Copyright © 2012 Stacey Brutger

Caly met the open-eyed stare of the stone man, forever captured in time. Caly’s lips parted, and her breath stuttered out of her mouth.
There was a God.

The man — and from her view kneeling on the moss covered ground, he was most definitely a man — was absolutely gorgeous. Not in the normal sense, not by Hollywood standards. Prominent cheekbones, a full, sharp nose and a strong jaw kept his face from being too feminine.

Desire twisted through her. A deep yearning tightened her chest, and a bubble of hope swelled. This was a man she could depend on to not let her down. When she looked at him, the chaos inside that defined most of her life settled.

She felt normal.

Then reality crashed over her.

Desire for a damn statue.

How ironic she could be attracted to stone when living men left her cold. But here, in the middle of nowhere, she found a man who turned her on like nobody else, and he wasn’t real. It was enough to make a grown girl cry.

Little details filtered into her brain, and a thrill of excitement thrummed under her skin. The answers she sought about her condition were stuck in the past; she only had to uncover the clues. Since they’ve landed, he was the first concrete hint something was off.

This was why she came here. What quieted her protests against the mission. All for the chance to learn if there was a possibility for her to be fully human again and finally destroy the demon infection that had taken root and flourished in her body. Every day, it ate away her humanity. Relished the fighting a bit too much. Each time the darkness opened up in her, the more she wondered why she fought
it at all.

The mission forgotten, Caly took her time to catalog the odd details. The statue wasn’t what she’d come to expect from this region. Instead of native garb, the grey stone man had chiseled, close fitted pants.

Two inch carved straps crisscrossed his chest, appearing to almost dig into the stone. His long hair, wild with waves, was tied back from his face. Her fingers twitched to run her hands over him. Though his complexion was tinged green with age, the fierce expression drew her gaze instead of repelling her.

The turn of his lips was anything but sensual, yet their fullness made her think of sex and what a man could do with a mouth like his.

Strong shoulders led down to a lean, sculptured chest. His open shirt did little to disguise his physique. The statue shouldn’t have impressed her, but it was as if the stone called to her. A streak of light filtered through the canopy, wavered a moment then illuminated him like an offering.

Something just for her. She had to curl her fingers into a fist to resist touching him.

As she watched, she swore his chest moved to breathe. It took a physical effort to pull her gaze away and longer to tuck away the desire to stake claim.