Page 85 of Griffin Food

“No.” He executes an acute turn and narrowly misses the grip of my claws.

I bank sharply, feeling the strain along the length of my wings as they are buffeted by the wind, but determined, as Aldric so calmly intoned, to remind Fenix of his place.

Which is fucking third.

And then I’m on him. He swings around to face me. Our claws latch together. The glow streaming off him is near blinding.

“I only went down on her,” he delivers in a rush.

Only.

I put all my brute strength into my grip, using the momentum to swing him as I release him. Then I fold my wings and charge him, pounding him with the full force of my weight.

A shower of glowing feathers litters the sky.

“Try not to kill him,” Darrion says helpfully.

I’m vaguely aware that the other griffins have taken to the air and are circling, but I’ve not finished with Fenix. This time, when he turns to meet my attack, I take him by the throat, and realizing how the ground now looms, slam him into the grassy bank. I open my beak and roar out a screech. His griffin trembles, head turning to the side as he exposes his throat to me in an act of submission.

“You overstepped your place!”

“I know,” he says. “I fucking know.”

The ground thuds as griffins land around us. I ball my claw into a fist and slam it into the side of his beak, and then I spring off him and land a few paces away before shifting to human. He lies there, chest heaving and winded.

“Shift, cub, lest I be taken by the urge to thump you again.”

He shifts, rubbing his jaw, eyes wary as they rest on me.

Darrion lands beside me, executing a perfect shift to human at the last second. He folds his arms. “You got off lightly, Fenix.”

Fenix, never subdued for long, straightens his abnormally broad shoulders and glares at my second. “Yeah?” He smirks. “Wait till he finds out about your jacket that happened to find its way into her nest.”

Darrion’s smug expression falters as I turn to glare at him. “It would seem we are all feeling a little unsettled by the omega, and not entirely thinking straight,” he says baldly.

I slug him in the face.

He gives me a wary look and tests his jaw with a wince. “Thank you,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “That cleared up any confusion we harbored about our place.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Violet

Isleep deeply but wake restless. The nest just doesn’t feel right without Rafe. Then there is what happened last night, and the glowing, pumped-up version of Fenix to contend with—more than enough reminder that everything has changed.

Pete comes to collect Lark for work.

Hot on his heels is Grace. “You are late, lass!” she states. “Quickly now. It doesn’t do to keep Master Atlas waiting for his morning refreshment.”

Really? I am still expected to take him breakfast after everything that happened yesterday? This is truly ridiculous.

I’m late, so there is no time to take my usual bath. Well, so be it. Atlas is just going to have to deal with me smelling of other males.

I’m in a bad mood by the time I arrive at his door. Fully prepared to put Atlas in his place and demand that he release Rafe at once. I don’t even care about the Goddess or laws of nature. My new status as griffin food ought to demand some respect.

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve negotiated the door with the tray in my hands. But it is still not easy. I’m huffing and puffing with irritation as I finally pass the sturdy door and kick it into the jamb with my foot.

Atlas raises his eyes from the scroll he was examining and arches one imperious brow.