Page 9 of Griffin Undone
The tiny kitchen yielded a bowl, the bathroom a washcloth and cold water. I carried both back to the bed. Surprisingly, the female turned her head at my approach, squinting in the darkness. Bet her head hurt like a son of a bitch, but even without the pain, the pitch-black was enough to hide me from her sight. Which was better for now, just until I figured out how to handle her.
She tried to speak around the gag, but all that escaped was a questioning sound. I knew the moment realization hit—her hands rose to her mouth, fingering the gag, her eyes going round and freaked out when she tugged at the zip tie holding her wrists together. Then the shrieking and jerking and scrambling away from me began.
A part of me, bastard that I was, relished her fear, the proof of my power over her, just as I did with others. I wasn’t merely good at isolating myself now; I enjoyed it. But in her condition…not good. So how exactly did I calm a scared female?
I had no fucking idea. Talk to her? “You’re safe. Don’t worry.”
More muffled shrieking and struggling. Considering the clipped sound of my words, the gravel from lack of use, talking probably wasn’t going to help. The female confirmed it when she pushed even farther back, right to the edge of the bed. Before I could reach her, she rolled—and fell off.
I rounded the bed on the run, spitting curses as thethunkof her head hitting the ground echoed in my ears.
The female lay quiet on the floor, likely stunned. Until I gripped her arm—then the explosion came. Tied and injured and weak, she still fought like a wildcat, squirming to escape as I lugged her off the floor and back onto the bed. She landed facedown but didn’t wait for me to flip her over. She jerked around first, pulled her knees up to her chest. I landed hard on her folded legs before she could kick out.
“Don’t even think about it.”
There were tears on her face and a glare in her fever-glazed eyes as she strained to see her attacker in the dark. My animal rose, and with it the absurd need to lick her tears away, calm her with my tongue, my mouth. I settled my body more heavily on her instead, until she was panting around her gag beneath my crushing weight. A whimper struggled through the cloth crowding her mouth.
Good.
“Now if you’ll behave, I’ll make you more comfortable. If not…” My shrug earned a flinch from the female, like she was expecting a blow. “I’ve got no problem leaving you just like this.”
The female stilled, the only movement the rise and fall of her chest as she strained for air.
I leaned my head a little closer. “Will you behave?”
She head butted me.
“Christ!” Through the little birdies circling my head, I watched the female clench her eyes shut. Her expression shouted pain, but I couldn’t find sympathy for her. Not when my nose felt broken. Instead I got right back up in her face. “Don’t make me hurt you,” I snarled.
At the feel of my hot breath on her skin, she shrank into the mattress, pushing weakly away from me. With a rough growl I flipped her onto her stomach and held her there with a hand and knee pressed into her spine.
But when I grabbed her arm—more roughly than necessary, probably—my griffin roared, fighting me, refusing the instinctive need to force her surrender. I cursed the animal but gentled my touch as I pulled her arms to one side, out from under her, still held together by the tie that bound them. With the knife I’d set on the bedside table, I cut the plastic open. The female fought for her freedom, her shaky efforts no match for my superior strength and position. I wrangled her wrists with ease, securing first one, then the other with loops of strong cloth attached to the headboard.
Compromise, see?She wouldn’t be going anywhere, and my griffin would stop bitching about her discomfort.
My animal’s response was a little too close togo fuck yourselffor agreement.
Careful of the female’s continued flailing, I repeated the cut-and-retie process with her feet. Splayed out on her belly, there was little she could do to fight. She knew it too, because she slowly settled. Or maybe that was weakness. Fever still heated her skin, and the struggle had reopened the wound on her neck. Blood oozed onto the sheets. I sheathed my knife and moved to the female’s head.
“I’m going to clean you up, try to make you more comfortable.” I ignored the faint snort my words earned me and allowed a flash of light from my eyes to illuminate my hand where it rested on my knife hilt. “Your clothes need to come off; I’ve got to get your fever down, and a cool bath is the only way to do it. You’ve got to be still, understand?”
Fear surged in her glistening eyes, shortened her already panting breath. But despite the stiffness of her body, she nodded her understanding. A huff escaped me. Brave female.
I went straight to work before she changed her mind. First her shirt—a slice down each sleeve, then the back. The material fell away to reveal a thin bra strap. I tugged and fiddled with the clasp, then yanked impatiently, finally popping the catch open. Cut the straps. I refused to look at the expanse of creamy skin I revealed, but I couldn’t ignore the dimples at the base of her spine since I had to slide the knife beneath the waistband of her skirt. The female flinched as steel met skin, but quickly forced herself still again.
I made as short a work as possible removing the clothes from her lower body, then her shoes. Ignoring the hollows and rounded curves was harder, especially when I took up the cloth to bathe her skin. My sight gifted me with the minutest details, including the goose bumps rising on her flesh in the wake of the cool water. Only when I bypassed her most intimate parts and proceeded to her shoulders and a careful cleansing of her neck wound did she finally stop shaking.
Too bad I couldn’t get my animal to calm as well. The damn thing wouldn’t stop wanting her. Unfortunately, the griffin’s and my libidos were in perfect agreement. The female possessed a wholesome, down-to-earth kind of beauty that sneaked past my defenses to grab me by the balls. And the hard length digging into the zipper of my fatigues agreed.
Stand down!I barked at my animal—and my body. Who the hell cared if my cock was begging for attention? It wasn’t like I hadn’t had a hard-on before; I had, thousands, and none of them had meant anything. This one didn’t either.
I toweled her dry and covered her bare skin with a sheet and, when she shivered, a blanket. Her gaze, hazy with pain and fatigue, settled somewhere in my vicinity as I squatted by the bed. The way her eyes jerked in their sockets, little ticks of movement, didn’t bode well.
“If you can behave, I’ll take out the gag.” It was a risk, yes, but I needed some answers.
She closed those restless eyes with the barest nod.
When the material slipped from her mouth, she didn’t react. No testing her jaw, swallowing, no indication of relief. I settled a hand against her forehead again, something too close to worry squeezing down like a band around my chest.
