Page 59 of Griffin Food

“You may lower your skirts and kneel on your cushion,” Atlas says.

My legs nearly give out as I rise. Somehow, I manage to drop to my knees again and resist the urge to fall upon him like a hussy.

He eats, occasionally pausing to feed me, and reads yet more scrolls.

When he finally holds out his hand, I must fight down a sob. I place my hand in his, knowing he’s about to help me to my feet, smooth my dress, and send me on my way.

“You’re very unsettled today,” he says—and my eyes flash to meet his. “This is probably a mistake, but so be it.”

He scoops me into his arms and settles me on his lap.

I burst into tears.

“There,” he murmurs. He draws me closer, tucking my cheek against his chest, a low, soothing sound rumbling from deep within him.

I cry quietly, without even knowing why.

“It’s all right,” he says. “Everything will be all right.”

I don’t believe him, but his steady warmth surrounds me, and his scent fills my nose. I cling to him, not wanting him to let me go. He holds me. His tea and urgent scrolls, forgotten.

I fall asleep. My rest has been fitful lately, and when I wake, I’m still in his arms.

“There,” he says. “Do you feel better now?”

“No,” I admit. I’m not one for petulance—I’m the least petulant of all my sisters—but after weeks of this restless hunger and ever-present arousal, I’m nothing but a creature.

He tips my chin until he can see my face and smiles. He should smile more often. It is undoubtedly the most beautiful thing in the world. I want to kiss him, to press my lips to that smile.

Leaning forward, he kisses my forehead—a sweet, tender gesture that isn’t nearly enough. Then he straightens my dress, sighing as he covers my breasts, and sets me back on my feet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Violet,” he says.

I’m dismissed. He returns to his scroll. I pick up the tray and, more confused than ever, quietly leave.

Chapter Eighteen

Fenix

Darrion is waiting for me at the entry cavern when I return from my patrol. I dismiss the rest of my wing and join him.

His posture is tense.

So am I. It’s early for this shit to be kicking off. Fucking typical that this would happen when there is an omega to claim and train.

Also, he smells of her, specifically her arousal, and it is very fucking distracting.

“They’re keeping to the cover of the trees, like they think that means we don’t notice.” I roll my eyes. Stupid humans. They seem to forget that aerial predators have eyesight and senses beyond their comprehension. “We spotted three different groups moving through the forest.”

“Scouting parties? Opportunist thugs?” Darrion asks.

“It’s hard to tell. All I know is that it’s too early for the dark fae bastards, and they don’t come from that direction anyway. No. This is a human kind of trouble.”

“It’s been a few years since they had a punt at the villages under our protection,” he says.

“You smell like her,” I blurt out, voice ripe with accusation that I do not even try to temper.

Darrion arches one noble brow and adjusts the cuffs on his silk jacket. He always was a pretentious prick. Also, he has not answered my fucking question.