Griffin immediately steps back, but my chest still feels like a Centaur kicked it. I’d love to breathe fire at her—just to scare her, not melt her or anything—but I know nothing would come out. I either lost my Dragon’s Breath along with my life force, or I’m just too weak.
“She attacked me for no reason in the bathhouse,” Daphne pursues, her lie igniting a fire in me that’s even worse in my weakened state. “I’ve watched her. She’s violent and unstable. With the amount of power she obviously has, she’s a danger to everyone.”
“Cat’s…lively,” Griffin says, his eyes narrowing.
Daphne snorts before scoffing, “She’s insane.” She closes the space he put between them. “A few months ago, I was fighting for the realm with you, battling with you during the day, staying with you at night. Every night.”
Gods, it’s hard to breathe. Son of a Cyclops! We’re in the bloody outdoors, and there’s no air!
Irritation sharpens Griffin’s tone. “You were battling for the realm because that’s your job. As for the rest, ambition is clouding your memory. I wasn’t your first lover, and I won’t be your last. No promises were spoken.”
Daphne leans into him, undeterred—and apparently delusional.
Griffin grips her shoulders, stopping her. She turns partway. Even in profile, Daphne’s come-hither look is a work of art, something I couldn’t master in a thousand years.
He sets her away from him. “It’s over, Daphne. Go back to your fire.” He lets her go with a soft shove, stepping back to drive his point home. “If you bother Cat again, you won’t be a part of this army anymore. Ever.” Infinitely calm. Infinitely threatening. Griffin.
Daphne’s hands curl into fists. When she speaks, her voice is so low I have to strain to hear her. “Why are you doing this? What does that dark little Fisan have that I don’t?”
Griffin looks at me. He sees me watching them and doesn’t look away. “My heart.”
At his words, my chest contracts with a sharp spasm, squeezing the air from my lungs.
I guess Daphne can’t argue with that. She leaves without another word, never once glancing at me. I wish she’d stormed away. Exploding and stomping off I can deal with. Cold, controlled rage reminds me too much of Mother.
Griffin doesn’t spare her a second glance. Our eyes stay locked, and he looks so…happy to see me awake that I start to melt inside. Or maybe it’s just that he’s so handsome—tall, hard, and broad, with humor and warmth and stability in his eyes. I’ve never known anyone like him.
He approaches swiftly, his focus entirely on me. I shiver, anticipation making my pulse quicken.
He ducks into the tent and then crouches next to me, resting his elbows on his knees. His easy smile makes my heart skip a beat. “You’re awake.”
“You jilted Daphne for me?”
His smile fades. Griffin sits on the edge of the blanket I’m on, laying my head in his lap and stroking his long fingers over my scalp. The massage feels foreign, and nice, and I tingle from head to toe when he unravels my braid and spreads long strands of hair across his thighs, carefully arranging them. “She misunderstood, or wanted to see what wasn’t there. I’ve never given a woman any indication of permanence. The day I saw you, I understood why.”
Emotion roughens my voice, turning it husky and low. “Why?”
A smile pulls at the edges of his mouth. “Because you were made for me.”
A thrill shoots through me. “Don’t tell me you plan on keeping me?” I somehow manage to tease.
Goose bumps rise on my neck when Griffin winds a curl around his finger and gently tugs. His white teeth flash in the dim light. “I informed you I was keeping you shortly after we met.”
“You didn’t give me any choice. Stupid, bloody rope,” I mutter.
His fingers stop moving in my hair. “You have a choice now. I freed you.”
“You caught me,” I huff. “It’s very frustrating.”
Griffin chuckles, sobering when I don’t join in. “Why are you so limp?”
“I can’t move.” I pick up my hand as far as it will go—barely an inch off the ground.
He curses colorfully enough to impress even me. “Can we risk more blood?”
I shrug. Sort of. “We may have to.”
Griffin carries me out of the tent and then sits me upright, propping me against his side while he slips his knife from his belt and burns it clean in the fire.
