Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Darrion
I’m to stay behind and watch the omega. Again.
The damn mutt has already got it covered.
There is a battle coming, perhaps the biggest we have known in many years, and I, as second, should be negotiating. Negotiating is where I excel.
“Our task is more important,” Darkan informs me.
Important?! I am coming apart at the seams.
And both of the bastards were just standing there, pumped up where she had given nourishment, made them bigger, stronger versions of themselves. It will wear off. It always does. It is the nature of feeding that one needs to feed again.
Clearly, it is no hardship, and further, it is not troubling Violet, given her rosy cheeks and bright eyes when Fenix escorted her out of her nest.
And now Atlas wants me to guard her? The bastard seems bent upon sidelining me.
I stride along the corridor, my destination the upper entry to the eyrie. The four members of my wing are waiting for me. I give them their instructions to patrol the immediate vicinity, then I stand on the very edge of the rockface, buffeted by the wind, where I brood.
I’m not one for brooding. That is Fenix’s domain. Fenix, who has gone on a deep patrol.
At least he is being useful.
Gods, I can’t believe I gave her my jacket. Just handed it over to her like some green whelp offering limp flowers to the first object of his desires in the hope it might facilitate the lifting of her skirts.
“She favors your jacket,” Darkan informs me. “Her little nose was twitching. I believe she will have already laid it in her nest.”
Fuck. My dick is hard. I have words with it. I’m fucking freezing, but I refuse myself the satisfaction of shivering.
“She will allow us to feed soon,” Draken offers his opinion.
And how I want to feed, to spread her out over my jacket and glutton myself upon her. I couldn’t keep my damn eyes off her when she was standing between Atlas and Fenix, all meek and sweet.
“At least she was wearing silk,” Darkan murmurs, busy preening in my mind.
Wonderful, now I am thinking about the hard points of her nipples, poking against the silk of her gown.
“You have discerning taste,” Darkan adds. “You should certainly be responsible for our mate’s wardrobe… for dressing her.”
She is not yet our mate, though her acceptance of my jacket strongly implies she will be.
And how I want to be responsible for dressing her. To provide the most decadent, luxurious wardrobe, and then, each morning, to select the items she will wear. All of it, right down to the underthings that will be closest to her skin.
Violet
Breakfast arrives. I eat it at the table before the big picture window with views across the mountain. The experience is a little surreal.
I take a bath, dress, and return to the main room just as Posey arrives to collect my finished breakfast things.
I could go to the library. Posey would show me the way.
Not that I can do much constructively until Master Pugstone arrives later today.
Still, I could at least familiarize myself with it, as Atlas said.
Unusually for me—for the thought of seeing the library here would ordinarily excite me—I decided to remain here and refresh my nest.
Once done, I put Darrion’s beautiful silk jacket in the center.
Lark watches. In wolf form. Sitting in the doorway to my nesting chamber with his ears forward and eyes alert. “Do not get any ideas,” I warn him, lest he be thinking of ravishing me over it again.
He glances away, like he is bored and not at all interested in what I am doing. But I’m on to him and his wolf expressions now.
Finished with my nest, I suffer great restlessness. My eyes keep going to the jacket. Replaying over again him handing it casually over to me. The way his eyes seemed drawn to me, and mine to him.
I don’t realize my intentions until the catch to the balcony door gives beneath my fingers.
Lark growls.
“I am only going out for a little while. It is not so cold, and the railing is very sturdy. Atlas would hardly allow me access if he thought I would fall to my death!”
Lark pads over in a no-nonsense way and pushes me aside so he can go out first. I roll my eyes at his nonsense and follow him out.
It is chilly, but the wind is light today, and a few clouds dot the bright blue winter sky. I can see four griffins circling in the distance, but they are too far away for me to make out the color of their wings.
My gaze slides left to the opening to the eyrie, and my breath catches in my throat. A lone figure stands on the very edge. Feet planted wide, his ash-blond hair whipped by the breeze, as is his white shirt. He should have a jacket. He doesn’t, for it takes pride of place in my nest.
A great distance separates us, and his features are hard to discern, but I feel the moment he notices me.
“Well met, little mate.” The unknown voice has an ancient quality.
Lark chuffs.
I don’t spare a glance at him, too busy trying to convince myself that I have not lost my mind, and that there ‘is not’ a voice in my head.
Like I am subject to magnetic forces, I go back inside, wait for Lark to follow, and turn the catch on the door.
He gives me a quizzical look, one ear slightly curved.
Then he follows me as I leave our quarters.
Darrion
I know she is coming. Feel the moment she emerges from the corridor behind me.
I can’t look.
My fucking wings spring.
Rafe’s earlier quip, likening it to announcing you have an erection, taunts me.
I mean, he was not wrong…
“She is here,” Darkan says unnecessarily.
Her footsteps are closing in, along with the faint tapping noise that belongs to the mutt’s claws.
Her scent comes with her, carried to me on the breeze.
I suffer an irrational urge to fling myself from the cliff and shift so I might escape her beguiling presence.
