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“You’re the one who’s going to be sorry, Sanchez,” a dark, cool voice drawled from behind me. “If you don’t take your hands off my female now.”
I felt a cold, prickling sensation up and down my spine, as though someone had opened a door that led out into a snowy winter’s night behind me. Suddenly Griffin was there, glaring eye-to-eye with Sanchez.
“Let…her…go.” He bit out each word and spat it at the big Drake as though he was spitting bullets.
Sanchez pulled back, getting out of my face—which was a vast improvement—though he still didn’t release his grip on my arm.
“You’re claiming her, Fanger?” he snarled.
“I am. Megan Latimer is mine.” Griffin’s eyes glowed bright silver with the intensity of his statement. But still the big Drake wouldn’t back off.
“Bullshit,” Sanchez sneered. “I don’t see your mark on her.”
Without a word, Griffin bared his fangs and pushed the pad of his thumb against one sharp point. I had only a moment to see a dark droplet of blood well up before he was pressing his thumb to my forehead at the spot right between my eyebrows.
I felt a cool tingling which started at the spot where his blood had touched my forehead and spread quickly through my body. It was like I had stepped naked out into a snowstorm and I could feel each individual snowflake melting into my exposed flesh.
I wanted to jerk away and protest this strange treatment and the weird feelings that followed. I mean, what the hell was Griffin doing? But the way he and Sanchez were glaring at each other let me know it wasn’t a good time to interrupt.
The big Drake shook his head bullishly.
“You fucking fanger.”
“Call me what you want—no one can dispute that Megan is mine. So get your hands off her. Now.”
There was power in Griffin’s voice—a muted force that nevertheless spoke as loudly as if he’d cocked a shotgun or revved a chainsaw behind me.
“You got no right to mark her—she’s a Sister and you’re a Nocturne. It’s against the Edict,” Sanchez pointed out, but I could see the unease growing in his yellow eyes.
“And yet, I marked her anyway. Do you want to put it to the test?” Griffin asked with deceptive mildness. “No matter how big your Drake is, I think you know I could control it—all of my line have always had power over beasts.” He cocked his head to one side, considering Sanchez thoughtfully. “Would you like me to make you bite off the tip of your own tail? Or maybe I should have you rip your wings to shreds with your own talons?”
Sanchez cursed loudly in Spanish but he finally let go of my arm.
“This isn’t over,” he growled at me and pointed to his face. “You’re going to fix this you little puta-bruja! You’re going to fix what you did!”
Then he turned and stalked away angrily, his broad shoulders stiff with rage and his ham-sized hands curled into fists at his sides.
30
“Well, you certainly know how to make trouble, little witch. I’ll give you that.” There was amusement and something else I couldn’t quite read in Griffin’s glowing silver eyes.
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say to him. The key was burning between my breasts again and the cool, masculine scent of his skin combined with the fright I’d just gone through, seemed to make my tongue too thick to speak.
“What…why did you say that to him?” I finally blurted out.
“Say what?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at me.
“Say that you…that you claimed me. That I was yours,” I finally got out.
He shrugged, his shoulders rolling with the motion.
“What else could I say?”
“I don’t know—anything else maybe?” I protested. “And what was all that about you putting your ‘mark’ on me?” I reached up to touch my forehead but my fingertips came away dry. It was as though the single drop of blood he had marked me with had soaked right into my skin and disappeared completely.
Griffin still looked wholly unconcerned.
“I had to mark you as my own in order to protect you. It’s the only thing those Neanderthal Drakes understand.”
“But you don’t own me!” I protested.
He shrugged again.
“It seems I do,” he said, in an almost bored voice. “At least as far as the Drakes are concerned. And anyone else who cares to look and sees my mark on you.”
“But…but…” I sputtered, hardly knowing what to say. “But this is ridiculous and…and sexist!”
Griffin’s lightning and pitch eyes hardened.
“No, this is the world of magic. A world you should have learned a little more about before you entered it.”
“And how was I supposed to do that?” I demanded. “Was there some kind of handbook I was supposed to read—something like, Vampires and Fairies and Weredragons are a Real thing and oh, by the way, you’re a Witch?”
