Page 100 of Griffin Food

“Aye,” he says. “And no fucking way you’re lugging a mattress over here on your own. Show me which one you want, and I will bring it.”

My eyes bob down to where his cock is standing to attention and flexing. I swallow. Words elude me. Where has all the air gone from the room?

“I am up here, lass,” he says.

I drag my eyes up to find him smirking.

He shakes his head and tuts. “Lass, you have a one-track mind. Thank the Goddess. Focus. Mattress first, then you may nest, and then, if you are still inclined toward some play time.” He waggles his eyebrows. “My male parts you love so well are all yours.”

“Male parts…” Someone has swapped my brains for wool. It is very hard to focus when he is right there, roguishly handsome with his goods on display. “Wait!” I hold up a hand. “How did you know about the mattress?” My hands fly to my face. “You can hear me? You heard…”

He smirks. “Aye, the bit about the knot.” He turns and strides out of the door, heading back to the part of the quarters where I spotted the mattresses stowed. I feast my eyes on his ass… and back, and the muscular form of his legs while biting on my lower lip.

What is a girl to do when presented with this much temptation?

I hurry after him lest he pick the wrong mattress, already determined this nest shall be built post haste.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Rafe

The day is long and eventful. Earlier, Atlas sent word to the neighboring eyries, requesting urgent talks with all the Pride Leaders. When the griffin patrols return with news, a meeting is called.

I am a soldier at heart. Not a strategic thinker. As I sit to Atlas’s right at the large oval table that seats ten griffin wing leaders, the commander of the eyrie army, and his two lieutenants, I understand that Atlas is a strategist.

I am grateful for it, given Violet’s sister on the warpath, which we have now confirmed. Not only her sister, but the High King himself and several Hydornian great houses have pitched in.

I did not realize how many griffins there were here, with each wing leader having four or five griffins. Darrion and Fenix lead their own wings as well as their place as Atlas’s second and third. That Fenix, one of the youngest griffins here by all accounts, has risen to lead his own wing says something of his skills and power as both a griffin and a man.

The human commander, Dirk, is steady and plain-speaking, which I appreciate given the gravity of the situation. “There is no evidence that the dark fae are involved, but it seems likely they are and provide the portal access,” he says. “We have had word from King Raphael of Sanctum, King Alder of the Citadel, and even the stag King, Seven. They have offered no passage to a human army. Their portal keystones are accounted for… The wolf packs have long-standing hostilities with the dark fae but remain fractured since their royal line went into exile a hundred years ago. No unified response expected from that quarter—though there are rumors of a young claimant attempting to reunite them.”

I know nothing of the dark fae beyond that they are bloodthirsty heathens who enslave humans. It is not unusual for them to raid over winter, so I have learned. Much like the Blighten orcs scour Hydornia and the Imperium for slaves, so the dark fae, as portal masters, similarly raid to replenish their slaves and ‘food stocks’ from this world. By food stocks, I mean humans. And not the griffin kind of food, more suck-them-dry-and-leave-their-withered-corpse-in-the-snow kind of food.

“The dark fae do not often form alliances,” Atlas says at length. Unusually, he does not have his wings out—none of the griffins do, which is for the best given the limited space around the table. A giant map is laid out in the center, and his eyes rest upon it. “But it is possible if their objectives align.” He glances across at Vander, the wing leader, who often puts Lark and me through our paces under the guise of a training session. “What was the word from the other eyries?”

Vander lists three Pride Leaders who have pledged, and another two who wish to meet with Atlas first. “Then there is Ador, who is already bemoaning compensation before he will commit.”

“He has a short memory,” Darrion mutters with a scowl.

They have a history with this Pride Leader, I surmise, and it is not a good one.

“We do not necessarily need him,” Atlas says. “But united is always better. I will meet with the others tomorrow. Tonight, we take what rest we can and remain alert.”

Decisions made, Atlas dismisses the room. He asks me to wait, along with Darrion and Fenix. Standing a little apart from me, he shares a quiet word with his second and third.

With a nod, both men leave, and Atlas turns his attention back to me.

“There is nothing else we can do this day. The communities are on alert. They will light the beacon if there is trouble. We may expect some restless nights ahead, and possibly restless days. Come, let us see our mate.”

When we enter his quarters, there is no sign of Violet. I fully expected her to be napping on the couch… or maybe even on his bed. There is no sign of Lark either. But my nose, which has become disturbingly sensitive of late, latches onto the tendril of aroused female, potent enough that I cannot blame it on Atlas’s earlier feeding. My senses home in on double doors that are presently closed.

Atlas grins. “I had a feeling she would pick that room.”

Well, that is very fucking cryptic.

He strides over to the doors and flings them open. I am hot on his heels. There is a short corridor beyond. At the end, there is another door. He throws it open and comes to an abrupt stop. I peer around him. He glances over his shoulder at me, then steps to the side to make space.

Lark lifts his head from where he is lounging at the foot of her nest, in wolf form, faking innocence, while the little omega lies in the most decadent-looking nest I have ever seen. It is worthy of a princess. Which I suppose she is. Soft-looking fabric in every color of the rainbow is strewn across the mattress. A sweet smile plays on her lips as she slowly sits up. If I’m not mistaken, she is naked, although she holds a lilac blanket modestly to her chest, as if I have not seen her pretty tits before.