miss?” I asked, trying to look around Austin to see Ulric’s face. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
“That clown Earl put that nonsense into their heads,” Niamh grumbled.
“I know you’re there and why,” Austin said, “but this town doesn’t use the title of alpha for me. They call me Austin Steele.”
“All due respect, you’re not the sort of guy that can hide his status, but if that’s what we’re doing…”
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Austin said, and my small hairs stood on end at his rough tone.
“Yes, sir.” I could just see Ulric shifting behind Austin, his hands clasped in front of him.
I wasn’t used to seeing this side of Austin, the one ready to subdue anyone who created turbulence. His gruffness sparked a strange excitement deep within me, an unexpected thrill, primal and unguarded. It invigorated the hidden part of me that wanted to fight for dominance—and also to let go and feel the rush of being dominated.
“You okay?” Niamh asked me. “You look a little flushed.”
I cleared my throat and dabbed at my face. “Just hot. Forgot to control my body temperature with my magic.”
“They had a good plan yesterday, and a poor execution,” Austin said, reaching between Niamh and me to grab a beer Paul was offering. His scent, clean cotton and something spicy, grabbed me.
Freaking Damarion had gotten me all hot and bothered, and now I was noticing heat and smells and things I’d rather ignore.
“Oops, ye seem to have turned the dial the wrong way again.” Niamh’s look was shrewd. “Yer face is practically on fire. Is the thermostat broken? Yer too young for menopause…”
I rolled my eyes at her as Austin frowned at us.
“I’ll say they had a poor execution…” I put my drink down, my mind coming back online. “Their magical net broke in midair. If not for Mr. Tom and Damarion, I would’ve died on the rocks. Some plan.”
“If I may…” Ulric stepped closer to Niamh’s back. “They might’ve assumed she would be flying. Or at least floundering. Gargoyles are born with wings, and because they’re present at all times, at least for us men, we have a certain affinity for them. As soon as we shift into gargoyle form, our wings are mostly ready to go. Flapping them is natural—you don’t have to learn that. Controlling them isn’t easy, at first, but it would be reasonable to assume a new gargoyle could at least slow down enough to prevent herself from dying on the rocks.”
“So it’s harder for me because I’m not a true gargoyle?” I asked.
“Jess, do you mind?” Austin grabbed the back of my stool and the base before pausing to look at me, his face inches from mine.
“What?” I leaned away, against the bar.
“I’m just going to turn you to make more room.”
“Oh sure, yeah. Have at it.” I meant to get up, but he’d already pulled the stool up off the ground with me on it, his muscles barely flexing with the weight. He set me down so my back was to Sasquatch, my side to the bar.
“I should’ve just done this in the beginning,” I said. “My peripheral vision is much nicer this way.”
“Without that dirty bugger by your side, you mean?” Niamh looked around me. “Yes, I did mean you.”
Austin resumed his place at my side, now allowing Ulric into the circle. “Beer?” he asked the smaller man.
“Bud, thanks. Now, miss—”
“You can call me Jessie,” I said.
“Mr. Tom was pretty clear about what you should be called.” Ulric grinned at me. “The fact that it annoys you is just a bonus.” Niamh huffed out a laugh. “I’m sure someone has told you natural female gargoyles are immensely rare, and have been throughout history. They can be created magically by a powerful mage sacrificing a male gargoyle and…whatever spell they use to transfer his magic to a female mage or Jane, but the transformation of species doesn’t enhance the power. In fact, it shrinks the wings and hinders the ability to fly.”
“And they did this why?” I asked, but the answer came to me in a flash of intuition. “To try to breed more natural female gargoyles.”
“Based on the records, that was the reasoning behind creating the female version—they hoped a male and a female gargoyle would have a better chance of producing a natural female specimen than waiting for the genetic lottery. Maybe if the mages engaging in this practice had been female, they would’ve gotten things right and the