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Canvases leaned against every available surface, some big, some small, but all with the same subject. He wouldn’t tell us who she was, if she was anyone at all—his style was a unique fusion of abstract and ethereal, so we probably wouldn’t have recognized her even if we did know her. All we knew was that she lived rent-free in his head.

I stopped to take in one of his newer pieces. It was a triptych of her from behind as she stretched out on her side. A feather rested perfectly along the bend of her waist into her hip. There was one incorporated into every piece, all plucked from his own wings like some sort of offering on an altar of worship.

Alaric came out of his adjoining bathroom, scrubbing a towel over his wet head. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a couple of days, but he took good care of himself otherwise.

“How’d it go at the gallery?” he asked when he noticed me standing there. He moved over to his desk, flinging the towel over the back of his drafting chair.

“Juliette said she’ll contact the next group on the list and send you an email when they’ve responded.”

“Good.” He pulled an empty tumbler toward him and absently reached for a bottle of dark amber liquid.

“Ric.”

“Hmm?” He turned toward me, and his eyes were a little glassy.

I crossed my arms over my chest and couldn’t help the frown pulling at my mouth. “It’s ten in the morning.”

He blinked at me a few times before looking back at what he’d been doing. “Right.” He set the bottle back down. “No bourbon before breakfast.”

I snorted a laugh and held out his latte in its to-go cup. “How about a nap? Do you even know what year it is?”

That got him to crack a wry grin. “I’ll make sure I get some sleep today.”

“You’d better,” I told him as we walked out of the room together. “Or else Rami will make sure for you.”

Back in the kitchen, I took up cooking the breakfast I didn’t have time for before my errand, while Ric poked at his phone at the island counter. I was no master chef, but I was leagues beyond the combined culinary skills of my brothers. When we ate at home, it was usually me preparing the meals.

As if summoned by the smell of sausage and fried eggs, Lucian and Rami soon joined us, chatting about the MMA fight they’d watched last night.

“Breakfast?” Luce gasped with exaggerated surprise. He pulled open the stainless steel fridge to grab a couple of electrolyte waters while I plated the food. “Should we be worried?”

I rolled my eyes and slid a plate of food in front of Alaric first and then the others, who’d flanked him on the barstools.

“That’s yet to be seen,” Ric said, trading his phone for a fork. “Bellamy was just getting ready to tell us about a girl he met this morning.”

Lucian choked out a laugh around a mouthful of egg. “Since when is whoever Bel’s banging a group discussion? Congrats on the new piece of⁠—”

“Shut. Up!” The words tore out of me, completely beyond my control. Rage burned bright as feral impulses fought to break free of my hold.

“Rauhoitu.” Rami’s deep voice cut through the red haze. “Be calm, Bellamy.”

I came back to myself almost immediately, blinking at him. His pale eyes flicked to the counter where my hands rested, and I dropped the fork I’d mangled with my grip. I stepped back, rubbing at my chest.

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head while they just stared at me. “I guess my gryphon is very…worked up about her.” Then I leveled a glare at Luce. “And I’m not a tail-chaser.”

“Tell that to Margo,” he scoffed under his breath, but we all heard him.

Alaric growled, a low rumble of warning, before focusing back on me. “You have no idea why your beast is reacting so strongly?”

“Not really.” I pushed the food around my plate with the ruined silverware. “I got a sense about her, maybe? But I can’t explain it.”

“Try.”

I released a frustrated sigh, pulling my free hand through my hair. “I don’t know. She didn’t feel like shade, but I guess she could be a hybrid.”

Lucian’s gaze intensified with renewed interest. “A hybrid?”

Of course he’d be curious about that, but I could only shrug without a concrete answer. Rami hummed with suspicion, eyes narrowed, while Ric dragged his knuckles over the trim beard covering his jaw. He was quiet, lost in thought for a moment, while his artist’s mind considered all the angles.