Chapter 2
If only…
“Well, well, lookie here, Barton,” a voice broke through Io’s private moment.
He stopped dead, his back to the source, heart hammering in his chest. His hands clenched into fists as he braced for the ridicule, the taunts, and teases about to be lobbed in his direction.
“Maybe he’s having a fit,” countered a second voice. “He has always seemed somewhat lacking in brain cells.”
“Amongst other things.”
Two voices cackled, the tiny hairs on the back of Io’s neck standing on end. Slowly he turned to face his tormentors. A model slender woman with Hollywood blond hair sporting tight bedazzled jeans, calf length boots, and a low cut blouse stood beside a man short of stature with red hair and a scar along his jaw line. Ran’imy and Barton, fellow gargoyles and all around pains in Io’s butt. Ones he could do nothing about. Their hierarchy was similar to that of a pack of wolves. Ran’imy held the position of Beta and while Barton was not the Alpha he ranked higher than Io’s own Omega spot.
And they loved to make his life a living hell.
Especially Ran’imy.
She began to sashay about the room, her heels clicking on the ancient boards, kicking up dust and other things. Her eyes never left him. “What are you doing, dear Io, I wonder?”
“None of your business,” he spoke, pleased to keep his tone even.
Barton pranced like a fool. “Oh, look at me, I’m fancy pants Io.”
The twosome dissolved into laughter, the sound ringing off the high ceiling.
Io stood his ground as Ran’imy quickly swallowed up the distance between them. Storm clouds darkened her brilliant blue eyes, cruelty twisting her plump lips. She stopped well within his personal space, patting him on the chest. “Dear sweet, simpleton Io. Always trying to get in the good graces of the Alphas. Always hoping to be recognized as something more than a screw up. Why would our esteemed leader, a man of substance and genius, ever want you in high standing, especially when he already has me?”
That was perhaps the worst thing in the world. Io’s stomach twisted into a cold knot, his cheeks flooding with heat. He could deal with the nasty remarks, the jokes, all the pranks they played on him and all the petty times they laid blame at his feet when things went wrong. But the fact Ran’imy knew of the truth lying deep in his heart? It ate away at him, bit by bit, because it gave her ammunition, a way to strike deep and leave a wound invisible to others. One that always managed to leave Io questioning himself.
He loathed it, longed for an opportunity to show her up and prove that he was better than the scum on the bottom of her shoe; which was clearly the way she saw him.
And without fully meaning to Io broke his silence, losing a touch of control, tired of being under her thumb. Tired of being kicked around. He had a plan in mind, one that would win over the Alpha and put her in her place once and for all. “For your information, I have found the perfect gift for his birthday. One that you can only hope to top, which you won’t, by the way.”
Ran’imy blinked, momentarily stunned by his sudden bout of courage. Then she slipped effortlessly back into the role she enjoyed most, patting him harshly on the cheek. “You just keep thinking that way. But I can guarantee your little craft project will fall flat.” She turned away, gesturing with her hand. “Come, Barton, let’s finish preparing for the party. Tomorrow night’s very important. We don’t want anythingto go wrong.” She threw a glare back at Io before stepping out of sight.
Classy as ever Barton flipped him off before following his Beta out the door like a lost puppy dog.
Io waited until he no longer felt their presence, then took to prancing around the room. In a whiny voice he said, “Look at me, I’m precious Ran’imy. I have a stupid name and I like to think everything else about me is perfect. I can do no wrong. Blah, blah blah.”
He sighed, starting back through the rooms. In the kitchen, or at least what remained of it, he found a generous sized hole in the ceiling. With little effort he flew up to the second story, landing on rickety, untrustworthy floors in what might have once been a bedroom. Much like everywhere else it was now dominated by decay and neglect. Double doors, the glass dirtied, one pane covered in a spider web of cracks, led out to a balcony.
Io stepped out.
Everything about the night was gorgeous. From the symphony played expertly by a choir of crickets to the endless sea of sparkling stars overhead. He inhaled deeply, letting the tranquility of the dark drive away the bad taste the encounter with Ran’imy had left. They were never going to see eye to eye or even manage to be cordial with each other. She loathed him, kept him stuck at the bottom by making sure he got the blame for all her mistakes.