Page 107 of Griffin Food

“Our task is more important,” Darkan informs me.

Important?! I am coming apart at the seams.

And both of the bastards were just standing there, pumped up where she had given nourishment, made them bigger, stronger versions of themselves. It will wear off. It always does. It is the nature of feeding that one needs to feed again.

Clearly, it is no hardship, and further, it is not troubling Violet, given her rosy cheeks and bright eyes when Fenix escorted her out of her nest.

And now Atlas wants me to guard her? The bastard seems bent upon sidelining me.

I stride along the corridor, my destination the upper entry to the eyrie. The four members of my wing are waiting for me. I give them their instructions to patrol the immediate vicinity, then I stand on the very edge of the rockface, buffeted by the wind, where I brood.

I’m not one for brooding. That is Fenix’s domain. Fenix, who has gone on a deep patrol.

At least he is being useful.

Gods, I can’t believe I gave her my jacket. Just handed it over to her like some green whelp offering limp flowers to the first object of his desires in the hope it might facilitate the lifting of her skirts.

“She favors your jacket,” Darkan informs me. “Her little nose was twitching. I believe she will have already laid it in her nest.”

Fuck. My dick is hard. I have words with it. I’m fucking freezing, but I refuse myself the satisfaction of shivering.

“She will allow us to feed soon,” Draken offers his opinion.

And how I want to feed, to spread her out over my jacket and glutton myself upon her. I couldn’t keep my damn eyes off her when she was standing between Atlas and Fenix, all meek and sweet.

“At least she was wearing silk,” Darkan murmurs, busy preening in my mind.

Wonderful, now I am thinking about the hard points of her nipples, poking against the silk of her gown.

“You have discerning taste,” Darkan adds. “You should certainly be responsible for our mate’s wardrobe… for dressing her.”

She is not yet our mate, though her acceptance of my jacket strongly implies she will be.

And how I want to be responsible for dressing her. To provide the most decadent, luxurious wardrobe, and then, each morning, to select the items she will wear. All of it, right down to the underthings that will be closest to her skin.

Violet

Breakfast arrives. I eat it at the table before the big picture window with views across the mountain. The experience is a little surreal.

I take a bath, dress, and return to the main room just as Posey arrives to collect my finished breakfast things. I could go to the library. Posey would show me the way. Not that I can do much constructively until Master Pugstone arrives later today. Still, I could at least familiarize myself with it, as Atlas said.

Unusually for me—for the thought of seeing the library here would ordinarily excite me—I decided to remain here and refresh my nest.

Once done, I put Darrion’s beautiful silk jacket in the center.

Lark watches. In wolf form. Sitting in the doorway to my nesting chamber with his ears forward and eyes alert. “Do not get any ideas,” I warn him, lest he be thinking of ravishing me over it again.

He glances away, like he is bored and not at all interested in what I am doing. But I’m on to him and his wolf expressions now.

Finished with my nest, I suffer great restlessness. My eyes keep going to the jacket. Replaying over again him handing it casually over to me. The way his eyes seemed drawn to me, and mine to him.

I don’t realize my intentions until the catch to the balcony door gives beneath my fingers.

Lark growls.

“I am only going out for a little while. It is not so cold, and the railing is very sturdy. Atlas would hardly allow me access if he thought I would fall to my death!”

Lark pads over in a no-nonsense way and pushes me aside so he can go out first. I roll my eyes at his nonsense and follow him out.