Butting Heads With A Gargoyle by Charlie Richards

Epilogue

It took every ounce of self-control Ridger possessed to keep in his wince as he began pulling his shirt free of his wound.

“I saw that,” Vermidian growled, telling Ridger that he hadn’t been successful after all.

Ridger did his best to appear contrite as he met Vermidian’s dark gray eyes. “I didn’t get shot on purpose.”

Sighing, Vermidian smiled softly at him. “I know. Now let me help you with that.”

Releasing the fabric, Ridger watched as Vermidian turned on the shower water. Then he knelt and quickly helped him shuck his boots, socks, pants, and underwear. Ridger felt a measure of confusion when his gargoyle stood back up again.

“In you get,” Vermidian urged, guiding Ridger into the shower. “The water will help unstick the fabric from your wound.”

“Right.”

Ridger should have remembered that. He would totally blame his forgetfulness on having a naked, sexy gargoyle in his bathroom. His beloved was a gorgeous and distracting male.

“Okay,” Vermidian murmured as he positioned him only partially under the water. “I want the fabric wet, but I don’t want the water to spray directly onto your wound.” Rubbing at his side, his gargoyle murmured, “Be honest with how much it hurts, okay?”

As Ridger nodded, he peered at Vermidian’s gorgeous, pale-green cock. “We could always talk about something to distract me.” While the piece of meat was only at half-mast, it was still absolutely gorgeous and would make a wonderful mouthful.

Still need to explore that beauty.

“Of course,” Vermidian replied. Using a thumb under Ridger’s chin, he urged Ridger’s gaze back to his face. His gargoyle’s eyes twinkled, and he smiled at him. “So, I know you took a pit stop at Krispin’s to talk to him. What did you learn?”

Ridger grimaced.

Of course, his perceptive gargoyle had noticed.

“I gave a very quick but thorough rundown of what I overheard while hanging outside the window,” Ridger admitted. “I didn’t want any of this to fall on Felistria’s head.” Grimacing, he added, “And I explained our suspicion that Fiona is far more involved than we thought, so we’ll be seeing far more of them.”

“Anything else?”

After a second of hesitation, Ridger knew he had to come clean. “I wanted to ask him about that guy Phineas delivered to him.” He grew serious as he murmured, “Dian, he knew what it meant to be called an elder.”

Vermidian nodded. “You’re right. He did.” Returning his focus to Ridger’s side, he began carefully peeling up his shirt. “And what did he say? Has he been interrogated, yet?”

Ridger hissed upon feeling the tug at his half-healed flesh. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to call Gabriel. He’s immune to vampires.”

“Damn.” Vermidian paused and pinned a concerned look on him. “How are these guys figuring out who are immune to trancing and recruiting them so successfully?”

While Ridger figured it was odd that they’d run across several recently, he hadn’t given it too much thought. Still, with Vermidian pointing it out, he focused on that as his gargoyle finished easing his shirt free of his wound. Once his lover had pulled it off, Ridger watched him toss it out of the shower.

“You said you’ve run into one,” Ridger murmured, being as patient as possible as Vermidian focused on his wound. “That was why you sought me out at the clutch.” As his gargoyle carefully cleaned around what looked to be a deep graze on the left side of his stomach, Ridger continued, “Then there was Tiffany, that guy on the street, and that guy at the warehouse.” Frowning, Ridger muttered, “Huh. That is a good-sized ratio for such a narrow window.”

“It is.” Vermidian peered up at him. “This is deeper than you thought.”

Ridger grinned widely now that he had Vermidian’s focus. “I know a way to heal most of it pretty damn fast.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And I know you’ll love it.”

Vermidian’s thick nostrils flared, and his eyes widened for an instant. Then a growl full of anticipation filled the shower stall. He quickly rose to his feet, only to turn and plop down on the built-in seat.

Holding up one of his hands, Vermidian patted his thick pale-green thigh with the other. “Come here and take what you need, my vampire.”

“Hell yeah,” Ridger rumbled, more than on board with that. As he straddled his gargoyle’s waist, resting his hands on his shoulders, he purred, “We’ll worry about all that shit another day.”

“Exactly,” Vermidian agreed gruffly, sliding his clawed hand into Ridger’s wet hair. “Right now is all about us.”

Ridger nodded eagerly.

When Vermidian tipped his head to the side, exposing his neck more fully as well as the pounding vein that contained the nectar of the gods, Ridger emitted a whine of anticipation that he would forever deny.

“Feed, my mate,” Vermidian urged.

Never one to deny his beloved’s request, Ridger lowered his head, licked along the thick cord of his neck, then sank his fangs deep into his gargoyle’s flesh.

As Ridge drank deeply of Vermidian’s life-giving fluid and reveled in the deep throaty groans of pleasure that rumbled from his gargoyle’s throat, all the problems of the day fell away, and nothing mattered but the male holding him.