PHAEDRA
The next morning, the sun is bright as I step outside with Gatlin by my side. “You’ve already seen the house. Let me show you my baby and the garage.”
He gives me a funny look but says nothing. Thankfully, the tiredness I saw in his face yesterday is starting to fade. And where the sun’s rays shine on him, his skin glistens as if his entire body is made of gold.
I lead him to the garage. “This was the original barn. Once cars replaced horses, I converted it into a garage with an underground vault.” Walking around the corner, I place my finger on the biometric scanner and slip inside the small room.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” I say, holding up the cover to let him get a peek at my bike.
“This is your baby?” he asks, a strangled note coming from his throat. “I’ve got a couple of my own. Maybe we can ride together some time.”
I eye him carefully. Why does he sound so weird? “That would be fun.”
Leaving him standing there, I cross over to the cabinet and pull it aside. “This leads to the main garage.”
Without waiting for him, I slip inside and stop as a thought occurs. My two vehicles are sitting inside, but that’s it. “How did you get here?”
“Flew,” he says, scanning the space.
My stomach twists remembering the last time I flew with him. His gryphon form is magnificent. Flying with him is both terrifying and exhilarating.
“This way,” I say, leading him to the opposite corner of the garage where another cabinet sits. I slide it to the side, then look back at him. “This is me trusting you, sharing my life with you.” My body tingles with nerves, but I want to show him that I’m willing to go all in with them.
Lights pop on, revealing stairs, and I head down with him following closely. Once the security system scans my eye and analyzes a drop of my blood, the large vault door swings open, revealing the treasures inside.
He whistles. “This is some collection.”
Before he can step inside, I place a hand on his chest. “Don’t touch anything. Most of the relics in here still hold their curses, and they’re deadly, even to an ancient shifter like you.” Another reason I never show anyone this vault.
His gaze is intense as he lays his hand on top of mine. “I was created, not born, remember?”
Confused, I stare up at him. “I remember you told me the magi created you, but I didn’t understand what that meant.”
His body shifts restlessly beneath our hands, muscles flexing, and my hand tingles with the urge to glide across his large chest.
“Created, not born,” he clarifies. “I’m immortal in the truest sense of the word. Life and death don’t really mean the samefor me. If damaged too badly, I might go into a stasis mode, but that’s it. Only the magi can take my life. And since they’re long gone …” A sad expression crosses his face.
This man has known true loneliness. The kind that has no end.
“I understand. When the gods punished me, and I realized dying was a temporary thing, the years stretched beyond what I could fathom.”
His golden eyes burn with intensity as he stares down at me.
“In Italy, you mentioned another gryphon,” I recall. “How many of you are there?”
“The magi only created one squadron. They were afraid we would be too powerful and hard to control,” he replies, a note of sadness in his voice. “Thirteen of us. They were my brothers. Now, we’re scattered across the world.” He drops his hand from mine and looks past me to the room. “Is this where you’ve hidden the key and panels?”
I lift my hand from his firm chest and turn away, not wanting him to see the hurt in my eyes at his unwillingness to share more. We’re so alike in that respect.
Striding into the room, I eye the pile of jewelry and trinkets on the large table in the center of the room. “Mmm, yes.” I push my hair back from my face. “Most of the time, I can immediately remove the curse, but these items all have very complicated and layered surprises trapped in them. That’s why I store them here. It’s also the safest place for the key and panels.”
I move to the wall on my right and look over my shoulder at him. “You need to know where to find them in case something happens to me.” A thunderous expression crosses his face, and I hold up my hand. “I’m talking kidnapping, not death.” My statement doesn’t seem to make him any happier, but he gives me a short nod.
I slide my finger down the seam in the wall, and a large panel swings open. “It doesn’t require my fingerprint, so this will open for you too.”
He peers into the opening and spots the key and panels. “Got it.” His tone is abrupt, as if he’s irritated by something, but I chalk it up to his natural aversion to “splitting up.”
He straightens and scans the rest of the room. When his eyes land on the vase in the corner, he flicks a glance at me and raises an eyebrow.
