Perfect Misfits Page 13

  What were you thinking? Did you honestly think for one moment that somebody like Ryder would love you back?

  The women he spent time with were nothing like her. He was correct. She didn’t know what most females would look like, but she didn’t resemble them. The visions of the women he’d been with in the past were the exact opposite of everything she seemed to be. They were tall and confident. They didn’t have pointed ears, and none of them had her white hair and pale looks. She was a misfit.

  Sadness engulfed her.

  What would I do if I did leave this mountain?

  She knew nothing about the world of Levare, and it was quite apparent her father and Ryder wanted nothing to do with her.

  She finished washing and exited the pool. With a towel wrapped around her, she tiptoed into the hall and entered the bedroom. She closed the door, wishing she could lock it, and carefully, so as to not be seen, peeked from the tiny window, only to gasp and duck out of sight. There was another gargoyle out there. He wasn’t as large as Ryder, but he was a gargoyle. She returned to the window, and she spied the object of her attention.

  Rogue.

  Her gargdog still remained catatonic. It was Fedor’s doing. Only he could remove the spell he’d placed on her friend. Rogue—her one true friend. He loved her unconditionally, and would do anything for her, but could she reciprocate?

  After quickly braiding her hair and securing it on top of her head, she stared at the bed. The memories brought back the ache and throbbing between her legs as her body betrayed her.

  Before her head hit the pillow, she drifted off to sleep, welcoming the solace where she wouldn’t have to think about Ryder, and how much she loved him. She would never expect him to make love to her again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ryder raked a hand through his hair as he stepped outside.

  What is love?

  He couldn’t deal with that emotion. Gargoyles weren’t supposed to have to cope with that level of commitment. They didn’t commit.

  Ashton walked to him. “You look a bit disheveled, boss.”

  Ryder let out a breath of air. “I guess you could say that.” He sat on a nearby stump.

  “She’s quite the looker, Ryder. I can see why you’re partial to her. She’ll be really popular with all the guys when we get back home.” He smiled, raising his eyebrows.

  Jealousy and anger exploded inside Ryder at the thought. He jumped to his feet and swiped Ashton’s out from underneath, him sending the younger man to the ground. “I hope to hell I never hear you speak about Tempest in that way ever again. Do you hear me?”

  Ashton looked up at him astonished. “What is wrong with you? She’s only a female,” he responded.

  Ryder placed his foot on Ashton’s chest. “That’s another thing you’ll never say again.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  Ryder stopped, realizing suddenly that he’d developed feelings for Tempest—strong feelings. He’d never felt like this before in his existence.

  “I don’t kid, Ashton. Remember what I’ve said.” He removed his foot, and grabbing his friend by the arm, yanked him back to his feet.

  “You care for her—I mean really care for her. You aren’t just doing your job; you have real feelings for her, don’t you?” Ashton asked, incredulous.

  “You’re pushing your luck, kid.”

  “Gargoyles aren’t supposed to feel in that way. Sure we all love sex, but you…you like her, don’t you?”

  Ryder strode away from him. “Correct—gargoyles don’t feel. She is just another female and I’m doing my job. Drop it.”

  “Okay…”

  “Let’s take a flight to see what Fedor is up to.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ashton answered sarcastically.

  The two took to the air, breaking from the lush green realm... He welcomed the cold as large flakes of snow pelted his body, hoping it would diminish the smoldering embers Tempest had brought to life in him.

  “Make yourself unseen,” he shouted to Ashton as they neared the mountain where Fedor ruled. In the distance, a small light glimmered through a hole in the mountain. Rejecting this obvious entrance, he sought another. Flying in circles, he noticed the snow troops coming and going. It had to be the way in.

  There wasn’t much room for the two of them to land, but Ryder descended first and took a spot closest to the edge. Ashton followed suit.

  “Well, we’ve found a way in,” Ryder whispered.

  “Now what?”

