Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Darrion
Ishould not take her for a ride. Taking her for a ride is the worst of all ideas.
But she has just flung her arms around Darkan and pressed her nose against his chest. I can feel an echo of her embrace, even as I am bombarded by Darkan’s reaction to it.
His fierce pride. His undying love. His utter devotion.
All of it is a mirror of my own feelings.
And so I don’t say the thing I ought to say. I say the thing I want to do in my heart, for I will be last to feed. She has chosen me. And if she wants to fucking ride, then she will fucking ride.
I change back to human. “You will need to be properly dressed.”
She jumps back and squeals with excitement.
The mutt issues a low warning growl.
“Shut the fuck up, mutt,” I say dismissively. “We will not go fucking far. If she said she wanted to ride you, would you deny the request?”
It makes a low chuffing sound. One that I’ve come to associate with him laughing.
“Riding was a poor choice of words,” I admit through the pride bond and for his ears only. We’ll get to the riding part. Soon, hopefully. Certainly, she can ride me in any way she chooses, anytime she chooses. I am all in.
I manifest a riding jacket, a hat, gloves, a thick neck cowl, and some goggles. The smallest ones I can find from the boys’ stores. While I seethe at putting a boy’s clothes on her, keeping her warm takes precedence.
“Oh,” she says, looking at the items in my hand. “How did you do that? Also, why are you not naked? Why did your clothes not fall onto the floor like they do with other shifters?”
“I manifested them. I can choose to manifest clothes. I can choose to manifest without.” I glance across at the mutt. “Unlike wolf shifters, who leave their clothes behind.”
“But… you!” She bristles with outrage, her eyes narrowing. “When you first snatched us, all of you were naked. And now you’re telling me you could have just manifested clothing?!”
A predatory smile settles over my lips. “We were all a little high that night. You were going into heat. Your scent was particularly potent, fogging our minds. I don’t believe any of us were in full command of our wits.”
She huffs out a little breath in fake indignation.
I will not apologize for taking her. It has brought us to this point. And while I might have preferred a gentler introduction to our world, what has come to pass cannot be changed.
“Do you wish to go riding or not?”
“Fine. I want to ride. And even though it does not smell like your jacket.”
My smile is broad. “I do not believe that I shall enjoy the scent of another on you either. But they are the only ones even vaguely close to your size I could locate without the aid of a leatherworker. I’d be surprised if Atlas hasn’t already ordered a set to be prepared.
But if he has, he hasn’t told me where they are. This will have to do.”
She holds out her hand.
I do not hand them over. “Turn around.”
She turns, glancing back at me over her shoulder.
Fuck, it’s all I can do not to toss the jacket to the ground, pin her there, and demand I have my feeding turn.
Instead, I hold out the jacket, and she slips her hands into it.
Darkan prowls restlessly in my mind. He likes me putting clothes on her as much as I do.
The act of dressing her or undressing her is a balm.
I turn her around—brush her hands aside when she tries to do the clips—and do them for her. I clinch them as tightly as I can. But it still leaves some slack.
“If I am to be your mate,” I say, adjusting the jacket as best I can. “Then I shall be responsible for your clothing choice. Dressing you each morning. And if there is an event or social activity that requires different clothes, then I will select those too.”
She blinks up at me. I slide the woolen cowl down over her head. She mutters something lost in the wool.
“I have discerning taste.” I am replaying Darkan’s earlier words. “And I like it. Atlas likes to feed and pet you while you kneel on a cushion at his feet. I like to dress.”
The hat goes on next. I chuckle when it half-buries her little head. I take it off again, curl her hair into a big, long twist, and tuck that under the cap. It pads it out a little, and I can tie the strap under her chin.
She looks adorable.
“Are you congenial to that, mate?” I press when she remains quiet.
She fidgets with the cowl. “Yes… What does Fenix like to do?”
A deep guffaw escapes me. “Fenix likes to do many things. I’ll let you work out his particular proclivities in your own time.”
Darkan watches us casually from within as I slide the gloves onto her hands. They’re soft and fur-lined. Meant to protect against the elements.
“Before a griffin shifter comes into existence, they first meet as a man and a griffin. But before the young candidates go through a training and assessment stage. It is not unusual for us to run patrols with a human rider long before they are put forward to meet the griffins.”
“You have more griffins? Riderless ones?”
