Page 82 of Griffin Food

Then there is Darrion. Refined. Calculating, like he doesn’t want to want me, and yet he does. The two of them are forces of nature. It’s hardly surprising I’ve given so little attention to Fenix—until now, when I’m here, enclosed in a room with him and Lark. And I see the colors of him. Not the physical colors, but the ones inside. The pattern. The shape of the man. But not all of it—just hints, like I’m looking through a moving window and seeing parts, knowing there is so much more. He is beautiful, resplendent, and yet he harbors a strange, brooding darkness. His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. There is a slight sheen to his face and throat, his potent pheromones filling the air.

He shouldn’t be in here. That is the bottom line. But Lark has not yet sent him away, beyond challenging him as to his intentions. I thought the griffins above us, and that we are subservient to them. And yet I reframe that opinion today. It is more of a collaboration that has yet to find its flow.

Fenix’s need is like a blanket. One that does not weigh me down. It is light, gentle, and coaxing—the kind you want to snuggle into and never leave. I have not met his griffin. Not in the way I met Darrion’s, however briefly. I do not even know the name of Fenix’s griffin, but he peers out of Fenix’s eyes. Strangely, they do not have Atlas’s predatory air. They are hungry, yes, but they also hold a note of worship. Like I am the altar he wishes to pray at. The notion is fanciful, and yet it is lodged in my mind.

“I have no will to send him away,” I say.

Lark growls low. “We’re going to have a war on our hands if Atlas finds him in here.”

I do not claim to be reckless. And yet I have had moments of recklessness in my life, most of which came about since I revealed as an omega. I am once more cognizant of the two sides of me: the sensible scholar who enjoys books and learning, and the sensual omega who follows instincts and patterns, and whose instincts are calling now.

And this griffin shifter with the pretty, whirling golden eyes, I believe with wholehearted clarity, will be my mate.

This place, this nest, this chamber with the windows where anyone might see. It is like stepping out of time. The moment feels small and fleeting. And I know not what tomorrow will bring. I only know that here I find escape from worries about what next.

Lark rocks on his heels and shifts to my side. He is no longer staring Fenix down, but looking expectantly at me.

This is my decision.

Darrion’s words play once more upon my mind. I can go anywhere I choose. I can have anything I choose.

And anyone.

Things become apparent as I drink my fill of the beautiful male with the stunning russet wings. They are waiting for me to choose. Waiting for me to choose them.

The sense of power is heady. It lands unexpectedly. With power comes responsibility, and I must choose wisely. For when I choose, it is forever.

I do not know yet this man’s soul, nor that of his griffin, whom he is bound to for life. I have seen good and bad. The terrible day we arrived, the fear that coursed through me then—the seeming cruelty of the griffins. And yet there is also no artifice in this man.

Darrion is a man of games. Atlas is not. Fenix is different yet again. He is blunt and open. He does not have subtext. With Fenix, what you see is what you get.

He doesn’t move. He’s waiting, watching emotions play out on my face, I have no doubt. I’m so slick between my legs, arousal pulsing, the anticipation of Lark rutting me, and the glory of his magnificent wolf, whom I have only today met. I’m aware of his cock, dripping pre-cum over Darrion’s silk jacket. And I discover I have a wicked side, for I very much like that.

To have his jacket brought here was presumptuous of him. In truth, I wanted it here. And now it is here, I like the feel of it beneath me, the soft, cool texture, and his scent.

But Fenix is right there. Waiting. Looking at me like I am vital nourishment. I do not understand the how, only that it is true.

I decide he is worthy and let go of hesitation… let go of the bookworm scholar—although I know she is still there and part of me, and a large part at that. But I also have a rich inner side. The omega that I have smothered for so long, when I should have celebrated her and cherished the instincts that she holds. This male calls to my instincts, and so I lift my hand, holding it out to him.

His wings snap a little straighter. They are so broad that they cast a shadow over the nest. He steps forward slowly. One step. Two steps. Until he takes my hand and drops to his knees.

“You make my mouth water,” he says. His eyes skim down from mine, over my body, lingering on my breasts, before traveling over my stomach until they stop at the apex of my thighs. “Can I have a taste?”

My heart is hammering in my throat. I feel drugged by how much I need his touch. I sense Lark looking between us, wary and curious, and if his scent is any indication, likewise thoroughly aroused. “You may.”

Fenix wets his lips again. “I want only to pleasure you.”

And I believe him. There is a kind of fever gripping him, one that leaks into me. His movements are slow and unhurried as he kneels between my thighs. He is still clothed. I am naked, my clothing stripped from me in a frenzy when I first arrived.

His head lowers toward mine. I don’t realize I’m gripping Lark’s hand until he returns a gentle squeeze and offers the low warning rumble in his chest.

Fenix pauses, his lips an inch away from mine. I can hear my heart thudding in my ears, feel it pulsing in my throat. I’m alive, almost dizzy with pleasure. He hasn’t even touched me yet.

“Please,” I whisper.

His eyes are on mine. I don’t think I blink as his lips lower, and then we touch. He groans against my mouth. My eyes turn half-mast, but I cannot bring them to close. He stares back at me. As his tongue sweeps inside between my parted lips, he groans once again.

The kiss is extraordinarily gentle. It is not what I expected at all. The hunger that seems to burn within him almost dictates brutality, yet he is breathtakingly careful.