Even though it couldn’t happen right away, that didn’t change Kultrak’s excitement. They could exchange mating bites and blood, and that would start the bonding process. If Kultrak believed the stories, it would also help jumpstart Stanley’s healing.

  The sooner Stanley is healed, the sooner we can complete our bond.

  Just thinking of bonding with Stanley caused Kultrak’s prick to twitch behind his loincloth. He could hardly wait. After clearing the extra food and drink from the bedroom, Kultrak opened the container that Stanley had told him contained the cinnamon rolls. Even as he imagined Stanley swollen with his egg, Kultrak ate a cinnamon roll in three bites.

  He would respect Stanley’s wish to get the elder problem sorted first.

  Still need to explain everything about that.

  Returning to the bedroom, Kultrak leaned on the doorframe and took a moment to admire his mate in the bed. He smiled, sighing contentedly. Kultrak loved that he’d put that expression on Stanley’s face and intended to do it as often as possible.

  The chime of his phone caught Kultrak’s attention, and he turned away from the provocative sight. Locating his phone on the nightstand, he hit the button to accept the call from Gurrando. Kultrak lifted his phone to his ear as he quietly exited the room.

  Gurrando didn’t wait for him to say anything. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Kultrak,” he stated softly, probably guessing that Stanley might be asleep. “Bodb is sending Lludd to sit with Stanley,” he told him, referring to Bodb’s youngest brother. The gargoyle was mated to the town sheriff. “I need you here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kultrak replied softly, leaving Stanley’s door open a crack. “Stanley just fell asleep.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell Lludd to bring a book,” Gurrando stated with amusement. “See you soon.”

  Kultrak bit back a snort as his elder disconnected the call. He knew that Lludd wasn’t much of a reader. Instead, the big enforcer had fallen in love with video games on his cell phone. Evidently, Arthur had turned Lludd onto them.

  Heading to the front window, Kultrak peered out the glass while listening for Stanley, just in case his mate woke in the next few minutes. He didn’t. A couple of moments later, Kultrak spotted Lludd striding across the clearing, his dark wings billowing behind him.

  Meeting the other male on the porch, Kultrak greeted him with a head nod. “Thank you for sitting with Stanley.”

  Lludd offered an amused smirk. “I’m the one getting a break.” Patting Kultrak’s upper arm, he told him, “If anything happens, I’ll text you.”

  Kultrak barely resisted arching a brow in question. If Lludd had been ordered to text him as opposed to calling him, it meant whatever was going on, they couldn’t be disturbed. That meant it was serious elder business.

  Kultrak wondered what had happened since he’d risen from roost and left Gurrando’s side. “Thank you,” he replied simply before hustling to the main house. He spotted Biscane just inside the door, and the other gargoyle beckoned for him to follow. After falling into step flanking the male, Kultrak quietly asked, “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Elder Cliatno is arriving soon,” Biscane revealed.

  Lifting his brow ridges, surprise filling him, Kultrak muttered, “Has he been cleared?”

  “No,” Biscane answered shortly, which explained why Gurrando wanted Kultrak there.

  Gurrando didn’t know if Cliatno could be trusted, and he wanted both his enforcers to watch his back.

  “What enforcers are going to be with Cliatno?” Kultrak asked, hoping to get a feel for the strength of the incoming party.

  “I haven’t heard,” Biscane replied. “Nor a confirmed number.”

  Kultrak hummed, not liking that response one bit. Normally, sharing that information was for courtesy. After all, if a gargoyle entered another’s territory with a large force, it could be taken as an act of aggression.

  Biscane led the way into the large study where they’d met the first night.

  After stepping inside and taking a quick scan of the room, Kultrak strode to Gurrando’s side. His elder dipped his chin in a nod of greeting, but he didn’t speak. Struano offered him a slight smile before returning his attention to Bodb, who stood conferring with a vampire—Spieron, if he remembered correctly.

