Page 14 of My Guardian Gryphon

“Do you feel something for her?” The tone of his voice was hesitant, but hopeful.

“It came on so slowly, I didn’t notice it, but, yes, I do feel for her. My beast desires her as much as the rest of me. I don’t understand why I snapped today.”

“You don’t think it was overhearing that men were coming to fuck and impregnate her?” His words sliced through my heart like one of the old broadswords on the wall of our workout space, filled with anger and power and chastising all in the same breath.

“Watch your tongue.”

“I’m just being realistic.”

“You’re just pissed about—”

“Don’t go there.” His friend’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not even close to the same.”

I opened my mouth to take another jab, but held it back. Just because I was in pain didn’t mean my best friend—my brother—deserved to feel my wrath.

“Rose would never allow it. I know, you don’t have to tell me,” he said, his tone falling with each word, the finality of his defeat making my own situation appear even more hopeless.

I wanted to tell him he’d have a chance when all this fucked up shit between Xerxes and Rose was over. I wanted to assure myself we’d both have a chance, but my fatalistic realism knew better “Sorry, bro.”

Nothing would ever end between those two Lamassu. They were two equal gods on Earth, fighting their righteous war. They’d been at a stalemate for centuries. Rose had us and the dragons and so many Others on her side. Xerxes had Djinn and the Lycans who felt the need for revenge against humans. We would all die eventually and probably tear this planet apart in the process. Unless we could get home. Unless Rose could deliver on the promise of the House of Lamidae—a way to open the portal without one of the dagger keys.

Not many large packs remained outside of the Texas Republic, but those that still functioned with an alpha pair were secretive and kept to themselves. Revenge or vengeance or whatever the traitors working with Xerxes felt they deserved was not the common view for the warrior-like race of wolf shifters.

The Djinn were beings humans would describe as similar to a genie. The lavender-eyed deceivers were an entirely different can of fucked-up-paranormal-vengeance-on-a-rampage. They hated Xerxes for enslaving them and Rose because she boxed thousands, possibly more over the centuries, locking them away like trinkets in her underground vault. Never to be seen or heard from again.

But my problem concerned none of them. My problem was a little girl who’d grown into a twenty-seven-year-old woman, and I hadn’t even noticed it happen. But now that I had…I couldn’t take back the realization that I did indeed want Gretchen of the House Lamidae so fucking much it hurt.

“We’re a couple of lost causes,” Jared said, waving me toward the back door. “I’m going to go grab a shower. See you at Rose’s tomorrow for lunch. I think we could use some pixie-dust-infused comfort food.”

“They don’t put actual pixie dust in the food. The pixies don’t even cook. The brownies do all the cooking.”

“Do you have to be so literal?” He shook his head, disbelief flowing from him like a waterfall. “The pixies grow ninety percent of what we eat. From their magick,” he said, emphasizing the last sentence. Did he imagine my skull too thick to absorb his meaning?

“Shut up.” I growled. The last place I wanted to be was within earshot of Rose Hilah, but her food was the only restaurant in town, other than the bar run by the Lycans. I could cook, but it paled in comparison to what the brownies could whip up with their eyes closed. “I’ll be there,” I said, storming toward the front.

He was right. We were both lost causes…or should’ve been. As far as we could tell, we were the only ones of our kind left alive on Earth.

There were only a few supernaturals who could mix genetic code for sure and create offspring —Lamassu and Kitsune were the only ones I knew of, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more that could…I’d just never heard of it happening.

One could always hope. Right?

Not that I’d get the chance to find out with Gretchen. Rose would kill me or banish me before that happened.

I rushed out the front door and turned, colliding with Mikjáll—the Blackmoor’s long-lost son, who’d come to Earth shortly after his mother escaped. A grunt came from both of us. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“How’s your Kitsune?”

His nostrils flared and his eyes widened. “Riza is not mine. We are not mated, nor does she wish to be.”

I threw up my hands, heat flushing my neck. “My mistake. I’ve seen you with her, and I just assumed. She’s always with you.”

“She feels safe with me, but I have no desire for her as a mate. I lost the woman I loved. Xerxes murdered her, and my destiny will be to kill the Lamassu bastard.”

“How’s her sister doing?” I asked, purposefully changing the subject to cool the quickly rising temperature of the air surrounding us.

“She is healthy. The pregnancy is going smoothly, but she weeps for the child still in Xerxes’ grasp.”

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