The dragon blinked. He looked at her. She had never seen anything so magnificent.
She smiled up at him and smoothed his inky hair as she kept up the soft patter. “Come to think of it, I bet you’re going to get lots of grocery bills. I can’t imagine Stanford will be able to get so much food from just one supplier. Stanford is the shopper. He’s a Wyr-mink. And my new robe is beautiful. It’s black satin, very soft and elegant. I wore it this morning and thought of you when I took a shower.” She put a hand on the rigid muscles of his arm as she leaned against his chest. “Come down off the ledge now. Let go of your friend. You like him. You’re going to remember that soon and then you’ll be upset if you’ve damaged him. Besides, I want you to give me a kiss, so I can thank you properly for the robe—and for the potion you left on your pillow this morning. They were very thoughtful of you.”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed. His Power shifted to wrap an invisible cloak of warmth around her.
“I’m still not right in the head,” she whispered to him. Sexuality flared in those gold raptor’s eyes. She slipped the tip of her finger between his lips and rubbed the inside of one thigh along his leg. “Come on, big guy, you know you want to.”
He slid an arm around her, took hold of her chin with those long bloody talons and tilted her head up with exquisite care. She rose up on her toes, closed her eyes and lifted her face to him in total trust. His hard mouth brushed against hers.
She could feel the quick movement at her back as Graydon pulled Rune from them. The gryphon gagged and coughed. Then the rest of the world fell away as Dragos deepened their kiss. She slid her arms around his neck. She felt his body shift and flow back into more familiar contours.
He slid his mouth along the curve of her cheek, down to her collarbone, and he buried his face into her neck.
Her gaze slid sideways. The sober gryphons had arranged themselves around the area. Bayne leaned back against a wall near Constantine, who sat on the floor with a bottle of water. Rune was farther away, near the free weights, as he blotted his neck with a towel. The puncture wounds were already healing.
Graydon stood not three feet from them, arms crossed, watching her with an anxious expression. Okay, so that was maybe a little too close when she was busy getting lost in Dragos’s kiss. She shooed him with her fingers.
He shook his head. Then he mouthed, “What the fuck?”
She rounded her eyes, mouthing back, “I dunno.” She shooed him again.
The gryphon was stubborn as a mule. He cleared his throat and said aloud, “Boss, you gotta know we would never hurt her. We were just going through some self-defense maneuvers. She turned out to be so damn good we started to have some fun, that’s all.”
Dragos lifted his head. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer as he turned away from the gryphons, putting his body between her and them.
Realization dawned. He wasn’t being protective. He had almost killed his First because he was jealous.
She planted her hands on his chest and shoved. He let his hold loosen. She glared up at him, but when she saw the strain on his dark face her quick flare of anger died. Maybe she didn’t understand what was going on. Maybe she would never understand.
She drooped. “Is there anything more I can do?”
“I need to talk to my men,” he said.
She bent her head and nodded. She looked around the empty gym. “Okay. I’d like to take a shower.”
He let her go. “We’ll all go upstairs.”
As he spoke to his men, she turned toward the doors.
A tall powerful woman stood in the hall, looking in on them. Armed and dressed in leather, she had a strange beauty, with lean muscles, tangled black hair and stormy gray eyes. It took Pia a moment to recognize her. She was one of the sentinels from the Tower rooftop. Aryal, the harpy.
The woman turned away as she watched, but not before Pia looked upon the merciless gaze and cold white face of judgment.
Pia, Dragos and the four gryphons went up to the penthouse. Pia took the Saks box from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom without a word. A few moments later the shower started.
The gryphons raided the wet bar for bottles of Heineken. Dragos opened up the French doors. He stood in the doorway as a sharp breeze gusted in. The fresh air was brisk and calming.
Rune joined him and stood casual and relaxed, hands on his hips as he too looked out over the city.
He said to his First in a quiet voice, “I owe you an apology.”
The gryphon searched his face. “It’s all right, my lord. I can imagine how things must have looked. You’d already warned us to take care with her.”
“No,” he said. “It is not all right. It’s clear I am not in control. I am well aware that I am not acting or thinking normally or even rationally.”