I nod. “We do. They live deep in the core of the mountain and largely sleep. Rousing only when candidates are presented, and only if one calls to them. They are discerning, instinctual creatures. It is for the best that they are so discerning, for our bond is lifelong and shapes both of us.”
Her eyes are wide and full of wonderment.
“When Darkan next manifests, he’ll be wearing such a harness, which you will hook into for your safety.”
She looks ridiculous in her oversized hat, gloves, and riding jacket. But when she smiles, I swear it knocks something loose inside me. I tug the cowl up over the back of her helmet and over her mouth and nose. Then come the goggles. If I thought she was cute before, this is a whole other level.
“Adorable,” Darkan preens.
She gestures toward herself. The cowl swallows the shape of her words, but I hear them as if she whispers directly into my thoughts. “Go ahead. I’m ready. I’m ready for my first flight.”
Violet
As Darrion winks out of existence and explodes in feathers and sparks into Darkan, Lark nudges me gently with his head. I reach up to brush the side of his throat.
“It’ll be all right,” I say, tugging the stupid cowl down from my mouth. “Let me do this. It is what I want.”
He laps up the side of my cheek and then buries his nose against my throat and purrs.
“I won’t be gone long, I promise.”
When I turn back, Darkan spreads his wings, holding the left one low to provide a platform.
“Place your boot upon my wing,” he says, “The ridge is strong and will hold you with ease. Note the harness that goes around your waist.”
He twists his head to watch me as I place my boot against his beautiful wing.
“Sorry,” I say. “I don’t like to tread on you thus.”
“You may trust, little mate, that in battle my wings have suffered far worse than your gentle weight.”
Well, I suppose when one puts it like that… I clamber up awkwardly, with much apologizing, until I’m in the seat. Then I pull on the harness and tighten the straps. Finally, I tug the cowl back over my nose and mouth.
“I’m ready.”
“Rest assured that if by some miracle it fails and you should fall, I will catch you,” Darrion says as Darkan edges toward the opening in the cliff face.
“I knowwwwwwohhhh—”
My words stretch into a squeal as Darkan leaps—plunges—from the cliff top. My stomach drops, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. Then he catches a current of warmer air, and he beats his wings hard and fast.
I giggle behind my cowl, clutching onto the handle in the saddle for dear life, even though I’m securely strapped in.
His great wings beat gentler, then hold steady as he finds a thermal and glides in effortlessly.
I like this much better than my arrival flight.
The sky has a few wispy clouds, but otherwise it is clear and blue, and the world pans out below us. Griffins appear beside us. One, two, three, four. A blue. A snow gray. Another that is an almost iridescent green, and a final one that is a deep golden brown.
“My wing,” Darrion informs me, his voice projecting intimately inside my head the same way Darkan's does.
We take a lazy glide down the side of the mountain, and then wings beat, and I feel the muscles moving under me as we slowly circle our descent.
I spot villages and farmsteads scattered here and there.
And the distance, a chain of mountains, and the other peaks, which I presume belong to the other griffin prides.
I am riding a griffin. I am riding a griffin!
A fresh giggle bubbles up.
Darkan turns his head, his eye whirling as he glances back at me. “You are indeed riding a griffin, chosen mate. It is my deepest honor to be your first.”
I reach to stroke my fingers over his feathers before returning them to the handle. I don’t grip it quite as tightly now. The shape of his body and his head provide a buffer from much of the wind. I don’t believe I need to grip it at all, but it offers comfort.
We strike out again, wings pumping steadily, following a meandering path that skirts the side of the mountain.
Below is a village high street where rows of dwellings emit smoke from their chimneys.
Beyond the central village are farmers’ cottages and fields.
Many are barren and unplowed, ready for planting next year—but a field of winter grass is full of fat, fluffy sheep.
As we sweep lower, the villagers stop and wave. The griffins dip their wings from side to side.
A laugh. “Are you waving at them?!”
“We are,” Darkan says proudly.
A great swirl of emotion rises inside me. I am realizing a dream. In ways I thought impossible not so long ago.
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for taking me on this ride.”
“You are welcome,” Darrion replies.
We pass the village, heading steadily southward over the vast, sweeping forests in the foothills of the mountain.
“Oh, what is that?” I say, spotting a break in the forest.
“Wing, close ranks!” Darrion’s command cracks like a whip.