I thought my converted church apartment was ironic. A goth girl living in an old house of God. Edgy, right?
Then I discovered the gargoyle on my roof wasn’t just decorative. He’d been watching me. For three years.
Every 2 AM session, every whispered fantasy about being claimed by something dark and inhuman—he heard it all. Trapped in stone, unable to do anything but want.
When my blood accidentally shattered his binding, I didn’t just free a statue.
I released Ezekiel—a fallen guardian angel with black wings, red eyes, and a very detailed memory of every moan I’ve ever made. Now he’s bound to me. Warm where he was cold. Flesh where he was stone.
And absolutely determined to make every dark fantasy I whispered into the night come true. “You called to me every night, begging for your dark guardian.
Well, here I am.” I accidentally freed a gargoyle with anger issues and a three-year head start on knowing exactly how to wreck me. I’m definitely keeping him.
