Witchlock by Dianna Love Page A

moved in perfect sync.  
    One particular part thudded against her abdomen, letting her know just how much he’d missed her. She eased down and grasped him in a firm grip and he stilled.  
    All that power at her mercy.  
    She moved her hand slowly up his length.  
    He groaned, a deep feral sound, then lifted her until she had to release him and hook her legs around his waist. Then he headed for the bathroom, which was nowhere near as spacious and well appointed as the one in the house where he’d been living.  
    Another negative of Storm being stuck underground with her.  
    He’d showered here that first day, but alone, because she’d been busy trying to calm Feenix.  
    She had a moment of panic, berating herself for not allowing Quinn to incorporate all the upgrades he’d intended for this apartment. She’d been so determined to stand on her own two feet and take no charity, that she’d refused any luxury Quinn had tried to push her way under the excuse of being her landlord.  
    Which he was, but she received a monthly stipend like every other Belador warrior and could pay her bills.  
    Storm sat her on the vanity and eased away, leaning down until his face was all she could see. He shook his head. “What are you worrying over now?”  
    He couldn’t read minds. She knew that.  
    But he was a strong empath. If she told him she was embarrassed by the cramped quarters, he’d tell her it didn’t matter. He’d blow it off. He couldn’t outright lie or his Navajo gift for detecting a lie would backlash on him with physical pain. That didn’t mean he hadn’t figured out how to skirt the truth by being clever when he felt it necessary.  
    She opened her mouth and closed it.  
    He said, “If you don’t want to say what’s bothering you, that’s fine. It’s better than feeling like you have to shade the truth with me, because you don’t and you know that right?”  
    “Right.” She knew it in her heart, but her mind was not in sync with her heart lately. She finally admitted, “I’m tired and not up for any discussion.” Not now when they finally had a moment to themselves.  
    Tap. Tap. Tap.  
    Evalle looked past him toward the bedroom door. “Now what?”  
    “I’ll check. You get the shower started.”  
     
    ~*~*~*~  
     
    Storm wrapped a towel around his waist and walked slowly enough for Evalle to start the shower noise before he opened the door. He found her critter outside.  
    The half-pint gargoyle lifted his chin until his bright orange eyes stared up, unblinking. When Feenix spoke it sounded like a teenage boy, but came out as an order. “Evalle.”  
    She’d warned Storm that her pet didn’t have a big vocabulary, and after that first meeting Storm had also learned the little guy frightened easily. For that reason, Storm tried to sound calm and patient when all he wanted was to be alone with Evalle. “She’s getting a bath and going to bed. Evalle is tired. You should go to sleep, too.”  
    “Evalle,” Feenix repeated, not moving an inch. This time those orange eyes flamed bright then narrowed.  
    Evalle described Feenix as harmless.  
    Storm had survived by being able to read what truth lay beneath the surface in a confrontation with an animal or a powerful being. Deadly animals on the prowl attacked.  
    So did frightened ones, and Storm’s presence unnerved Feenix.  
    Storm wasn’t sure where a gargoyle fell in the food chain, but he wasn’t taking any chances with something capable of torching a pizza with fire from his snout. Yeah, he’d heard that story, too. Evalle had thought it charming when Feenix tried to cook her a pizza in the oven with his own built-in blowtorch.  
    Storm thought it sounded dangerous if the gargoyle ever lost his temper, but things had been so tense between him and Evalle since he walked in carrying a duffel last week, that he would not start in on her pet.  
    As long as the gargoyle didn’t harm Evalle.  
    Feenix showed no