Page 108 of Griffin Food

It is chilly, but the wind is light today, and a few clouds dot the bright blue winter sky. I can see four griffins circling in the distance, but they are too far away for me to make out the color of their wings.

My gaze slides left to the opening to the eyrie, and my breath catches in my throat. A lone figure stands on the very edge. Feet planted wide, his ash-blond hair whipped by the breeze, as is his white shirt. He should have a jacket. He doesn’t, for it takes pride of place in my nest.

A great distance separates us, and his features are hard to discern, but I feel the moment he notices me.

“Well met, little mate.” The unknown voice has an ancient quality.

Lark chuffs.

I don’t spare a glance at him, too busy trying to convince myself that I have not lost my mind, and that there ‘is not’ a voice in my head.

Like I am subject to magnetic forces, I go back inside, wait for Lark to follow, and turn the catch on the door.

He gives me a quizzical look, one ear slightly curved.

Then he follows me as I leave our quarters.

Darrion

I know she is coming. Feel the moment she emerges from the corridor behind me.

I can’t look.

My fucking wings spring.

Rafe’s earlier quip, likening it to announcing you have an erection, taunts me.

I mean, he was not wrong…

“She is here,” Darkan says unnecessarily.

Her footsteps are closing in, along with the faint tapping noise that belongs to the mutt’s claws. Her scent comes with her, carried to me on the breeze. I suffer an irrational urge to fling myself from the cliff and shift so I might escape her beguiling presence. It is only the fear of leaving her unattended near the fucking edge, again, that holds me in check.

“He asked you to watch me, didn’t he?”

I shrug, still not turning. “He did.”

I can feel her hesitation. “Can I meet him again?”

Him?

“She is talking about me,” Darkan states proudly, already unruffling wings and preparing for the shift.

“No.”

Gods, why am I being an asshole?

“You said it was my choice. And I have already chosen. I took your jacket to my nest. Put it right in the center. I even warned Lark not to…”

She trails off, I spin around, and her lips form an ‘O’.

My glare cuts between her and the mutt—who is faking innocence—and back again. “What the fuck are you wearing?” I thought the wool dresses Atlas gave her were ugly as fuck, but she is wearing a shirt and pants tucked into serviceable boots. Her travel clothes. The ones she was wearing when she first arrived, or perhaps the ones Fenix collected when Atlas sent him to check their campsite for possessions they may have lost.

She plants her small, fisted hands on her hips and glares right back. “Stop deflecting.”

I blink, brows crawling up into my hairline.

“I have just announced I have all but claimed you, and I wish to see Darkan. Is he talking to me? Is that the voice I hear inside my head sometimes?”