Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Darrion
It has been a long day. It’s late, supper has been brought, and the empty tray has been removed. My view is limited to either Fenix on the opposite stone bed—brooding like it is his fucking calling, the unfeeling stone walls, or the thick iron bars that give a view of an equally grim passage.
The stone is hard and cold under my ass. It will ruin a pair of my favorite silk pants.
“What the fuck was wrong with you, challenging Atlas like that?” I grit out.
“Me!” Fenix rouses from his brooding to level me with a glare. “I backed you up, even though you were an idiot of the highest order.”
“Exactly, I was an idiot, and then you were a bigger idiot challenging Atlas when he is already riled up!”
His glare turns flat and judgmental. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on the bigger idiot part. I believe my arguing with Atlas was minor compared to you nearly getting Violet killed!”
He makes a valid point. “She was not nearly killed.”
He raises a brow.
I roll out a crick in my neck. This cell is not fucking comfortable.
Vander did not even bother to lock the door.
He knows that neither of us shall leave until Atlas orders him to return and release us.
“Fine, she was closer to danger than I ever want her to be again. And I was an idiot for agreeing.”
“That’s what happens when you let your dick make decisions for you,” he says, all chipper now, like we are not cooling our fucking heels in a stone cell. “You were likely backed up and not thinking straight, which is what I was trying to tell Atlas before he went all raging alpha bastard on us.”
Atlas is the furthest thing from a raging alpha bastard. Although he certainly did not pull his punch, as my aching jaw will attest.
“I believe he was testing me,” I admit. “Asking me to watch her when he knows negotiation is my forte.”
Fenix smirks. “Yeah, I figured that too. Spoiler alert. You failed.”
Asshole.
The sound of footsteps redirects my attention to the passage. Vander coming to notify us that our penance is done? A little early. I fully expected Atlas to leave us here for the night… but no, the footsteps are too light and accompanied by a familiar clatter of claws.
Violet.
And Lark.
At least the brat did not wander down here alone.
Fenix sits bolt upright, his head swaying toward the bars as we await her arrival.
And then she comes into view. A pretty silk gown that, while simple in cut, is utterly charming. The burnt orange color makes her blue eyes pop. It would seem the seamstress I instructed worked fast.
She pauses at the door, her eyes sliding from me to Fenix and back again before she tugs upon the skirt of her dress. “Did you make this for me?”
I smile. “Not personally. My skills, while considerable, do not extend to dressmaking.”
Fenix snorts.
“But I did order and specify its design. Do you like it?” Gods, I sound eager for a crumb of her approval. I’ve got it bad. Still, she looks stunning in the gown I commissioned for her, her true beauty shining through. Ravishing. I very much want to ravish.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, shyly now. “Master Pugstone is going over the findings from our history research. Atlas ordered me to stay in his quarters. I snuck out with Lark. Atlas and Rafe are still in the council room. I have my suspicions they will be there all night.”
The mention of the council room dampens my mood. I should be there now.
But I am not.
I am here.
So is she.
Fenix is leaning forward on his bench, his body coiled with tension and throwing off enough pheromones to choke the very air.
So am I.
So is Violet.
Lark, our silent companion, I judge, will not interfere.
“The door is open.”
Violet
I glance down and frown. There is no padlock, only a simple bolt that can be easily slid across.
Their placement here, the escort, was not penal.
It is steeped in the ritual and structure of their ways.
They choose to stay here because they believe the punishment was just. They accept their leaders’ terms willingly, for that is how they have order.
My respect for all three of the men rises as this settles in. Natural tensions exist between them: three men and three griffins, all strong personalities vying for order amid, at times, conflict arising from their complex, nuanced life journeys.
I am a destabilizing force.
But I don’t want to be that anymore. I want to be the conduit, the piece that binds them back together. The way I did with Lark and Rafe, for they are now an equal part of this, too.
They are waiting, I realize. Waiting for me to decide what to do.
The offer is made. The door unlocked. I ask myself why I came down here, past the stern guard, Vander and his companion with their curious expressions.
Not for a chat. Not even to see how they were faring.
Deep down, I knew Atlas, the epitome of control, would not have done anything untoward.
In fact, everything is as I might have expected, had I spent a moment in consideration.
