Page 11 of Snag
“Anytime,” Gigi says, meaning it.
“Coda?”
She jerks her chin back toward the trailer. “Plugged in as usual. Last I bothered to check. I need a break … where’s the nearest fucking spa?”
“We’ll get you sorted,” Rought says.
Gigi finally acknowledges the shifter, glancing down at our entangled hands and Muta all but binding our wrists and arms together. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, AD.” ‘AD’ meaning ‘Adonis dick.’ That was Coda’s nickname for Rought. Because he looks like an idealized Greek god, not because the awry hacker successfully hunted down actual dick pics.
Rought frowns deeply. I’m so accustomed to him smiling that I’m a little shocked, and admittedly just a little turned on, by the pure, focused intent threaded through his abrupt displeasure.
“Gigi, Rought,” I say. “Rought, Gigi.”
Gigi tilts her head coyly. Her shoulder dips just enough for the silk blouse to slip low enough to expose a sexy flash of her lacy, bright-red demi bra. “My pleasure … Rought,” she purrs.
Rought deliberately looks away from her, utterly dismissive and practically seething with indignation. “I’ll get the trailer hooked up.” He squeezes my hand, then loosens his hold.
Muta releases Rought, settling fully — and way too heavily — on my wrist. Ignoring that I feel instantly untethered without Rought’s steady touch, I cradle all of Muta against my chest. Even though he hates being cuddled like a pet. “What have you been eating?” I mutter to the weighty death god.
Muta hasn’t yet taken his full focus off Gigi, but he spares my comment a pissyflick of his tongue.
Rought crosses toward the truck and trailer without acknowledging the combat mage again. My long-lost soul-bound mate …
I’m not certain I’ve completely managed to wrap my mind around it all yet. So I just snuggle Muta against my chest, against that warm ball of energy that might be the beginning of a new bond —
“Singularly focused,” Gigi murmurs, though likely still loud enough for Rought to hear. “Good.” She knows he’s a shifter — the tenor of his essence factored in with his physical size would be unmistakable to a mage of her caliber — though she doesn’t know about the extra powers that come from his gryphon. Yet.
I sigh, shaking my head at the combat mage, even though I’m still watching Rought walking away. Watching him as if I can’t bear to tear my eyes from the breadth of his shoulders, or the taper of his waist, or the remembrance of his mouth on mine, his grip on my —
“Goes both ways, I see,” Gigi says, eyeing me now and slightly amused. “That’s good too.”
Rought disappears from my sight around the truck and the side of the barn. I can still feel him, though. His presence is potent even within the energy of the intersection point. Almost as if the gryphon shifter feeds into that energy, and it into him. That’s another of the revelations to be explored when my mind, my soul, doesn’t feel quite so … threadbare.
Muta writhes around my wrist and forearm, tucking under my sleeve as he transforms into the gold-scaled, dark-brown topaz bracelet. Too many people, maybe. Or maybe the misting rain is finally too much for him.
“Introduce me to the rest?” Gigi asks almost gently.Her gaze levels on the front patio of the main house over my shoulder. “We should warm up and eat, yes?”
I follow her gaze, taking in Presh, still swathed in blankets and nibbling on her muffin, and Rath, huge and forbidding, standing watch like he’s some ancient guardian. A guardian in dark-gray sweatpants and a ridiculously tight black T-shirt.
And fuck.
The celestial dragon sharing a body — and a soul — with the imposing shifter actually is an ancient guardian.
So that’s two.
Two of my supposed soul-bound mates transform into mythical guardian beasts. The third is a creature even more terrifying. If the mythology is built on truth, Reck’s beast, the cu-sith, is a type of grim reaper — the personification of death, aka a demigod. And based on what I saw of it last night, the cu-sith is nowhere near as well contained as the death god currently twined around my forearm.
“Is this one a problem?” Gigi asks, eyeing Rath with narrowed eyes.
The dragon shifter glowers right back at the combat mage, crossing his arms and widening his stance.
“No,” I say with a sigh, starting for the house. “He’s mine as well.”
Rath’s amber-bright gaze shoots to me. Surprise or some similar emotion eases the tension threaded through his shoulders.
“I just didn’t know it,” I add.
“Okay, then,” Gigi murmurs, just a little doubtfully. “And the little one is Precious?”
