Page 92 of Griffin Food

The fae lord is already moving off.

Molly begins to cry, her sobs going with her as she is taken away, and the rest of us are dismissed.

She has only been here a month. Perhaps not long enough to hear the tales.

I ask myself if it is better or worse that she does not know.

Chapter Thirty-One

Fenix

Present day…

The memory digs in. It always fucking does. But I shove it down and focus on the now.

Vander takes Rafe to get cleaned up. I’m not popular at the moment and fully intend to slink off where I can brood in peace.

Not a godsdamned chance. Atlas narrows his eyes on me like my mere presence offends him, and then motions Darrion and me to accompany him. Fucking great. Not only is he pissed at me, but he wants me close where he can remind me that he’s pissed at me.

The mutt falls in step with us. Lark is very attached to his direwolf form. Other than when he was getting blown by Violet last eve, he pretty much stays as his wolf.

Galeor decides now is the right time to bombard me with some filthy visuals he saved from last night. “Delicious,” he rumbles, preening his feathers in the back of my mind and crooning softly to himself.

Fucking crooning?! She has broken him.

Fine, she has broken me, too.

The moment we enter Atlas’s study, her scent crashes into me. My wings spread to their full width, as do Atlas’s and Darrion’s. The mutt is also fucking here. He’s as big as a horse and takes up what little room exists between our flapping wings.

“Atlas should consider getting a larger study,” Galeor observes. He has stopped preening and is riveted—as I am—by the omega nesting on Atlas’s couch.

“Oh,” Violet says, her eyes going wide as she takes us in. The blanket that was covering her slips from her shoulder.

“You have no idea how to dress a woman,” Darrion mutters.

I mean, he’s not wrong. The wool dress she’s wearing is ugly as fuck.

“We should keep her naked,” Galeor says conversationally. “Available for feeding.”

I swallow thickly as he drags up yet more detailed imagery of her coming. “Not fucking now.” Violet’s face has turned beet red, and she is staring at me.

Gods, she tasted so fucking good.

A growl erupts from Atlas’s chest. He is not ordinarily a growly sort of male. I turn and glare at him. “What the fuck? You have already put me in my place. It was not my idea to come here!”

The look he levels me with says he is thinking about thumping me again. He strides forward and lifts Violet into his arms before striding to his desk. He sits with her on his lap, and somehow, his wings remain open and proud, and not at all awkward.

Bastard.

Darrion grunts and collects a chair. I do the same. The mutt flops his giant body in front of the door, creating a barrier between us and any potential threat.

There is going to be a lot of adjustment needed all around.

“We need a plan,” Atlas announces.

Before he can say more, a knock sounds on the door—the mutt growls. Aldric must have words with it, for it suddenly shuts up and moves from the door.

“Enter,” Atlas calls.