  Ryder’s bad mood made the thought of wrapping his hands around Fedor’s throat all the more pleasant. Perhaps he could take some frustration out on the decrepit bastard.

  “Let’s pay a visit.”

  Staying in gargoyle form, they followed the tracks through the tunnel. The snow troops were large enough that he and Ashton could also make their way down the rock trail.

  “What is that smell?” Ashton plugged his nose.

  It was putrid. Off to the left, a den of sorts came into view. Bones and body parts or their remains littered the area.

  “Snow troop homes?”

  Wrinkling his nose, Ashton nodded. “Good assumption.”

  The deeper into the mountain they went, the more dens they came across. One in particular caused Ryder to stop dead in his tracks. The small area held nothing of significance. A multitude of rags lined an area, perhaps forming a bed, but what caught his attention were the holes in the rock walls—a multitude of sticks and bars. The hairs rose on his large arms, and his wings fluttered with the pent-up hostility rushing through his veins. He didn’t whisper this time.

  “Fucking bastard,” he roared. “I can’t wait to meet this dick wad. Let’s pick up the pace.”

  Flight wasn’t possible in the cave, but his strides lengthened. The light glimmering up ahead sped his pace.

  “Ryder, using caution might be a good.”

  “Done with all that shit. Let’s get this over.”

  They broke into the large room. The sneers growled and roared. Fedor spun in all directions.

  “What is it, boys?”

  The large creatures swung out with their large front legs swiping into the air, trying to hit Ryder. Their massive bulky size would make it impossible for the poor creatures to be formidable opponents.

  Ryder materialized within close proximity to Fedor. Towering over the troll, he watched him stumble backward. “Keep your creatures away from us, or one by one, they’ll end up dead.”

  “What do I care if they end up dead or not? Knock yourself out.”

  Ashton materialized.

  “Don’t kill them, Ashton, but keep them busy for a while I chat with this true misfit.”

  “Huh.” Fedor turned away from him and marched to what appeared to be a throne of sorts.

  Ryder reached out and grabbed him by the neck to lift him from the ground. “What’s stopping me from snapping your neck?”

  Fedor’s grubby hands tried desperately to remove Ryder’s fingers. He coughed, but sputtered the name, “Tempest.”

  “You’ll die a painful death soon.” Ryder opened his hand letting Fedor fall to the ice, where he collapsed onto all fours.

  Sputtering and trying to speak, he crawled into his throne as Ryder towered over him. “You kill me, and she dies.”

  The fury inside him burnt like liquid molten. “Make no mistake—she will be freed from this hellish place.”

  Fedor smiled, wiping his brow. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Ryder glanced up and noticed the ice crystals lining the doomed ceiling of the cavern. Then, off to his left, he spied the cabinet of ice shining with bright colors. As soon as he moved toward it, Fedor was on his feet, scurrying to beat him there.

  Ryder was instinctively drawn to the intensely glimmering icicle in the far back, but the moment he attempted to touch it, the burning in his hand slammed him. The pain was so intense, he had no other choice but to pull away.

  “That was unexpected,” Fedor
exclaimed with a cocky smile.

  Unable to control his anger, Ryder backhanded him, sending him flying.

  “I know all about you, Fedor. I also know about the pixie king, Astral, and Vicasha. Your sick little palace is about to crumble,” Ryder spewed, every syllable alive with his hatred.

  Fedor wiped the blood from his lip, panting, as he tried to stand. “The way I see it is that I have everything I want…and need.”

  Ryder roared, breathing heavily. “Did you know Tempest recently discovered a certain tree in the middle of a swamp?”

  He could see the flicker of shock on Fedor’s wart-covered face. “That has nothing to do with me.”

  “Oh, I think it has everything to do with you.”

  “Where is my bride to be?” Fedor smiled, blood dripping down his face.

  Ryder stalked forward again, afraid he would kill him, which would mean Tempest’s death. He stopped at the sound of Ashton’s voice.

  “I’m done playing with these sneers, Ryder.”

