Page 75 of Griffin Food

Darkan hums his approval beneath my skin. “Offer her our jacket to layer with her other things in her nest…”

My grin is broad, thinking about Lark and Rafe getting all riled up when they find something of mine. “If you like my jacket, feel free to keep it for your nest.”

Her eyes pop open to peer up at me. She doesn’t answer, but her fingers tighten over the collar just a touch.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Atlas

The moment I land at the eyrie, I know that something is wrong. Scents. One soft and lingering, the other masculine: Darrion and Violet.

Godsdamned presumptuous male.

“Where is she?” I demand through the bond. “And where are you?”

The mutt bursts into the craggy upper landing. He must have taken the passage from the ground entry here at a dead run. He is still in direwolf form, and his hackles are up.

He stills abruptly, lifts his nose to the air, and growls. “Darrion. Why is that bastard’s scent layered over Violet’s?”

“A good question.” Fenix lands to my right. “I believe he would not dare. Then again, this is Darrion, and he has ever had problems with boundaries.”

“We are in your study,” Darrion replies mildly. “She is asleep. I’m on the other side of the room. I am not even touching her, and nor have I.”

That calms me somewhat.

“Come,” I say, shifting to human and manifesting my clothing into place.

Fenix falls in step on my right side. Lark takes the left, still a direwolf, which brings a fleeting smile to my lips—he is already very much attached to the beast he has only met today.

The nearby pride members eyeball me as I storm past.

Violet

Darrion is still watching me. But as he has just pointed out, it is his right. The parameters of this new world I have been thrust into are still new to me.

His other words linger. I have questions. Rafe is resting. Lark is battling. That I may go anywhere I wish. That I am not owned, but chosen, and that I may also choose.

That I may keep his jacket for my nest if I wish to. And I do wish to.

The moment he mentioned it, my fingers tightened upon it. The thought of giving it away? Impossible. I’m not stupid. Putting it in my nest will cause problems with my other mates.

I groan under my breath.

Is this me admitting that Darrion is my mate, too? I understand that Atlas is. But Darrion?

He watched me spread over Atlas’s desk, vulnerable and needy. From the moment I arrived, it has not only been Atlas’s scent working upon me; it has been Darrion’s too.

And Fenix’s, the little voice taunts in the back of my mind. However, I do not know the third griffin shifter as well.

Fine, he’s handsome. His russet-colored griffin might be the most beautiful of them all. His feathers might not be as lustrous as Darrion’s, nor as impressively huge as Atlas’s. But he is pretty.

This time I groan for real and go so far as to drag the jacket right over my head. A faint chuckle sounds on the other side of the room. I don’t care if he’s amused. He can’t watch me anymore now, can he?

He’s going to be my mate.

A little tingly sensation manifests between my legs. I’m getting hot under here. I try to blame it on the thick jacket covering my head. But the fact is, I’m getting squirmy, thinking about Darrion putting his hands on me.

“Don’t be alarmed, little one,” Darrion says from the other side of the room.