Gavin left Fiona’s flat with mixed feelings. As he walked past the residential buildings, he searched for a shadowy nook where he could shift. It was more difficult to find a spot in daylight, but he’d lingered, not wanting to leave. And, look what it had led to—discovering her articles.

She’d lied to him. Well, not technically—she’d omitted something, but it treaded close to that thin line. He detested lies. Always had. Or, since he was thirteen. He and one of the female gargoyles in his clan had run off through the Isle of Stone to explore. He’d had a crush on her for two years, and when they’d wandered through the forests holding hands, he’d been thrilled. She’d encouraged him to venture into the moors. She wanted to see if they could peek into the forbidden territory of the wolves and witches. They backed off when they’d scented fresh wolf tracks.

When they’d returned, her parents were furious. They’d scolded her for venturing too close to wolf territory, even though the moors were neutral ground. She’d tried to explain but had cowered quickly. Then, somehow she’d turned the story around on him—it was all Gavin’s fault. His idea. He’d convinced her to go. She’d lied to cover her arse, and he’d been blamed for it, punished by both parents and clan. It had killed his feelings for her and sparked an intense hatred of lies.

Too bad, he had to live his life as a lie, pretending to be a human so as to co-exist in the human world. Humans didn’t tolerate other species; they feared them. And what they feared, they destroyed.

Gavin found an alley between two buildings. The scents of rotting food were stomach-turning, but he’d only need a moment. He glanced around. When he didn’t spot any witnesses, he cloaked himself to be invisible to humans and then shifted to winged form. He ascended into the sky over Inverness and soared over the city, glimpsing Fiona’s building before he headed to a more verdant setting.

Where would he go to spend the day before the show tonight? He could meet up with his brothers. They were likely resting in stone form under the sun, which is what he should do. He didn’t want to listen to their ribbing about Fiona, though. He had too much to think about and preferred to be alone. He soared across the River Ness where he’d strode with Fiona last night. He passed over the impressive red sandstone towers of Inverness Castle and followed the body of water south to Loch Ness. Mist-covered mountains appeared to cascade beyond the rolling green hills in the distance.

As he skirted along the lock in search for a place to land, he contemplated his predicament. For one glorious period in his life, when they’d performed their concerts on the Isle of Stone, he’d been able to live as himself among humans. It had been short-lived, but spectacular. Would he ever have that chance again?

No, that was foolish. He couldn’t trust a human. Especially one who investigated supernatural lore and wrote about it.

He spotted a remote location inland covered by trees and headed there. The scent of heather from a nearby patch filled his nostrils with nostalgia. Although this island was his home, his ancestors had lived here in the Highlands and he still felt connected to it. And now he had another tie to this land. Fiona.

The pull to her was compelling—and inexplicable. Sure, he wanted to sleep with her, but it went beyond that. Something about her wrapped around him like a comforting presence, soothing his inner beast in a way that had never happened before. The restlessness that could only be released when performing on stage was somehow calmed.

But, skimming through the articles slapped him with sensibility. How would she react if she’d found out she’d been sleeping with a supe? No point in thinking about that. He could never let her find out. She’d reveal their secrets, publishing it in a venue for all to read.

Once he landed, he shifted to stone form to bask under the sun and restore his energy for tonight’s show—and one last night with Fiona. While he rested, he dwelled on recent developments. Gargoyle rest was closer to meditation than to how animals slept, since they needed to remain on watch.

He revisited the memory of the night they’d first met at the pub six weeks ago.

After the Knights of Stone ended their set, Gavin searched for the redhead. When he spotted her heading for the exit, he swore under his breath. Trotting over to her, he then slowed to a normal pace when he was a couple of feet away. Despite all the overpowering odors of the club, he detected her fragrance. It had an alluring, feminine appeal with hints of floral tones and herbs. He resisted bending lower to sniff her hair and let her scent wrap around him.

“It’s too early to head on home, isn’t it?”

She turned to face him and smiled. Her eyes were a striking color—a sea-color blend of blue and green. His insides sizzled as if a bonfire had been lit.

“For the guitarist in a band, maybe,” she said. “But, for a working girl, it’s my cue to leave.”

