I press my thumbs into the thick muscles near the top of his spine and work them in slow circles before sweeping them gradually up his neck again. “They wouldn’t have wanted you to delay.”
He lifts both hands to his face and scrubs, his fingers rasping over the day’s worth of stubble. “I should have told them in person.”
“The dove will get there faster.”
“I have to go home,” he says dully. “I have to face my parents.”
My stomach churns with guilt. “They’re with Egeria. We know Sinta is safe with them, and in good hands. And they’re safe in Castle Sinta, with the realm at peace and the Ipotane protecting the border. I don’t think we should leave Tarva City for now. It’s too soon, and nothing is really established here.”
Griffin leans into my massage, groaning softly. I press harder as I move down his back, working the muscles around and below his shoulder blades. Knots roll under my fingers. Some give. Others don’t, stubbornly staying rock-hard and balled with tension.
“The Ipotane are protecting a border that no longer exists,” he says. “We need to find Lycheron and try to convince him to patrol the Fisan border instead. We also need to get the bulk of our army here. The soldiers are useless in Sinta when we’re in Tarva, and war is to the east.”
“So first to Castle Sinta and then to Lycheron?” I ask.
Griffin grunts what appears to be a yes.
Unfortunately, there’s a good chance that won’t be as easy as it sounds. “Lycheron will probably try to get out of the bargain if we change it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Griffin says with a sigh.
“And what about Tarva?” I ask. “We won’t be gone long, but we’ll need Beta Team’s help to bring that many soldiers back. And Lycheron responds to force. It can only be a good thing to show up with our most trusted men and an entire army behind us. Things aren’t unstable here, but I can’t help thinking that all of us leaving at once might not be a good idea.”
“So we don’t all go,” Griffin says. “We’ll leave Jocasta and Kaia here as our presence in Tarva. Jocasta is always asking for more responsibility, and I think we’ve all been underestimating Kaia, despite her youth. They’ve both shown me recently that they can handle more than I ever thought they could. Taking them back to Castle Sinta now would be a…disservice to them at this point. And frankly not fair.”
What a good idea. I barely have to think about it. Trusting Jocasta and Kaia implicitly helps. “I agree with everything you just said.”
“They can set projects into motion, similar to the improvements we’ve been implementing in Sinta. They’ll protect our interests here in Tarva and work on opening up the border to the west. We’ll leave Lystra with them. She can either make herself useful or stay out of their way. Either way, with no magic, I don’t think Lystra is a threat to them.”
No. Griffin’s sisters are far more fierce.
I slide my fingers over his broad shoulders again, and Griffin reaches up, pulling my hands down. He tugs until my upper body is flush against his back.
“What do you think?” he asks, his voice low, quiet, and full of weary gravel that speaks of the heartache and emotion of the day.
“I think you’re a genius,” I say, propping my chin on the top of his head and draping my arms more comfortably across his chest.
He squeezes our clasped hands. “Ianthe stays with us.”
“Yes, definitely.” There was never any question in my mind. “What about Bellanca?” I ask.
He inhales deeply before letting out a gusty breath. “I don’t think you could get rid of her if you tried.”
I laugh a little, my exhale stirring his hair. “You really want to go home?” I ask.
He nods. “Don’t you?”
I try to straighten away from him, but Griffin holds on to my hands.
“Cat?”
I swallow so hard before answering that he probably feels my throat move against the back of his head. “It’s daunting to think about facing your parents when I’m the reason for their loss.”
Griffin, who was just starting to relax, goes noticeably rigid again. He lets go of my hands and then looks at me over his shoulder. “Nothing that happened today was your fault.”
“I was never nice to Piers. I never even tried.”
A shadow settles over Griffin’s features, darkening his expression. “He was never nice to you. He never even tried!”
The anger in Griffin’s voice takes me aback. That’s not just a shadow in his eyes; that’s fury. Intense and blazing.