I glance at our surroundings. Campfires dot the area around us, none too close. I can’t make out people in the shadows, or hear their conversations. I don’t see Beta Team, Piers, or Egeria anywhere, although they can’t be too far.
“Did you get my knives?” I ask. “And my sword?”
He nods, cooling the hot metal in the evening air. “Flynn has everything. I know how attached you are to your blades.” Holding my arm, he rubs the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist with the pad of his thumb. Warmth spreads through me until he replaces his thumb with the knife. “Ready?”
Not really, but Griffin doesn’t wait. He cuts shallowly across the veins in my right wrist before doing the same to his left. I inhale sharply at the sting while Griffin doesn’t appear to even feel it. He stacks our hands together, lacing our fingers in a way I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.
He looks around, frowning. “I need something to tie us together.”
“Where’s an enchanted rope when you need one?” I grumble.
Griffin barks a laugh. “Contrary to what you may think, I don’t enjoy bondage.”
I don’t imagine I’d enjoy bondage much, either. So why is a place deep in my belly heating with something that feels suspiciously like interest?
Flushing, I clear my throat. “Then what do you enjoy? Apparently, Daphne knows.”
Griffin’s eyes glitter. “Jealous?”
“No!” I scoff.
He grins. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re delirious. From blood loss.”
He squeezes my hand. “You have no reason to be jealous. I haven’t touched her since the day I saw you—which was well before you saw me.”
I feel my face flame. I have no idea why. If Griffin notices my awkwardness, he keeps it to himself. He unbuckles my belt one-handed, slips it from around my waist, and then circles our wrists with it, binding them closer together. The cuts are deep enough to bleed for a while, but not deep enough to be dangerous. They’ll probably leave scars.
“As for what I enjoy…” Griffin leans close to finally answer, his scruffy jaw tickling my neck. “We could always give spanking a try.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “I take it spanking is a metaphor again?”
“Maybe.” He winks. “Maybe not.”
Now I’m imagining both possibilities. Possibly both at once…
His teeth graze my earlobe, and I make a noise that sounds suspiciously like a yelp.
“Why so jumpy?” His lips press into my neck. He sucks gently on the sensitive skin below my ear before kissing the same spot.
My senses reel. Each brush of his lips is like a sip of decadent wine, turning me dizzy and light. “I’m…ah…not very experienced with all this.”
He keeps nuzzling my neck, kindling a steady blaze low in my abdomen. “Ours clearly wasn’t your first kiss.”
I tilt my head to give him better access. Griffin’s rumbling sound of approval vibrates against my throat. His splayed fingers feel like a brand on my hip. He squeezes, wringing a soft moan from me.
“Everyone kisses,” I say breathlessly. “It’s the rest I’m less sure about.”
He abruptly straightens, looking agreeably surprised. “Never?”
I shake my head, my stomach flip-flopping.
His lips curve in an utterly male, utterly smug, utterly possessive smile. “I’l
l teach you.”
My whole body clenches in anticipation. Gods, yes!
No!
I panic and smack his chest with my unbound hand, grimacing at the ridiculously flirtatious tap. A month ago, I would have hit him hard—or at least tried to.
Griffin wraps his free hand around the back of my head and pulls me toward him for a scorching kiss. Our lips fuse, hotter than blood, and I forget all about ever wanting to hit him. Or kick him. Or even argue with him.
I’m such an idiot.
He fists his hand in my loose hair and tilts my head back until my back bows and my breasts press against his chest. Between fierce, deep kisses, he rasps, “If you had died…” He slowly shakes his head, his hot breath ragged on my fevered lips. The muscles in his shoulders tense, and a shudder runs through him. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
I draw back, stunned by the raw vulnerability in his voice. “I didn’t think anything rattled you.”
He skims the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. My mouth tingles, almost too sensitive to be touched. “Not much does. Everything is different with you. I can’t lose you.”
His words douse the passion blazing inside me. I lower my eyes and turn away from him. What in the Underworld am I doing?
