Page 32 of Bound to the Griffin
Her brown eyes glowed with fire when she answered me, her hands already trailing over my now-bared chest. “Yes, yours, and you’re mine.” The house was still warm enough; we had not even been gone for that long since we woke, tangled on the couch by that phone call early that morning. I dragged her past it, heading for the bedroom this time.
She tumbled onto the mattress, and I followed her down, hands caressing her soft skin, her silky thighs. Then I parted them and buried my face against her folds, a quick lap of my tongue to draw her taste, her scent, deep into my soul. She hadn’t expected it—yelped—then surrendered with a moan, her hands curling against my shoulders. “Jackson,” she moaned again when I slid her panties off and tested the wetness of her pink folds with impatient fingers. Her clit was peeking at me, and I flicked a finger against the side, then again when that made her whole body jerk against the sheets. “Jackson!”
“Where shall I mark you?” I asked her. I wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but Iwassure a mark would appear after I sank into her. My cock ached fiercely at the thought, impatient to do it, but I wouldn’t until I knew she understood. In my mind, a parade of images flashed by, her soft belly, the sexy curve of her hip, or perhaps the lush side of her breast. All of those would be secret places to mark her, but after the town hadn’t believed me at first… I wanted all of them—the whole world—to see the truth.
She touched the hollow at her throat, her eyes flashing at me. Then she raised her fingers and touched my neck. “Here, for everyone to see,” she said, echoing my own sentiment. With agrowl, my restraint snapped, and I lunged forward, pinning her to the bed, claiming her mouth even as I let my hands claim her core. Fingers dipped deep, sank into heat and wetness, accompanied by the sound of her moans.
She was ready. I freed my aching cock from pants I’d never gotten to remove, parted her thigh, and hooked it over my hip, and then I sank deep. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only this closeness, this bond. Every breath, every touch, carried the weight of a question: Do you feel it too? Do you choose me as I choose you? And every time, her gasps, her whispered yeses, her arching into me were the answers I craved.
I held back, trembling with restraint. She must have felt it, because her voice cut through the haze, my name on her lips like a plea and a command all at once. “Jackson… let go.” I did, and in that surrender, the world shifted. Pleasure hazed my vision, skated up my spine. Her body clenched tight around me as she came, her expression beautiful as she tossed back her head and exposed the delicate arch of her throat. I could hold on to nothing but her, to the orgasm crashing through me until I saw nothing but stars for several long seconds.
After I slowly settled back inside my own skin, I watched the play of light and emotion on my mate’s body. Her bare skin, her open expression, so full of love and hope. Then, as the mark seared into place in a curl around her neck, delicate as feathers, glowing gold before settling into ink, I felt the tether snap taut between us. Eternal. Unbreakable. Mine.
I collapsed against her, breath ragged, the only sound the soft in and out of our breathing and our heartbeats slowing in unison.I gathered her close, wrapping the blankets around us and pressing a kiss to her temple.
She traced the mark over my skin, her voice hushed with wonder. “It’s beautiful.” Feathers, a light touch, like a tasteful necklace around her throat. Mine would look the same, so everyone would know we fit, inside and out.
“So are you,” I told her, bursting with happiness, holding my mate in my arms, floating on the success of today’s victories. I let myself whisper the promises that had lived in me longer than I’d admitted. “I’ll rebuild every room with you. Wards on the sills, tea in the mornings, flights at dusk. You’ll never face the dark alone.”
Her eyes glistened, her voice steady. “And we’ll make it ours. Your sky, my hearth. One home.” Outside, snow slid from the roof with a hush, possibly hinting at the coming of a thaw, of spring. I shifted, coaxing her back into my lap, and she came willingly, her smile equal parts challenge and devotion. This time, she set the rhythm, slower, savoring, claiming me as surely as I had claimed her.
When at last exhaustion pulled us both under, she tucked herself against my chest. Her voice—drowsy but certain—whispered the word that sealed everything: “Mate.”
“Always,” I promised, knowing I spoke nothing but the truth.
Epilogue
Gwen
The first true spring morning smelled of thawing earth and lilacs. Sunshine spilled across the pretty brick walls as I eyed the sign hanging above the front door:Sweet Dreams Guaranteed. Jackson had teased me about the slogan, but it had stuck—whispered around town like a charm—and now it was the name of my business. Then my griffin had made it real by having the local woodcarver, a true artist, make the sign. Ísarr had done a wonderful job, but it was only the cherry on top.
