Page 69 of Griffin Food

I relax marginally when I’m near enough to grab her if necessary. Not that I expect her to throw herself to her death or anything that dramatic, it’s more a healthy awareness that she lacks built-in wings.

She gives me a wary look that tells me she’s not entirely at ease with me. I cannot say I blame her. Her arrival here was brutal. Still, that could not be helped.

My gaze drops from her pretty face and nervous eyes to her woolen dress, which is ugly as fuck. I don’t know why Atlas insists on dressing her in the thing. She should be wearing silk. Or naked. Naked is acceptable, too.

That thought doesn’t help my self-control, being all alone with a sweet, tasty little morsel of prey. Our Pride Leader’s methods are strange, to say the least—but they are effective, too, as our newest member, Lark, will attest.

I strip off my jacket and settle it over her shoulders. It swallows her whole, down to the floor. She grips the collar with small fingers and looks up at me.

My cock wakes up instantly. Fine. I can admit I like her being in something of mine—my scent clinging to her body. The blush on her cheeks is most becoming… The last time we met, she was bent over Atlas’s desk with her pussy on display. I dare say we are both thinking about that now.

My cock thickens and lengthens behind my pants. I ignore it as best as I can. “Raiders were sighted near a village.”

“Acton Trussell?” Her eyes widen, and her hand goes to her chest. “Master Pugstone! Are they safe?”

“Not Acton. And yes, they will be protected,” I say.

Her hand drops slowly, but her eyes shift to the view of the valley, and her frown remains… until her nose suddenly twitches and lowers, brushing the collar of my jacket. Her arousal sparks. Darkan clacks his beak approvingly. Fuck, I like it too.

As she catches herself, her head snaps up, and her eyes turn shifty. “He asked you to watch me, didn’t he?”

I shrug. “He did.”

She is an enticing little thing. Much as I enjoyed staring at her wet pussy while Atlas was teasing her, I cannot deny that I like conversing with her, too. Her nearness, her scent, her shy glances. And so lusty. I’m not the only one staring in her room every night. We are all fucking addicted to watching. Because for now, watching is all we can do.

“Well, that makes everything as clear as mud,” she mutters under her breath.

My lips twitch. “Go ahead and ask if you have questions.”

She blinks. There is a lot going on behind her expressive eyes before she finally throws out, “I don’t know what I am to you,” which throws me, and before I can answer, she continues. “Atlas treats me like I’m a possession—owned. And you—” A flush creeps up her throat, even as her tone holds heavy accusation. “You pulled up a chair.”

“Pretty and bold,” Darkan muses, flexing his wings in display within my mind.

“None of this is mutually exclusive,” I say, grasping blindly for words.

She huffs and looks away. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Are you?” I ask, going on a gut feeling, because this is a groundbreaking discussion between us, and one I was not expecting to have now or even today. “Did you not travel far from home to see a griffin? That does not strike me as a woman easily afraid… You looked lovely draped over Atlas’s desk. You did not seem afraid then either.”

She swallows. The air grows charged. “I’ve always been a little obsessed with mythology.”

“It’s not really mythology when it’s real,” I counter softly. Her eyes are on me, intent, watchful, and I like the feel of them very much. “Griffin shifters are complex compared to other shifters. We were not always this, but ordinary humans, once, and before the bonding. My griffin's name is Darkan. He lay in slumber for many human lifetimes before he roused to bond with me. We are two souls within one body. He is older. Wilder.”

She smiles. It’s warm and genuine, and I love that I put it there. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“No one outside the pride does.”

Something shifts inside her—not fear, not quite. Curiosity, edged with the same reckless wanting that brought her to us in the first place.

“Can I… Can I see him?”

I should apply caution—Atlas will be pissed—but I step back and yield to Darkan.

Feathers burst outward, a sweep of ash and gold. Darkan lands before her in full form—massive and dread-inspiring.

She gasps, hand flying to her mouth.

“Well met, little mate,” Darkan says, although she cannot yet hear him, for we have not yet consummated our bond. “We are the first griffin to formally meet her, and at her request. Aldric will be ruffled when he learns.” A low clacking chuckle follows, full of pride and a good measure of smug.