EXCERPT included below
NEW
His brothers have all found mates.
Gavin won’t make that same mistake.
When he meets Fiona, he can’t keep away. But, she’s human. Human. And dangerous. She could expose the secrets of his clan. Gavin should run from her, but flirting with danger is far too tempting…
Gavin won’t make that same mistake.
When he meets Fiona, he can’t keep away. But, she’s human. Human. And dangerous. She could expose the secrets of his clan. Gavin should run from her, but flirting with danger is far too tempting…
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~ ~ ~ EXCERPT ~ ~ ~
Gavin prowled through the club in Inverness, fired up for the show to start. Not only was he anticipating the usual rush of performing on stage but, also, the question that had haunted him for six weeks would be answered tonight.
Would she come?
He glanced around the venue. It was like many others they’d played in—a stocked bar, small tables, and a stage. The overhead lights bore down with a garish glow. The club lacked the magic of dimmed lights, the spotlights that shined on stage, and the crowd clamoring to get close. The biggest difference about this club was that it was imprinted with memories of Fiona, the bonnie lass with hair the colors of the setting sun.
Since he’d returned to the Isle of Stone six weeks ago, he couldn’t scrub her from his mind. As he rested and watched the sun descend, he thought of her hair. When he soared over the ocean, the swirl of blues and green reminded him of her eyes.
He inhaled, a futile attempt to discern if her feminine scent still lingered. Instead, he was hit with the rancid aroma of alcohol, which seemed ingrained in the wood panels. He climbed onto the stage where his brothers prepared for tonight’s set and grabbed his guitar to tune it.
“Hey, Gavin,” his brother Calum said, as he twirled the mic stand. “You’re acting all mopey again. Not like yourself. We’re all wondering what’s going on? Did you pick up Mad Cow disease or something like that?”
Gavin pulled his brows together as he eyed his youngest brother, who pulled his signature long blond hair into a ponytail.
“Why do you say that?” Gavin asked. As a gargoyle shifter, they couldn’t contract human illnesses.
“Because it’s not like you to let your shaft get cold for long,” Calum teased.
His brothers laughed with agreements like, “True,” and “Must be a record.”
Gavin grumbled. The truth to those words rankled him. He wasn’t acting like himself at all. He shouldn’t let one lass get under his skin—especially a human—but somehow this vivacious woman had gotten to him.
Fiona. He often repeated her name in his head like some lovesick puppy. Ridiculous. He should have known better than to set up expectations six weeks ago by suggesting they meet up the next time he was in town. No, he did know better. He’d broken his own rule by opening his big, fat gob and saying he wanted to see her. They’d already spent three nights together.
Was he off his head? Aye, that sounded about right.
He wasn’t soft like his brothers, besotted by one woman. They’d abandoned their drive to explore the world and discover all its wonders. But, not him. He yearned to experience it all.
What could he do to rid himself of the compulsion to be near her?
Sleep with her again. That was the answer—the only way to get her out of his system.
“You haven’t run off with a lass since the last time we were in Inverness,” his eldest brother, Lachlan, pointed out as he tuned his bass guitar. “So, you can’t fault us for wondering.”
Lachlan was the alpha of their new, small clan. When the other gargoyle shifters had returned to the Scottish Highlands, Gavin and his brothers had chosen to remain on the Isle of Stone, north of Thurso, which they shared with tree witches and wolf shifters. The brothers had caused a rift when they’d created their band, the Knights of Stone, and performed for humans—an act the elder gargoyles had considered intolerable.
Gavin avoided Lachlan’s gaze, knowing he was right.
When they’d played at clubs in Spain and Portugal, Gavin had searched the crowd for Fiona, although it was mad to even think she’d be there. He hadn’t pursued any of the lasses. They weren’t what he craved—Fiona’s touch, her taste, her scent.
“I don’t have a human disease or anything else.” Gavin forced a nonchalant tone, so his brothers wouldn’t pick up on the real reason for his monkish ways. “Sometimes, you need a break to recharge before firing up for a night of soaring—or shagging,” he added with a playful smirk that was more him than his recent sulking.
“You sure it isn’t a lass?” Calum asked.
Was he that transparent? Time to shift the conversation.