Chapter 42 #2
“You need a break,” Neal said, “and I need to show my appreciation.”
“Appreciation?” I raised an eyebrow as Neal found an unlocked door and pulled me inside.
It was an office—a little dusty, a little disorganized, but nice enough—probably the Steward’s. Neal locked the door behind us and backed me against the desk.
“You were spectacular,” he breathed against my neck, “and I am eternally impressed by you.”
He kissed along the bare skin at my collarbone. Heat flooded through me.
“We can’t!” I protested. “We’re supposed to be diplomatic!”
“When have you ever cared about that?” Neal asked, lifting me so I was sitting on the desk. “You threatened a man with a bull moose in rut not five minutes ago. We are far past diplomacy.”
“But it’s not our house.” The words said protest, but everything in my tone suggested I wanted him to keep going. He’d pick up on it. Hopefully.
“You’re the sovereign,” Neal reminded me. “Eminent domain.”
I chuckled then gasped as he knelt between my knees, pulled up my dress, and started to kiss along the skin above my stocking, up the inside of my thigh. I braced one hand on the desk behind me and fisted the other in his hair.
“You,” Neal breathed between kisses, “are the most fascinating, brilliant, and utterly insane woman I’ve ever met.”
“Go on,” I murmured as his lips trailed upward. I was half listening, half caught in how good that felt.
“And I am eternally grateful to our esteemed parents for arranging this marriage,” Neal said. “Because if they hadn’t I would have missed out on . . .”
And then there was a sharp, insistent knock at the door. We both froze. Neither of us spoke.
“I know you’re in there!” Ansel’s voice was curt, sharp, all business.
“We’re busy,” Neal protested.
“I know that too!” Ansel said. I heard the lock break.
It was a split second before Ansel barreled into the office, fuming.
“We have a situation,” he said as Neal tugged my dress back into place.
“And it couldn’t wait five minutes?” Neal protested.
“I was finally having a nice time!” I added.
“There’s a Himalayan gryphon on a rampage. It’s killed three people,” Ansel said, rubbing his temples.
“Oh,” I said, letting Neal help me off the desk. “No I guess that couldn’t wait five minutes.”
I took Neal’s hand and followed Ansel out. “Why is it here?”
“They imported it from Nepal,” Ansel said. “The hosts. Tried to get it to do circus tricks. They don’t like that.”
My brows knit together in frustration.
“They tried to get a Himalayan gryphon, from Nepal, to do circus tricks?” I nearly growled. “What the hell is wrong with these people?”
“Would you like me to start a list?” Ansel drawled.
“Where is it?” I asked as we emerged back into the ballroom. People were whispering, rushing, an occasional scream. There was one body on the floor that I could see—an older man, expensive tux, garish tie—bite marks along one arm and blood dripping from his ears.
“That way,” Ansel pointed and instantly I locked in.
Himalayan gryphons were rare and dangerous—even more so than Barbary gryphons.
They had a massive tiger’s body with feathered vestigial wings and a Eurasian eagle owl’s head—complete with two hundred and seventy degrees of rotation and plumicorns that could reach almost a foot tall when they reached adulthood.
Full grown they could top six hundred pounds.
But this one was small, young—bigger than a Labrador but not by much.
But it had claws, and a vicious beak, and it was scared.
“Sorcha, don’t do anything stupid,” Neal warned, reaching for my arm, but it was useless. He missed my wrist by a hairsbreadth as I headed for the monster, clapping my hands and calling to it.
I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see Neal put a hand over his eyes.
“Just tell me if this goes badly,” he muttered to Ansel.
“She can handle herself,” Ansel replied, clapping a hand onto Neal’s shoulder and pulling his hands away from his face.
I turned back to the gryphon. “Here, buddy.” I whistled and snapped my fingers, and the creature launched itself at me.
I really, really hoped this worked out. I’d befriended jaguars before—admittedly just the once. I’d summoned a damn wolf spider—and those didn’t even form bonds with humans. Surely I could do this.
A dozen guests gasped, but the gryphon didn’t attack and instead flopped in a heap at my feet with a sound somewhere halfway between an owl’s hoot and a cat’s purr emanating from inside its chest. A wave of confusion and shock traveled out through the ballroom, whispers turning to murmurs turning to full-on conversations about the new High Lady and her terrifying power.
I sat down as the massive cryptid rolled onto its back and reached over the feathered back legs to scratch its belly.
“You’re a good boy aren’t you,” I said. “A very good boy.”
“That went better than it had any right to.” Neal crouched next to me.
“Cats are the easiest,” I said, still petting the creature’s belly, feigning confidence I definitely hadn’t felt. “Now find who did this and strip their title.”
“What?” Neal deadpanned.
“Find whoever orchestrated this,” I said. “Strip their title and rank. And have them finance the mission to get this little guy back to Nepal.”
“With pleasure,” Ansel muttered, already walking off.