Sunny - Mona Lisa Eclipsing

“A gargoyle,” I said, continuing Halcyon’s line of thought, “who has the ability to turn anything it touches into stone, one of the most solid and stable substances.” And Gordane, the Gargoyle Lord, had been pumping heavy doses of his solidifying power into Mona Louisa there toward the end to keep her from fading completely away. “Do you think that’s why I’ve been free of demon symptoms?” Symptoms that had been growing progressively and distressingly worse until Halcyon had feared having to kill me if I lost control completely and began slaughtering people and drinking their blood. I had come perilously close to that edge before being yanked down to NetherHell, and all that had followed afterward.

“If that is the reason,” Halcyon said, “then NetherHell was a blessing in disguise, and everything, including your fear of me afterward, was well worth it.” That had upset Halcyon in a way I’d never seen before, my rejection of him, my fearful recoiling away from his touch after experiencing that tearing, excruciating pain he had caused ripping Mona Louisa’s dead spirit out of me. And yet, without that necessary action, I would still be trapped down in NetherHell, not only dead, but likely dead and truly gone by now. It was not easy surviving in the harsh realm of the damned dead.

As for why it no longer hurt traveling the portal down to Hell, the realm of the living dead, it could be that there was a part of me that was truly lifeless now—the part of me that was Mona Louisa, fully integrated into me. Or again, it could be the lingering aftermath of Gordane’s gargoyle touch, or from a subtle change after being down in NetherHell.

I didn’t know or really care. I was just grateful.

We reached Halcyon’s home unmolested, though not from lack of trying. I had two more opportunities for target practice, and Halcyon three.

“I would not suggest you come down to visit on your own,” Halcyon said after dispensing with a particularly nasty-looking creature I didn’t even have a name for.

“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “Not even tempted.” Cool, neat weapon that my mole-emitted beams were proving to be, without Halcyon’s powerful presence by my side, the attacks on us would have been likely triple what they had been, or even more. The most dangerous predators, the demon dead themselves, had not ventured anywhere near us. That, I was sure, wouldn’t have been the case had I been walking alone with my loudly beating heart calling out to all the blood-hungry denizens.

Halcyon’s house was a far more modest abode than his father’s dark, towering fortress, quietly elegant, solid and powerful like the man himself. Tuck and Keven, two elite demon guards patrolling the grounds, met us at the property line. We exchanged greetings and made our way to the house.

The door opened before we could turn the knob, and a querulous voice said sourly, “I’ll get it. Stand back, you lout.’Tis my job, not yours.”

I had to adjust my gaze significantly downward to meet the eyes of the small female demon that stood there: Jory, a dour old demoness who oversaw the smooth running of Halcyon’s household.

“Welcome, my prince, my lady,” she said blandly.

“Thank you, Jory,” I returned, and lifted my gaze to the demon lout she had been scolding.

He stood waiting a few steps away in brimming impatience.

I felt my heart kick hard at the sight of him and his name left my lips in soft utterance. “Gryphon.”

GRYPHON HAD HEARD her heartbeat a distance away, and his own dead heart thumped, not with sound or movement but with emotions. Joy and dread and torturous love.

She’s here! She’s here!

The two words beat loudly within his mind, his chest, filling him with a maddening surge of dizzy excitement that hazed his vision red and changed the color of his eyes. It took a moment of conscious control to bring himself back to the calm a demon needed. Another few precious moments to gulp down a cup of challo, blood wine, and chase that down with swallows of water to rinse away the smell of blood. Then a quick chew on a sprig of mint, running the comb through his hair, and a mad dash down to the front door that Jory beat him in opening.

Gryphon’s eyes were blind to all else but the lady who stood there. His ears deaf to everything but the sound of what fell from her lips. His name.

“Mona Lisa,” Gryphon said in a rasping sigh. He held still, letting her come to him, conscious, so conscious of that careful control he had to maintain. Then she was in his arms and he was breathing in her sweet, living scent, feeling the thump of her heart against his own silent chest.

“Dear heart,” Gryphon murmured, relaxing and gathering her up against him when he found that it was not as hard as he had feared, holding her like that, warm and precious. His demon hunger for her blood was tamed, held in abeyance for the moment, superseded by another appetite that suddenly roared forth, stiffening against her. “Oh, my lady,” he groaned, clutching her to him, “it is so good to see you again.”

“As I can see,” Mona Lisa murmured in an amused, soft undertone, “. . . and feel.”

“Forgive me,” Gryphon said, scooping up her legs.

She squealed, laughing. “Put me down. I can walk.”

“Quicker this way.” He threw a quick glance at Halcyon. “Your room?”

At the answering nod, he moved, unbelievably fast.

They were suddenly in Halcyon’s room, and Halcyon was pulling the door closed behind him—not outside the room but inside as Gryphon set Mona Lisa down on her feet.

“You’re staying?” Mona Lisa asked her Demon Prince.

“It’s what we agreed would be most safe,” Halcyon said, steady and calm. Something in his eyes, however, prickled the small hairs on Mona Lisa’s arms, standing them up with a dark, dangerous thrill of excitement.

“Let me,” Gryphon said, gripping the edge of her shirt.

At her answering “Yes,” he lifted her top in a slow, reverent unveiling.

The next article of clothing was removed by the brush of invisible fingers. One bra strap delicately pushed down, then the other. “Was that you?” Mona Lisa asked Gryphon with startled eyes.

“No,” answered Halcyon. “It was me.”

Mona Lisa gasped as she felt those phantom fingers deftly unhook the back clasp. Both men watched as her bra fell away, revealing the soft, white mounds of her breasts.

Tension heightened a notable notch as Halcyon began unbuttoning his shirt, walking slowly toward her. “May I join you?” he asked, as politely as could be, but his eyes . . . the heated smolder in his eyes played contrary to the casual ease of his words.

Mona Lisa swallowed hard, felt her pulse skitter. Felt it pound even more as Gryphon leaned down to brush his lips against the hollow of her throat, slide his mouth over her pulse point. Dangerous, dangerous delight.

She had never been with both of them together before—that is, openly agreed upon, beginning that way. It was, she found, startlingly different.

“By all means, yes,” Mona Lisa said in a breathless whisper.

Everything suspended and became truly breathless as Halcyon began disrobing in a deliberately slow and graceful striptease.

Just those two things: the feel of Gryphon’s lips and the sight of Halcyon moving, acting, in a way she’d never seen before—knowingly, sensually, blatantly sexual.

It was unbelievably arousing.

Her breath came faster, and the unsubtle scent of her arousal filled the air.

“Take off your pants, love,” Gryphon murmured, licking his way up her neck to nuzzle a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear that curled her toes and pulled a soft moan from her. The light touch of Gryphon’s palms running down her shoulders, grazing the sides of her breasts, made her shudder.