It is only the fear of leaving her unattended near the fucking edge, again, that holds me in check.
“He asked you to watch me, didn’t he?”
I shrug, still not turning. “He did.”
I can feel her hesitation. “Can I meet him again?”
Him?
“She is talking about me,” Darkan states proudly, already unruffling wings and preparing for the shift.
“No.”
Gods, why am I being an asshole?
“You said it was my choice. And I have already chosen. I took your jacket to my nest. Put it right in the center. I even warned Lark not to…”
She trails off, I spin around, and her lips form an ‘O’.
My glare cuts between her and the mutt—who is faking innocence—and back again.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” I thought the wool dresses Atlas gave her were ugly as fuck, but she is wearing a shirt and pants tucked into serviceable boots.
Her travel clothes. The ones she was wearing when she first arrived, or perhaps the ones Fenix collected when Atlas sent him to check their campsite for possessions they may have lost.
She plants her small, fisted hands on her hips and glares right back. “Stop deflecting.”
I blink, brows crawling up into my hairline.
“I have just announced I have all but claimed you, and I wish to see Darkan. Is he talking to me? Is that the voice I hear inside my head sometimes?”
She is small, cute, and feisty as she stares me down, even if her choice of clothing is dreadful. All of which momentarily robs me of wit.
“She has chosen.” Darkan begins crooning and fluffing feathers.
She has fucking chosen.
I step back and yield to Darkan.
Feathers burst in a flash of ash and gold. Darkan lands before her.
“Well met, little mate,” he says, in echo of his previous words.
“Well met,” she replies softly. Her expression is enrapt wonder as she reaches out, just as she did last time, to stroke the side of his mighty head.
Only everything is different. She can hear him. She can hear us.
He croons, loud and resonant. Full of joy. His entire being is thrumming. Then he carefully unfurls wings, holding them wide for her inspection.
She pauses, and I sense the moment she notices the faint scar that bisects my right wing.
“What is this?”
“A remnant of a challenge,” I say before Darkan can wade in.
“Oh,” she says softly, before an expression of wonder overtakes her face. “I can hear you both.” Then her brows pucker slightly. “Who did you challenge?”
“Atlas,” I admit, before adding bluntly. “It was some time ago, and I lost.”
Her eyes grow wide, and a blush creeps over her cheeks. “And you’re friends now.”
“We are brothers now. Deeper than mere friends. Although I still consider challenging him from time to time.” I wanted to strangle him this very morning.
“But I also accept that he is my leader, and I respect him as such. Griffins are predatory creatures.” I belatedly conclude that his order to guard her was not the punishment I thought, but a test. “It is in our nature to test boundaries.” And each other. “That we might better respect them.”
“I’ve never wanted to challenge anyone… except maybe my sister, Elisa. But she is a foot taller than me, and while pulling her pretty hair out might deliver some small satisfaction, I do not believe it would have led to greater respect between us, nor yielded a deeper bond.”
From what I have learned, her sister is pure malice and needs to be eradicated. And I can fully support the sentiments of such a challenge, even as the thought of her challenging anyone, but particularly her cruel sister, brings me out in a cold sweat.
“Also, she would likely have had me beheaded. So, you know that puts a bit of a damper on it.” She suddenly smiles sweetly. “My three other sisters are lovely. I should never wish to challenge any of them. I hope you get to meet them one day.”
I am slain. Disarmed of all intellect and rendered a swooning imbecile.
“I should be honored to meet your sisters… The congenial ones. Clearly.”
Violet
The beautiful, rich chocolate-brown griffin fills the ledge beside me. Flashes of lighter buff brown form around his beak, crown and throat, while the fine feathers closest to his red-gold ombre eyes are almost black.
Darkan.
He opens his beak and makes a strange chattering noise.
His eyes are so primal. He dwarfs me entirely.
I ought to be frightened. But there is nothing.
No fear at all. Only wonder. As I step closer, his wings flex, creating a barrier against the buffeting wind, and inside it, I feel safe and cocooned.
Unable to resist another touch, I cup my fingers around his great beak. Then I slide one hand up over his brow ridge to his feathers. “You are so beautiful,” I say.
He makes the chattering noise again and gently nudges his beak against my belly. “Our mate will wish to inspect me fully,” he announces imperiously, rising and adjusting his wings, making himself stand tall and proud.
His two front talons scratch against the stone floor. He plants his hind legs down and curls his tail around, assuming a regal sitting pose.
I bite my lip to hide my smile. No wonder Darrion is so formal when he has been bonded to this griffin all his life.
His tail lashes the stone floor. The tip looks soft and fluffy. How I want to touch all of him, from his feathers to the soft-looking lion pelt of his rear body. Overcome with emotion, I throw my arms around him and bury my nose in the soft feathers.
I am hugging a griffin.
He makes the chattering sound again and curves his wings tightly around me.
Such a fierce creature… yet he is heartbreakingly gentle with me.
“Take me for a ride,” I plead.
There is a long quiet where neither griffin nor man answers.