make a blood sacrifice in the middle of a graveyard on All Hallows' Eve and nothing would come of it? Don't expect me to be grateful."
Kestrel stared at him in bewilderment. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I gathered as much. Next year, do us both a favor and don't mess around in things you know nothing about."
His scorn fueled her anger until it released her from her immobilizing fear. She edged further backwards toward the cemetery gates. She backed into a headstone and tripped over it, falling on her ass and scraping her legs on the rough stone. At her yelp of surprise, Damaris turned toward her. In an instant, he reached her side and wrapped his hands around her arms.
Fear rose again, choking her. Kestrel twisted and pulled against his grip to little avail. "Let go of me!"
"Be quiet," he hissed. "Or you'll bring the whole city down on our heads!"
She struggled again, more desperately than ever. He tightened his grip to hold her still. The tips of his claws sank into her arms and broke the skin. Kestrel drew a breath to scream, but he swore and jerked her against him, pressing his mouth hard against hers.
If he'd been trying to silence her, it worked. Shock rendered her speechless. He took advantage of her surprise and slid his hands up into her hair, opening his mouth over hers. His lips proved softer than she would have imagined. They gently coaxed her into his kiss.
A small, strangled sound slipped from Kestrel's throat. She smacked her fist against Damaris's shoulder and tried to break free. He allowed her to pull back from the kiss, but not to escape.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded.
"You gave me this night. Will you now force me to spend it in solitude?"
"I didn't summon you. It's just a stupid Halloween tradition—“
"You did," he insisted. "Whether you meant to or not, I'm here because of you."
He watched her quietly while the implications of what he said washed over her. Midnight, her blood, and the feel of him coming to life against her...could it be possible?
She looked up at him standing before her as evidence that somehow, it was possible. Slowly, her fear began to fade into a sense of wonder. Whatever he was, however he'd come to be there, he hadn't hurt her and didn't seem like he intended to, despite the fact that he could probably snap her neck with ease.
"What do you want from me?" she asked again. She gentled her tone to turn it into an entreaty, rather than a demand.
Damaris shook his head. "That's not how it works. You summoned me. I'm here to do your bidding."
My bidding? Oh, the possibilities.
Kestrel rubbed the nape of her neck with her hand and considered just what that meant. "Well, fuck."
Damaris's grin widened into an expression of fierce anticipation. "Oh, I was hoping you'd say that." His hold around her shifted from restraining to caressing. "This is going to be fun."
Shit, shit, shit. "Wait. That's not what I meant."
"That's what you said." His teeth closed over her throat, stopping her breath. His fangs dug into her flesh, pleasure and pain in a single heady mix, and she braced for them to break the skin. That penetration never came; her flesh slid between his teeth, and left her aroused but unmarred.
Her head tilted back and found a pillow in the leathery wing he wrapped around her. She let her eyes slide closed, her willpower weakening. "This is insane."
"Insanity is highly underrated."
She opened her eyes and lifted her head to meet his gaze. "I'm in a cemetery at the break of All Hallows' morn with a living, breathing, talking gargoyle who wants to fuck me. This is beyond insane. This is a psychiatrist's wet dream."
"Gargoyle?" Damaris grew still until Kestrel wondered if he hadn't turned back into stone, leaving her trapped within his embrace. He exploded into sudden laughter that cracked and rumbled with the sound of tumbling boulders. "You think I'm a gargoyle? A water spout? I am no more a gargoyle than you are a baboon!"
"Then what
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