Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Atlas
“… a
nd this passage here is particularly interesting,” Master Pugstone says, sliding his finger across the thick ink lettering of the book.
It’s the early hours of the morning. We’ve been thrashing through this all night. I dismissed the rest of the War Council not long ago. It’s just Rafe, Pugstone, and me.
Only something is off beyond the creeping troops on our lands… an awareness, a drifting tendril of something inexplicable that floats at the back of my mind, under my skin, latching onto my nerves.
I rake my hand through my hair. My cock surges with arousal, hardening. My wings suddenly spring.
What the fuck?
Rafe cuts me a glance. A thin sheen of sweat dots his forehead. He lifts trembling fingers to wipe it away, rubbing it between them as though confused.
“I feel… unsteady,” he says.
A feral growl leaves me as I surge up from the seat. I temper it before I speak. “Master Pugstone, if you would take the books to my quarters, we shall meet you there presently.”
“Oh, of course,” Master Pugstone says, sliding a marker into place and closing the book.
“Rafe, come with me.”
As we stride out of the council room, I sense Rafe studying, not where he is walking, but me.
“You’re glowing,” Rafe says bluntly.
I glance down at my hands. Then curve one wing round so that I can better inspect it. “Fuck!”
“And so am I,” he adds, an edge of incredulity to his tone before he suddenly chuckles. “Lark is her guardian. But he is also her servant. If she wished to go somewhere, say to the cells, it would not cross his mind to stop her.”
“Yes. So I’m getting the idea. The damn mutt is an enabler,” I mutter under my breath. What have I unleashed? It was so much simpler when he was merely a man.
Vander and another guard are standing at the end of the corridor that leads to the cells. They have both sprung their wings and are likewise shimmering.
I do a double take as the pair of them send me shifty looks and snap to attention. “We did not presume to interfere,” Vanders states brusquely.
That was probably for the best.
I spot Lark immediately as I turn the corner. He’s sitting outside the cell. His white coat is glowing. He has grown.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
And in the fucking cell.
If one inch of her skin is scraped, I’ll beat the pair of them bloody. But I’m also fucking churning. Poleaxed. And awed… If this is what I think it is.
Emotions are coursing through me as I draw closer to the cell door. But I hold them fiercely in check and slow my pace.
Lark glances across at me and then back to the scene.
I turn slowly, steeling myself for what I will find.
And there they lie upon the floor, a tangle of golden, glimmering skin, their huge, glistening wings making a cushion for her.
She blinks up at me like a sleepy kitten that has been roused from a nap. Her smile is a little wobbly. She is utterly blissed out—high.
Internally, I roar at the two men who have both once again overstepped the fucking mark.
Outwardly, I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “And you could not wait to consummate this in a proper bed?”
“She’s very fucking demanding,” Fenix offers baldly.
Darrion grunts and surges to his feet, lifting her in his arms. “I don’t often agree with Fenix, and in this case, he’s right.”
The limp, giggling bundle of naked beauty nips at his throat as he steps over to the door and looks down at it expectantly.
Rafe emits a low chuckle, strides forward to move the bolt, swings the door open, and holds his hands out for Violet. “Just in case there’s any fallout,” he says.
Fenix pitches to his feet behind Darrion.
Rafe steps off, murmuring softly to Violet as he holds her in his arms. Lark moves to stand beside them.
Darrion gives me a wary look. “The right side of my jaw is already sore. Maybe hit the other side.”
“I want to strangle the pair of you,” I mutter.
“In a fucking cell. In a cold fucking cell!” I am repeating myself, and I am not one for doing as much.
It is testimony to my frazzled state that they reduce me, thus.
I glance across at Violet and then gesture down toward myself.
“But what is done is done. She has chosen. The way I always hoped. The way instinctively I knew she would.”
They wait. Tall. Proud now that their places are acknowledged.
“Your penance is done. Time to get out of here. Clean up. We have a war to plan for.”
Master Pugstone has set up his books at the wide table before the window of my quarters.
It is the early hours of the morning, and the weak winter sun brings a glow to the horizon.
The fire has been kept stoked, and Master Pugstone has placed one of the lamps on the table close to where his books are scattered and stacked.
Beside the lamp, a thoughtful servant has left a bountiful tray of refreshments.
I’m tired.
Aroused.
The scent of the well fucked woman in Rafe’s arms, now modestly covered in a cloak, is driving me crazy.
I just want to tell everyone to fuck off, take her to my bed, and have my fill.
The downfalls of being a leader… I cannot.
“Ah, Atlas!” Master Pugstone, gray-haired and ancient in human years, has boundless energy for griffin lore and history. “Please look at this passage. I think you will find it interesting in light of the incident that has occurred…”
He trails off. Lark has chosen this moment to shift to human, and unlike griffins, there is no clothing manifestation, and he is butt-naked and iridescent.
“All of you…” Pugstone fumbles with the book, and it snaps shut on whatever he was about to show me. “But assuredly not unprecedented. Not at all.” He flips pages, shaking with giddy excitement.
I share a brief look with Darrion, Fenix, Rafe, and Lark while Pugstone mutters to himself.
Violet. No, I cannot linger on her pretty, blissed-out, floaty expression at the risk of shoving the books aside and fucking her over the table.
“Yes!” Pugstone says, jubilant. “Here it is. I sensed Violet’s situation, having two other suitors, might be extraordinary, so I took the liberty of researching.
More of a curiosity when I first read about it many years ago, now.
And, of course, there was no presumption you might find a mate even in my lifetime… ”
“Pugstone,” I snap. “We are all very tired. Please get to the point.”
“Sorry, my lord. It is right here. All of it. Resonant bonding and amplification. Arimeed, the Valiant grandsire of Aribold the Great, shared his mate with his two lieutenants.” He taps the page, then twists the tome on the table for my viewing.
“Feeding magnification. Pride-wide.” His eyes slide to Rafe and then Lark.
“In your case, even more potent, I should not be surprised.”
My eyes are locked on the image. Three griffins in their half-shift form are worshipping a Pride Queen on the platform centering the Sundial Chamber. Light explodes from their rapturous union, striking the glass dome above as though the heavens themselves are answering the call.
“So pretty,” Violet says dreamily.
Five sets of predatory eyes and one curious set belonging to a scholar swing Violet’s way to find her mesmerized by the image in the book.
And quite an image it is.
One, I’m now overwriting with Violet in the center, and myself, the griffin penetrating her. So potent is the image, I damn near spring a talon.
Somebody clears their throat.
Rafe, I realize when I finally revive my wits.
“Violet needs to rest,” he says.
I nod. “Yes. Her nest, I think, would be best.” We are all tired, strung out.
This is a lot, and we are at war. “Lark, go with them. Darrion, Fenix, select quarters for yourselves within the suite as befits your place as mates to the Queen. Master Pugstone. The hour is late… Early. Get some rest. Tomorrow, we will need this given your fullest attention.”