Crush

Her voice echoes ominously throughout the cavern, her warning hitting me like a wrecking ball. “That can’t really happen, can it?” I whisper through a throat tight with horror.

“Of course not!” Hudson starts pacing the room again. “I mean, seriously. Who would actually choose to spend their life as a Jaxon Vega fangirl?”

“There are options,” Amka says, her voice deliberately soothing. “There are several options we can try before we start to panic—”

“Not to be rude, Amka, but I think you mean before you start to panic. Because I’m already there.”

“So.” He grins down at me. “What sound does a gargoyle make when he sneezes?”

“A gargoyle joke? Seriously?” I roll my eyes at him.

He laughs. “What, too soon?”

He looks so pleased with himself that I can’t deny him anything. “No, go ahead.”

“What does a gargoyle say when he sneezes?”

I eye him warily. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“Stat-choo!”

“Oh my God. That’s awful.”

He grins. “I know, right? Want to hear another one?”

“I don’t know,” I answer, skepticism ripe in my voice. “Do I?”

“You do.” He squeezes my hand. “Why don’t gargoyles go out during the day?”

“I don’t want to know.” I brace for his answer.

“Because they’re too stoned.”

“Oh my God!” I make a face at him. “That one was bad.”

“It was awful,” he agrees.

A gargoyle werewolf? Or a werewolf gargoyle? Weregoyle? Garwolf? I do not want to be a garwolf.

Hey.” Jaxon comes up behind me, and it’s his turn to rest a gentle hand on my back. “You know it’s going to be okay, right?”

Sure. Of course. Totally no big deal. I mean, gargoyles are all the rage, right? Somehow, I don’t think he’ll appreciate my sarcasm, so in the end I bite it back and simply nod.

Jaxon reaches down to help Grace from the hole I created for her, he wraps his

arms around her and presses her body to his. And I begin to see red, even before

he leans down to kiss her, and every ounce of chill—and emotional self-

preservation—I have goes out the fucking window.

My hands curl into fists, my fangs explode in my mouth, and though there

were a million other ways I was hoping to break my newfound knowledge to

Grace, the words come out before I can even think about stopping them.

“Jaxon, if you wouldn’t mind, take your fucking hands off my mate.”

Grace thinks and then says, “I do, yeah.”

And just like that, my hands are shaking, when they never shake. I can’t

figure out what to do with them, so I shove them in my pockets. And wait.

“Yes, Hudson. I trust you.” It may be the most ridiculous decision of my

rapidly draining life, but I do trust him. I do, more than I ever would have believed possible even a couple of short days ago.

“Do you remember that night we went to the library?”

“Which one?”

He rolls his eyes. “The night Jaxy-Waxy got you those street tacos.”

“It’s not about believing in you. It’s about the fact that I can feel your father’s venom moving through me. You can’t fix that.”

He squares his jaw. “You don’t have a clue what I can do.” He doesn’t say it

to be mean. I know him now. He’s trying to convince himself.

“No,” I respond after swallowing the lump in my throat. “Why didn’t you

tell me what a good person you are?”

Startled blue eyes find mine and our gazes lock, hold.

For a second, Hudson slows down so much that he nearly trips over his own

feet while Macy and Jaxon demand to know what’s going on.

He doesn’t answer them. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all—and neither do I. We just stare at each other as a strange understanding passes between us.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he tells me as he starts walking again.

“There isn’t going to be a later,” I answer quietly, “and you know it.”

He starts to say something, then breaks off. Swallows. Starts to speak again,

then breaks off again.