Page 74 of Griffin Food

Gods, where did the hope part come from? He has turned me into a hussy… a bigger hussy, I reflect, my cheeks getting even hotter. I’m already obsessed with Atlas—with Darrion too, after he watched—and just being in this room makes my pussy grow wet.

Darrion lifts one brow like my thoughts are written on my damn face. I turn away, seeing a long couch that rests before the wall of bookcases, plump and inviting in deep burgundy velvet. My feet carry me toward it and away from Darrion’s probing look. Yet his scent follows me, for I still wear his jacket. I cannot bear to take it off, although it is not even cold here.

I trail my fingers over the velvet on the arm of the couch, finding it soft and warm beneath my touch. I’m not sleeping much of late. The urge to curl up and rest hits me hard.

I glance back to find Darrion watching me like the predator he is.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Several plump cushions are scattered, and my fingers itch to touch them. After so many years denying my nesting urges, a surge of righteousness grips me. And why shouldn’t I touch them?

Before I register what I’m doing, I’ve plumped one to my liking and curled on my side around it, coat drawn up to my shoulders.

The room smells of Atlas.

The coat of Darrion.

And, just faintly, a little of Fenix lingers too.

I breathe it all in.

Darrion

She curls around the cushion like a little forest creature making a nest, buried under my jacket, breathing deeply like she enjoys my scent against her skin—or Atlas’s. And, perhaps, Fenix’s too, for the room carries a faint trace of him as well.

Those are not the only scents on her—her mates’ lingers too, hardly surprising, given all the rutting they do.

I scowl. My wings flare again before I can stop them.

“For the love of the Goddess! What are you doing?”

“Presenting,” Darkan says, as though this is fucking obvious. “Aldric has gotten a head start. We must likewise set out our stall. Our feathers are more lustrous than his and look particularly fetching in this lamplight.”

Fetching in this lamplight? What the fuck?! Who is this imposter in my mind? Darkan is battle-hardy and the least emotionally nuanced being I have ever met.

“She cannot even see when she has her eyes closed!” I point out.

I will them to at least fold against my back, but the feathers twitch along the edges, reacting to her presence despite my irritation. She has been in this room for less than a minute, and already the air is too warm.

This was a mistake. She shouldn’t be here alone with me. It was bad enough on the upper entry with the wind beating against us and carrying some of her scent away. But here, enclosed, with no chance of someone happening upon us…

I rub absently at the center of my chest, still feeling the impression of where her bony little finger poked.

She sighs, nestling deeper into the velvet couch and my jacket.

“She likes our scent,” Darkan informs me.

My grunt is derogatory. She brings change. Change is not always good. I never thought I’d be bothered if Atlas took a mate, beyond the fact that it meant I could choose one too, if I wished. Certainly, I never expected to be caught up in it myself, nor did I envision something as complex as this.

Small. Fragile. Vulnerable in a way that rouses protectiveness and hunger in equal measure.

I drag my gaze away, jaw tightening.

“You’re staring,” she says.

So, she is faking sleep, it would seem. I smirk. “It is my right to watch you.” Only now I’m thinking about watching her through the viewing windows when her mates take her… and about her draped over Atlas’s desk like an offering, slick dripping…

My wings flex again.