The Hidden (Shadowed Wings Book 1)

by Ivy Asher

  I stare at them in awe, their features similar, but each of their colorings so different and unique from one another. Is my gryphon this mammoth as well? I wonder as I watch one of the new window visitors flap his wings to help him keep his balance. I want to step forward and touch one, but I also don’t want to lose a hand.

  Behind me, the closed doors leading into the room fly open, slamming against the stone wall, and everyone jumps and screams again. It’s like we’re all watching a thriller movie, and every little thing that jumps out scares the shit out of the whole theater. I stifle a chuckle at the thought.

  A shirtless Zeph storms into the massive room. Loa and some other familiar faces I recognize from the interrogation yesterday all shoot to attention and move to surround him. My gaze travels of its own accord from Zeph’s mussed up black curls to his strong shoulders. Muscles cord thickly around his arms and then they dip and tease my eyes at his bare chest and stomach. I lick my lips and tilt my head appreciatively. A small growl sneaks out of my mouth when someone steps in front of me and blocks my view.

  The sound I’m suddenly emitting startles me, and the shock snaps me out of the eye fuck that was just happening. A low chuckle from the big bare chest in front of me has my eyes snapping up to meet an amused gray gaze.

  “Altern,” Tysa greets Ryn with a curtsey.

  I roll my eyes at the display which is probably dumb of me. I should be trying to learn about their customs and fit in here. Maybe if they like me, they’ll be more helpful in my quest to find my way back home. But the thought of curtseying to Ryn or Zeph gets my feathers all ruffled with irritation, and I can’t actually picture myself doing it.

  Ryn gives Tysa a nod and a smile that has her blushing. I feel the sudden need to slap him, and I clench my fist to stop myself. It’s like Invasion of the Body Snatchers up in here, only it’s just me fighting against this new seriously horny and possessive stranger inside of me. It’s fucking annoying. I growl at Tysa because something inside of me decided she blinked too much in Ryn’s direction, and then slam a hand over my mouth because what the fuck! My eyes widen and fill with apology, and Tysa’s brown gaze snaps to mine.

  “I’m mated, milady. I would never…” she stammers, and I feel even worse.

  “I never thought you would,” I quickly reassure her and then realize what I just said. “I mean, you can if you want, I don’t fucking care. That’s between you and your mate. I don’t even know what that was,” I say gesturing to my mouth. “I think I had some serious indigestion or something, and that was just a gnarly burp,” I ramble until Ryn’s chuckle has us both turning to look at him.

  He’s staring at me, his storm cloud gray eyes twinkling with amusement. Maybe I’m so used to being looked at with suspicion and disdain by him—and pretty much everyone else here except maybe Tysa—but I’m stunned silent by how beautiful he looks when he’s smiling. I almost fucking gasp with how taken I am by it, and that just pisses me off. Why am I all swoony these days? I like to fuck. I like pleasure and flirting and the chase. I do not fucking swoon. That weak-in-the-knees shit is for romcoms and needy bitches. I am as far as you can get from needy.

  Ryn’s eyes run down my body, and his gaze looks momentarily bewildered before he starts to blush. The pink moves up his chest, past his neck, and creeps slowly into his cheeks. When he looks back up, his eyes are banked with want, and his hands twitch at his sides.

  I glare at him.

  “Like it?” I challenge, lifting my arms and doing a little spin so he can see all angles, and I can catch my breath for a moment from that heated look in his eyes. “Loa had Tysa make it for me. What was it you said, Tysa, oh that’s right, something worthy of a highborn straight from the streets of Kestrel. Wherever the hell that is,” I grumble as I spin.

  I almost choke on the words when Ryn reaches out and runs his index finger over the bare skin of my lower hip. My clit gives my vagina a green light to start her engines at his touch, but I slap his hand away because I know I can’t trust those instincts.

  Ryn looks at me, shocked, and I can’t tell if he just realized that he was touching me or he’s shocked that I just batted his hand away. Either way, I’m trying very hard not to care. My nipples pebble, and I know it will be obvious through the top of this dress. I force myself to think of shit that isn’t sexy and isn’t fuel for the flames, but I keep flashing back to the pools and me in the center of a Ryn and Zeph sandwich.

