Page 125 of Griffin Food

That is Lark. He is the one holding me. But I am inconsolable and weep.

“Quickly, bind him!”

That is Atlas.

“Don’t hurt him,” I beg.

“They are helping him,” Lark says. “Gods! Keep still, woman, you are bleeding all over the fucking place!”

A roar pierces the cacophony.

Someone curses. “Fuck it! Hold him! HOLD HIM!”

Atlas

The timing could have been better,” Darrion grits out.

He is not wrong.

“Uff!”

With superhuman strength, Rafe manages to get a single arm free and swats Fenix aside as though he were a fly. Fenix, unperturbed by this development, dives straight back in and throws his weight across Rafe’s legs.

It is not much of an opening, but it is enough, and I finally manage to get the belt around his wrists and yank it tight.

Lark at least has the presence of mind to get Violet out of the way, and not a moment too soon, as the door to the nest bursts open, and Vander and another dozen guards storm in.

It enrages me that these other males are in her nesting space, but needs must, for Rafe’s life is on the line.

“Not only his life,” Aldric cautions me.

“Not now,” I snarl back, still wrestling to subdue Rafe.

Under his roaring, I can hear Violet sobbing. I can feel her distress through the burgeoning bond that links us, her terror and confusion.

“Help me get him into the main room.”

He’s still fighting like a demon as we carry him out. My once private quarters are a frenzy of activity. But with the help of many hands and brute strength, we get him to a litter where we can strap the convulsing man down and force a gag between his teeth. He is shivering hard now, and a blanket is dropped over his body.

The main doors are flung wide. Master Pugstone and our resident physician, Master Lychen, sweep into the room.

“Rafe!”

Violet’s cry shreds my resolve to remain calm. I snag her just before she launches herself at Rafe.

“Hold, love,” I say, dragging her close.

Rafe’s shivers ramp up. It looks as though his skin pulses. Then dreadful snapping sounds begin, like boots on a dry twig. More and more. Bruises form across the skin, sharp angles straining the flesh.

Behind the gag, Rafe screams.

“What is happening?!” Violet begs of me, fighting to be free.

I cup her face to my chest, shielding her from the view.

Master Lychen drops his leather bag to the floor beside Rafe and fumbles to open it quickly.

“Hold his nose,” he instructs.