Perfect Misfits by Lawna Mackie

mountain. The tiny sprites were no larger than his talons. They spoke rapidly and in a flurry. Were they pointing to the ground? One of them flew right into his face and poked him in the cheek with a definitive motion to the ground. Without thinking twice, he clutched Tempest close and dove for the ground, realizing that once again, Rogue needed to be caught. Like before, he caught up to the gargdog free-falling in the air and snagged him by the collar.
    A hundred feet before they hit the ground, he opened his wings to stop their descent slowly. Rogue lay unmoving in the green grass, while Ryder gently laid Tempest in the thick soft moss. With a swipe of his claw, he removed her shirt, desperately trying to discover what could be wrong with her.
    “Breathe, Tempest! Breathe!”
    He’d been so focused on Tempest that he’d ignored his own pain. He clenched his fist, angry for the searing pain in the palm of his hand.
    “What do you want from us?” he yelled up into the sky. Helplessness overwhelmed him as he reached down to her similar scar with his. Her words echoed in his mind.
    “Maybe we were meant to be together.”
    His large hand covered her chest, and at the exact moment of contact, their scars melded together. He struggled to keep upright as the world spun. His vision blurred, and he blinked, trying to understand what he saw. He was looking up at himself…as if he was inside her head.
    Fuck! That’s exactly it.
    He was inside her head, feeling what she felt and seeing what she would see.
    With all his might, before he lost consciousness, he yanked his hand away from her body. Falling backward, he caught his breath before leaning back over her.
    Her gasp of air caught him by surprise, and no other sight in the world would have made him happier. Slowly, her eyes opened and tears flowed down her cheeks.
    “Am I dead?”
    He shook his head. “No, sweetie, you’re just fine.”
    “What happened, Ryder? I only remember a terrible pain, and I couldn’t breathe.” She tried to push herself up. He placed his arm around her waist, helping her forward.
    Her hand flew to her mouth with a shriek. “Rogue!”
    Ryder’s gaze followed hers. She struggled forward to the beast. “Why would you do this? Put him back immediately,” she screamed with anger.
    He stared at the gargdog. He hadn’t turned him to stone. “Tempest, I didn’t do this.” He stood and moved to Rogue’s side. “I’m puzzled.”
    “Please change him back,” Tempest cried.
    He placed his hand on the gargdog’s stone form where it lay in the grass. “I would if I could, but I can’t. I didn’t turn him to stone.”
    She continued to cry, curling her body up and around Rogue’s form. “I’m so sorry. I should have never agreed to try and leave this mountain. I should have listened to Fedor.”
    Ryder’s blood boiled at the sound of her desperation. He bent over and picked her up, holding her so she could see the anger that must be reflected in his eyes. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again! Do you hear me? Beasts like Fedor thrive on words like yours. I will figure this out, and I will get you off this hell-forsaken mountain and back to Levare.”
    Her eyes were wide, perhaps out of fear, or maybe just shock at how harshly he spoke.
    After placing her back on the ground, he realized—as did she—that she stood in front of him wearing no top. With a wave of his hand, she stood fully clothed as before. He then turned to Rogue.
    What was I thinking? I could have killed her today. It was a stupid move. I should have done more testing, instead of just assuming I could whisk her back to Levare.
    Something very powerful seemed to be at work. A true gargoyle had the ability to transform to stone at any given time, but Rogue wasn’t a true gargoyle. Why or who had placed such a wicked spell on the creature. He closed his eyes, concentrating on removing the spell the animal seemed to be under, but deep down, he knew it was