Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Violet
Iwake up alone, the nest carrying the lingering scent of Atlas and Rafe. I stretch, a little sore but in the good kind of way that comes from loving attention.
Not quite alone… when I lift my head, I discover Lark sprawled out in wolf form at the bottom of the nest. He blinks back at me, ears upright.
The door is open a crack, and I can just make out the distant rumble of voices. I push the covers back, intending to get up, when I am bowled back against the bed.
“Lark,” I squeak.
His big tongue licks up the side of my throat, and a deep rumbly sound emanates from his chest.
“Mauling her is a very bad idea,” a low male voice drawls from the doorway.
Lark stills and then turns.
I peer around him to find Fenix in all his brooding glory, propped casually against the door frame, arms folded. He is still pumped up, carrying a faint shimmer as he stares Lark down.
Fenix suddenly chuckles. I get the impression, much like Atlas, Fenix can talk to Lark in wolf form.
“I’m here because Atlas is already deeply bonded and can tell when she stirs… and because he doesn’t trust you not to fuck her. He doesn’t trust me either, so I suggest none of us linger lest we want duties that take us far away from the food.”
I roll my eyes and shove Lark aside. “Can you not refer to me as food!” I’m a shameless hussy who is now thinking about your lips on my pussy. “It is most unbecoming.”
Now the pretty griffin shifter smirks, and his eyes take on a predatory gleam. “Food. Delectable nourishment of which I could feast upon endlessly. Let us hope that Atlas has reached the ceiling of your gift, or we shall need to start building bigger doors.”
He pushes off from the door frame, collects a silk robe from where it lies on the side of the couch, and waits at the side of my nest, robe held out expectantly for me to step into while I am floundering for a response.
Lark makes a chuffing sound, which I am sure is his wolf laughing, and bounds off the bed. Meanwhile, Fenix continues to hold the robe just out of reach.
He is forcing my hand. And while I suppose I could make a big fuss and use some of my nesting as a cover, he is also issuing a dare. Daring me to rise and slip my arms into the robe he holds while he is right there looking.
It is ridiculous, really, given what we have done together. He is very intimately acquainted with all of me. And besides which, he has seen me naked and rutting with Rafe and Lark many times.
This should not be a hard decision. I should not give him whatever satisfaction he is eking from my indecision and false sense of modesty.
“Ticktock,” he says softly.
Insufferable male.
I rise, give him my best haughty princess glare, and allow him to look his fill as he helps me into the robe.
“Well played, princess,” he says thickly and goes so far as to belt the robe as though taking the temptation away.
Fine, I like it well that he is now uncomfortable with a telling bulge in his leather pants.
For reasons that now escape me, when I enter Atlas’s main quarters, with Lark on one side and Fenix on the other, I am expecting to see Atlas and Rafe alone.
They are not alone, for Darrion is standing beside them. His eyes slide to me, all the way down to my toes and back up again. Like Fenix, he has seen all of me. And many times.
He has not touched yet.
Heat floods my cheeks. I snatch my eyes away from his intense study, only for them to land upon Atlas, who is freakishly huge. And like my staring at him is a trigger, his wings spring into being.
Darrion’s wings appear a heartbeat later.
“Damn it,” Fenix curses as he, too, springs a set of wings.
“We are presenting. Our wings look most becoming in this early morning light.”
Wait? Did somebody say that?
I glance between them, confused. But no.
Lark chuffs as he slinks over to the main door and flops down in front of it.
It’s going to take me a little while to get used to his guardianship role.
Darrion looks irritated. Atlas resigned.
Fenix, when I glance to my left, wears an expression like his wings are pure suffering.
“Like announcing you have an erection,” Rafe says drolly, his grin broad.
Atlas takes my hand and inspects my face, brushing my hair back and tipping my chin. “You look a little tired.”
“We were busy during the night,” Rafe offers.