  A moment later, Bodb nodded, and Spieron left the room. He turned to face everyone, announcing, “We still haven’t received confirmation from Cliatno as to the number of his enforcers, and now he’s not answering his phone.” Roving his gaze over the room, Bodb ordered, “I’d like my people spread out in pairs. Stay alert.” Turning his attention to Nicholas, he stated, “It may be best for you to encourage Sandra to take Maggie into the safe room. Virgil and Shaw, too.”

  “I’ll mention it to them,” Nicholas replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “But if you think I’m going to stay down there with them, you have another thing coming.”

  Bodb smiled ruefully at Nicholas. “If I thought you would stay, I would have mentioned it.” Then he grimaced. “But if Cliatno is on the up and up, then your absence could be taken as a slight.”

  “Politics,” Nicholas grumbled, shaking his head.

  Nodding, Bodb muttered, “Politics.”

  Considering they were sending their pregnant members to a safe room, Kultrak couldn’t help but cut in, “Should I move Stanley there, too?” In truth, Kultrak hadn’t even realized there was a safe room on the property.

  “He won’t thank you if you do that without permission,” Nicholas told him with a smirk. “And I heard he was asleep.” Sobering, he added, “He’s an unclaimed human, and no one outside of us knows that he’s your mate. He won’t be on their radar if there really is a problem, and we’re not just being paranoid.”

  “I’ll join Lludd,” Biscane declared. “My mate is working at his condo in town tonight, so no way they’ll be able to target him.”

  Kultrak murmured his thanks, knowing Biscane’s mate, Jory, was a lawyer who still spent most of his time in town. From what he understood, Biscane had switched to working mostly days. Thinking about it, Kultrak realized that Lludd’s sheriff mate must be pulling a night shift, too.

  The group of gargoyles that worked as Bodb’s enforcers worked hard to accommodate everyone and their mates’ schedules, affording pairs with plenty of time together.

  And Stanley didn’t think he had a family.

  “Everyone already knows their assignments,” Bodb declared, sweeping his gaze over everyone. “If anything looks out of place, report it.” His dark eyes narrowed as he ordered, “No one plays the hero. We’re a team here, and we work together.”

  After getting murmurs of acknowledgment from everyone, they all began to drift from the room to do whatever their pre-arranged orders were.

  Kultrak had to admit to himself that he was impressed with the group’s organization. Once everyone filed out, he murmured to Gurrando, “So, uh, what do we do?”

  “Stand around and wait,” Gurrando replied, only sounding a tiny bit disgruntled. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed as he smirked at Kultrak. “Drawbacks of becoming an elder. I don’t go out looking for trouble. I have to wait until it comes to me.”

  Scoffing, Kultrak nodded. Worry filled him as his thoughts turned to Stanley. His mate was asleep, injured, and vulnerable, and not even in the same house as him. Kultrak knew he needed to have faith in Lludd and Biscane, but it was difficult.

  “Tell me some good news,” Gurrando urged, crossing to the sideboard. “How’s Stanley? Is he feeling better?” He reached into the mini-fridge below it and pulled out a bottle of cranberry juice. “Want anything?”

  “I’ll take a lemonade,” Struano requested, moving toward the elder.

  “An iced tea, if they have it,” Kultrak replied, following his fellow gargoyles’ leads, trying to relax. As soon as he’d taken the bottle, he grinned at Gurrando. “And Stanley’s doing well. In fact, he prepared a meal for me, and... he wants to bond as soon as he’s well enough.”

  Struano swallowed his lemonade with a gulp before he grinned widely, showing off his pointed teeth. “That’s fantastic, Kultrak.” Slapping him on the shoulder, Struano asked, “Is it okay to ask what changed his mind?” He waggled his brows. “Or are you just that persuasive?”

  Kultrak scoffed as he rolled his eyes at the other enforcer’s antics. “No, I wouldn’t use sex to coerce him.” Although, the idea had definitely crossed Kultrak’s mind.

  “Is it because you told him we’re sticking around for the foreseeable future?” Gurrando guessed.

  “No, not that either,” Kultrak admitted. With a shrug, he told his friends, “He told me right as we started eating. I just about choked on the bite of sandwich I’d taken.” Lifting a hand to stall their questions, Kultrak thought about the best way to answer. Finally, he decided on, “He had to work through some personal issues, and, as odd as it sounds, needing to care for him without the stress of bonding right away ended up being the best thing.”