  Vibrating with rage, Ryder turned away from Fedor and stalked to the opening of the cave and the ledge. “This isn’t the last you’ve seen of us.”

  Fedor’s hideous laugh curdled his stomach. “I’m looking forward to it, gargoyle. I’ll be waiting for my bride.”

  Ryder thundered straight up through the sky, burning off the anger pumping through his limbs.

  · · · · ·

  Tempest woke with a start. After dressing, she made her way out of the cabin. Rogue remained the same, and a brief smile broke from her face.

  At least he’s still here.

  A sob caught in her throat as she threw her arms around his large neck, kissing his muzzle. “I’ll never leave you, Rogue.”

  Her ear twitched at the sound of brush rustling. Automatically, her head turned in its direction. While she couldn’t see anything, she had a hunch.

  “Spitter, I know your there,” she called out.

  With some grunts, the little troll stepped from behind the tall grass.

  “How did you know it was Spitter?”

  For whatever reason, a sense of joy spread over her face upon seeing the disgusting little guy. “A hunch, I guess.”

  When he came forward, Tempest could see the swollen red marks and dried blood over his face. She stood and walked toward him. Although tall she wasn’t, Spitter was much shorter than she. Tempest bent down in front of him. “Spitter, what happened to you?”

  He hung his head, kicking at the dirt with his overly large bare feet. “Vicasha wasn’t very happy with me.”

  She shook her head. “It’s never right to hit something,” she said softly. “And you should certainly never feel embarrassed because somebody treated you poorly.”

  He looked at her sheepishly.

  “Spitter, stay here,” she commanded.

  She returned with a cloth and water. “Sit over there.” She pointed to the stump beside Rogue.

  He did as she asked. Wet cloth in hand, she lifted his chin and gently wiped at the broken skin. Spitter winced, pulling away. “Ouch, that hurts.”

  “Sorry, Spitter. I’m sure it does, but it will feel much better when we have you cleaned up.”

  The cloth slipped, and before she knew it, her fingers touched his face. She squinted her eyes shut, preparing for the visions to come, but after a few moments, let out a breath and opened her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Tempest?”

  “I…I…touched you,” she stammered.

  He didn’t seem to care, and she caught him staring at her hair, “Spitter’s hungry, Tempest. I haven’t eaten anything since the last time I saw you.”

  Dumbfounded, she took a breath. “We’ll see what we can do about that when you’re cleaned up.”

  Rinsing the cloth, she dabbed away until his face was clear of blood and dirt. On her haunches, she sat back looking at him. “My goodness. You actually look like a little boy troll underneath all that dirt.”

  He smiled up at her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Now can I have some hair?” he asked with excitement.

  She stood, placing her hands on her hips, and stared down at him. “Just a minute.” She returned to the cabin. She loosened a braid, and with the knife Ryder must have left on the table, sliced off a chunk.

  His beady little eyes gleamed with happiness, and he reached out, prepared to snatch it away from her.

  “No!” She pulled her hand back. “Don’t snatch, Spitter. You should always ask nicely, and don’t grab. Wait until things are given to you.”

  He kicked at the stump, obviously frustrated, but eventually, he held out his hand. “Please, may I have some?”

  She leaned forward and the placed the locks in his grimy palm.

  Immediately, he shoved it in his mouth and swallowed.

  She shook her head. “Thank you is always a good idea, too.”

  “Okay. Spitter says thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. So where is Vicasha now?”

  He smiled. “Dead.”

  Blood rushed from her face as she repeated the word. “Dead?”

  “Yup, dead. You killed her.” His smile deepened.

  “That’s not possible,” she stuttered. “I didn’t even touch her.”

  He jumped off the stump. “Why are you sad? Vicasha is mean. She hurt Spitter and the others.”

  “Why do you think I killed her?”

  He pointed to her chest, “You have the jewel.”

  Her hand flew to her chest to cover the crescent moon shape. “I remember the horrible swamp and those black slithering creatures all over my body.” Her whole body shuddered.

