My eyes bounce back and forth between his blue eye and his purple eye. I search them and then his face for any hint of deception or just kidding, but I don’t see anything other than warmth and tenderness there.
“Just like that?” I ask, unable to help myself.
Treno’s brow furrows slightly at my question, and he studies my face.
“Yes,” he answers simply. He brings his hand up and skims my cheek with the back of his fingers.
“Okay,” I agree, my gaze dropping to his lips momentarily before I move to get out of his lap.
He stands up with me, and I move toward the door, ready to see what we can find.
“You may want to get dressed first, flower,” he calls to my back with a chuckle.
I look down and am quickly reminded that I’m completely naked.
Shit.
I whirl around and just catch Treno adjusting himself. He’s in soft leather pants and a well-fitted tunic. Hunger unfurls in my gut, and I trace every line of muscle and every smooth expanse of fabric over his incredible body with needy eyes. His long white hair falls over one shoulder, and I want to push it back so no inch of his upper body is obstructed. Satisfaction grows like a seedling in my chest, and I cough and narrow my eyes at its presence.
Pigeon!
I know without a shadow of doubt that the little turkey is back to fucking with me. She may be pouting in the corner right now, but she knows nothing pisses me off like when she scrambles my hormones. You’d think the winged menace would have learned her lesson with Ryn and Zeph, but no, here we go again.
I blink and try to clear my head of the lust-spiked fog currently rolling through my mind.
“I don’t have any clothes,” I tell him, ignoring my heavy breasts and the zings of anticipation flickering between my thighs.
He smiles slowly. “Well, we’ll have to sort that out too then, I suppose.”
“Oh, you suppose?” I ask on a flirty giggle that has me mentally bitch-slapping myself and barking out a steady, girl as if that alone will corral my libido and force it to behave.
I scan Treno’s body one more time for the memory banks and then cut that shit out. Answers, knowledge, and a plan...that’s what I need to focus on. Abs, assholes, and gryphon shifters are nothing but trouble, and I’m fucking done with them.
Maybe.
Definitely.
Probably.
6
The heavy tome in my hands closes with a thunk, and I let out a sigh. Nothing in this one either. I offer a small smile at the archivist who passes by the table Treno had brought in here just for me. I slowly stand to go track down the next edition in the extensive genealogy records the Avowed have kept of their people. The only problem is, Gryphons and the Ouphe live just a skosh shy of forever. The records of their ancestry fill up several buildings on their own, and it’s going to take me a while to go through the last five hundred years, which is where I started. I’m pretty sure my parents weren’t more than five hundred years old, but the more I learn about Gryphons and the Ouphe, the more I’m starting to wonder.
I hike up several flights of stairs and rehome the census I just spent two days combing through. I pull out the next black bound volume on the shelf and look down, surprised to see writing. The records here so far haven’t been labeled on the spines or the front covers. I imagine this place would be some anal-retentive librarian’s version of a nightmare, so I’m surprised to see the gold title on the front of this one.
I’m even more surprised when I read what it is. The Call: Understanding Gryphon Courtship and Mating Habits. My eyebrows dip with confusion. How did this get here?
I pull down the next book in the row and open the familiar all black cover. It’s the volume I am looking for. I debate for a second putting the weird Gryphon dating and mating book back where I found it, but the image of some angry librarian screaming nooooo somewhere in the universe has me carrying it with me back to my table. Hopefully, the archivists that are always fluttering about can find its rightful place. I stack the census on top and open it up to start scanning it for my mother’s, father’s, or grandmother’s names while I trek back to my table. I round a corner and slam into a large hard body.
“Shit, sorry!” I offer as I bounce back and check to see if the collision fucked up any of the precious books I swore to an Archivist I wouldn’t damage.
“What are you doing here?” Ryn demands, and my gaze snaps up to find his stormy gray gaze looking around like he’s checking to see if anyone is watching us.
No one is.
I tense, waiting to see if Pigeon is going to freak out over his sudden appearance, but she doesn’t even stir. She’s been all swoony over Treno and his help the past couple of weeks; it seems the puppy love she had for Ryn has officially been put to sleep. I throw up a couple mental walls just in case Pigeon is pulling a fast one and waiting for me to drop my defenses so she can rip his head off.
“How did you get in here?” Ryn demands again on an angry whisper. He grabs me by the arm and pushes me into an aisle.
“Get off me,” I snarl, yanking my bicep out of his hold and putting distance between us. “Treno brought me here, you prick.” I move to go around him, but Ryn steps into my way and presses me back until I’m boxed in against a shelf. A deep growl fills the space between our chests, and I can’t tell if it’s his or mine.
“Watch it, Ryn. I stopped my gryphon once, I won’t do it again,” I threaten, as he presses in closer to me.
I don’t miss the pain that his gray eyes are suddenly flecked with before he blinks and it’s gone.
“Why would the Altern bring you here? Is he here right now?” he asks, anxiety coating his questions.
“No, he’s been with Lazza all week. Shouldn’t you know that, being that you’re a commander and Lazza’s third? Don’t you males have some big war to plan for?” I snark.
“Falon, why would Treno bring you here?” Ryn barks quietly at me, and something in his tone makes me stop trying to press his buttons.
“Because I asked him to help me find answers, and unlike some people, he’s helping me find them,” I answer flatly.
“Have you?” he counters, his gaze now puzzled.
“Have I what?”
“Found any answers.”
I sigh. “Not yet.”
Ryn’s gaze drops to my lips for a second. “Let me know if you do. Oh, and don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”
“Oh, so the usual then?” I snark like some peppy kid taking a drive-through order.
Ryn looks at me confused.
“Your usual,” I repeat. “You know, a large serving of vague, with a side of cryptic. Hold the truth, and add a dash of annoying and arrogant. Oh, and don’t worry, I didn’t forget that you like it all topped off with a heavy dollop of expect me to go along with everything...melted, of course.”
Ryn just stares at me blankly.
I roll my eyes and open my mouth to ask why the fuck I would tell him about what I find, but out of nowhere, he’s gone.
How the hell did he do that? Is this fool Batman or some shit? His scent trails away from me, and I’m tempted for a second to follow it in hopes that I can get some answers to why all the cloak-and-dagger shit in the archives. They’re just books. Why would anyone care if he was here? I stand there for a second and try to think through what that was all about.