Page 147 of Griffin Food

I guess the bastards will see me coming on the battlefield, if the gold plating doesn’t blind them first. Otherwise, I’ll make a very nice target.

A dry chuckle escapes me.

At least I won’t grow. According to Master Pugstone, alphas who are not natural shifters, the way that Lark and the griffins are, don’t get the sizing boost.

So I’m just going to be a big bastard like this all the time, it would seem.

Gods.

I swipe my hand down my face and try to get a grip. The memories of my transition are vague, and that’s probably for the best. Pain. Writhing. A soft hand upon my brow. The sense that I was losing connection to life. Through it all, Violet was calling to me, keeping me tethered to this earthly life.

And then, when I opened my eyes to the vision of her being mounted by Lark in his werebeast form.

Fuck.

I mean, a decent man ought to be horrified seeing that sweet lass getting railed by a werebeast. But damn if it wasn’t the most compelling sight of my life.

And what did I do afterward? I took my turn. I locked my knot into a slick, fisting channel.

The door behind me creaks gently. The woman who owns my life and heart peeks in. Her face splits into a beaming smile, and she darts in to throw her arms around me.

“Oof. Steady, lass. This armor is very hard, and you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care.”

I know she’s squeezing me around it, but I hardly feel a thing. I gently thread my fingers through her hair, careful of my great strength. “Have you shrunk?” I tease.

She snorts a giggle against my chest and then peers up at me. “Trust me, it is not I who has shrunk. It is you who has grown.”

Her eyes roam over the breadth of my chest and shoulders with impish interest, like she is thinking of removing the armor for a more thorough inspection.

No. Don’t think about that. This is definitely not a rutting time. Also, the poor lass has to be sore…

“Kiss me,” she says, gazing up into my eyes. “Kiss me before you go.”

The joy that was in her eyes a few moments ago is gone. The seriousness of the situation facing us is reflected back at me.

How sobering this moment is.

I clasp my oversized hands around her cheeks and kiss her softly, then firmer, before I force myself to lean away.

“Atlas is waiting,” she says. “He will bring you up to speed.”

I nod, snatch my helm from the side, adjust my sword belt, and then, with her hand in mine, I leave the room.

As we leave our quarters and take the corridors toward the upper part of the eyrie and the council room where Atlas is waiting, there’s a faint blush on her cheeks. When I send her a questioning look, she shrugs.

“I can speak to his griffin… I can speak to all the griffins, even the unbound ones.”

I was already aware she could mind-speak with her other mates—and now with me, as she did during… No, I’m not going down the rutting route again, lest I get distracted. I raise both brows before a smile tugs at my lips. “That’s a lot of griffins, lass.”

“They are terribly polite and don’t intrude. Although I sense their curiosity about me. They are so very formal. I feel deeply honored whenever they choose to converse with me.”

“Aye, I can only imagine,” I say.

As my boots ring against the flagstones, I’m struck once again by the many transitions since we arrived. In Violet. In Lark. And lastly, within myself.

I had resolved myself to my place as a beta consort, believing I might never be able to mind-speak with Violet the way she could with her other mates.