Rock Hard Gargoyle

Copyright Rock Hard Gargoyle Possessive Monsters By Maggie Mayhem Copyright © 2023 Maggie Mayhem Cover by Atlantis Book Design All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in whole or in part, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the publisher’s prior written permission. This is a work of fiction, and the characters and incidents found within are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or deceased, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Contents 1. Chapter 1 Shelby 2. Chapter 2 Grayson 3. Chapter 3 Shelby 4. Chapter 4 Shelby 5. Chapter 5 Grayson 6. Chapter 6 Shelby 7. Chapter 7 Grayson 8. Chapter 8 Shelby 9. Chapter 9 Grayson 10. Chapter 10 Shelby 11. Chapter 11 Grayson 12. Chapter 12 Shelby 13. Chapter 13 Grayson 14. Chapter 14 Shelby 15. Chapter 15 Grayson 16. Chapter 16 Shelby 17. Chapter 17 Grayson 18. Chapter 18 Shelby 19. Chapter 19 Shelby 20. Chapter 20 Grayson 21. Chapter 21 Shelby 22. Chapter 22 Grayson 23. Chapter 23 Shelby 24. Chapter 24 Grayson 25. Chapter 25 Shelby 26. Chapter 26 Shelby 27. Chapter 27 Grayson 28. Chapter 28 Shelby 29. Chapter 29 Shelby 30. Chapter 30 Grayson 31. Chapter 31 Shelby 32. Chapter 32 Grayson Epilogue Grayson About Maggie Also By Author Chapter 1 Shelby I put my foot down on the accelerator and floored it through the intersection the moment the light turned green. I needed to get to that wedding now. Several months ago, a short, curvy lady with a pert nose and a pixie cut had walked into my made-to-order dress shop looking for a rush wedding dress of a special variety. It needed to be fireproof, or at the very least, fire-resistant. When I took the order, I hadn’t realized that I’d be making the wedding gown for the most talked-about wedding of the decade: the first high-profile monster-human wedding since The Wall had lifted a few years ago. The groom in question? An honest-to-goodness fire-breathing dragon. Hence the requirement for flame-proof fabrics. This was why I was breaking every traffic law known to man to get to the venue. The dress? The bride had it. But the special cloak covered in gems from the dragon’s personal hoard? The one for the very important but private ceremony at the end of the night? The one that had taken me a full fortnight to make, painstakingly hand-sewing every gem to the fireproof velvet I’d commissioned? That cloak? On my passenger seat. They’d sent someone to pick it up earlier, and I’d put the vitally important garment in a white box with her name on it on the entryway table. The courier had come and gone, and I’d thought everything was done. I’d sat my ass down on my couch, in my tiny apartment above my workshop, with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s, ready to call it a night. Realizing I didn’t have any wine to pair with my Cherry Garcia, I’d grabbed my keys to head over to the liquor store. That was when I’d seen it. The box was still on the table. What. The. Fuck. The courier had taken the small, brown box full of trims and notions, which the delivery guy had dropped off yesterday, instead of the white one with the bride’s—very clearly labeled, mind you—name on it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The bride of the century didn’t have the cloak of the century, and I was going to have my ass handed to me on a platter. This was supposed to be my big break. Before Carly had walked into my shop, I’d been struggling to pay the bills. This order was supposed to be the one that saved my ass, and my tiny made-to-order dress shop, catering to the vertically challenged and curve endowed, would finally be out of the red. This was supposed to pull my business out of the slump it had been in for the past year since my ex had slandered my name. I turned into the parking lot of the fancy, schmancy hotel where the event was taking place. Despite being so high profile, the guest list was small. According to the bride, they’d wanted to keep it manageable. She’d already been upset when the media had found out about it, and I didn’t blame her. I’d witnessed brides completely losing it from stress in my field of work. Carly was chill, though. She didn’t once go bridezilla on me. Maybe that was why she matched her fiery dragon so well. Grabbing the oh-so-important white cardboard box, I charged toward the side entrance, the one with the sign pointing to the wedding. I hoped I wasn’t too late. They didn’t need the cape for the normal human ceremony, so I should have time. The door was right there; I was going to make it. I was so focused on that door that I didn’t notice the massive security guard stepping in front of it until it was too late. I barreled straight into the most muscular chest I’d ever felt. Oomph! Holy crap! What the hell was this guy made of? Stone? Giant arms wrapped around me. Nope; not stone. This guy was way too warm to be made of stone. I looked up, up, and up, until steely gray eyes met mine. Something inhuman flashed within them. He was hidden behind a glamor, most likely so he wouldn’t scare any of the human guests. I was looking at a monster. “I didn’t expect trouble to run right into my arms.” The guard grinned down at me with a set of perfect teeth that looked just a tad bit too sharp to be human. “You’re lucky I happen to like trouble.” The illusion he wore worked well, allowing just the slightest bit of the original to show through. I wondered what type of monster he was. Oops, I’d been staring