  “Yes,” Spitter acknowledged. You should have died, but instead you found her jewel.” He rubbed his hands together.

  It all came crashing back to her. The creatures, the tree, the orb she’d found within the tree, and the jewel that magically flew to her chest. But then she’d let go, unable to hang on.

  Spitter cowered while looking up into the sky. “The giant flying creature picked you up and flew away. I guessed you’d come here if you were alive. Spitter doesn’t have anywhere to go. The others are dying.” He shook his head and stared at the ground.

  Tempest, stop being selfish! You’re only thinking of yourself. Others are dying, and poor Spitter has no home.

  She frowned, but eventually smiled at him. “Would you like to live with Rogue and I?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Does he have to live with us?” He pointed to Rogue.

  “Yes, of course!”

  “Why?” Spitter asked with a pouting lip.

  “Well, because I love him.”

  She could see he tried to understand what it all meant. “Does he love you?” He tilted his head to the side.

  She smiled. “Yes, he does love me.”

  He paced back and forth in front of her, and then stopped and looked up at her. “So, if you love somebody, does that mean they will love you back?”

  She swallowed hard. Her thoughts turned to Ryder and his reaction when she told him she loved him. “No. Unfortunately, loving somebody does not mean they will love you back.”

  He pulled on his long ear. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t understand, either. Love isn’t as easy as I thought it was.”

  “I think Spitter will love you.”

  Unable to stop herself, she broke out in laughter. “We’ll see about that.”

  “I don’t know what’s funny about what I said,” he said, emphatically placing his hands on his tiny waist.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you.”

  “Oh.”

  Her thoughts turned to Fedor and her love for Rogue. “Sometimes when you love somebody or something, you do things that don’t make sense. Spitter, if you wish to live with Rogue and myself, we have to travel to the cold part of the mountain, and Fedor will be there.”

  He jumped back away from her with a shocked look on his face.
“No, Tempest. Fedor is a bad man. He is just like Vicasha. We can’t go there.”

  She pulled at the sleeve of her shirt, uneasy about the thought. “It isn’t an option for me. I just wanted you to know how it will be for us, if you choose to come with Rogue and I.”

  He resumed pacing. “I will go,” he decided, nodding his head.

  “Another thing, Spitter. There will be rules, and if I ask you to do something, you must be polite. I will try to do the same in return.”

  “Not sure what that means, but I’ll try.”

  “Okay, it’s a deal.” she nodded her acknowledgement.

  Spitter jumped forward and latched on to her legs, hugging her. “I’m glad I won’t be alone.”

  As if the sun had gone behind a giant cloud, a shadow fell over the two of them followed by a large gust of wind.

  Ryder and the other gargoyle landed softly on the ground not far from them.

  Spitter squealed and ran for the bushes.

  She could see Ryder’s eyes follow him through the grass.

  “That troll is bad news.” His eye glowed red, and he adjusted the patch over the other.

  She titled her head way up to look at him.

  Gods, he’s magnificent.

  Her heart broke in two with the emotions threatening to engulf her. The only thing she wanted to do was run to him and wrap her arms around his legs. It was impossible, she realized. Her sentiments were unreturned, and the pain she felt in her heart hurt worse than any vision she’d ever experienced.

  She cleared her throat before speaking. “He’s not bad. He’s been abused by Vicasha for far too long, and has nowhere to go. The others like him—the other misfits—are dying.”

  Ryder glanced over his shoulder at Ashton. “Ashton, this is Tempest. Tempest, this is one of the other gargoyles from the squadron.”

  Cautiously, she leaned to the side, peering around Ryder to see him. He was a giant, not unlike Ryder, but certainly not as large. Ashton stepped forward, and she stepped away from him.

  Ryder held out his arm to stop Ashton’s step. “She can’t be touched, Ashton.”

  “Oh.”

  “Hello, Ashton. It’s nice to meet you,” she greeted.

  “It’s quite the world you live in here.” He shook his head.