Nobody sees the man who cleans the saints. And nobody, in three hundred years, has seen the monster on the gutter, until the two of them are alone in a cathedral going dark.
Wes Calder restores beautiful things for people who never learn his name.
Hired to assess the carvings of St. Wracken’s before the diocese sells it off, he sleeps in the rectory, works by candlelight, and talks to the stone faces because there’s no one else to talk to.
He’s good at being invisible. He’s tired of being left.
Castor has guarded St. Wracken’s since before Wes’s grandfather’s grandfather drew breath, stone by day, flesh and wings and horns and banked stone-heat by night.
He has been carved, scrubbed, prayed at, and never once touched with kindness.
He had stopped wanting to be seen. Then a man with cold hands and a dry joke climbs his scaffold and calls him the best-looking thing in the postcode.
The first night Castor answers back, everything cracks open.
The careful night-hands. The first time he’s ever been touched to feel good.
The wings that wrap and cage and shudder.
But dawn turns him to stone, every night ends on a ticking clock, and when a developer’s plans threaten to unmake the cathedral, the magic that binds him will take his life with it.
Unless one lonely man decides to stay. To keep the wall holy. To keep him.
Scorching MM monster romance with size difference, wing-pinning, a touch-starved immortal undone for the first time, and an earned happily-ever-after.
A complete, spicy 90-minute one-sitting read. Explicit content for readers 18+. Standalone MM monster romance with a guaranteed HEA. Full content note inside.
