Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
The bubble of space around Tristan closed as he walked closer, leaving Aljoe trailing behind within the press of bodies. Gargoyles bumped into him, their wings fluttering against his sides. Someone stepped in his way and stopped, not concerned with blocking him. No one was treating him like the dangerous alpha shifter he was. Weird. Did they have a death wish?
“It’s always like this,” Niamh murmured, leaning closer to me. “The shifters scatter because they know better, but the gargoyles don’t care when something is dangerous. They like to poke the beast to see what sort of battle will ensue.”
“But he’s part of my group,” I said in confusion. “Why would they poke at him when I’ve spoken up on his behalf? Not to mention they must’ve heard the stories about his power from when we found him.”
“They’ve heard the stories.” Tristan took the empty seat next to Nessa. “They’re curious. To a guardian, this isn’t being disrespectful, it’s asking him to come out and play. To give them a show of strength. This is gargoyle culture. They want to meet the danger head-on. They fully expect him to resort to shifter culture, and trust me, they won’t stay and fight. The problem is, he’s intentionally trying to maintain a low profile out of courtesy to you and Austin. That’s what I’m guessing, anyway. He hasn’t mentioned his discomfort to me or Sue. The guy is basically setting himself up to fail.”
“And you’re letting him?” I asked in disapproval.
“Yes. He needs to learn to acclimate, and if he can’t, he needs to ask for help. It’s the only way he’ll find a forever home.”
“He’s not a stray, Tristan,” I murmured.
“He kind of is,” Tristan responded. “And this stray needs to find his footing.”
Aljoe stiffened, his eyes glittering malice, his movements jerky. He was fighting his beast. I could see it. He was trying to hang on to his control. Years of muscle memory was probably screaming at him to make an example of these people, to fight for the space he deserved. To claim his place here, violently, as he’d done his whole adult life.
But he was new in this territory and trying to fit in without claiming a position of power. He was trying to figure out how to get along with other creatures—to acclimate, as Tristan said—without resorting to violence. He was trying to make Austin’s and my lives easier by not posturing and showing his power, worrying that might threaten our authority. In doing so, he was making his own life harder.
He wasn’t asking for help because what he really needed was permission.
My heart lurched at the same time as my beast stirred. Permission granted.
I sent a thread of power at him, carrying a clear command.
Fight.
His hazel eyes snapped up, finding me immediately. Someone bumped him. A wing brushed against his shin. His jaw tightened, his body tensed—he still didn’t move.
The aggression rose within me, sensing battle. Advocating for it.
Fight, I sent again with a stronger flick of power. Fight!
His body shook from the strain of resisting. His eyes glimmered; he wanted to comply. His gaze flicked to Austin, seeking approval. Wanting to make sure.
Who could ever assume this guy would forcefully take a pack unless it was necessary? He barely knew us, and he was doing everything in his power to prove his loyalty.
I barely felt Austin nod, a subtle movement. He knew what was going on, and he agreed with my resolve.
The gargoyles wanted to poke the beast? Well then, they’d get what they asked for.
Nessa
An undercurrent of power and energy exploded through the bar, so volatile even Nessa felt it. It didn’t send a clear message, just a blanket threat.
“What—”
She gasped as Aljoe grabbed a gargoyle who’d stopped in front of him and bodily tossed him out of the way. The throw had such force that the gargoyle bowled into several others, taking them to the ground.
“Watch where you’re going,” the alpha shifter growled.
The circle of bodies around him didn’t immediately scramble out of the way, and even Nessa knew that was a very bad decision. More brawn than brain, those gargoyles…but not enough brawn to compete with the beast in their midst. Aljoe had somehow gotten the message that he no longer needed to be on a leash.
Malice pumped out of his muscular frame, so potent that Nessa reached for Tristan without meaning to. She clutched his arm, unable to tear her eyes away.
“Easy, Natasha,” Tristan cooed. “He’s just making a little space for himself. It’s good.”
It didn’t feel good. It felt like the apocalypse had come knocking.
Aljoe’s shoulders straightened, head pushed back, the posture of a powerful alpha at the top of his game. He grabbed the guy next to him, slammed a punch into his stomach, and shoved him back. He clutched another by the neck and then punched him in the face. The guy’s nose cracked, and blood gushed.