Page 30 of Gifted Destiny

In this intimate setting, I’m somehow more aware of his beast. Paranormal romances suggest a shifter’s beast lives and moves just under their skin. This isn’t possible, but the metaphor has merit. I am aware of his griffin like I’m aware of Avery’s vampiric predator and Bren’s wild magic. I still don’t fully understand the difference between sphinxes and other shifters. We are one where they are not.

“I want to meet your griffin,” I blurt. “Not right now,” I add quickly. “I caught a glimpse via the gargoyles’ sight when youand Avery saved Kodi, but I’d like to meet him in person … or not in person, but ….” I garble the last few words and look back at my lap. “Does that sound weird?”

When I glance upward, Garrett’s chest looks larger. I think he’s inflated with pride. “It only sounds weird because you’ve been around the magicless too long, kitten. My griffin wants to meet you, too, as a human and a sphinx.” Uncertainty enters his gaze. “Because you’re not accustomed to shifters, though, I should warn you. The beast inside me doesn’t take orders very well, and he’ll want to rub against you – especially if you meet him as a sphinx. He wants to cover you in his scent.”

My mind joins Kodi’s in the gutter. He doesn’t mean it in a sexual way, but I find it sexy. My bestial side wakes and purrs with anticipation. I scold it like a wayward cat and decide I’m not that different from other shifters.

Garrett’s nostrils flare and his massive palms curl into fists on his thighs. “He wants to come out now. He’s difficult to control when he scents your interest.” His voice is harsh with tension and ends in a groan.

“Sorry,” I mumble and redirect my mind by recalling why he’s in my bedroom. My desire is doused in a second.

Garrett rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t like you apologizing for your body’s natural instincts and reactions. I wasn’t scolding you.”

I shrug. “It’s also a natural reaction to think I’m being scolded because I’m so used to it.” My chuckle is humorless.

“I understand. Being criticized every day for years can make a person touchy.” His tone is soft, and I know he’s not just referring to me. It’s hard to remember that he’s faced hardship because he looks so normal. Appearances can be deceiving, and I am a hypocrite if I don’t pay attention to my biases.

“Why are you so scared to let me see your legs?”

My body jerks at the swift change in subject. His gaze is directed to the blanket I’m subconsciously attempting to unravel. My mouth opens and shuts again before I can decide on the right words. Garrett offers the impression that he’d patiently wait all night for my answer. I struggle to make my thoughts coherent but end up frustrated.

“They’re wrong.” If he weren’t equipped with supernatural hearing, he wouldn’t hear me. “They’re scarred, bent, and crooked. They’re disgusting.” The words are a selection of the insults hurled at me since my injuries. My bullies were children or confused teenagers, but the slurs still stuck with me regardless of intent.

“You know it isn’t true, Zosia. Not being normal doesn’t make something ugly or disgusting. Is Bren ugly because he’s different?”

“It’s not the same,” I automatically argue. From the moment I entered society, I’ve watched beautiful people on screens, seen them in magazines, and read about them in books. The media typically presents heroes as beautiful and villains as ugly. I’ve never seen a movie or read a book that portrayed the main character in a wheelchair.

I can’t entirely blame the media or pop culture for my issues. The first thing I noticed about my guardians was their attractiveness. Some might claim it as a biological impetus, but I consider it an easy excuse. Abnormal bodies are hidden, ridiculed, and sometimes feared in a society where supernatural aberrations are accepted.

“It’s been scientifically proven that the human mind finds symmetry pleasing. My legs are uneven and don’t match.” A thread actually comes loose in my fingers, and I stare at it without seeing it. “I also don’t shave. I know it’s preferred that women shave, but it’s difficult with the scars. It’s also a pain inthe butt and no one ever sees my legs ….” My excuses trail into silence.

When Garrett responds, he speaks in a matter-of-fact tone that helps me distance myself from my emotions. “First of all, I’m a shifter. Hair might bother the magicless, but it doesn’t bother us. Most shifter females don’t bother. Second of all, I’ve been surrounded by beauty and perfection since birth.” His gaze remains on me as he remembers the past, but I can’t hold it for long. “A symmetrical face or body can disguise horrible intentions. I realize it’s not true for everyone, but I learned early not to judge someone by their appearance. From the moment my balls dropped, Addington paraded women in front of me. Most of them were models and actresses – they were beautiful subjectively and objectively.”

He’s lost in memories now, looking down at his lap as a grimace stretches his lips. “I thought there was something wrong with me at first. I even wondered if I was gay. I didn’t find most of the women attractive.”

I briefly abandon my systematic destruction of the quilt. His words are entirely honest, but I only know this because of the library’s help. If she hadn’t included the honesty clause, would I believe a word from their mouths? Did she do this on purpose?

“I’m perfectly straight, although I used to wish I wasn’t.” Garrett’s grin turns wicked. “Addington would have been furious.”

The thought brings a matching smile to my face.

“After he tested me for steroids, Addington decided I was a late bloomer. I let him believe that even after I realized the issue because I knew he wouldn’t understand.”

His pause makes me realize that I’m anxious to hear the rest. I don’t particularly care about his sexual exploits, but his account offers new insight into the man under the muscle. I feel closer to him than I have since he arrived.

“A servant that lived on the grounds for a short time had a daughter around Bren’s age. We weren’t supposed to talk to her for various reasons. Supposedly, the child’s mother had requested distance, but I think it was Addington’s decision. He didn’t want us associating with a magicless servant’s child. She would bring her dolls out to play in the back garden, though, and I would watch her through the window. Those dolls were …weird. They were made of plastic, they had perfectly shaped boobs, narrow waists, and their feet were permanently on tiptoes. I know they have others, but the ones the girls played with all had long, straight, blonde hair, pale white skin, and wide, painted smiles.” He shudders dramatically. “Bren was actually scared of them.”

The orphanage’s pitiful collection of cast-off toys had boasted a few of these dolls. The ones I saw were often missing their heads or hair and painted with colorful marker tattoos. I know what a new one looks like, however. The magicless and supernaturals are both bombarded with advertisements to encourage our nation’s consumerist culture.

“It took me a while to realize that I thought of the women Addington brought to me as dolls. Some of them were gorgeous, true, but my body didn’t seem to care. Although our minds might appreciate symmetry, my beast and my dick didn’t consider them potential mates for a second. Our brains can fuck with us, and my brain saw those women as dolls – they just seemed unreal.”

His gaze captures mine, and I hold it this time. “When I first saw you, I saw a real person with genuine fire. I saw a woman whose story of survival wasn’t hidden behind cold smiles and too much makeup. I saw someone who might understand me.” His fervent words make me squirm with discomfort, but I think I believe him.

“I love my brother,” he continues, “but I’d dared to wish I might find a mate who understood me too. Without Bren, I wouldn’t have known that relationships could be warm and meaningful. I would have grown up as cold as everyone else around me.”

Kodi’s face pops into my head, and I nod with understanding. Garrett protected his brother like Kodi protected me, but all four of us benefited from our relationships. We learned compassion and empathy in a world that was designed to give us pain and fear.

Garrett’s vulnerability is visible, and the library’s insight insists that he believes every word. He isn’t trying to placate me or soothe my insecurities. I almost reach for him, but I don’t. Actions speak louder than words, and he hasn’t seen my legs yet. He might think he can handle it, but I’ve seen trained doctors shy away.

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