Griffin unbinds our wrists and reopens the cuts before strapping us back together again. I watch the red seep out and blend, wondering whose blood is tainting whose. I’m sure Mother would have an opinion about that.
I press our wrists tighter.
The more our blood mixes, the stronger I get. Griffin insists I eat, and he’s almost comically happy when I swallow a few bites. My small appetite must inspire him because he forces bread and cheese on me until I nearly throw it all back up.
Raising his hands in surrender, he packs up the food. Efficient as usual, he unties us again, cleans and binds the cuts, and then dilutes any stray blood before lighting an oil lamp and putting out the campfire. He leads me back into the tent, closes the heavy flap, and then sits with his back against a sturdy wooden trunk. Setting the lamp aside, he looks at me intently. After a moment, he holds out his arm in invitation, and I go to him, hardly hesitating at all.
Once I’m settled, Griffin turns to me with a wolfish grin. “Do you think we’ll need to exchange fluids every day?”
My eyes widen. Yes! “No!”
Oh my Gods! I’m going insane!
I clear my throat. “No. Uh…no.”
“Funny,” he says blandly. “I was hoping the opposite.”
I shove him. “I’ll bet you were.”
He grins. “Still am.”
Tucked up against him, I’m hotter than Hades, and my stomach is doing all kinds of somersaults. It’s uncomfortable. And annoying. And exciting. “Men are strange. How can you go from fighting with me all the time to this?”
He looks at me with a mixture of indulgence and smugness that makes me want to sink my teeth into him somewhere that hurts. “You’re the one who’s always picking fights. Once I claim you, you’ll see that fighting isn’t the fun part.”
The butterflies that colonized my belly the day I met Griffin take flight, spreading through me on burning wings. He gently pulls me onto his lap like it’s the most normal thing in the realms and then trails his fingers from my throat to the tip of one breast, lightly circling my nipple through my tunic. It instantly hardens, pebbling under his fingertips.
A tremor runs through me, and I bat his hand away. “Confident, aren’t you?”
He nods, completely arrogant and completely male.
I can’t decide if I’m intrigued by his certainty, or disgusted by his ego. Where Griffin is concerned, I’m a mess. “And no one’s claiming anyone.”
“Call it what you want.” He slides his hands around my waist and then down, playfully squeezing my bottom. “It doesn’t change anything.”
Whatever we call it, it changes everything. I wiggle in his grip, shaking my head. “It can’t happen.”
He laughs, the overconfident beast. His next kiss is both dominant and coaxing, long, deep, and completely intoxicating. “You’ll change your mind.”
My mind? I can’t think. I can hardly breathe. “Is that a challenge?” I manage to ask. “Because I can be very stubborn.”
Griffin’s deft fingers find my breasts again, stroking, cupping, learning. He’s not kissing me now. He’s watching me with a smoldering intensity. Sizzling currents race beneath my skin. The low rumble of thunder in my veins makes my whole body quake. I lean into his touch, and he makes a noise that’s gravelly and almost savage.
“This isn’t a game, Cat. That’s not how it works when it’s real. When you want it to last.” He lifts both hands to my face, keeping me from turning away from him. “When the other person means more to you than your own life.”
I swallow hard as my stomach dips. Wholly unsettled, I press my lips together and don’t say anything.
Griffin shifts me on his lap so I’m straddling him, my hands on his shoulders. “When I first saw you, I thought you were older, more experienced.” His voice deepens, turning rougher. “I wanted to throw you over my shoulder, carry you out of the crowd, and make you mine behind the amphitheater. It would have been dark and hot, with only the sound of our panting echoing off the stones.”
Heat crashes through me. I instantly see the starry sky, feel the rough stones…and Griffin’s hard body.
His hands glide up my ribs, his wide palms brushing the outer swells of my breasts before sliding back down to my waist again. His glittering silver eyes turn heavy-lidded. “I wanted to push you against the wall, rip those tight pants off you, and bury myself in your heat.”
My lips part as arousing, carnal, appealingly rough images flood my mind.
