smack into the wall, he rotated his wings, twisting in a feat of incredible power until he flew straight up.
Before she could jump back, he was in front of her, all seven feet of rock solid muscle. He landed on the surface she’d been touching seconds ago, the clawed tips of his toes sinking into the stone as he crouched. His giant wings arched well above his head, and he snapped them smartly around his back. His tail lashed back and forth as his gaze zeroed in on her as if nothing else was important.
His skin had a grayish-purple tint, his chiseled body intimidating, the stone having turned to solid muscle, leaving only a small loincloth for modesty. His long black hair whipped around in the wind, revealing his pointy ears. He had a big forehead, a prominent brow, his face perfectly proportioned, even handsome. His expression was both fierce and intense as he surveyed his domain.
Large fangs protruded from between his lips. He hunched lower as he stared at her, a pleasant hum rumbling in his chest as he inhaled. Magic practically poured off him.
Familiar magic.
It felt like the Academy…and the miniature statue in her pocket.
He was her secret admirer.
She registered the guys yelling, but couldn’t pull her attention away from the stunning creature just a foot away. She’d visited and fed the gargoyle many times over the past few weeks. He was a sounding board, listening to her problems without judging. She felt a strange affinity with him.
Never had she imagined he would rouse and come for her.
The gargoyle didn’t have any problem turning toward the men, pinning the guys with his black eyes and scowling at them. Without hesitation, he reached out and wrapped her in his arms, then launched them backwards off the roof. A startled scream was caught in her throat as they spun madly seconds before his wings snapped open.
Then they were flying, skimming a few feet above the ground.
The muscles of his chest flexed as his wings pumped, and they soared higher and higher.
He smelled a bit like Kincade, the warm stone a comfort, but there was something sharper, more primitive about him that hinted he was centuries old.
Suddenly worried for her guys, she looked back to see that Draven and Atlas had tackled Kincade to the ground. Despite the extra weight, Kincade was dragging himself closer to the edge of the building, ready to fling himself over the edge and go after them. Ryder had shifted to his wolf, already charging for the door, but she knew he would never be able to cover the ground quickly enough to catch them.
When she could no longer see them, she turned her head and sucked in a sharp breath at the vista below her. Instead of awe, stark terror pummeled her. Hundreds of paranormal creatures were pouring out of the tree line in their battle form, heading straight for the Academy, the scale of the attack almost beyond comprehension.
The school was going to be under siege, and she’d left the guys behind to deal with it on their own.
“We have to go back.”
In answer, the arms around her tightened possessively.
She tried to wiggle out of his hold, but he might as well still be cast in stone. The continual flap of wings, while comforting, irritated the hell out of her as he put more and more distance between her and her men.
So much heat radiated off the gargoyle, she barely felt the cold. Wind tugged at her clothing and whipped her hair into knots, the speed in which they flew causing the landscape to blur and sting her eyes. It was the only excuse that she had for not seeing the squadron of harpies flying right toward them.
The gargoyle tucked her closer, spinning and whirling to elude them, making her feel weightless one second, then a thousand pounds the next.
The maneuvers did no good.
There were far too many of them.
She had the feeling the gargoyle could escape, but her added weight was slowing him down.
“Drop me.”
The only reply she got was a deep growl that vibrated down her back.
Seconds later, one harpy dove at them from above.
Large, leathery wings wrapped protectively around Morgan, and they dropped like a stone from the sky. Her stomach lurched up into her throat as they free-fell through the air. The harpy plowed into them, causing them to go into a spin.
His wings snapped open, and she saw the ground rapidly approaching.
Another harpy swooped low, and a grunt escaped her kidnapper.
He’d been hit.
Another creature flew directly toward them with the speed of a freight train. The harpy had the body of a woman, though her hands and feet resembled that of a bird, the sharp talons created to rip open flesh. Her scalp was a combination of hair and feathers, her face full of angles, her body stretched awkwardly long. Her eyes broadcasted murderous glee, and she smiled to reveal a row of fangs instead of teeth.
Morgan ached to call for her weapons, but feared she would be more of a hindrance than help. They needed to land and be on solid ground for her to be of any use.
Seconds away from colliding, the gargoyle twisted, flying upside down, but the harpy raked her claws down his stone hide. He shuddered, his wings snapping open again, but his flight was now uneven.
He was injured.
Droplets of blood splattered her face and arms with each beat of his wings.
The screech of triumph from the harpies nearly burst her eardrums.
If he continued flying, they would shred him to ribbons.
“We need to land.”
The gargoyle tucked her closer, ducked his face into her hair, a low grumble of denial in his throat.
“You can’t protect me and fly at the same time.”
“No.” The sound was like an avalanche of rocks, and she wanted to growl back in frustration.
“If you don’t land, I’ll jump.” It wasn’t an idle threat. She would not have him sacrifice himself for her. “I can fight.”
He must have sensed she was telling the truth, because he angled his wings and they began to drop. She glanced behind her to see at least a dozen harpies closing in on them. Unable to help herself, her attention darted toward the Academy in time to see creatures swarming over the walls.