  “I’ve never been overly fond of the fashion of Kestrel, but I can appreciate that what it lacks in practicality, it makes up for with…” he trails off for a second in thought. “Appeal. This is an image worth saving,” he tells Tysa and taps at his temple.

  Her smile turns beaming, and I’m both happy for her and trying to figure out if Ryn just said what I thought he did. I shoo my thoughts away from exactly what Ryn might be doing with the images he’s saving in his mind of me in this dress, and turn to Tysa.

  “Instead of more beautiful dresses, do you think you could make me some pants and a couple shirts?” I ask. “I don’t have any money, but I’m a mechanic, and if you have anything that needs fixing, I would gladly trade my services for yours.”

  Tysa mouths the word mechanic right after I say it. She looks puzzled, but it seems, the word fixing she understands, and her brown eyes light up with excitement. “Really?” she queries, and her unbridled enthusiasm makes me suddenly uncertain of what I’m promising.

  “Yeah, I mean, I’m pretty handy, but even I have my limits. If it’s within my power and ability, I’d be happy to trade my help for some pants and shirts,” I agree, trying to be clearer on the terms of what I’m offering and expecting in return.

  “Yes!” Tysa exclaims. “By all the stars in the sky, yes, I accept.” She curtsies and then starts to bounce away. She immediately comes back and curtsies in front of Ryn. “Are we all clear, Altern?” she asks, and when he nods yes, she scurries away again.

  I watch her hurriedly weave through the people and out the door. I look back at Ryn who’s now wearing a cheeky smile and, once again, feel unsure of exactly what I’ve agreed to. I shrug, I guess I’ll find out soon enough. If it’s something I can’t do, then no pants for me. I’ll just have to deal with these two dresses. I look down at the strips of fabric barely covering me and cringe. I don’t know what the other dress Tysa made even looks like. I just hope it’s not more revealing than this one.

  Please let whatever Tysa wants to be fixed be like a toaster or something, I plea silently.

  A breeze sneaks in through the window we’re standing next to, and white strands of my hair tickle my cheek and neck. Ryn reaches out and catches one between his thumb and index finger and rubs it gently. It reminds me of when he was running his hands through my hair yesterday, and goose bumps rise up on my arms. I slap his hand away again, and evidently, he finds that amusing. He takes a step toward me, and my breathing picks up. I feel panicked and excited simultaneously, and I don’t know what that fucking means.

  “Come, Falon Solei Umbra,” he practically purrs, and the way his lips and tongue caress my name feels naughty and inviting. “I’ll show you around,” Ryn tells me, and he turns on his heel and starts to saunter through the thinning crowd.

  I watch him for a beat as he weaves his way toward the doors. He doesn’t even look back, he’s so certain I’ll follow him. I feel eyes on me, and I scan the room to find Loa and Zeph’s stares both fixed on me. Zeph’s eyes start to dip down my body, but they snap back up suddenly like he just realized what he was doing and put a stop to it. He glares at me like I’ve wronged him in some way, and I bristle against the vitriol seeping out of his golden honey gaze. I flip him and Loa the bird and then follow in Ryn’s wake, eager to get the hell out of this room and start figuring things out.

  9

  “So what was all that about?” I ask, gesturing behind me with one of the rolls I just jacked from the kitchen tour.

  With all the stairs in this place Ryn has me trekking up and
down, I need all the calories I can get at this point. Ryn gives me the side-eye as I swallow down another chipmunk-cheek inducing bite. I ignore his judgement; I’m starving. It’s like the plate of food Tysa already fed me was just an appetizer and now I’m ready for the main course. As soon as Ryn finishes showing me the courtyard or wherever he’s taking me right now, I’m headed back to the kitchen and camping out there until this gnawing need in my stomach is sated.

  “What was what all about?” Ryn queries as we hike up several flights of stairs until I’m winded, and the sound of the waterfall that pours off the cliff castle pounds through every surface around us. I can barely hear past my deep gasps for air, let alone him, so I wait until we start making our way through some cave and things are a little quieter to elaborate.