“That may be true,” I concede, “but he was also right about everything. I took Cassandra from him without even asking. I’ve put you, Carver, and Jocasta into dangerous situations again and again. And we’re not stopping now. It’s not over yet, and who knows what will happen. Today. Tomorrow. There’s still my mother to deal with. And Fisa. You may be the hand helping to guide this sword, but everyone—you, the Gods—you’ve all made it perfectly clear that I’m the tip of the blade. I’m going to have to start swinging now, and people will get cut. That’s war, and life, and there’s no way around it. Piers was scared for his family. He was completely justified in his worry. And in his anger toward me.”
Griffin swivels fully around and stares at me in disbelief. “So you have a conversation. You express your opinion, your opposition,” he growls. “You withdraw your support. You go live as a Gods damn bloody hermit if you want to. You do not try to banish your brother’s wife!”
I drop my gaze. “Your wife?”
He stands. “Yes, my wife. What kind of question is that?”
I glance back up, finding outrage and incomprehension on his face. “Do you… Do you think you would have loved me if the Gods hadn’t meddled?”
Griffin stares at me.
“I mean… I just—”
“I know what you mean,” he cuts in harshly.
My heart suddenly hammers in my chest. “You’ve told me you never really wanted anyone else—in a permanent way, at least—and then when you saw me, you knew I was the one. The one you wanted to claim, like you’d been waiting for me.” I curl my bare toes into the thick sheepskin rug, looking down again. “But it sounds like they made it that way, made you that way, made it inevitable. What if they forced—”
Griffin grabs my shoulders in a hard grip. I gasp, jerking my head back up.
He loosens his hold. “We’re not puppets, Cat. I have a mind of my own.”
“But they push. They shove. They suggest.” And Gods, don’t I know it. They’ve been doing it all my life.
“They don’t control my thoughts. They have no sway over my heart.”
“But what if they do?” I whisper, raising my hands to his chest. I don’t touch him, though. I curl my fingers into fists and then let my hands drop again. “We don’t know.”
Griffin gives me a gentle shake, urging me to look him in the eyes. “Then I don’t care. It is what it is. You are the missing part of me, and I am never giving you up.”
His truth burns through me. Heat thickens my throat, and tears prick at my eyes. Ever since Little Bean was conceived, I have the most aggravating propensity to cry. “But they changed you for me.”
“They gave me a gift that’s kept me alive. That got me Sinta and brought me to you.” He lightly squeezes my shoulders. “And it’s a good thing I’m indestructible where magic is concerned, because when you get excited, you light up the room like a storm.”
I bite my lower lip. I want to smile. I still feel like crying.
Griffin sweeps his hands down my arms. His skin is rough, his touch gentle. “Don’t doubt us, Cat. Don’t doubt me.”
I take a shaky breath. “I don’t. I just… I’m…” I stop, at a loss.
Griffin lifts his eyebrows. “Inarticulate at the moment?”
Scowling, I thwack him in the chest.
“Overwrought?” he supplies, his mouth quirking up.
I thwack him again.
“Highly emotional?”
Thwack. Thwack.
“Apparently weak, because none of that hurt at all.”
I give him the evil eye—a grumpy one.
Griffin smirks. It’s that confident, smug look I’ve come to know and love. “You need a man you can’t dominate? Someone you can’t overpower? Even with magic?” His eyes suddenly gleam silver in the lamplight, and a little flutter twirls through my middle.
I nod. And what a good idea that was. I’d have no interest in a man I could intimidate.
Griffin moves fast. One minute, I’m standing there. The next, I’m flying through the air. My back hits the bed, and before I even finish a bounce, Griffin’s hands slam down on either side of my head. He’s right above me—looming, caging, heavy, hot—and the way he looks down at me is both intensely dark and incredibly delicious.
A thrill darts through me. He still wants me.
His eyes glittering, Griffin pushes his knee between my thighs, spreading them. His strong arms bend, bringing his face closer to mine. The wall of sheer masculine power above me is intoxicating and sets my senses alight.
His breath whispers across my parted lips. “Can Little Bean handle rough?”
