The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

him as he soared over her head. She was watching him.
    He hesitated for a moment, then turned. She only thought she’d seen him, would easily convince herself otherwise soon. He’d been through this before. Humans were good at protecting their own realities. They believed what they had been trained from birth to believe.
    And stone didn’t come to life.
    She’d forget him soon.
    Water dripped from Kami’s hair. She slicked her hands over it, sent a river running down her back, but kept her gaze on the sky. She wasn’t crazy. The gargoyle was alive and had saved her.
    Something moved above her, but high up — too high to make out in the darkness. She ran her hands over her arms, realized she was shaking. The wind whispered. She spun, hoped it was the gargoyle returning, but the grass beside her was empty.
    She stepped from the fountain and wondered for a brief second how she’d landed there. Then another sound caught her attention, an engine turning over. She froze, prayed the driver wouldn’t see her. She had no explanation for where she was or the state she was in.
    She glanced up at the building she’d fallen from and the window she’d left open. She was sure of the last, but it was closed now. Strange. A memory tickled at the back of her mind. Something about her fall.
    She frowned and stared at the ledge. The gargoyle? Her gaze darted to the right. Nothing. No statue, no sign one had ever perched there. Her heart jumped.
    He was real.
    For some reason the thought warmed her. With a smile she patted the keys in her pocket. Still there. She could drive herself home, or go back inside, see up close that he was really gone.
    Knowing exactly what she was going to do, she stepped off the grass and into the road. She was halfway across when a motor roared behind her. She spun. Lights beamed at her, blinding her, freezing her steps.
    For the second time in half an hour, she was facing a sure death.
    Mord, clinging to a cold metal and glass building nearby, watched as the female stared up at the skyscraper he’d called home. Wonder, then joy, lit her face. She stepped off the kerb then moved with purpose towards the building.
    He frowned. She was supposed to leave, to forget him. She looked up again, her gaze locked onto the spot where he’d been perched, frozen ... for how long?
    He was still staring at the ledge he’d vacated when he heard a strange, mechanical roar. Instinctively he jerked towards it, saw twin lights burning through the night, pointed at the little female. The machine rushed towards her and she stood frozen, staring at it.
    Without thinking, he pushed away from the building, pointed his wings to the ground and the girl, and snatched her like a hawk capturing a rabbit from a field. The machine whizzed beneath them. He made out eyes, dark and intense, peering over the wheel.
    Then his attention turned to the female. Her hands were wrapped around his neck, her cheek pressed against his chest.
    “You came back,” she murmured. Her fingers stroked his neck, reminded him of how she’d touched him when he’d been locked in stone.
    Who was she? And why couldn’t he leave her to her fate?
    Kami stared at the man settled on her couch. Mord. That was all she’d got out of him - his name. He’d given no reaction when she had supplied hers. She’d needed him to know it, hoped he would repeat it, like that would somehow make all this more real. But he’d done nothing, barely blinked or breathed.
    Still, he was sitting on her couch, nothing could be more real than that.
    His chest was bare. A cloth of some sort was wrapped around his hips. She’d mistaken it for a kilt before, but now could see it was less structured than that. It was more a strip of wool he’d knotted in place.
    His wings had disappeared, and his skin was no longer marble pale, but she knew he was the gargoyle. Nothing he said would convince her otherwise. She’d traced his features with her fingers, memorized each chiselled inch of him.
    A tingle ran through her. She clenched her fists and tried to ignore the need to run her hands over him again, to feel those same planes and angles, now warm and human. But male, still very male.
    “What are you wearing?” she asked. It was an asinine question, but all she could think to say. Her mind seemed to have gone blank.
    He glanced down, brows lifting. “A cloth.”
    Well, that explained it.
    Mord stared at the female, struggled to make sense of why he was here, why he hadn’t