He gently stroked the hair away from her face. “You know this.” When she turned her head away, he said, “You’re a widow, aren’t you?”
She looked at him, startled. “How did you know?” It came to her then, just what age she was in. He would have certain ideas about “good women”. It was ironic, considering her origins, that he was actually right.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he said with certainty.
“That’s not exactly true,” she hedged, backing away a step. “I don’t understand what you are.”
He looked at her keenly. “One advantage to being more than a man is that I can smell exactly how you feel right now. It is difficult to resist.”
She swallowed. “Make an effort. If for no other reason, you don’t want to father a child tonight.” She had not been on birth control since her husband had passed away nearly two years ago. She had not been ready to risk her heart again.
To her surprise, his eyes flared with interest. “Don’t be so certain! If I thought such a thing were possible . . .” He took a careful step back. “Children require a more careful level of courtship. I will have to consider this.” He made her a slight bow. “Goodnight.” Before Jordon could ask him what he meant, he was gone.
As a man of dual nature, Lord Griffin had often had to battle the animal side of himself. Tonight, he was inclined to agree with the animal. He wanted her, and when she’d mentioned children . . .
He shook his head. Well, it had been coming on him for some time now. He had fought the urge to take a mate, partially because he enjoyed his freedom, partially because he’d never found a woman who seemed right. Of course, he’d never met a woman like Jordon.
She was a puzzle. He wasn’t particularly bothered by her origins, but he was interested to know why the banshee had come after her. As far as he knew, the banshee were never far from their native bogs and moors. He’d never met one in person until tonight. Had she somehow angered them?
He reviewed what she’d told him. Someone from her time tried to kill her – a man? She was brought here, apparently by lightning, and it had saved her life. The banshee attacked her. Had they been sent? A powerful fae could arrange that. Fae could also time travel.
An interesting puzzle, and griffins loved puzzles. He would have to consider this. And since the lovely Jordon was part of the puzzle, he would have to think very earnestly of her as well. Smiling to himself, he made his way to his room.
Jordon dreamed of her killer. She could not see his face, could not seem to remember it, either. Yet she knew it was him.
He was a shadow in her dreams. Warm, seductive. “Ah, Jordon, my love! We got off to a bad start. And here I’ve come to make amends.” He held a white rose in his hand, a sign of peace. “Do you forgive me?”
Jordon was in the same room she’d fallen asleep in, but instead of soft quilts and a cotton gown, now her only covering was a thin silk sheet. In the dream she was aroused, deeply so. It made her angry. “Go away!”
His voice was teasing, though he pretended to be wounded. “Ah, but I’ve promised to make peace with my sister. She was very upset that I put you in harm’s way.” He moved closer as he spoke, trailed the rose over Jordon’s calf. “I’ve been very naughty.”
She gulped and kicked at the rose from under the sheet. “Get out!”
He ignored her, sat on the bed. Jordon hunched into a ball at the headboard. “You’re making me angry,” she bit out. Even the force of her arousal was not enough to combat that.
He scanned her slowly. “It will come to a choice, you know. There could be peace if you choose me. Griffin . . . he is an animal, you know.” He shook his head chidingly.
“Jordon.”
She didn’t know who spoke her name, but the shadow seemed annoyed. “He would come,” it said.
“Jordon!” It was Griffin’s voice, and he sounded concerned.
“Interfering animal,” the shadow said, and stood up. “Very well. There will be other nights.”
“JORDON!” Griffin roared, and this time her eyes flew open. She sat there staring at him . . . and then she looked down at her foot. A single white petal lay on the quilts. With a cry of alarm, she kicked it off as if it were a spider. It flew into the air and vanished.
“Did you see it?” she asked Griffin, panicked. “The rose? He brought a rose!”
“I believe you,” Griffin said soothingly, stroking her back. “I heard you through the wall.”
“W-what wall?” she gasped. She was hardly coherent. The dream had scared her so badly.
“Mine is the next room,” he said, still soothing. “I’m glad you woke me.”
But Jordon was in no mood to be soothed, not like this anyway. Fear was not the only lingering effect from the dream, and Griffin was a handy outlet for her seemingly insatiable desires. She threw herself at him, ground her mouth into his . . . and suddenly it was not the dream alone that drove her.
He tasted delicious. She’d never had a kiss so luscious. His hair was like silk.