Griffin’s fingers press into my sides. “I might have left the boots.”
I suck in a quick, shallow breath as my imagination supplies a vivid picture. The night cloaking us in darkness. My legs clinging to his waist. My back scraping the wall. Griffin’s hands gripping my hips, grinding me down on him while he thrusts into me with powerful, driving strokes.
The tension inside me turns volcanic, growing molten, wanting to fracture, needing to explode. My whole body starts pulsing with a single-minded chant. Take. Me. Take. Me. Take. Me.
Ignoring the urgent call to join with Griffin is like cutting myself in half. “Was this before or after I turned poisonous?” I ask tartly, sounding only a little unsteady.
“Weeks before.” He presses his lips to mine for a slow, seductive kiss. Then his mouth turns more insistent. Hungrier. “And every day after.”
His words sink into me, working their way into my very foundation. Every time he kisses me, or touches me, or tells me something I secretly long to hear, I feel changed, irrevocably altered.
“And when you realized I was younger?”
Griffin’s lips curve into that heart-stopping smile of his. “When you popped back into sight scrubbed clean and looking twenty years younger, I knew I’d found something special.”
I grin like an idiot.
“And full of hot air.”
Wait. What? I scowl, and he laughs, leaning in to capture my mouth again. He kisses me so deeply that I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. Holding my hips, he rocks me forward and up, sliding me along the steely length of his arousal. I gasp, desire streaking through me. He guides me against him again, harder this time, and my blood simmers, my core muscles straining for more—more contact, more friction, more…filling.
My eyes drift shut. A torrent of sensation overwhelms me. “This is madness. How can madness feel so good?”
His response is guttural, unintelligible, and makes me tremble with need. I push up on my knees, sliding along his erection in an effort to ease the growing ache between my thighs. A tremor racks his solid frame. I do it again, and Griffin’s fingers convu
lse on my hips. A groan tears from his throat.
His hands and mouth make me wild. I arch my back and press into him, hoping it’ll relieve some of the mounting pressure, but my gut just tightens with longing, and the friction of our bodies makes me insatiable for more. Slick between my legs, pulsing with liquid heat, driven by a crescendo of unbridled want, I swirl my hips and scatter hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck and jaw, flicking my tongue over his skin to taste him.
A harsh breath explodes from Griffin. He wrenches me down, grinding roughly. My breathing quickens. My knees spread until there’s not a whisper of air between us, only scalding need and his burning arousal. My fingers spear into his hair. My thighs clench, clasping his hips as I rub against him, moaning his name.
Griffin shudders. Then his fingers sink into my backside, his iron grip putting an abrupt stop to my writhing. He holds me still, and I whimper a protest. Tightening nerves, spiraling sensations, throbbing heat, and a thrilling pressure low in my belly—something earth-shattering isn’t far off. Thunder claps in my ears, and I get the nearly uncontrollable urge to tear off my pants.
Can’t do that!
I jerk back so fast I nearly fall over. “We have to stop!”
With a low growl, Griffin grabs me and pulls me back. I land on his chest with a thud.
“Cat.” His arms lock around me. He sounds tormented.
Panting, I push off his chest again and sit up, shoving hair out of my face. “Griffin!”
“Why?” he asks hoarsely. “Why do we have to stop?”
My eyes widen. “There are so many reasons I don’t even know where to start!”
He rolls his hips, sending desire roaring through me. “You’re sure?” he asks.
No! “Yes!”
He clasps the back of my head and kisses a searing path down my neck, each ragged breath accompanied by a rhythmic thrust of his hips. “This is what it could be like, kardia mou. We were made for each other. Just imagine it.”
I am. I really am. My head falls back, and my whole body goes limp without ever consulting me. Just when I’m mindlessly following his tempo again, heady sensations coiling where our bodies meet, Griffin stops moving and drops his forehead to mine. He draws in a slow, labored breath, lifts me off his lap, and sets me on the ground next to him.
A Promise of Fire Page 30