  “The alarms, armored gryphons, and the mysterious explosion? What was that all about?” I clarify as I scan the rocky ground in the dim light for anything I might trip over.

  “We were just running a drill. That happens from time to time here. We can never be too prepared for anything and everything the Avowed may throw at us,” he tells me matter of factly.

  “Yeah, Tysa was telling me about them and the Oh-f,” I try to say, but the word is a jumble of wrong in my mouth.

  “The Ouphe,” Ryn corrects me, and I say it over and over again until it feels natural against my tongue and lips. I smile when I get it right and look over at Ryn like I’m expecting a cookie or a gold star or something. His eyes jump up to mine from where he was just staring fixated at my lips, and then he quickly looks away, refocusing on his path through the cave. I’m getting the distinct impression that Ryn is DTF, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me as he was all about the hate yesterday.

  “Uh...anyway,” I continue. “Tysa made it seem like all the evil, enslaving Ouphe were all dead. What happened to them?” I press and proceed to finish the last of my roll stash.

  “The warring tribes of Ouphe killed each other off, for the most part. Some groups escaped through the gates, and we hunted the rest that stayed behind.” Ryn states all of this very casually as we make our way closer to the light-filled exit. The brutality of the word hunt stands out to me and gives me the chills. I’m not sure why it makes me feel uncomfortable; I don’t know the Ouphe or the Gryphons really. Who am I to judge their history and how it was handled?

  “It’s rumored that some small tribes found shelter up in the Quietus Mountains, but they know better than to cross paths with us. And really, it’s all probably just a rumor; those lands are practically uninhabitable.”

  I nod in agreement and then chuckle at myself. I have no fucking clue if it’s true or not, so I have no idea why I’m just agreeing with him.

  “Now, I heard the sirens, but what explosion were you talking abou—” Ryn starts, but my gasp cuts him off as we exit the cave and step out into the sun.

  I look around me, wide-eyed, taking it all in. It’s so green and beautiful I don’t even know what to stare at first. The short grass looks soft enough to sleep on. It’s some kind of mix between pillowy looking moss and the bladed green stuff that exists back home. The wind blows a cool mist over me from the river that leaps off the edge of the cliff and thunders down the side of the cliff castle. I close my eyes and revel in the feel of it as faint shouts reach my ears. I open my eyes and take in the deep periwinkle of the water that stretches as far as I can see.

  “Is this an island?” I ask, curious and not able to contain it.

  “No, we just kiss the Talle Lake in quite a few places,” Ryn offers, and he makes his way toward some trees to the right.

  This is a lake? I question as I stare past the top of the cliff we’re on and take in the expanse of water. It’s the biggest lake I’ve ever seen. I move to follow Ryn and have to bite back a moan as I step out onto the soft grass. It feels like a layer of cotton against the sore pads of my feet, and I have the sudden urge to roll around in it. The wind picks up, making my hair and the fabric of my barely there dress dance about, and I almost flash nipple when the sneaky air tries to get randy with the gathered part of the dress covering my boobs.

  Note to self: roll around in the soft grass when Tysa gives me pants and tops. Until then, try to keep the girls covered and the sideboob in check.

  “So you thought you were a wolf?” Ryn asks over his shoulder, but I’m distracted by my nipples’ attempts to escape.

  “What?” I ask as I position things back where they’re supposed to be. I slam into something hard and bounce back unbalanced. Ryn grabs my hips to keep me from introducing my ass to the soft grass.

  “What are you doing?” he queries as I expel the last of the oomph that escapes me from crashing into his back. There’s a twinkle of something in his storm-gray eyes, and I’m suddenly aware of just how pressed up against him I am. I can feel the texture of the scaled and braided leather he’s wearing against my stomach and hardening nipples.

  “Playing with my boobs,” I blurt, and Ryn barks out a laugh and tightens his grip on my hips. My very bare hips, I observe, as the rough skin of his palms lights up a plethora of sensations in me. His laughter snakes through me, keying me up like it’s my favorite song. My clit pulses with anticipation as I clench around emptiness. I start to breathe through the shit ton of need that just tsunami’d through me. I want to fuck him. I want him to snap the two chains holding this poor excuse for a dress together and then slam me up against the tree and make me scream. I want a back full of bark, blood, and scratches from how hard he fucks me.

