Page 48 of Griffin Food

And then, although my entire body is gripped by tension, I take the few steps until I stand before Atlas. His wings suddenly snap into existence, creating a shadow over us.

I accept his hand.

That touch ignites a spark against my skin.

My eyes lift and slam into his.

The faintest curve of his lips.

“I am proud of you, little red. Proud to receive your trust. Know that I shall honor it. Now, come, we have much to do.”

Chapter Fourteen

Violet

Leaving his second and third with Rafe and Lark, Atlas takes me to meet a matronly woman he introduces as Grace. With white hair and a beaming smile, she clucks over me like I’m a long-lost daughter.

I had only vague notions of what might happen next. Despite Atlas’s determination that nothing untoward was about to befall me, I was nevertheless wary and braced for ravishment.

I was not expecting this and am deeply conscious of my situation, being covered in crusted cum and wearing only a barely adequate pelt.

“Aye, the lass needs something to wear other than a pelt,” Grace says, admonishing Atlas with a click of her tongue. “And some shoes, lest her poor feet get cold.”

“If I had my way, she would be naked,” he replies bluntly, turning my thoughts back to ravishment…

My eyes shoot to his, going wide—the devilish male smirks.

“I’ll see to it at once,” Grace says. “We’ll get her something from the stores. And what after, my lord?”

“She is to be my personal attendant,” Atlas says, all hint of amusement gone. “Have her bring my morning refreshments to my room.”

Grace bobs her head.

Without another glance at me, Atlas pivots and strides off.

I stare after him.

“There now, lass,” Grace says. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into some fresh clothes. And maybe a bit of breakfast. I heard you went into heat. Have you eaten anything since?”

“Ah—no. I don’t believe I did,” I say, inadequately. Talking about my heat and whether or not I ate anything is strangely intimate.

“Well, don’t you worry, lass. We’ll get you fed. Atlas expects his morning refreshment at ten promptly, so we’d best be ready for that. He’s a fair leader, but very regimented. Doesn’t do to keep him waiting, mind you.”

This is all very curious. I’m escorted into a room full of warm, steamy air and rows of cubicles with cloth openings. When I peek inside the one she stops at, I find a copper bath, complete with plumbing.

“Go ahead,” she says. “You’ll find all the soaps set out. Towels are in the rack behind. I’ll get you fresh clothes.” She bustles off, dragging the cloth over the entry to enclose me in, her footsteps fading into the distance.

I put the plug in and turn on the tap, and warm water spews into the bath in no time, filling the space with warm, fragrant air. As soon as it’s full, I drop the dirty pelt to the floor and clamber in.

Bliss.

I’ve been traveling for so very long. It’s not often easy—or even possible—to get a decent bath. It’s one of the few things I miss about my once stately home: the availability of ready hot water. This bath is simple and rustic compared to my personal bathing chamber back at my family residence. Still, my expectations were reset long ago, and finding a bounty of clean, warm water is heaven. The herby soap on the side smells wonderful, and I wash myself, ridding my body of the filth of my heat, washing what happened away.

The last time I washed myself was in a stream… when my memories began to return, and just before the griffins arrived… The terror of that moment comes back to me, and my breath catches in my throat.

I have gone through my heat while griffins watched.

How did I ever forget what happened between us? It’s like waking from a deep dream—one full of shadows and darkness—and stepping into the light. And yet, there were specters watching me, and they took the form of griffins.