The B&B stood proud again, its fresh paint gleaming, its roof sound, its windows curtained with soft white lace. Every guest room bore the careful touch of a dozen helping hands. Ted had fixed the plumbing, Kai had helped with the shutters, and Drew had worked with me to make the deck in the backyard. Luther had found a way to clean Halver’s cursed cash and slip it discreetly into my bank account, “seed money,” he called it, like we were planting something sacred.
The wards Thorne set around the eaves glimmered faintly in the sunlight, keeping out shadows and nightmares. Since then, everyone who slept here had woken rested and smiling, no bad dreams clinging. At first, I thought that was just because I was so incredibly happy to share this place with Jackson and his magical world. Rosemary, the local nymph, and her dragon mate weren’t so sure; they thought perhaps we were sitting on something buried deep beneath the inn that caused it—a sacred well, a slumbering dragon, a magicalsomething. And now, no longer tainted by that evil thing from last winter, it was doing asit always had intended: promoting good dreams and better rest. The perfect, magical addition to a B&B.
With the word out to every non-human being in town that this B&B was a retreat for the supernatural, I was even getting my first trickle of reservations. Soon, we’d be open for business and have true guests. I couldn’t wait to see it.
This place was a dream come true in many ways, starting with one of the less obvious: I had friends now, real friends. They’d shown me that what I had with Kelly before was nothing like friendship at all. That had been conditional, and often one-sided. I didn’t need to ask to be included by anyone here: Rosy dropped off wildflowers every week to fill my vases; Kess had all but adopted me, slipping vegetarian recipes under my door and showing up with fresh pie her mate had made. Even Freya—so reserved at first—had come through with a sleek, lovely website that made my little B&B look like a slice of magic, the perfect escape to rest up at.
Then there was my mother. She still called, but not nearly so often. In fact, I hadn’t heard from her in days. The last thing I expected was for her to show up. I’d only just straightened some flower pots by the door—blooming early thanks to Rosy’s touch—when she arrived without warning, a neat suitcase in hand and skepticism written all over her face. “So this is it?” she asked, looking the place up and down. She unfurled herself out of a taxi and expectantly nudged her chin at me.
“This is it,” I said, my stomach tight. She wanted me to pay, and I was so shocked and nervous from the sight of her that I did so without blinking. An exorbitant fee, considering the long drive from the nearest city and airport.
I was a bit numb when I started to give her the tour, certain she’d dislike all of it, she always did hate anything I had done. She was silent throughout, though her eyes seemed judgmental. Less so when Jackson got back home from his rounds later that afternoon and discovered us awkwardly on the deck, watching the calm, peaceful forest coloring with fresh leaves as spring stole over the land. She gavehimher most seductive smile, fluttering her lashes, until he dipped down and kissed me, his finger sliding over the mark on my throat. I loved him for ignoring her until he’d greeted me, and, for the first time, I did not feel second place, unimportant in the world, the way my mom always managed to make me feel.
She stayed the night, though she clearly felt as unhappy about it as I did, now that she knew she could not get me to come home. She hadn’t even tried. In the morning, she came down to breakfast with her hair mussed, her shoulders soft, a rare smile tugging at her lips. “You did well, Gwen,” she admitted, her hug quick but warm. “You and I… we’ll never want the same things, but I can see you’ve found yours.”
When her car disappeared down Main Street, I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. Then Jackson’s arms were around me—strong and sure—pulling me back against his chest. “You survived your mother,” he murmured against my hair, a grin in his voice.
“I survived worse,” I teased, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. His golden eyes caught the morning sun, bright as fire. A flash of anger crossed his face as he recalled the shadowy evil that had tried to take my B&B, just as thugs and thieves had tried to steal my peace.
Then we both forgot about it, as he kissed me right there on the front stoop, where anyone walking past could see, and I didn’t care. Because he was my mate, my anchor, my wild sky, and I was his hearth, his safe place, his home.
The shadows had been driven out. The future waited, wide open and bright. Together, we would walk into it.
***
Jackson