  The need to know if he tastes like the rain clouds that are in his eyes drives me to rise up on my tip toes, and I lick my bottom lip in invitation. Ryn leans down, as transfixed by the moment and—judging by his dilated pupils—as driven with need as I currently am. His full lips are just a hair’s breadth away, and I can feel the promise of pleasure and the need to own and dominate in his grip and on his breath as it caresses my mouth. A pained shout reverberates through the trees around us, and Ryn suddenly blinks and then pulls away from me. Like a desperate dumbass, I lean forward chasing his retreating lips for a second before coming to my senses and realizing what I’m doing.

  His hands release my hips, and the tips of his fingers skate over my now heated skin as he pulls away. I try to clear my head of the lust clouding my every thought right now. What the fuck am I doing? My red alert alarm sounds off in my head about three minutes too late. I push away from him, disconnecting any part of me that’s still touching any part of him, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he almost reaches out for me before he fists his hand and drops it back by his side.

  Another shout slithers through the trees to find us, and I expect Ryn to hurry off in its direction, but he doesn’t. He just stands there.

  “You thought you were a wolf?” he asks me, and the question feels so out of left field that it takes me a moment to catch it and examine what he’s asking.

  “Yeah, that’s what my gran always told me. I always smelled like one before…” I trail off as once again the image of the disintegrating ring pops into my head.

  “What was her name?” Ryn asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “My gran’s?”

  He nods.

  “Sedora Sterward,” I offer and watch his face for any hint of recognition. My gran was clearly keeping things from me, and I can’t help but think maybe she was from here and her name might be recognized.

  Nothing akin to knowing lights up in Ryn’s gray eyes. He just furrows his brow in thought and then turns and continues to make his way through the trees. Ten feet later, I step into a clearing the size of two football fields. On the end closest to us, boys and girls who all look to be teenagers hack away at each other with wooden swords. Grunts and shouts fill the air as the clack of wood and the thump of hits swirl around me. Beyond this sword fighting group is another group where people are wrestling each other. All the way on the other side are shifted gryphons who also seem to be taking turns having a go at each other.r />
  “Well, Falon Solei Umbra, you’re not a wolf, you’re a gryphon, and it’s time you learn just what that means.”

  This time, when Ryn says my name, there’s no sexy caress to it. No, this time it feels saturated with mockery and topped off with challenge. Ryn walks away from me like he’s thrown down the gauntlet and has nothing else to say, but his challenge isn’t one of those you got this and I believe in you kinds. It’s more of a meh, if you die, that’s one less problem I have to deal with. I watch him walk away, and the simple arrogance in his stride has me wanting to pick up the nearby rock I spot and chuck it at his head. I stop myself, just barely. Knowing my luck though, I’d miss him completely, and the rock would bounce off a tree and take me out instead, or worse, hurt one of the kids practicing here. That’s just what I need—some momma gryphon coming for me.

  I stand there not sure what else to do. He didn’t say follow, and he didn’t say stay. The fact that I feel like a misplaced puppy right now is really fucking annoying. I watch the kids, at least I think they’re kids, sparring back and forth with their wooden swords, some of them elegant and smooth like a proper fencer would be, and some of them hacking away at their opponent, their brute strength just as much of a weapon as the sword in their hand is. It’s hard to tell if my initial teenager instinct is correct. They look young in the face, but they’re all about my size, some of them even bigger. It’s clear that gryphons are a larger people than humans are.

  I’ve been so used to being a very tall woman amidst humans and shifters back home. However, here, I’m practically a runt. A yelp sounds off to my right, and immediately my eyes snap in its direction. A kid flicks his wrist just so, and his opponent’s weapon flies up in the air and arcs toward him where he snatches it from the air easily. I recognize the skilled swordsman as the walking, talking lie detector test that Zeph summoned at my interrogation. Ami, I think, was his name, or maybe it was Amit or Amish or something A. Shit, why do I suck at names so badly?