“All right, we’ll wait,” she said.

She stood there for a moment longer, long enough to shiver in the stark cold of the room. It was so cold she could see her breath on the air. Clearly the electricity was still out and for some reason Clemmons, the motel owner, did not have a generator. She hoped he was just as cold as they were. It was very thoughtless of him, especially knowing what the weather could be like and the fact that this was ski season and he was more likely to be full than not this time of year.

After another second, whereupon she had begun to rub at her arms for warmth, Ahnvil cursed roundly and marched up to her. He grabbed her hand and with a jerk sent her crashing up against his body. He enfolded her in his warmth while yanking the coverlet off the bed and wrapping them both up into it.

“You’re a bloody stubborn woman,” he scolded her, rubbing her arm for her as she gratefully cuddled up close to him, her chilled state causing her to forego all demurring and protestation about allowing him to hold her close.

Oddly enough it wasn’t sexuality that entered his awareness right then. There was something about her, something so different from any woman he’d been near in such a long time. Probably because he was used to incredibly strong women with phenomenal abilities, and yet here she was with her incredibly dangerous vulnerabilities and she was bravely wanting to venture out into the world in order to further their cause. And that was perhaps why he thought her so much braver than all the rest. It was one thing to be strong and face a challenge, it was another to face one knowing without a doubt you were going to be hurt in the process. For some reason he found that to be the most amazing thing about her. He suspected that she thought she was weak because she was hiding away where it was safe and dark, but what she had done was find clever ways to live with her disability and, he had no doubt, to the maximum of her ability. Of course she was afraid of hurt and pain, she’d be an idiot not to be.

As he held her he found himself breathing in the clean warmth of her hair, and by the time she’d stopped shivering his nose was drifting down past her ear on a direct course for her neck. Something about the graceful line of it beckoned to him, like the finest lure to the trickiest of fishes she was reeling him in faster and faster every time. How the hell had she gotten under his skin so quickly? Even knowing he was the worst thing for a woman as fragile as she was. But honestly, how was her susceptibility to the sun any different from those of any Nightwalker? Did it really make her any more or less fragile? Other than the fact that she was human and that if he were to climb on top of her and suddenly turn to stone he would without fail crush the life out of her. But she smelled so damn good. Why did she have to smell so damn good?

“Warm enough now?” he asked, his voice rasping out of him.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “But we can’t just stand here like this for another hour.”

“Want to get back in bed?” he asked.

“No! No, that wouldn’t be a very good idea.”

He glanced around. There was a small chair in the far corner of the room. It was dubious whether it would hold both of them, but he took a chance, swept her up into his arms, and carried her over to it. Sitting down with her, he tried not to groan when she snuggled back against him, her bottom wriggling across his lap in little twitches.

Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Don’t get—

“Hey! Stop that!”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding all that repentant. “I canna help it when you shimmy abou’ like that in my lap. Sit still.”

She did. Too still. He could tell she was holding herself rigidly, as though she were afraid to relax.

“Relax, Kat,” he soothed her gently. “I willna bother you. I swear it. I just want you to be safe and warm. Relax.”

After a minute she did, her weight coming to rest comfortably in his arms. He just contented himself with the smell of her and the rhythmic sound of her breaths.

“What’s it like? Being a Gargoyle? Is it hateful? Do you look the same as before or did that change?”

“I look the same as before. Maybe a bit more buff. More muscle, you know.”

“Yes.”

“And overall, now that I’m no’ a slave to another man’s whims and ways, I like it fine. I get to fly.”

“I still don’t understand how that’s possible …”

“Doona ask for I doona know the how of it. All I know is it works. I can fly in the night air as easily as any feathered friend.”

“Wow, I’d like to try flying like that one day.”

“I can take you if you like.”

“Oh wow. Really?” She sounded as eager and as scared as anyone could possibly be at the same time. “I’d like that. Yes. I’d like that,” she reiterated, this time sounding more sure. “And how long does it take for you to turn to a statue once sunlight hits? Is it gradual or instantaneous?”

“ ’Tis nearly instantaneous.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Truthfully? ’Tis terrifying. No matter how many years you’ve been a Gargoyle, and I’m told ’tis true for others, your first instinct is tae fight it. Mainly because your breath is the first thing you feel seize after the first blush of stone begins. You think you’ll suffocate and I suppose if we dinna turn tae stone immediately afterward, no longer needing oxygen, we might do so. But ’tis just like drowning for that brief window of time. And for a man like me, a man who fights everything headlong, that kind of powerlessness is a tough pill tae swallow.”

“I can imagine. I think it would be the same for me, too. It’s like that for me if I feel the touch of the sun. The reaction is instantaneous. Wait! Did you hear that?”

It was a rumbling rush of sound, scraping and loud.

“Plows! It’s a plow!”

“Nay. Stay here,” he commanded when she would have run to the window and risked a peek out. “Right or wrong you’ll know in an hour. I’ll no’ have you risking as much as a single wisp of sun touching this fair, precious skin.” He found her hand among the blankets and lifted it up to his lips, kissing her gently across the knuckles. “Ask me something else.”

“Well … how rich are you? Like just stinking or ultrastinking?”

“Besides the fact that I get paid for protecting my Bodywalkers as well as other benefits, I’m three hundred years old and have learned tae look for long-term investments. What do you think?”