Page 14 of Shadows and Stone

He bends down, dropping to one knee so he’s eye-level with my waist. "This might feel slightly cold," he murmurs, his eyes glancing up to meet mine for an electric second.

"Do your thing, handsome," I whisper back, pulse racing.

Ryker threads the needle with inhuman speed. He grips the torn edges of the crimson silk between his thick thumb and forefinger, pulling the ripped fabric together. It should be impossible with claws getting in the way, but it doesn’t seem to slow him down. His hands move in this crazy, supernatural blur.

The needle darts through the material creating an invisible stitch that draws the split back together. His needlework is incredible. With a few swift cuts of his shears, he trims away the ruined cloth, adjusts the angle of the embroidery, and repins things like a pro. I have no idea what he’s doing, but it’s like a damn work of art. His hands move without pause, and while the speed is definitely paranormal, it’s obviously muscle memory so deeply ingrained in his soul.

Tory stands behind him, her jaw dropping. "What the hell," she whispers, grabbing her assistant’s arm. "He’s doing a hidden French seam. On a live model. This is insane."

Director Kang steps closer, her eyes wide, completely forgetting about the production clock as she watches the purple gargoyle work on the delicate silk.

I look down at the top of Ryker’s head as he works. He’s so focused, unaware of how fucking magical he is to everyone around him. I swear my heart is beating so damn fast. Something about his dedication and intensity is so attractive.

With a final loop, Ryker knots the thread on the inside of the lining, pulls it tight, and snips the end with his shears. He stands up in one fluid motion, smoothing his large hands down my left side. I try my hardest not to shiver.

Where a gaping tear had been thirty seconds ago, there is now a flawless seam. But it’s even better than before. By subtly altering the costume at my waist, Ryker has changed the shape, allowing the silk to hug my torso like a second skin while flaring out dramatically at my hips. The costume doesn't just look fixed, it looks better.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment longer.

"My god," Tory gasps. She rushes forward to inspect the seam, touching the fabric with trembling fingers. "The stitch is... The drape is... it's better than the original design. How? Who the hell are you?"

Ryker steps back, instantly folding his hands behind his back and assuming his rigid, professional security posture. A faint purple flush touches the tips of his pointed ears, though his expression remains cool. "Like I said, I’m Mr. Dae’s bodyguard. The seam is secure."

I grin.

Director Kang cackles, clapping her hands together. "Secure? Darling, that wasn't a repair, that was a damn miracle! I’ve never seen anything on a set like that before. Thank you!"

She spins around to face the crew. "All right, you heard the man! Costume is saved! Back to positions! Let’s start filming!"

The soundstage erupts back into action. The crew members bustling to their marks, but as they pass Ryker, several of them pat him on the back. Caylen gives him an appreciative, once over as he walks back toward the archway set.

Stepping closer to Ryker, I brush my arm against him as the lighting crew adjusts the spots above us. I look up into his brilliant, blue eyes, loving the way they begin to glow. I lean in so only he can hear me.

"Just a gargoyle bodyguard, huh?" I whisper, my lips curving into a genuine smile. "You know, for someone who isn’t an actor, you sure know how to steal the spotlight."

Ryker shifts his weight, his tail giving a tiny, involuntary flick behind him. "I just did what was necessary to protect your interests, Teagan."

"Uh-huh," I tease. Monster gods, I’m addicted to flirting with this handsome monster. I caress my side. "Well, your 'interests' look incredible on me. Thank you, Ryker. I had a feeling you’d be able to help me."

He looks down at me, his mask slipping just enough for a sexy and sweet smile to touch his lips. He brushes a few of my purple strands out of my face and leans in, close to my ear. "You look like a fucking prince, Teagan. Now go play the part."

As I step onto the set under the blinding glare of the spotlights, feeling the way the silk hugs my body like a second skin, my heart skips a beat. Ryker might be a mystery, but standing here today, I know one thing for certain. That gargoyle is here on this earth to create beauty. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember his past, but I’m going to do everything in my power to help him find some of those lost memories.

The ride back to Karloff Hall is a blur. Call me crazy, but I’ve officially hit that happy, exhausted state where I feel like I accomplished everything I was meant to in a day. Between carrying the emotional weight of a 14-hour shoot on Empire of Beasts and the lingering adrenaline spike from Ryker’s miraculous wardrobe fix, my bones feel like lead.

“I’m going to sleep so good tonight.”

Ryker doesn’t reply, just hums and gives me a tired, happy smile.

When we finally reach the door of our suite, the hallway is quiet. Kieran and Zay are probably already asleep in their rooms, leaving the common area cast in shadows. We linger right outside the door. I turn to face Ryker, leaning back slightly against the wooden frame. His large wings are folded close. I study the intricate lines, half tempted to trace the leathery texture with my fingers. Something tells me he’d like that, but I refrain.

"Today was intense." I roll my aching shoulders and look up at him. My eyes trace the sharp line of his jaw and the faint, glowing blue of his irises. Part of me doesn't want the night to end. I want to pull him into the common room, make him sit on the couch, and pick his brain about every single thing he remembers or doesn't remember. I want to learn everything I can about Ryker.

"You’re a great actor," Ryker says, his deep voice dropping into a low rumble. It doesn’t sound like his monotone, professional voice, but rather something husky and intimate. "You should rest, Teagan. You have an early morning tomorrow and you told me to make sure you’re up at six."

I sigh, unable to hide the fond smile tugging at my lips. "You asked when I needed to be up. You aren’t my alarm clock. But you're right. I'm wiped."

He shifts on his feet, his eyes dropping to my lips.