Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rafe
They leave me alone, heading off to the call of the bell while I remain chained to the wall.
My thoughts move fast and slow. I think of Violet, of her sweet scent, of her giving body, of how much I love her.
How she is slipping through my fingers. Despite Atlas’s determination that I am her mate, the fear is still present and real.
There was a time when I did not know this woman beyond the fact that she was a bookworm and the sister of a Queen.
And then one fateful ride on a stallion far beyond her skill set, and everything changed.
She is pretty, clever, willful, and bedding her is a revelation of the highest order.
If I live to be a hundred, it will not be enough.
But I’m a beta, ordinary, and my inadequacy looms like a disaster on the horizon.
Pete turns up, breaking the monotony of my rumination. Even without Atlas’s warning, I would give him no trouble. But I do ask him what is happening, and he explains that the bell warned of an attack on a village, and all the griffins and soldiers here have gone.
He leaves food and drink for me. I take some of the water, but I cannot touch a bit of the food. I just want to see her. Maybe if I see her, everything will be all right. The chains are long enough for me to sit, and I do so, and then I fall into a fitful doze.
The rattling of a key in the door rouses me. I surge to my feet, straining to see who will come in.
“Impatient bastard,” somebody grumbles.
As the door opens a crack, a huge white wolf pushes his way in—Lark. Right behind him is Violet.
“Rafe!” She runs across the room and throws herself into my arms.
I am filthy from this morning’s work and feel wretched for my position in being chained to a wall. But her sweet scent fills my nose, and her softness pressed against me brings a catch to my throat and a sting to the back of my eyes.
“What are you doing in this filthy place, lass?” I say gruffly.
She doesn’t hear me, or perhaps she doesn’t care.
Swift, urgent kisses are peppered to my throat, cheeks, the open collar of my shirt—anywhere she can reach.
My hands go under her as she launches herself at me, wrapping her legs and arms around me so that she can bury her nose in the crook of my neck.
I hold her tightly, my heart is thudding so wildly in my chest it drowns out all other sounds.
I just want to pull her inside me. To keep her fucking safe. Only there are others better placed to do that than me.
Fuck. I need to be strong. I need to not make whatever this is harder than it already is, for her sake.
When I lift my eyes, I find Lark sitting expectantly to one side. He is still in direwolf form. The three griffins stand to his right. All three of them wear stern expressions.
All three of them have their wings on full display, stretched wide around them.
“The village is safe, I presume?” My voice is a croak, like I have not used it in a long time.
“It is,” Atlas confirms.
“Take his chains off,” Violet says. She fidgets to get down, and I reluctantly release her. She does not move far, still pressing tightly to my side, her hand against my chest.
“I already explained,” Atlas says implacably. “I cannot.”
Recent tears ravage her face, and more pool in her eyes. I want to gut the bastard for upsetting her. “Why the fuck did you let her in here?”
Atlas arches a brow. “Because she insisted.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have done.”
She turns to face me. “Rafe, please.”
“I don’t want her to fucking see me like this.”
The red-headed griffin, Fenix, folds his arms. “It was not your decision, human.”
A deep growl erupts from my chest. It is not the first time I have made this sound. More often, it is during rutting. But I’ve heard that the omegas who mate with betas can change them somewhat. I believe this must be happening to me.
“Please,” she begs. “I cannot bear to see him chained. Won’t you let him stay with me in the nest tonight? He needs rest. We all do.”
“No,” Atlas says, unmoved. “Not tonight. I conceded this much, said that you might see him yourself, and that he is unharmed and well.”
“He is not well,” she says adamantly, fire flashing in her eyes.
I tighten my arm around her, feeling her tension radiate into me. They are all fucking idiots of the highest order if they thought it was a good idea for her see me broken thus.
Atlas steps forward. Lark curls his lips, although he doesn’t issue a growl. Atlas continues to draw closer until he is standing no more than a pace away from us.
“What has begun cannot be stopped,” he says. He said something similar just before he walked away, leaving me here.
“We have all had a stressful day,” he continues. “You need rest, Violet. Fenix will escort you and Lark back to your nest. Know that I will not keep you from your mate. You may see him again. But the timing is delicate, and even for you, some rules cannot be broken.”
“What rules?” she demands.
“The rules of the Goddess herself,” he says. “The rules of nature. If you do as I ask, if you return to your nest, take comfort with your mate, Lark, then I will consider letting you see Rafe tomorrow.”
His tone brooks no argument. I have already surmised that griffins are apex predators, and Atlas is at the top of them all.
He makes no concessions save those he chooses to make.
Nor does he offer false comfort. He is not unnecessarily cruel, more steadfast in what he deems to be right.
I can disagree with him even as I respect him.
I can hate him and admire him at the same time.
These feelings are not mutually exclusive.
Just as I can love the woman clinging to my arms, not wanting to let her go, and yet likewise know she should take comfort with Lark in our nest.
