Page 105 of Griffin Food

This should not be a hard decision. I should not give him whatever satisfaction he is eking from my indecision and false sense of modesty.

“Ticktock,” he says softly.

Insufferable male.

I rise, give him my best haughty princess glare, and allow him to look his fill as he helps me into the robe.

“Well played, princess,” he says thickly and goes so far as to belt the robe as though taking the temptation away.

Fine, I like it well that he is now uncomfortable with a telling bulge in his leather pants.

For reasons that now escape me, when I enter Atlas’s main quarters, with Lark on one side and Fenix on the other, I am expecting to see Atlas and Rafe alone.

They are not alone, for Darrion is standing beside them. His eyes slide to me, all the way down to my toes and back up again. Like Fenix, he has seen all of me. And many times.

He has not touched yet.

Heat floods my cheeks. I snatch my eyes away from his intense study, only for them to land upon Atlas, who is freakishly huge. And like my staring at him is a trigger, his wings spring into being.

Darrion’s wings appear a heartbeat later.

“Damn it,” Fenix curses as he, too, springs a set of wings.

“We are presenting. Our wings look most becoming in this early morning light.”

Wait? Did somebody say that?

I glance between them, confused. But no. Lark chuffs as he slinks over to the main door and flops down in front of it. It’s going to take me a little while to get used to his guardianship role. Darrion looks irritated. Atlas resigned. Fenix, when I glance to my left, wears an expression like his wings are pure suffering.

“Like announcing you have an erection,” Rafe says drolly, his grin broad.

Atlas takes my hand and inspects my face, brushing my hair back and tipping my chin. “You look a little tired.”

“We were busy during the night,” Rafe offers.

Atlas’s lips curve the faintest amount. He releases me and turns to Rafe. “I would like you to accompany me when I visit the other eyries today. They may have questions you would be well placed to answer.”

“I could answer them too,” I say. While I admit to some trepidation about visiting eyries, I want to help.

“No,” four collective males say in unison.

“The Queen does not leave the eyrie in times of war,” Atlas says.

“We are not technically at war,” Darrion points out mildly. “But I agree. Rafe, as a soldier, will be more than enough to allow other Pride Leaders to make informed decisions.”

“I want to help.” My jaw sets.

“I appreciate that,” Atlas says. “But there are many ways to help.” He gestures toward himself—all seven feet plus of him.

My face floods with heat.

“And besides the obvious, it has been many years since we faced this level of threat. I have lived many human lifetimes. The dark fae are immortal, dangerous, and without mercy. We must be ready. We must be prepared. And a great deal of that involves research, as boring as that may be. I believe from talking to Rafe that you have considerable skills, and further, do not find it boring at all.”

“I love research.” I clear my throat. “I am not so good at practical matters, like say a study of horse breeds suited to adventure.” I refuse to look at Rafe even though I can feel his amusement. “But otherwise, and especially if it's lore related like griffins and dark fae, I am exemplary and very focused.”

He smiles. “Excellent. Master Pugstone is due to arrive later today. Would you be congenial to assisting him?”

“Oh, yes!” I say smiling.