Her voice was like a soft caress in his ear.

Shite, he couldn’t let her leave just yet. “Any chance I can convince a working girl to delay her bedtime by having a drink with me?”

She peered at him through her amazing eyes from under dark lashes. A flirtatious look if he’d ever spotted one.

“Aren’t I the lucky one to have the attention of the band member most in demand? The women practically scratched their talons into your skin.” She tilted her head. “But, then again, you did encourage them with those stage antics.”

“Antics,” he repeated with a lopsided grin. “I just aim to put on a show to please the crowd. So how about that drink?”

She appraised him for a moment. “Why not? Just a cranberry juice, please. I’ve had a couple already.”

Nice. He’d scored a few more minutes with her. After he ordered her drink and a pint for himself, he handed her the glass.

“Cheers.” He raised his glass. “What do you do, working girl?”

“I write.”

“What do you write?”

“Articles, mostly. For a regional news site.”

Gavin’s skin prickled. He was wary of reporters. He had to be. The wrong person poking into his business as a shifter could be a threat. He took a sip of his beer. “What kind of articles?”

“Local news.” She shrugged. “Events. Politics.”

“Fun stuff.”

“Not as fun as what you do,” she remarked. “In fact, I came here tonight to write up a piece about local music, including your band.”

He stepped back. Her revelation shot his wariness to the stars.

“Did you get everything you need?” He aimed to keep his voice steady.

“Aye. But, if you want to highlight anything about your band to enrich the story, now’s your chance.”

His suspicion of reporters was stifled by the urge to continue speaking to her. “Why don’t we discuss it backstage?”

While leading her to the dimly lit room covered with band flyers, he focused on redirection. She had many questions about the band, why they didn’t have a website or social media presence, how they’d developed a following, and so on. It took all his focus to evade her questions with his generic “we lucked out with word-of-mouth” reply and that the “mystique works in their favor.” He attempted to steer the conversation to a safer topic. She was tough and not easy to dissuade, but he wouldn’t let her get to him. He had one mission since he’d spotted her, and he wouldn’t miss his opportunity now that he had her alone backstage.

Finally, he made progress. “Enough with questions about me. Since I saw you tonight, I’ve been intrigued with you.” He flashed his most effective smile that often had a devastating effect on the lassies.

She squinted at him with surprise. “About what?”

“Your relationship status, for one. Please tell me you’re single?” He laughed. “I’d hate to have some bloke barging in here interrupting what I hope to be an unforgettable night with a bonnie lass with beautiful eyes.”

She blinked a few times and then laughed. “No one’s going to barge in anywhere. I’m single.”

“Brilliant.” His grin turned mischievous. He lowered his gaze to her lips. “Good. Because I want to kiss you.”

She inhaled. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

He searched her eyes. “Why not? You’re stunning. All I’ve been able to think about are your lips. And how sweet you’ll taste.”

“Um—well—uh.” She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. The sound of her quickened breath was audible from the din of the crowd in the pub. She took a deep breath and straightened. Then she raised her chin and challenged him with a decadent smile, “What’s stopping you, big guy?”

A growl vibrated in his throat, and he took the invitation. He cupped both of her cheeks and gauged her reaction. Her wide pupils and parted lips from which quickened breaths escaped signaled her interest.

He bent down and inhaled her feminine scent in the hollow of her throat. “You smell so good.”

She swallowed but said nothing. He exhaled along the sensitive skin on her neck, letting his warm breath tickle her ear. He touched it with the tip of his tongue and then licked back along her throat. “Taste so good, too.”

The scent of her arousal left him hard, and his erection bulged against the front of his kilt. He stepped closer to her, close enough to press his body to hers, but stopped an inch short. Her breath came out in heavy pants now. The space between them pulsed with a sultry vibe. She completed the distance, pressing her breasts against his torso.

Her eyelids were hooded. “I thought you wanted to kiss me,” she said, her voice a mere rasp.

He hadn’t planned on anything more than a quick kiss, to steal a taste of her, but having her alone in this private nook skyrocketed his desire. He ached to take her right here. Claim her against the brick wall. First, he wanted to tease her. Anticipation would amp the pleasure for them both.