  “Huh.” Struano didn’t look like he understood, and Kultrak didn’t have any desire to try to explain it further to him.

  Gurrando patted Kultrak on his shoulder. “Well, I’m damn happy for you, my friend.”

  “Thank you.” Kultrak couldn’t stop smiling. “I can hardly wait.”

  “Gladstone just reported spotting five coming in fast,” Spieron announced, entering the room with vampire speed.

  Just that fast, Kultrak’s smile faded.

  “Attacking?” Bodb demanded.

  Spieron shook his head. “Two are helping a third stay in the air, and two are acting as rearguards.” His eyes narrowed, and a growl rumbled from him as he listened to whoever was speaking in his earpiece. “There are six coming up behind them, fast and hard.”

  “Can Gladstone confirm the identity of any of them?” Bodb asked, moving toward the door that led to a hall close to the back deck.

  “Just received word from Claude,” Spieron told them, his eyes widening. “One of the two helping the injured gargoyle is Elder Cliatno.”

  “Then we help,” Bodb stated, leading the way out of the room. “Tell Gladstone, Lebone, and Claude to engage if any of the six following make a move to attack the rearguard or to flank them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Spieron replied immediately before issuing orders through his headpiece.

  “Who’s Claude again?” Kultrak asked, trying to put a face to the name.

  “Human sniper on the roof,” Struano murmured, answering. “He’s mated to the other vampire here, Darian.”

  “Ah, yes.” Kultrak nodded, recalling reading the report that stated Claude had been on the wrong side of paranormals at one point, and his mind had been tampered with by a demon. It had essentially left him with an odd sort of paranormal PTSD, and the people here were helping him get a handle on it.

  When they walked outside, Kultrak heard the crack of a high-powered rifle echo through the air. As much as he wanted to fly toward the forms he could just make out in the distance, he knew his place was at his elder’s side.

  Chapter Nine

  The unmistakable crack of a rifle jerked Stanley out of one of the best sleeps he could ever remember. Frowning, he glanced around for Kultrak, but he didn’t see him. Stanley listened intently, wondering not only where his gargoyle was but what the hell was going on.

  Why would someone be shooting at night?

  The ranch occasionally had a problem with coyotes or a cougar sniffing around the herd during spring calving season, but there’d never been anything close to the ranch houses.

  Stanley made out the low rumble of a pair of male voices coming from his front room, but neither of them was Kultrak. He listened more intently and realized with surprise that they were Biscane and Lludd. That was odd.

  Just as Stanley prepared to call out, he heard a thud on the roof of his cabin, followed by the crack of the rifle again.

  What the hell is going on?

  One of the gargoyles in his cabin snarled, and the other hissed. “We stay here,” Lludd stated. Although he didn’t sound happy about it.

  “How the hell did they get so close?” Biscane asked the question, but he didn’t really sound as if he expected Lludd to answer it. “And how many are there?”

  Lludd just grunted in response.

  Stanley briefly wondered if whatever was happening had anything to do with that rogue elder Kultrak had mentioned. While he knew it hadn’t been the right time, he still wished he had more information. Stanley opened his mouth to call out to the others when the sound of breaking glass filled the air. A second later, roars, hisses, thuds, and snarls sounded way too close.

  Son of a bitch!

  Gritting his teeth, Stanley forced his body to move. He fought against the spots threatening his vision as he eased his legs over the side of the bed. Stanley levered to his feet, breathing through the fiery stabs of agony working along his side.

  Stanley listened to the commotion continuing in his front room as he limped slowly to the closet, using the nightstand and wall as support. Using the low light from the nightstand—the guys had all gotten used to leaving it on the lowest setting, even when he slept—he peered behind the door. His twenty-two was there, right where he’d left it.

  Grabbing the small-caliber rifle, Stanley barely stifled his cry of pain. He quickly checked how many bullets he had in the weapon before cocking it and moving the rifle to his left hand. After tucking his right arm around his side, Stanley breathed deeply and pushed past the pain.

