“Yeah.” She sighed as he shut off the engine but didn’t make a move to get out of the Jeep. More gargoyles circled the house and grounds now, scouting.
These gargoyles had answered Jess’s original summons and hadn’t made the cut for the Ivy House crew—space was limited, and Jess had to be selective—but they’d hung around in the hopes they could be of some use. And they had. Nathanial, the gargoyle who’d answered Jess’s last summons, was an alpha in his own right, although not as dominant, and he’d led the host of gargoyles on various missions. They also frequently volunteered for night watch duty when Jess was away from Ivy House.
Five gargoyles landed in the front yard as Austin got out and walked around to open Jess’s door. The gargoyles nodded to her and then crouched down and shifted to stone. There they would stay until they were called to action.
“That’s the other part of my day that didn’t go well,” Jess said as she watched them change.
“What’s that?” Austin took her hand and entwined his fingers with hers.
“Nathanial tried to teach me how to call the gargoyles that aren’t connected to me through Ivy House. He does it with his wings. They make this loud buzzing sound. But my wings are too small. They’re runts.”
“They’re female gargoyle wings. They’re the size they should be.”
“Not to call my army, they’re not.”
He started them toward the front door. “I thought you said you didn’t want an army? Something about the government, or modern times, or… Help me out; I can’t remember the excuse.”
“You’re going to get the beating of your life if you keep it up.”
“Hmm, does that mean you want to be on top?”
Heat kindled through their link, but he could feel her pushing the desire away. She was fighting it with everything she had.
He grinned. It made him want to claim her that much more.
“I’m not actually talking about an army, but I need a way to call the gargoyles without Nathanial. If something happens to him or—”
“They need to ultimately be in your control instead of his,” Austin said. He opened the door for her.
“Yes, exactly.”
He led her toward the kitchen, passing a small table in the hall with a stack of brochures and binders. Their winemaker had compiled that thick file on the table, full of fliers for various vineyards for sale that might work for the winery they’d purchased together. Although new wines were already in the works, made from grapes purchased from other wineries and locations, Austin and Jess had agreed that they’d prefer to have control over how the grapes were grown.
But all that could wait until Jess wasn’t so tightly wound. Basically, until after they sorted out the situation with Elliot Graves.
A rush of adrenaline coursed through Austin, and this one wasn’t pleasant. He pushed it away. It wasn’t time to deal with his wariness and uncertainty about the Elliot Graves situation.
“Did you decide what was for dinner?” He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward one of the seats at the kitchen island. If he didn’t insist that she sit and stay seated, she’d try to help out of obligation. It was nice of her, but Austin could tell she didn’t want to, and it took the joy out of cooking for her.
“Anything, honestly. You know my situation.”
He certainly did. She liked to watch. She never tore her eyes away.
As he grabbed the apron hanging on the handle of the oven, her eyes lit with hunger. Her gaze traveled over his shoulders and down his chest.
“Do you ever cook without a shirt on?” she asked, her voice silky.
He paused in slipping the apron strap over his head, his heart beating faster. Her heart beat right beside his, deep in his chest, her presence always there. It grew stronger every day, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he didn’t need the Ivy House connection. Once their mating bond was solidified, she wouldn’t be able to cut off his ability to find her, something he feared she’d do in a life-threatening situation. Jess was absolutely the sort who would prefer to face danger on her own than to have a loved one in the thick of it.
Eyes holding hers, body tightening up and loosening at the same time, he put the apron on the counter and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. He slowly pulled it over his head. “Pants?”
She crinkled her nose. “Keep the pants on. You can’t have your ding dong rubbing against things.”
He barked out a laugh. “I do have boxers on, but okay. It’s your show.”
He tossed his shirt to the side, getting it out of the way, before holding up the apron, asking if she wanted him to wear it.
Her eyes increased in intensity. He could feel excitement and anticipation bubbling through the Ivy House link. Lust.