Overview: The gods will tear the world asunder if their treaty isn't honored. To do so, there must be a marriage of dryad and gargoyle bloodlines.
Cybele
I hate the thought that my future is decided for me, but this is what I was raised to do. To be. A broodmare for a block of rocks. I suppose it isn't much better for him, either. The treaty between my forest homeland and the gargoyle clan needs to be renewed or we will no longer be protected. It's not about what we want, and it doesn't matter if the husband they've picked for me wants to devour me with his kisses.
Basalt
I’ve never wanted any of this. Not being the presumptive heir to my father. Not being tied in marriage to a fragile dryad. She looks as though she would crumple at a light touch. When her hand is tied to mine, I can barely feel it.
The curse of the gargoyle - stone skin, never feeling. It matters not when you mate with another gargoyle, your rough touch is welcomed, almost required for satisfaction. But now I was about to be bound to a dryad as delicate as a spring flower.
Can a real passion bloom from the arranged marriage between a gentle flower and a heart of stone or are they destined to disappoint the gods?
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| Fated to the Gargoyle by Flora Dare Book |
Fated to the Gargoyle by Flora Dare Book Read Online Chapter One
Cybele
I took a deep breath and squeezed my bouquet. It was stunning, befitting my status as the oldest daughter of the Dryads, the people of the Trees. Not that I’d ever cared about status, but my body shook with anxiety, so I fixated on the flowers. The oranges and pinks stood out against the deep forest-green of my dress. The flowers helped me forget what I was there to do.
I was about to enter a loveless, arranged marriage, in order to produce children. I couldn’t help but think of my own idyllic childhood running through the verdant green trees. Now I was bound to live with the gargoyle clan, never again to run as a child in my beloved forest. I choked down a sob and threw my shoulders back. Regardless of the state of my impending marriage, I would make sure any children I had would be loved and happy.
I staggered to the threshold of the clearing, unsure of how I’d ended up in the right place at the right time. My hands would have shaken if I hadn’t been clutching a stupid bunch of flowers. As I passed through the doors and saw the audience all turn to look at me, my first instinct was to turn tail and run, just run until I was far, far away. But as soon as the music changed, I took my first step down the aisle.
This was what I was raised to do. To be. I was a broodmare for a block of rocks. I supposed it wasn’t much better for him. We both needed to continue our bloodlines. And the treaty, the damned treaty, between my forest homeland and the gargoyle clan needed to be renewed. The Ourea, the gods and goddesses of the mountains we live on, demanded that our bloodlines be combined–or they would no longer protect our lands, our people, from harm.
I was grateful that my veil was so thick that the expression on my face was hidden. I wouldn’t have to contain my reaction when I finally saw him. I know it was because of the auguries, but I wish my parents had let me meet him even once. It would be just my luck if instead of someone like the hunks in the audience, I got the one homely gargoyle in the world.
I finally focused away from my flowers, past my feet, and up the aisle. My future husband was standing next to the priestess. Oh thank Gaia, he’s handsome. His beautiful variegated black wings were tightly gathered at his back. His arms bulged almost out of his suit, and he towered above me as I stepped next to him. Looking up, I almost flinched at the expression on his carved face. He looked about as pleased as I felt. I glanced down at my flowers, expecting them to wilt under his glare.
But they stayed beautiful. Before I could get lost in the orange and pink, the priestess cleared her throat and began to speak.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, on this momentous occasion, to renew and revitalize our connections with each other and with the Ourea.” She took the flowers from me and set them on the altar. “We accept the offering of Cybele, daughter of the forest, to be bound to Basalt, son of the earth.”
Without the flowers, it took all my focus to keep my hands from shaking as I raised my veil. I half-tuned out the priestess, and listened instead to the droning of bees from the massive gardens around us. I stole a glance at my husband-to-be, and his gaze was locked on the priestess.
I wanted to cry. I’d always known what my future held, but somehow I’d hoped he’d at least be kind enough to smile at me on our wedding day.
The priestess stared at me and I froze, staring at her with wide eyes. I had no idea what she had just said, and my body trembled, a deep panic rising in me. I tasted bile at the back of my throat. If I ran, would anyone chase me? Or would I just embarrass myself and my family?
Before I could decide which way to run, the priestess smiled and repeated herself. “Please, Cybele, put your hand forward.” I couldn't stop the shaking this time as I extended my arm, holding it next to his. She wrapped the red ribbon around my wrist seven times, then around his wrist seven times. The priestess was gentle as she slowly drew our wrists together, until finally, my fingers rested on his massive hand.
She tied off the ribbon and just like that, we were mated, bound together for life.
And suddenly the cool, marble-like hand beneath mine was almost hot to the touch and I gasped, finally looking up at him.
***Basalt
I’d never wanted any of this. Not to be the presumptive heir to my father. Not to be tied in marriage to a lush but fragile dryad. She looked as though she would crumple at a light touch. When her hand was first tied to mine, I barely felt it.
It was the curse of the Gargoyle—stone skin, never feeling. It didn’t matter when you mated with another Gargoyle; your rough touch was welcomed, almost required for satisfaction. But now I was being bound to a dryad woman, who had skin as delicate as silk and hair like a living flame.
But then, the ceremony was complete, we were bound together— and my skin burned at her touch. She stared up at me, her hand still trembling, and it took everything in me not to simply lift her into my arms.
Her hand was warm on mine. I could feel the warmth and heat of another person. I’d never felt anything like it. The sensations were overwhelming, and I gasped for air. The breath was sucked out of my body, my head spun and my hands shook. I looked down at my mate and it was like I was falling into a hole. All I saw was her sweet, pale face, and the riot of red hair that surrounded her like a halo.
Somehow I kept from tumbling to the ground and glanced over to the priestess, who half-smirked at me. I straightened up, throwing my shoulders back. I would not be bowled over by the strange warmth from a strange woman. I was stone, strong and unbreakable. But still, all I felt was her warmth, the pressure of her hand on mine, and for the first time in my life, I was truly being touched.
My cock was rock hard and all I could think about was having her beneath me. What it would feel like to fill her until she screamed my name. Her eyes were a deep green, like the moss of the deepest forests, and I was utterly lost in them.
I almost wept when the physical binding that held us was broken and her hand lifted off mine. The priestess said something but all I heard was the word “kiss.” Cybele’s face turned up to mine and her eyes fluttered closed. In spite of my terror of what might happen when I touched her, I stroked her cheek softly and lowered my lips to hers.
The warmth and softness of her lips were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. No one else had felt so amazing. There was a smattering of applause and somehow I pulled away from her. I wanted nothing more than to sink into her, to experience that heat again. Her eyes fluttered open and a faint blush of red flashed across her face.
I forced myself to step back, to not lose myself in sensation. I understood a lot better, now, why everyone said it would be an enjoyable marriage. I couldn’t help but frown down at her perfect, sweet face. She still looked so fragile, like I’d break her if I touched her. Gaia, touching her would be everything. Will be everything.
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