  While Stanley wasn’t much of a shot while shooting from the hip with his left hand, he didn’t think he would need to be. If a gargoyle or other paranormal that he didn’t know was coming at him, he intended to wait until point-blank range to fire. That would give him the optimal chance for the twenty-two to do enough damage to slow or stop it.

  Crossing to the other side of his closet, Stanley locked the door that led to the bathroom. He returned to the doorway of the bedroom closet. By then, he felt his legs trembling as spots danced across his vision. Sweat slicked his skin and dripped down his temple, making his hair stick to his face, but he didn’t have the energy to push it away.

  Stanley leaned his left shoulder against the doorframe and waited. Concentrating on the noises coming from the main room, he tried to figure out who could be attacking, but no one was talking—not even Lludd or Biscane. Instead, the noises consisted of thuds, roars, curses, and snarls.

  For a few seconds, the noises seemed to quiet, and Stanley hoped whatever it was was over.

  In the next instant, a gargoyle’s huge frame slammed into the slightly open door and came sailing into the room.

  Stanley stared at the pale-brown gargoyle, thinking at first that it was Gladstone. Except, when it rose, he didn’t recognize the features, and the sneer curling the paranormal’s lips caused Stanley’s heart to race. When the gargoyle pinned his brown-eyed gaze upon him, Stanley spotted the hatred within their depths.

  “Human,” the gargoyle sneered, disdain dripping from that one word.

  “Get out of my house,” Stanley ordered, leveling his rifle on the beast. “Now.”

  Curling his full lips, the gargoyle spread his wings and leaped on the bed—the only furniture between them. “Useless human.” He lifted his arms, his black claws at the ready, clearly stalking Stanley.

  When the gargoyle leaped, Stanley lifted the barrel a little higher and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the gargoyle’s torso, knocking him back a bit. The gargoyle roared and quickly used his wings to catch himself. Flying in the middle of Stanley’s bedroom, the beast looked down at his chest, taking in the blood oozing from the small hole in his chest.

  Stanley took those precious few seconds to awkwardly shuck the twenty-two shell casing and reload. He managed to raise his gun up just in time to fire again, aiming a little bit higher. The slug found a home in the gargoyle’s upper chest, but the paranormal recovered quicker that time.

  Fortunately, with the adrenaline raging through his veins, Stanley found it easier to fight through the pain. He switched the weapon to his dominant hand, reloading at the same time. Bringing the rifle to his shoulder, Stanley aimed and fired once more.

  The gargoyle’s head snapped back, and he collapsed onto Stanley’s bed.

  Not taking any chances, Stanley reloaded again. He carefully eased forward, rounding the bed as he took in his prone attacker. When the paranormal groaned, Stanley didn’t even think about it, knowing if the gargoyle got up again, he would just come after him again.

  Stanley positioned the end of his gun’s barrel at the gargoyle’s temple and fired, and the rogue gargoyle collapsed onto his bed once more.

  Swallowing around the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, Stanley backed away even as he reloaded. He pivoted, keeping half his attention on the downed gargoyle and peering into the front room. Stanley knew the remorse would come, having to take a life, even in self-defense, but that would be for later.

  Right then, Stanley needed to figure out just what the fuck was going on.

  Stanley took in the destruction of his cabin, the place that had been his sanctuary for over a decade. A large window had been shattered, strewing glass shards across half the floor. Tables and chairs had been crushed, his coffee table had been flattened, and the sofa and chairs were shredded. Five gargoyles had collapsed throughout the room, appearing to be in varying stages of healing.

  Recognizing the closest gargoyle as Lebone, Stanley hurried to his side. He noticed the deep red slashes along his side and the tear in the male’s wing. Grimacing, Stanley carefully lowered to one knee, using the butt of his rifle to steady himself.

  Reaching down, Stanley searched for a pulse. To his relief, he found it. While it was sluggish, it was there. Stanley hoped that meant he was already healing and there wasn’t some wound on his front causing him to bleed out. Unfortunately, Stanley knew he didn’t have the strength to check.

 

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