He lowered his head, bringing his lips mere centimeters from hers. “Oh, but I do.” Her breath had a tinge of the sweet scent of cranberry juice. He brushed his mouth against hers and then pulled a few inches away.

She sighed in protest. “Oh, I know what you’re doing,” she said. “The same thing you did to every woman while you performed on stage. Teasing me.”

He pressed his lower body against hers, groaning as his erection stroked her belly. “Were you feeling teased?”

After a few panted breaths, she admitted, “Aye.”

“And now,” he prodded.

“Uh-huh.”

“Good,” he declared. Gavin planted a soft kiss on her mouth.

A small sound of relief escaped her.

“I’m also wondering something else,” he said.

“What?” Her voice was a mere rasp.

“What sounds you’d make in bed,” he added.

She tilted her head up to him and licked her lips. “What makes you think that will happen?” Her sassy tone from earlier returned.

“A bloke can hope for the best.” He brushed his lips over her neck again. “Do you like it rough?”

When he pulled his lips away, her eyes were hooded. Dark with desire. With her right where he wanted her, he bent lower and claimed her mouth the way he’d been yearning since he’d seen her sweet lips.

After he pulled back, he asked, “Do you live nearby?”

“Aye. Walking distance.”

“How about I walk you home?”

She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips again to his. “Come home with me.”

---

Gavin returned to the present, tormented by the memory he’d replayed countless times. Since that night, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. The past two nights hadn’t done anything to get her out of his system. In fact, he’d grown closer to her. He eagerly awaited seeing her in the audience when they played and then going home with her after the show.

He was only in town for one more night. If he was smart, he’d pull back, since his weakness was women. And in this case, one woman had turned out to be more troublesome to his resolve than all the others combined.

Where the hell had Gavin gone?

Fiona blinked and rubbed her eyes. She’d taken up a spot in a building’s entryway when he’d entered an alley. She’d just peered around the corner of the brick building and spotted him for a flash. In the next heartbeat, he’d disappeared.

How was that possible?

He’d been standing in the alley and then whoosh—gone—faded away like a ghost. She tiptoed into the alley, her muscles shaky. Perhaps it was a trick of her eyes, and he’d slipped into a shadow. Although every cell in her body resisted the thought of entering an isolated area, she had to know the truth. Was he in there somewhere? If not, where was he?

Fiona forced herself to tread forward, ignoring the stench of rubbish. She searched for something she could grab as a weapon in case she needed it. Who knew what lurked in the dark recesses? Although it was daylight, the building cast long shadows draping the expanse in darkness. The bins could hide, well, anything.

She picked up a short stick lying on the ground. It wasn’t much and was thin enough to break on any significant impact, but it was better than nothing. It could inflict damage on eyes—hopefully long enough for her to run to safety.

You’re freaking out over nothing. Stop it. Just see if he’s here and if not, get the hell out of here.

“Gavin?” she whispered.

Nothing.

In a louder tone, she called, “Gavin.”

Still no reply. Only the sound of traffic in the distance. She scanned the area, searching for where he could have gone, but the space ended with a brick wall.

Retracing her steps backward, she rushed out of the alley and tried to shake off the creepy sensation.

It was late Sunday morning and people milled about. Many headed into the restaurant and shops. Gavin wasn’t among them. He’d stand head and shoulders above most.

He played in a band where it appeared that stone statues shifted into human beings. If that were true, it could be chalked up to special effects. But, what about the wings? Could they be an illusion as well? If so, he’d need to be hooked onto a system with seemingly invisible lines to make it appear that he could fly.

Fiona sighed. Neither one of those explanations would explain how he appeared to vanish without an audience to entertain.

Confusion weighed on her as she entered her flat. The rumpled sheets in her bedroom reminded her of their earlier antics. Damn, his effect on her was potent, unlike any other sexual experience in her life. In that case, aye, he seemed magical. Enchantment packed in an enticing masculine package.

Fiona pulled the sheets to make the bed. The scent of their encounter still lingered on them. Perhaps, she’d imagined seeing him disappear, but she hadn’t imagined the hot sex. It was real. Deliciously and decadently real.

But, what was his secret?

Tonight, she’d find out what the hell was going on.