Page 5 of Urn My Love

Then I could leave and never look back.

A growl rumbled in my chest, forewarning me that was going to be easier said than done. I might not have a heart or the ability to love a mate the way she deserved to be loved, but I was strong enough to deny myself and give her a chance at finding it with someone else.

The next few hours passed relatively quietly. Iolani thankfully stopped less often, so we covered the distance faster. While we wouldn’t make it to the lodge that night, we’d only need to ride a couple of hours in the morning before arriving.

An hour before sundown, we stopped to groom, feed and water the horses. Once they were cared for, I strode into the woods to have a few minutes away from the woman who was causing me to be more unsettled with each hour that passed in her presence. When I returned just after sunset with an armload of wood for a fire, I found her sitting in front of a crackling campfire.

She glanced up at me as she took a bite of her granola bar, neither of us saying a word. Iolani broke the silence by reaching into her backpack and holding out several granola bars for me to take.

I’d bought trail supplies at the stable at the beginning of the trail where we’d borrowed the horses, but I couldn’t resist taking what she offered me. Settling on the log across from her, I opened a granola bar, and we ate in companionable silence.

After eating, we unrolled our sleeping bags and settled in under the stars to sleep. It was going great until I woke to the sound of the campfire popping and hissing as large drops of rain began to fall. It was one of the freak rain showers that wasn’t uncommon in the area, but it was an annoyance, since we didn’t have the protection of a tent.

Iolani was still asleep, but had burrowed deeper in her sleeping bag until just her blue hair spilled out. As the rain fell harder, and the fire went out, I realized our sleeping bags weren’t going to keep either of us dry or warm.

I’d camped in worse conditions, but I didn’t want to risk Iolani getting ill. Rising to my feet, I moved soundlessly around the dying fire to where Iolani lay. Stretching myself out beside her, I partially shifted and stretched my large smoke-colored wing over her. It was large enough to cover all of her body and most of mine. Even as the rain fell harder, the water slid down my feathers, leaving the ground beneath my wing dry.

With the mate I could never have tucked under my wing, I felt something I thought might be contentment and fell asleep dreaming of things that could never be.

Waking the next morning, I lifted a hand to rub the grit from my eyes, only to stop at the brush of feathers against my arm. They were far softer than my coarse, stiff feathers, and I stared in awe.

Iolani had sprouted a pair of silver wings, and beneath the shelter of my much larger wing, she’d snuggled her face against my chest and draped her wing around me in a feathered embrace. Before I could think better of it, I tucked a strand of long blue hair behind her ear.

Iolani murmured something, scooting tighter against me. Knowing how annoyed she was going to be when she woke and realized she was snuggling me had my lips twitching in amusement.

My smile faded as a sudden longing to wake every morning with her in my arms caused my heart to ache. But I couldn’t do that to her just because I enjoyed how she made me feel something.

What I could offer her was nothing more than shadows compared to the love she could get from a better mate. If she needed someone killed or shaken down, I was the man for the job. But cradling her while she cried, or being aware of when she needed emotional support, those were things I didn’t understand, so I couldn’t offer her.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, I studied the woman in my arms. She was tall, but compared to my six-foot six-inch height, she seemed small and easily broken.

My eyes traveled across her feathered wing. What was she? Some type of bird shifter? Trevor had been tightlipped about what had been going on with his mate. I knew Amaryllis was the last phoenix, so this woman couldn’t be a phoenix. If she was a gryphon, I would have smelled it on her, so that couldn’t be it either. Her wings were feathered like a bird, so that crossed-out dragon.

I was dying to ask her, wanting to know more about her, but I shoved the questions back. In a matter of hours, I would leave and never see her again, so the less I knew, the better.

Still, I couldn’t resist the urge to stroke the back of my finger down one of her feathers. Her wing twitched in response, but Iolani’s breathing remained even. Growing more daring, I brushed the back of my hand against her wing, loving how incredibly soft the feathers were against my skin.

I glanced back at her face to find her bright blue eyes watching me. Since she made no move to stop me, I gave into my urge to stroke her wing again, a flicker of heat coming to life in my stomach when her lips parted and she sucked in a breath.

For gryphons, our wings were extremely sensitive, and I wondered if it was the same for her. Judging by her quickened breathing and the slight tremble of her wing, I was guessing the answer was yes.

“You kept us dry last night.” Her voice was husky with sleep.

“Yes,” I answered simply.

“Thank you.”

The soft, open woman in my arms reminded me of how she’d been the day before, when I’d held her after she was sick. Then she’d built walls between us and had shifted into a woman with a mission. She was strong, and I admired her for it. But I liked this vulnerable side too.

Pulling her arm out from beneath her wing, Iolani reached up to brush the underside of my wing. It was the first time my wing had ever been touched by anyone other than me and I wasn’t prepared for the effect it would have on me.

The flickering warmth in my belly spread through my body, and I barely managed to swallow back a groan.

Iolani continued to stroke the length of the feathers she could reach, her fingers tracing along the shimmering black tips. Gryphon plumage came in a variety of colors and patterns. When my wings were closed, they appeared to be a dark gray. Up close, the base of the feathers were such a pale gray they were almost white, which blended into a medium gray before turning almost black at the tip. It was an interesting ombre effect that few other gryphons possessed.

The tip of each of my feathers had a black foil-like appearance that shimmered when it caught the light. In battle, my wings almost appeared to be made of thousands of sharp-tipped blades, a terrifying effect that instilled fear in my enemies’ hearts moments before I sent their souls to Hades.

Yet now those powerful wings that had helped me slaughter armies were on the verge of trembling from nothing more than the briefest touch from the blue-haired beauty in my arms.

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