Excitement shoots like an arrow straight to the bull’s-eye between my legs. I wet my lips, nodding. “She’s sleeping. She’s strong.” And there’s nothing Griffin would ever do that would hurt her, or me.
“Good.”
One word, softly spoken but with a wealth of promise behind it, makes my whole body clench with need. His mouth nearly touching mine, Griffin holds himself above me, not moving. I wait, tension building inside me until I crave his touch, his kiss, or any contact at all, like an insane thirst. I start to throb with impatience. My pulse turns into a liquid beat where I want him most.
Charged air vibrates between us. His body is so tempting and close.
“Come to me.” I move, trying to bring the apex of my thighs into contact with his thick, hard leg. His eyes narrow to shimmering gray slits, and then he rears up and flips me over in a tumbling rush.
I gasp in surprise. I can’t wait to see what he’ll do next.
He gathers up my dress and then flips it up my back. Cool air rushes over me, but all I feel is heat. Grinning like an idiot, I squirm and try to push up on my hands and knees.
“Don’t move.” Griffin’s command is a warm, husky caress.
I wiggle anyway, flashing certain parts of my anatomy, and he lets out a hoarse groan. His hands land on my bare hips with enough force to sting. I almost wish he’d do it again, but then he hauls me to my knees, so I’m sitting upright. With rough tugs, he pulls my dress up and over my head and then throws it to the floor.
Griffin’s arms come around me from behind. He palms my breasts, squeezing, and then drops his mouth to the curve of my neck. I tilt my head, and his shadow-rough jaw drags across my shoulder, sending a wash of goose bumps down my spine. His kisses are hot and openmouthed, sometimes scraping. He rubs his thumbs over my nipples, teasing. My stomach tightens, and my breathing turns ragged and loud.
“These are changing,” he rasps, cupping both breasts and lifting. A sound of masculine approval hums in his throat. “They’re rounder. Fuller. Heavier than before.”
And even more sensitive. He rolls my nipples, tugging lightly, and my head falls back against his chest. Desire burns through me. The need sparking in my veins grows into towering flames. “Griffin…”
“Agapi mou?”
“I’m ready,” I moan.
He chuckles, the sound like mulled wine swirling through my body. He makes my head spin.
“You’re impatient,” he says. “I like it.”
“I want you.” Desperately. Greedily. Forever.
He pinches my nipples hard, and I groan as the pleasure-pain sensation streaks straight to my throbbing sex.
“Touch me,” I beg. “Touch me where I ache the most.”
Griffin slides one hand down my abdomen. He stops just short of my curls, leaving me quivering with need. Anticipation sends lightning arcing through my body and then exploding across my skin. The room brightens, then dims.
Griffin pulls me more firmly against him, a deep rumble resonating in his chest when our bodies press together. But he’s still dressed, and I want him naked. Now.
“Too many clothes.” He feels amazing, but skin-on-skin would be so much better.
He nips my neck just beneath my thundering pulse. “I’m in charge here.”
I press backward into his erection, and he draws in a sharp breath. I think I’m a little bit in charge here, too.
Moving his lower body out of my reach, he licks my nape. I shiver. Heat pools in my belly, and everything down low starts to pulse, desperate for the same sort of kiss. One of Griffin’s hands still toys with my breast. The other lifts from my lower abdomen, and I instantly miss his searing touch.
Without warning, his hand comes down on my mound with a quick, hard slap. My hips jerk. My mouth opens on a loud gasp, and a rush of heat floods my core.
“Good?” His gravelly question whispers across my cheek.
I nod, his stubble lightly chafing the shell of my ear. Nerves throb under his hand. Reaching back, I grip his thighs with both hands and hold on.
He grinds his wide palm over me in a slow circle. Then he slaps again, swift and sudden and almost as unexpected as before. Pleasure flares between my legs, so powerful I jolt. Griffin curves his hand around me, holding me steady. I shudder with need, feeling his heart thud like a battering ram against my back.
“You’re flooding my fingers.” He presses on the sensitive nub of nerves, maintaining steady but motionless pressure. “So hot and wet.”
