Page 7 of Shadows and Stone

Teagan

It’s barely the butt crack of dawn when a loud knock startles me from sleep, rattling the door of my dorm. My dream of a hot gargoyle pinning me to my bed begins to fade, and I curse under my breath, willing the image to return.

I groan, burying my face deeper into my pillow and count to ten. It’s too damn early, and my brain is still partially fried from last night’s river bonfire. The lingering taste of toasted marshmallows and the memory of a massive, purple-skinned gargoyle grinning down at me in the firelight are still floating through my mind. The combination of my sexy dream and memories is making my morning wood throb in that annoyingly persistent way.

"Teagan, wake up," Kieran’s voice calls out from the common area. "Apparently, your new shadow is here."

The fuck?

Getting out of bed, I tuck myself into the waist band of my sweats and throw on an oversized jacket, hoping it somewhat hides the evidence of my arousal. I open my bedroom door and walk out into the main room, only to freeze in my tracks.

Standing in the doorway, practically filling the entire frame with a broad chest, massive violet wings neatly tucked against his back, and shoulders that look carved out of purple granite, is Ryker.

He’s wearing a fitted black leather jacket and dark jeans, holding a duffel bag over one shoulder. But it’s not the fact that he’s here in front of me that halts my breath…it’s the look on his face.

The flirty, cocky smirk from the bonfire last night is gone. In its place is a cool, blank, stare that looks more professional than anything. His cerulean-blue eyes sweep over me, barely registering the fact that I’m standing here in a large jacket that barely hides my erection and tight gray sweats.

Despite the embarrassment heating my cheeks, a playful smirk tips my lips. “Well hello there, handsome. Didn’t realize you’d track me down and—"

"Teagan Dae," Ryker says, his deep voice carrying a smooth, formal cadence that sounds strange compared to last night. "I’m Ryker. As of eight o'clock this morning, I’ve been officially assigned by Dean Yaga as your personal security detail. I’m moving into the extra room in this suite." He holds up a key that looks just like mine.

I blink. And blink again. Holy professional robot… why the hell is he acting like we haven’t met before?

My gaze swings from Ryker to Kieran. Kieran is sitting on the couch in a gray sweatshirt while calmly sipping from a mug, but I can tell he’s interested in who this gargoyle is.

"Wait," I say, holding up a hand. "Hold the fuck up. Bodyguard? Roommate? I don't need a damn babysitter.” Monster gods, I shouldn’t have shown my manager that stupid creepy note. “I don't need a live-in shadow."

"Dean Yaga felt otherwise," Ryker replies. He steps past me into the common area, eyes scanning the room as if he’s already making himself at home. His posture is rigid and tense; his jaw set like a slab of marble. "My assignment is to maintain proximity and ensure your safety on and off campus grounds."

"Right. Well, 'proximity' is going to be a problem," I snap, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the wall like a child. "Because as you can see, we don't have a fourth bedroom. We have three bedrooms and the bonus room."

"The bonus room?" Ryker cocks his head, giving me a delicious view of his thick neck and long, pointed ears.

"The extra room," Zay chimes in suddenly. He steps out of his bedroom with a pair of glittery pink craft scissors in his hand. "I’m Isaiah, by the way. Or Zay. Welcome to the suite. We kinda... stole your room." He bites his lip nervously, eyes bouncing between Kieran and me.

Crap. Crap. Crap. If anyone were to cave, it would be Zay. As soon as the three of us found out no one would be moving into the extra room, Kieran pulled out some handy-dandy pick lock kit he had, and broke in. Since I had so much shit, and we weren’t damaging any property, I didn’t mind the three of us using it like a mini storage unit. Hence the bonus room was born. Zay, however, was the hardest one to convince. He was afraid we were going to get caught and something bad would happen.

Ryker walks toward the closed door and turns the knob.

The moment the door swings open, the absurdity of our living situation hits. The "bonus room" is a hot mess. Against the far wall sits my illuminated Hollywood-style vanity mirror, surrounded by dozens of high-end Korean skincare bottles, hair serums, and makeup palettes. To the left is Kieran’s walking pad. To the right, Zay has set up a folding table overflowing with acrylic paints, felt swatches, and half-finished art projects. How the hell did we fill the room that quickly?

If the stoic gargoyle were to walk over to his closet door and open it, he’d find my twin mattress shoved inside. I ended up getting a bigger, softer mattress delivered. There’s approximately three square feet of floor space left.

Zay and Kieran hover behind me. I’m waiting for Ryker to complain, to demand we move our stuff out, or at least break that stupid, sexy stone-faced security guard mask. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Ryker simply blinks. His blue eyes scan the vanity, the walking pad, and the glitter-covered craft table. He casually steps over a box of Zay’s spare ribbons, sets his single duffel bag on the tiny open sliver of floor in the corner, and turns back around.

"This is fine," Ryker states, voice calm.

"Fine?" I echo. "Ryker, Zay is going to be in here at all hours painting and making things. Kieran plans on using the walking pad as early as six in the morning. Not to mention, I have a busy schedule. I’m going to need access to my vanity randomly!"

Ryker shrugs. "I don't need much space." There’s a faint twitch of his lips before he smooths it away. "And as long as your daily routine doesn't block the primary exit, you can keep your belongings where they are."

"Fuck, I don't—" I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing heavily. "Look, I appreciate Dean Yaga’s concern, but I’m twenty-two years old. I’ve dealt with crazy fans before. This isn’t it. I don't need a gargoyle standing at attention while I’m trying to live my life." Angry tears rim my eyes and my breathing becomes shallow. This was my one and only opportunity to live a normal college life. One. If I have someone constantly standing four feet behind me scaring everyone away, or worse, gaining more attention, I can kiss my social life goodbye. Once advertising and promotions for my new show begins, that’s it. I’ll be back in the public eye.

Without waiting for a response, I spin on my heel, and head into my bedroom. I grab my wallet and my sunglasses, and pull my boots on. Striding past Kieran and Zay I make sure to slam the front door of the suite behind me before I take off into a jog.

I just need some air. Some fresh fucking air before my tiny hope of a normal social life is taken away from me.