Page 73 of Griffin Food

His lips tighten. He looks very much the displeased male. “They are indisposed.”

“Indisposed how?”

He exhales heavily. “Rafe is… resting. And Lark went with them.”

“Lark left? Without telling me? How could you let him?!” Also, why did he stumble over the resting part regarding Rafe? They have been working them to the point of exhaustion, and I don’t trust this sudden determination that Rafe must rest. My fury burns through every scrap of hesitation I have left. I march right up to Darrion and jab him in the chest.

“You have bony little fingers,” he observes, curling his hand around mine, stroking his thumb over the back of my hand. “He is fine… They are all fine. Already on their way back.”

That knocks the bluster right out of me.

“Now,” he continues, “you are shivering. You may wait for them in your nest. Or you may wait in Atlas’s study.”

“I can go to his study? Even without him there?”

“That is what I said, is it not?”

“Fine, then. I want to go to his study.”

He gives me a perplexed look, then sweeps his arm out for me to precede him.

“I… uh… do you want your jacket back?”

“No.”

Well. That was blunt. Like he is annoyed at me for even asking. His jacket is practically smothering me and will drag along the stone floor when I walk. But if he doesn’t mind it getting scuffed and dirty, who am I to argue?

We head inside and take the corridor leading to Atlas’s study. Although Darrion said Lark was fine, I’m still worried. What if he’s injured? Darrion does not strike me as the kind of man who troubles himself with such details.

“What about Rafe?” I ask. “What’s happening to him that he is resting? And were… were any of the others hurt?”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “No. None of them was unduly hurt.”

This does not offer much greater comfort. I want to press further, but we’re already at the door to Atlas’s study. It feels strange entering without knocking, but Darrion turns the handle and pushes the doors open, then steps aside for me to go first.

Atlas’s scent lingers in the air. Darrion follows me in and closes the door behind us. The room feels suddenly smaller when his wings snap open and rise behind him in two giant brown fans.

He scowls like their arrival annoys him. Then mutters a curse under his breath, and they snap folded in against his back.

My eyes become glued to them. I force myself to look away, toward the shelves lined with books and strange devices. It’s not as though I get a lot of time to look around when I’m here with Atlas. I’m usually looking at him… more specifically his cock while kneeling at his feet. No, don’t think about that now. “I didn’t think I’d be allowed in here.”

“You are allowed anywhere you choose,” he says.

My head snaps back toward him.

“You are not owned, little omega. You are chosen. And you may choose in return,” he said. Only I spoke true when I said I did not trust him. “Why? I’m naught but a servant.”

His chuckle is low and husky. “Playing coy again, Violet?”

My temper flares. “He treats me like a servant. Bringing him food. Kneeling on the floor while he eats.”

“If you think he asks every servant to kneel at his feet, or that he spreads them out upon his desk and watches their cunt drip for him, then you are far more naive than I presumed.”

My cheeks burn. “He does not do that with the others?” I want to swallow my own words and the insecurity they reveal.

He looks amused now. “No. He assuredly does not.”

Now I’m unsettled. Even though I sort of knew. Hoped…