Page 27 of Griffin Food

I gulp down the last of my pint and slide it onto the bar with a nod of thanks.

Rafe seems to pick up on my mood. “We’d better check on our mistress,” he says, giving the proprietor a nod and hustling me out.

“Your fucking eyes were glowing, idiot,” he says the moment we step outside.

“Glowing? A trick of the light. Nothing more… Did you hear what he said? Chosen one. That’s another word for omega. No fucking way our girl is staying in this village another night. We need to get her the fuck out of here. Now.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” he grits out. “If she gets wind that actual griffins are here, we’d have to gag and bind her and spirit her away.”

“I’m good with that.”

He does a double take. “Don’t put ideas in my head. We’re nothing to her, and our opinions only carry so much influence… It’s not like she remembers what we do when she’s in heat. We’re just a couple of former Queen’s Guards she pays to travel for protection.”

“She’s fucking close. And this time she’ll remember.”

“You said that last fucking time!”

“Well, all right then!” I scowl at him. “What’s your fucking plan?”

He swipes a hand down his face. “I don’t have one… But she’s a stubborn lass. No way we will get her to leave. If that Pride Leader gets a sniff of her, herbs or not, the bastard will be salivating all over her. Maybe Jim was fucking with us. I have a bad feeling he was not. You can bet if it’s true about them really being here, that damn scholar will be enlightening her right fucking now.”

Violet

Master Pugstone pats my hand, oblivious to the news he has just unleashed.

They need an omega.

I am an omega.

My instincts are in a state of riot. I want to see a griffin—I have traveled for more than a year and over great distances for exactly this reason—but seeing one now presents an unexpected risk.

I cannot stay.

I also cannot bear to leave and never see a griffin.

“No need for concern, my lady. They have not once snatched a lass, nor even a curious scholar, in my lifetime, and as you may surmise, I am old. Griffins have the highest levels of decorum—they are polite to a fault. The human eyrie community is nearly as large as Acton Trussell, and the people who make it their home serve the griffins by choice. Many have served the Griffin Pride for generations⁠—”

A knock sounds on the door, interrupting us. Master Pugstone’s housekeeper shows Rafe and Lark back in.

They were not gone very long…

“How was your chat?” Rafe asks politely.

He does not fool me. Since he first learned I was chasing after griffins, he has been skeptical at best. Only something in his dark expression is off today.

“They are here.” My words come out in a breathless rush. My smile feels a little wobbly.

“Pity we shall not get to see one,” Lark says brightly. “Mayhap we should be on our way come the morrow.”

“You’re not planning to stay long, then?” Master Pugstone’s face falls. “I was just explaining to your mistress that the griffin pride is broken and they only⁠—”

“Is there nowhere we might go to see one now? Maybe somewhere outside the village if they prefer to remain away at this time of year?” I interrupt lest Master Pugstone spill the beans about griffins mating omegas.

Rafe’s eyes have narrowed like he knows I interrupted something important.

A familiar tightening pulls low in my belly. I can admit that Rafe has become far more than a mere travel companion. I’m a little besotted with him, truth be told. Not that I would ever admit it, and I’m sure it would make him deeply uncomfortable if I did.

His sandy blond hair has grown out during our travels, been cut and grown again, and now curls around his collar in a way that makes my fingers itch to pet. Ruggedly handsome, he is ten years older than me and a former soldier in the war against the Blighten. When we first left, he was mostly deferential, and I use the term mostly in the loosest sense.