Page 18 of Petrified

Lev goes quiet long enough that I know he’s actually considering it. His hand comes down over mine, not moving it away, just holding it against his stomach while he looks between Rowan and me. “You think it’s the venom.”

“Maybe partly.” I let my magic press against his again and feel that same clean stability answer me. “The bond could be part of it too.”

Rowan’s hand tightens once around Lev’s hip. “Could be both. We already know your body needs the bond differently than ours does.”

Lev stares at us for another second before his mouth slowly twists. “So what you’re saying is that getting fucked by my mates may now qualify as magical maintenance.”

Rowan laughs and immediately winces when his ribs object. Lev points at him without sitting up any farther, irritation returning just as quickly as the humor. “See? This is exactly why you’re not allowed to enjoy my scientific breakthroughs.”

“You’re the one calling sex maintenance,” Rowan says, adjusting his position more carefully this time. “I’m not taking responsibility for that.”

“I’m trying to understand a medical phenomenon.” Lev looks at me as though I’m supposed to support this. “Back me up.”

“You called your body a group project ten minutes ago.” I slide my hand away long enough to let him test what happens without my magic pressed against his. “I’m not helping you make this sound respectable.”

Rowan adds his hand at Lev’s hip while mine stays against his stomach. Lev’s signature strengthens between us in one smooth pulse, and his expression changes as he feels it. “It’s easier with both of you touching me.”

“And steadier,” I say. “The venom and the bond are affecting more than the fatal attraction.”

Lev looks between us, then down at our hands. “So my designation is developing around you.”

Lev drops back against the pillows with a sigh and stares at the ceiling. “Wonderful. My designation has decided the two of you are performance-enhancing drugs.”

I lean down and kiss his shoulder while Rowan pulls him a little closer without straining his chest. “You’ve complained about worse developments.”

“I reserve the right to complain about every supernatural indignity that happens to me.” Lev settles between us anyway, one hand landing over Rowan’s while the other catches mine. “Especially the ones that make you two smug.”

His magic stays steady beneath both our hands while the room settles around us again. Whatever changed didn’t disappear when Rowan recovered, and whatever happens between the three of us now is feeding something in Lev’s Chameleon magic that wasn’t there before.

Chapter 7

ROWAN

Medusa lives in the kind of house that makes Lev stop in the doorway and stare for several seconds before finally saying, “Of course you live here.”

I look past him into the entryway and understand the reaction. The house is old enough that half the interior walls are exposed stone, with dark wood beams crossing the ceiling and built-in shelves packed so tightly with books that some have been stacked sideways on top of the others. There are dried herbs hanging near one doorway, three different kinds of protective wards worked into the trim, and enough antique furniture that I’m fairly sure Lev is mentally calculating how many ghosts could reasonably fit inside one building.

Medusa walks past him without slowing. “Are you coming inside or planning to insult my house from the porch?”

“I haven’t insulted anything yet.” Lev steps across the threshold and immediately looks up at a carved stone face above the archway. “I’m gathering material.”

Amand closes the door behind us. “That’s usually what happens before the insults.”

Medusa leads us toward the back of the house while Lev trails after her, still looking at everything with open suspicion. One of her snakes stretches toward a framed painting as she passes, then pulls back when she taps its nose with two fingers.

The room she brings us into is somewhere between a library and the aftermath of someone losing an argument with a historian. A long table fills most of the center, already covered with folders, notebooks, photocopies, and several books thick enough that I can feel Lev judging them from across the room. Two tall cabinets line the far wall beside another set of shelves that reach almost to the ceiling.

Medusa opens the first cabinet. “Most modern gargoyle texts are useless for what we need. They cover the common bloodlines, the usual stone defenses, nesting habits, territorial behavior, healing, all the things everyone already knows.”

Lev drops into one of the chairs and pulls the nearest book toward himself. “Excellent. So we’re starting with several hundred pages of information we don’t need.”

“We’re starting with the possibility that my ex is something rarer than I thought.” Medusa takes two older volumes from the cabinet and sets them on the table. “Different gargoyle families kept their own histories. Some barely recorded anything outside their bloodline because apparently being useful to future generations was beneath them.”

Lev flips open his book and snorts. “Finally, a supernatural tradition I understand. Hoard all important information, die dramatically, make everyone else solve the problem later.”

I take the chair beside him before he can start shifting through every book at once. My ribs still pull if I move too fast, but the ache is dull enough now that I’ve stopped thinking about it every time I breathe. Lev has not.

I reach for one of the larger books Medusa brought over and get my fingers around the cover before Lev slaps his hand on top of mine.