“I could stay here with him. I could make my nest here.”
“This is no place for you, lass,” I say.
Her lips quiver. I fucking hate being the one to support him and to have to tell her this, but it’s true.
I’d be a selfish bastard to want her to sleep here and nest with me in this cold training pit.
I would give this woman the moon if only it were possible.
And my life. It’s a given that she has already claimed everything I am.
“You will return to your nest. Where you will try your best to rest,” Atlas says. “For Rafe.”
He holds out his hand, just as he did before in her nesting chamber the morning after her heat was done.
It is symbolic. He is not a man who forces or demands. He is quiet authority, and I am coming to understand, that ultimately, he will always get his way. There can only be one leader, and that position is taken.
He waits. Patient. He does not waste words that do not need to be said.
She sobs and clings a little tighter. I don’t set her away.
She will decide. And she will decide to take his hand soon enough.
And then she does. The slight easing away is followed by a beat where she clings again and presses her lips to my throat—and then, as her face turns away, she reaches out a single trembling hand to meet Atlas’s.
I swallow thickly as his fingers close around hers, and he draws her away. Not into his arms—no—but instead guiding her as Fenix steps forward. Her hand is passed from me to Fenix. He is stoic as he claims her small hand within his.
She glances back at me once, her eyes brimming with tears that spill down her cheeks. “I love you, Rafe. Whatever happens, whoever you are—” A sob catches in her throat. “I don’t need more than you already are. You are perfect to me.”
Gods, her words are near enough to bring me to my knees.
She leaves. Her footsteps light on the floor. Lark remains a moment, his wolf eyes on me, before he turns and pads after them.
The door closing upon them is ominous. Leaving me alone with Atlas and Darrion.
He wants to say something. I don’t know what it is, but that he waited for her to go fills me with fresh dread. Reaching into a pocket, he draws out a strip of leather. Attached to it is a ring.
He turns it over in the light and then holds it out to me. My brows pull together. The chain holding me rattles as I reach for it.
A seal ring. The kind used in the field to communicate important information where one needs to be sure the information is verifiable.
They are more often used in wars or campaigns that take soldiers far from their home estates for extended periods of time.
Not something I come across often, nor have I had cause to use one myself. But I am familiar with them.
I am also familiar with this crest. It is one I often saw when I soldiered in Hydornia.
What the fuck is it doing here? “Where did you get this?”
“You recognize it?” he asks.
“I do.” My mind is rushing. This is the crest of Violet’s sister, Elisa.
“Lark found it,” Atlas says. “He recognized the man bearing it.”
I swallow. How much else did he tell him? This secret is not mine to tell. And yet, if a man bearing this ring is so close, it is not a secret I can keep either.
My hand trembles faintly. “Does she know?”
He shakes his head and holds out his hand for me to drop the ring back into. “No, not yet.”
“But Lark told you who it belongs to.”
He nods. “Violet’s family estate. Her sister, the Queen.
I have several scholars here. When I leave this room, I will instruct them to bring me all pertinent information regarding her family.
But if you have any other insights to share, I would appreciate them.
We sighted three separate scouting parties in the forest. And believe the attack on the village—where this man and his ring met their end—is a forerunner to more.
The war with Blighten has waned in your former homelands.
Soldiers are plentiful and skilled, and coffers are depleted.
At such times, some kings and queens deploy their soldiers to refill their coffers in nefarious ways.
Time dims memories. People relegate tales of griffin protectors to myth, and the allure of communities of gem traders grows.
The passes are closed at this time of year.
But there are yet portals that can be opened—for a price. ”
He is being open with me. And I appreciate that.
I don’t know what my future holds here, but there is no value in keeping secrets while Violet’s safety depends on them knowing everything.
So I tell them all that I know: that her sister is a queen who hates omegas, and that she has a vendetta against them because of her bastard husband.
Of what she did to Violet’s sisters, and how that drove Violet to flee.
That Elisa has become embroiled with the High King of Hydornia.
And is perhaps even his lover. That she is cruel and scheming.
How even the thought of her being in this world where Violet is sickens me to the core.
“You must protect Violet,” I finish. “If Queen Elisa even suspects Violet is here, this will be about more than mere gems.”
He nods, face solemn. “You do not have to ask me to do that. I protect all the people under my watch—from a simple shepherd to an omega princess in hiding. The moment we took you, she became ours to protect. Just because I have not bedded her yet does not make the potency of my claim any less.”
I swallow thickly. The ground beneath me is unsteady, tides are turning, and strong winds are carrying things to places they were never meant to be.
“This woman who sends her soldiers to attack,” Atlas says.
“Whether embittered by her life or merely cruel matters not. Omegas are not a scourge to be eradicated. That she is in a position of authority and meted out such cruelty on her three younger sisters, driving every one of them away, tells me everything I need to know about her character. Let her come. Let her bring the High King himself and any others foolish enough to follow her reign of terror. I welcome this war.”