Which leaves me with no alternative but to self-reflect on my actions in leaving my quarters and entering the cells, drawn here by unseen forces and no small amount of restless lust.
I swallow. Aware of the slick weeping between my thighs as I anticipate the invitation given.
“The door is open,” he said.
It is my choice what I do with this information.
My choice altogether.
And I have already chosen.
“You asked me about Fenix’s proclivity… weakness…
fixation if you wish to call it so,” Darrion says, humor lacing his voice.
“I believe you are about to find out. Do you trust us, mate? Do you trust us to take care of you, even here in this filthy cell? Do you enter this willingly, knowing we shall do no more than your sweet body can take, and in doing so, give you pleasure so deep you won’t remember this cell at all. Only us.”
I would not be here if they did not have my complete and absolute trust. I’m a little scared, truth be told. No, it’s more nervous anticipation. The good kind of scared. The kind I have experienced a lot of since I accepted my fate as a griffin mate and future Queen. “I do.”
Without further hesitation, I slide the bolt across, open the creaky metal door, and step inside.
Lark sits down.
Sometimes it is hard to recall the playful teasing male that lurks inside the wolf, the one who does wicked and intensely pleasurable things to me. He is going to watch. And perhaps a little of his wicked side has rubbed off on me, for I find I rather like that he will.
Fenix
She steps inside the cell, turns, and slides the bolt back across. Darrion and I rise in unison.
As the saying goes, that escalated fast.
Such a sweet, tasty little morsel. And how I desperately want to taste again. I can feel the saliva pooling in my mouth. The anticipation.
And yet I do not lead here. I am third. I accept that I am third.
But that isn’t even what this is about.
She has come here, and I understand that it was more about Darrion than me, for he has yet to taste of her.
I have to say, I approve of his gown. He has very discerning fucking taste, blessing us with the perfect wrapper that we might peel her out of it for our pleasure.
Galeor is crooning softly, tail lashing lightly from side to side. “We were gentle with her last time. Yet look at her eyes, how they blaze, taste her scent in the air. She is ready for us. Ready for what we need.”
Gods, my hands are sweating and shaking a little.
She just gazes up between the two of us. And then she holds out two hands.
We take a step forward, taking a hand each.
Darrion cups her chin, turning her to face him. He brushes his thumb over her full lower lip.
Her eyes are wide and luminous as she gazes up at him adoringly. Her trust. It is a precious commodity, and one we will not break despite my lusty griffin beating down on my resolve.
She is familiar with sharing and being shared. It was already natural between her, Rafe, and Lark. The scene when she went into heat is forever emblazoned upon my mind. It was fucking hot. It was spectacular.
As this will be.
We draw her slowly between us. Darrion slants his mouth over hers. Her sigh as they make contact roots deep in my core.
This is his time. I will follow his lead. And when the time comes, he will follow mine.
He knows what I want—my proclivity—her tight ass squeezing around my cock while he stuffs his into her needy cunt.
There is more than one way to feed. Instinct tells me the double penetration will be spectacular for all involved.
Damn, I need to shut my internal commentary down lest I embarrass myself. My cock is hard and kicking against my pants, leaking bountiful pre-cum ready to aid the taking. But while I am greedy and depraved at times, there is no need to rush here.
This cell does not befit a lady, a princess who will one day be a Queen. And yet there is a certain debauchery in it. There is fire between us. One that transcends human understanding, or even griffin lore. A tether, too, connecting the five of us to Violet, and it is very fucking strong.
Who am I to fight it? Who am I to resist? I am but a weak male with basic needs.
“Follow your instincts,” Galeor encourages. “It was your instincts that found her, after all.”
I mean, he’s not wrong.
And so, as Darrion deepens the kiss, I slide behind her, brush her hair aside, and lower my lips to her nape.
She shivers. Her hand grasps tightly over mine, and another needy moan escapes her lips.
I nip against her skin and then lap it with my tongue. Her sweat carries a little of her essence.
Her next moan is deeper still. It finds a direct line to my balls. They tighten.
I cannot wait to fill this sweet Griffin Queen all the way up.
Darrion
I should not take her in this filthy cell. She should be laid out on a silk-enswathed bed with a scented bath on standby so I might better see to her aftercare.
But abstaining is no longer an option. She is in my blood now. And I will taste her, consequences be damned.