“Claim me.” I move my hips, rubbing mindlessly against his hand. “Claim me all over again.”
Griffin slides a finger inside me and pumps it in a frustratingly slow rhythm. I’m so slick, he adds another. Blindly, I start dragging at his pants, pulling them down. With a low curse, he shifts back, lifting his hands from me just long enough to undress. Then he grips me under my arms and moves me farther up the bed.
The look I throw him over my shoulder says I’m ready for anything.
The look he throws back says he knows.
Getting behind me again, he lifts my arms so I’m leaning forward and gripping the headboard. Then he’s inside me, and I’m desperate for every inch of him. My back bows, and I moan, my pulse pounding in quick, eager beats. Griffin wraps his arms around me and slowly thrusts deep.
I’m so ready for him that he pumps his hips more roughly, setting an electrifying pace from the start. I hold on to the headboard so hard my knuckles turn white, gasping each breath, alive with sensation, drowning in emotion. Griffin grips me to him, each hammering thrust sending stronger and stronger tremors through me until I know I’m about to burst. My core muscles tighten around him. I throw back my head, a shout rising in my throat.
“Not yet,” Griffin growls. He stops moving. I pant, my whole body in a state of sweetly agonizing suspension. He leans over my back, his hot skin on mine. In my ear, he rasps, “I claim you, Catalia Eileithyia Thalyria.”
I take a shallow breath. Not Fisa. Not Sinta. Not Tarva. Thalyria.
“I claim you for my very own. With my blood. With my bone. With my heart. With my soul. You are mine. Forever. In this world, and in the next.”
I shake from the force of his vow. It winds around me, spins through me, sinks into the woven threads of my life just like Griffin sinks into me—once, again, harder—sealing his promise with his own pulsing seed and pushing me straight over the edge along with him. The tight ball of tension deep inside me abruptly shatters, and I go reeling toward release.
<
br /> Boneless, my hands aching from gripping the headboard, I drag in a shuddering breath. The crisp night air is sharp on my tongue. Sliding out of me, Griffin gently pulls me back and against his chest. Flexing my fingers, I settle limply against his body, my legs curled beneath me. He presses a kiss to my temple, his warm exhale feathering across my forehead. Emotion swells inside me, and hot pressure crawls up my throat.
Doing my best not to cry, I turn, curl my fingers into Griffin’s hair, and then pull his head down to mine. Our mouths meet in an undemanding way, but when I touch my tongue to the seam of his lips, he parts them, offering a deeper kiss. The embrace quickly heats up, and soon our bodies are as tangled as our tongues. I straddle him, desire coiling through me again.
I grip his jaw with both hands and hold his face to mine, our lips still brushing and his breath feeding my lungs. Our eyes meet.
“I claim you, Griffin Thalyria.” I remember every word he spoke to me. I’ll remember them until I cease to exist. “I claim you for my very own. With my blood. With my bone. With my heart. With my soul. You are mine. Forever. In this world, and in the next.”
His eyes squeeze shut. He clutches me to him and buries his face in my hair. His hands splay over my back, holding me from neck to waist.
“I live for you,” he says into the curve of my neck. “I love you.”
Tears flood my eyes, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight. After a moment, we tip over with Griffin on top. I cradle his hips between my thighs, and he slides into me again, slowly this time. He makes love to me, his hands in my hair and his lips on mine. Braced on his forearms and rocking gently, he kisses me like he needs me in order to survive.
Tension and pleasure build, break, and then whip through me again. Griffin shudders above me, stiffening and then relaxing in turn. He rolls onto his back, taking me with him, and then murmurs the words that were forming inside me, expanding in my chest, but still smoky and without discernible form.
He tells me that we’re one. That together, we’re stronger, better, and something different than what we were before.
With lazy fingertips, I stroke his collarbone, my head on his shoulder. And as I drift off to sleep, half draped across my husband’s warm, strong body, I decide that the Gods can say whatever they want. I wasn’t made for Griffin, and he wasn’t made for me. We were made for each other.
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