Atlas’s lips curve the faintest amount. He releases me and turns to Rafe. “I would like you to accompany me when I visit the other eyries today. They may have questions you would be well placed to answer.”
“I could answer them too,” I say. While I admit to some trepidation about visiting eyries, I want to help.
“No,” four collective males say in unison.
“The Queen does not leave the eyrie in times of war,” Atlas says.
“We are not technically at war,” Darrion points out mildly. “But I agree. Rafe, as a soldier, will be more than enough to allow other Pride Leaders to make informed decisions.”
“I want to help.” My jaw sets.
“I appreciate that,” Atlas says. “But there are many ways to help.” He gestures toward himself—all seven feet plus of him.
My face floods with heat.
“And besides the obvious, it has been many years since we faced this level of threat. I have lived many human lifetimes. The dark fae are immortal, dangerous, and without mercy. We must be ready. We must be prepared. And a great deal of that involves research, as boring as that may be. I believe from talking to Rafe that you have considerable skills, and further, do not find it boring at all.”
“I love research.” I clear my throat. “I am not so good at practical matters, like say a study of horse breeds suited to adventure.” I refuse to look at Rafe even though I can feel his amusement.
“But otherwise, and especially if it's lore related like griffins and dark fae, I am exemplary and very focused.”
He smiles. “Excellent. Master Pugstone is due to arrive later today. Would you be congenial to assisting him?”
“Oh, yes!” I say smiling.
“Excellent.” Atlas is all business as he begins issuing instructions for his day.
My eyes slide to Rafe, who winks at me. And then I catch Darrion staring at me like I’m a curiosity someone has just dropped into his lap.
Don’t think about laps!
He’s wearing a burgundy silk jacket today, with a high collar and beautiful leaf embroidery along the lapels, cuffs, and coat tails in silver thread.
It looks striking against his ash blond hair, his dark wings magically fitting through a manifested opening in the material.
Beneath the jacket is a crisp white shirt, parted a little to expose the strong column of his throat.
I’m staring. I only realize it when he slips the jacket off his broad shoulders.
My eyes widen, and my breathing goes a little erratic.
Atlas is still talking, and Fenix has gotten involved, too, talking across me. I cannot hear a single thing they’re saying, for I’m staring at Darrion as he slides the jacket completely off and then holds it out to me.
I look from the jacket to him and back again.
The conversation trails off.
My heart beats a crazy ba-dump.
And it’s just there, begging me to take it. It would look so pretty in my nest. And I know it carries his scent. I can smell it from here.
Fine. I want the stupid jacket. I will have the jacket. It is my right. Am I not a Griffin Queen? It is nobody’s business but my own—and Darrion’s, who is offering it.
I take the jacket from him and, as surreptitiously as I can—given four men are watching—draw it close to my chest. Gods, I just want to bury my nose in it.
The conversation resumes. I catch the faintest hint of a smile on Darrion’s face before his attention is redirected as Atlas addresses him.
“Darrion, I would like you to oversee the eyrie watch today.”
His eyebrows raise just a touch. “You would not like me to accompany you? Or patrol?”
My ears prick. That sounded close to insubordination, and my eyes flash to Atlas to see what he will do.
“No,” Atlas says bluntly.
Maybe he’s annoyed about the jacket? Yet all I sensed was mild amusement when I took it from Darrion. Nothing more.
It sounds like he is giving Darrion a less important job, or what Darrion sees as a less important job.
“She needs protection,” Atlas says, tone implacable. “And in this heightened time, I trust no one more than you, my second, to keep a vigilant watch.”
Oh, this is about me.
Darrion inclines his head.
And then they are all leaving, all except Lark, who is still in wolf sentry mode by the door as they head out.
“Go wherever you wish,” Atlas says as he pauses at the door. “Remember, this is your home now. Posey will be along presently with your breakfast. If you wish to visit the library and familiarize yourself with it before Master Pugstone arrives, Posey will take you after breakfast.”