Page 45 of The Demon's Pet

Human planes had long ago stopped working. Celestials ruled the skies, and they jealously guarded their kingdoms and palaces.

Even in the wolf world, we knew that any creature born with wings would have to be reported.

Sam thought for a long moment. Then he turned on his heel and left the shack, his footsteps echoing on the soft dirt ground outside.

I heard his wings flapping, probably taking him up into the trees. Apparently, he didn’t think I needed any more explanation than that.

I walked forward, toward the huge animal, admiring his golden-brown pelt. “Well, aren’t you beautiful?”

I reached out a hand to touch his wings, unable to stop myself. When he didn’t move away, I put my hand on his huge shoulder, stroking the fur there.

“If it helps, he was supposed to kill me too, and he didn’t,” I said, stroking the griffin’s fur, which was soft, thick, and velvety. “So he might not kill you.”

The griffin’s blue eyes studied me, intrigued.

In an instant, the fur beneath my hand vanished, and the air blurred around him. I moved back as I saw a man sitting on the ground in front of me, wearing only blue boxers. His chains lay on the floor, abandoned now that he’d shifted out of his much larger griffin form.

He was tall, probably six-six, and handsome in a boyish, jock kind of way.

He had a five o’clock shadow outlining a powerful jaw and broad shoulders tapering to long, perfect abs.

He stood, walking toward me, as I backed up against the wall of the shack. I could shift right now, but what was the point?

He put a hand on either side of me, trapping me against the wall, and he leaned in to inhale my scent.

He smelled like clean mountain air and pine trees in winter.

Feeling like I was being examined by a giant cat, I sat back and let him. His eyes moved to my collar and narrowed in confusion.

Then he stepped back and rubbed the back of his head. “I’m Griffin,” he said.

“You are a griffin, or your name is Griffin?”

“I have been Griffin since I was born,” he said simply. He leaned in to sniff me again. “Dog? Wolf?” He breathed in deeper, and his eyes went dark. “Demon.” His hand moved to my throat, though he didn’t squeeze yet. “Does the celestial know?” He shook his head. “He looks like a demon himself. Anyway, I’m getting out of here. I expected someone else to come, and that’s why I waited. But I’m not letting that guy kill me. Not before…” He trailed off, looking away. “Anyway, I don’t want to hurt you, so just be quiet and—”

I sucked in a breath to yell for Sam, unsure what this creature wanted from me.

“Shh.” He closed his hand tighter, choking off my breath so I couldn’t make a sound. “I told you I don’t want to hurt you, and—”

The doors to the shack swung open again, and Sam stood there in all his fallen angel glory. Except he wasn’t fallen at all. He was in charge.

Griffin looked at him, then continued to press my neck.

“Go ahead and do it,” Sam said coolly, though I could hear a razor-sharp tone in his voice. “Show me who you are. So I don’t have to hesitate when I kill you.”

Griffin stepped back, his face wary.

“Why did you stay here chained if you could shift to escape at any moment?” Sam asked, eyeing the chains.

“I agreed to this,” Griffin said. “None of us wanted this, but no one wanted to displease the celestials.” He sucked in a breath. “But I can’t die. So I planned to escape. That way my community gets credit for giving me up, but I don’t have to die.”

Sam folded his arms and paced around Griffin, who seemed to inherently understand the power emanating from the celestial. “There is no rule about executing creatures with wings. Merely reporting them.”

“I know what happens to creatures who are reported,” Griffin said. “Regardless, I would never be at home here. I make everyone nervous.”

“Wings do that,” Sam said, walking around Griffin in a slow circle still. His boots thudded on the coarse wooden floor. “Who are your parents?”

“I do not know,” Griffin said. “I was adopted.”

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