Page 110 of Griffin Food

I am hugging a griffin.

He makes the chattering sound again and curves his wings tightly around me.

Such a fierce creature… yet he is heartbreakingly gentle with me.

“Take me for a ride,” I plead.

There is a long quiet where neither griffin nor man answers.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Darrion

Ishould not take her for a ride. Taking her for a ride is the worst of all ideas. But she has just flung her arms around Darkan and pressed her nose against his chest. I can feel an echo of her embrace, even as I am bombarded by Darkan’s reaction to it. His fierce pride. His undying love. His utter devotion. All of it is a mirror of my own feelings.

And so I don’t say the thing I ought to say. I say the thing I want to do in my heart, for I will be last to feed. She has chosen me. And if she wants to fucking ride, then she will fucking ride.

I change back to human. “You will need to be properly dressed.”

She jumps back and squeals with excitement.

The mutt issues a low warning growl.

“Shut the fuck up, mutt,” I say dismissively. “We will not go fucking far. If she said she wanted to ride you, would you deny the request?”

It makes a low chuffing sound. One that I’ve come to associate with him laughing.

“Riding was a poor choice of words,” I admit through the pride bond and for his ears only. We’ll get to the riding part. Soon, hopefully. Certainly, she can ride me in any way she chooses, anytime she chooses. I am all in.

I manifest a riding jacket, a hat, gloves, a thick neck cowl, and some goggles. The smallest ones I can find from the boys’ stores. While I seethe at putting a boy’s clothes on her, keeping her warm takes precedence.

“Oh,” she says, looking at the items in my hand. “How did you do that? Also, why are you not naked? Why did your clothes not fall onto the floor like they do with other shifters?”

“I manifested them. I can choose to manifest clothes. I can choose to manifest without.” I glance across at the mutt. “Unlike wolf shifters, who leave their clothes behind.”

“But… you!” She bristles with outrage, her eyes narrowing. “When you first snatched us, all of you were naked. And now you’re telling me you could have just manifested clothing?!”

A predatory smile settles over my lips. “We were all a little high that night. You were going into heat. Your scent was particularly potent, fogging our minds. I don’t believe any of us were in full command of our wits.”

She huffs out a little breath in fake indignation.

I will not apologize for taking her. It has brought us to this point. And while I might have preferred a gentler introduction to our world, what has come to pass cannot be changed.

“Do you wish to go riding or not?”

“Fine. I want to ride. And even though it does not smell like your jacket.”

My smile is broad. “I do not believe that I shall enjoy the scent of another on you either. But they are the only ones even vaguely close to your size I could locate without the aid of a leatherworker. I’d be surprised if Atlas hasn’t already ordered a set to be prepared. But if he has, he hasn’t told me where they are. This will have to do.”

She holds out her hand.

I do not hand them over. “Turn around.”

She turns, glancing back at me over her shoulder. Fuck, it’s all I can do not to toss the jacket to the ground, pin her there, and demand I have my feeding turn. Instead, I hold out the jacket, and she slips her hands into it. Darkan prowls restlessly in my mind. He likes me putting clothes on her as much as I do. The act of dressing her or undressing her is a balm.

I turn her around—brush her hands aside when she tries to do the clips—and do them for her. I clinch them as tightly as I can. But it still leaves some slack.

“If I am to be your mate,” I say, adjusting the jacket as best I can. “Then I shall be responsible for your clothing choice. Dressing you each morning. And if there is an event or social activity that requires different clothes, then I will select those too.”