Page 77 of Griffin Food

I’m still quaking a little. Everyone else seems calm, like the wolf is not a threat. They all want to claim me. They would hardly let me be savaged. Maybe this is like a guard wolf? He is very handsome. His coat is shimmering white in the light, and his eyes are a bright, winter blue. Now that there is a little space between us, I can fully admire his size and deadly air of beauty.

“What sort of wolf is he?” I ask.

“A direwolf,” Atlas says.

Fenix is still standing to the side of the couch, his wings wafting slowly.

“He is huge,” I state the obvious. “And very intense. Why does he belong to me? Is he to guard me?”

Atlas steps up behind the wolf, rests his hand on the scruff of his neck and rubs it. The wolf’s ears flick back, and he growls. I am on to him now, and I believe it is no more than an indication of mild vexation. Atlas continues petting him. The wolf stops growling, turns back to me.

“I believe you claimed him some time ago,” Atlas explains, taking his hand away.

“I don’t remember claiming any wolf… Why is his scent so familiar…” My eyes suddenly widen, and my hands fly to my face as though to hide from this dawning truth. “Oh no.”

The wolf yips.

“It’s… No. It cannot be.”

“It very much is,” Darrion says, coming to stand on Lark’s other side.

Lark? “You’re telling me this is Lark?”

Fenix shrugs. “I believe you already know.”

“Goddess,” I say inadequately. “How? Why? When?”

“Just before we were called to the village,” Atlas says. “We suspected when you first arrived, but it took a little time to coax him to reveal. He’s new to this form. I dare say he might spend a great deal of time like this, at least at first. He has changed back to human once, so I know that he can.”

I rise slowly, even now that I’m standing and with him sitting my head only reaches his chest. The wolf—Lark—watches me intently. I reach out my hand, tentatively, and yet I see that it is him. And I feel it inside me. I know.

My fingers sink into the soft fur at the side of his snout. He issues a sweet, rumbly purr and presses into my touch. I heave a ragged breath, and then with a sob throw my arms around him.

“Oh, Lark, you are so beautiful. How did you hide this so long?”

He purrs and licks me wherever his snout can reach as I giggle and sob, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Then my mind skips back, and I peer around him to where Atlas watches me. “What has happened to Rafe? Is he⁠—”

Atlas shakes his head slowly. “Rafe is a work in progress. But we have begun.”

“You’re talking in riddles,” I say, my lips trembling anew. “And you are scaring me. I want to see him.”

“That would not be advisable,” Atlas says.

Lark growls low, eyeballing Atlas.

“Rafe is not a wolf shifter,” I say.

“He is not,” Atlas agrees.

“Then what are you talking about? What has begun? What are you doing to him?”

“I don’t know what he is,” Atlas says, and I sense the truth in his words. “Yet. Beyond that, he is not a beta. You are here with us. Destined to be a mate to griffins. You are no ordinary woman. Not even an ordinary omega. That you chose Rafe tells me he is likewise not ordinary.”

The words are out. Clear and unambiguous. I am to be their mate.

Something has begun. Something unknown. A terrible fear for Rafe bears down upon me.