Chapter 8

Julia

As much as I tried to deny it, I loved seeing Gryph and Oliver getting along. My familiar didn’t make friends easily. He was close to Mr. Whiskers, but he didn’t care for most of the other familiars. Even his relationship with Mr. Whiskers had been strained at first because he didn’t like the way the condor smelled at times. I didn’t blame him. I’d watched Mr. Whiskers a couple times without making sure Mel had packed his breath fresheners. That condor ate some foul things, and on occasion, his breath got bad enough that I couldn’t handle being in the same room with him.

Before meeting Gryph, Oliver had hated all werewolves, claiming they were too arrogant and smelled funny. Smell plays a big role in how Oliver interacts with those around him. Gryph, Oliver had liked from day one. Had he not liked Gryph, Oliver never would have accepted his dominance. He wasn’t afraid of Gryph, like some might assume. My familiar had complete faith in me to protect him from any threats.

“Did you find your room?” Gryph asked as he walked into the kitchen, with Oliver by his side.

“Yes,” I replied before shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Thank you again for letting us stay here.”

A strange look passed over Gryph’s face as he regarded me. His mouth opened, but then he closed it and shook his head.

“What were you going to say?” I asked.

“That this is my job and you don’t have to thank me,” he began. I nodded, oddly hurt by that sentiment before he continued. “Then I realized what a lie that is. You aren’t a job. I don’t have to do this. In fact, I shouldn’t do this. Having you here will create a whole mess of problems for me.”

“Then why are you doing this?” I asked softly. I wanted to walk toward him and rub my hand along his beard. I’d always preferred my partners softer and more refined. Gryph was rough and raw, and I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone.

“You know why I’m doing this,” he murmured. “You already know you’re mine, even if you don’t like hearing it.”

Those words were enough to break the temporary spell I’d been under. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Gryph looked amused by my statement. “So you’ve said,” he remarked with a smirk.

“I keep saying it because it’s true,” I insisted.

“You keep saying it because you think that’s what you’re supposed to feel. You think belonging to anyone, man or woman, makes you weak. This isn’t about me being too possessive. You’re not afraid that I think I own you or have the right to run your life. You’re afraid that if you give your heart to me, you’ll be vulnerable. For some reason, you’re a cynic when it comes to love,” he told me.

“I’m not a cynic,” I assured him. “I grew up with parents who are a perfect match. They love each other more today than they did when they first took their affinity test. I believe it’s possible to find true love.” I didn’t add that love wasn’t enough since Gryph would only see it as proof I was a cynic.

“But you’ve also seen failed relationships,” he added. “You’ve been trained to perform the affinity tests and bonding ceremonies for witches. You’ve been told compatible magic is the key to a successful long-term relationship.”

“My poor father is still disappointed I’ve chosen not to follow in his footsteps,” I admitted. He’d always said I had more natural talent than any young witch he’d ever seen. Natural talent or not, having people put their entire future—their very happiness—in my hands was exhausting. I’d even had Bliss clients ask me to tell them if I thought their magic was compatible. It was impossible to give a completely accurate reading without doing an actual test in a controlled environment. That made it easier to avoid giving them a response they wouldn’t like. Most who asked if they were compatible, didn’t believe they were to begin with. I was certain some had made their own assumptions based on my reactions, but there was no getting around that.

“Why’d you decide to partner with Allie?” he asked, squatting to rub Oliver’s belly as soon as my familiar rolled over.

“I needed a change. Sometimes, facilitating an affinity test is beautiful and rewarding,” I began. “Mostly, it involves witches arguing about the results or trying to get you to give them a different answer. The results are obvious, and there’s no way to misread them. In some cases, the family insists that the test is wrong. Then, the poor couple is often badgered into breaking up because their families don’t agree with the match. In some cases, they’re pressured into continuing with a bonding ceremony, even though they aren’t compatible. Witches live under some very archaic rules. According to the laws of our council, my parents could select a warlock and demand a bonding ceremony be performed. Luckily, my parents disagree with that practice, but many families are strong supporters of it. In the end, it’s stressful, and I began to hate the whole process. When Allie mentioned her idea for Bliss, it sounded fun and exciting, so I suggested being partners. It was a good decision, one I don’t regret. I don’t miss having witches trying to push me to give them the answer they want.”

“I can see why this would be a much less stressful career choice,” Gryph stated. “It would be hard being pushed around by witches.”

I laughed at the thought of Gryph being pushed around by witches. “You wouldn’t have any problems dealing with them,” I told him. “You’re not the type to let anyone push you around.”

“Neither are you,” he insisted, standing and walking toward me. “Why don’t I fix us something to eat?”

“I’m not really hungry yet,” I admitted. “This was just an excuse to check out your kitchen.”

“What do you think?” he asked, as he gestured to the room with the center island, double oven, enormous fridge, and eight burner range.

“I’m curious why a house in a vampire subdivision needs this kind of kitchen,” I admitted.

“They have humans living here,” he reminded me.

“Good point,” I agreed. “This still might be overkill.”

Oliver said something about going to take a nap and scurried up the stairs to find a place he liked.

“Even if you aren’t going to eat, I am,” Gryph announced. It had only been about an hour since we’d eaten, but werewolves had a much higher metabolism rate, so I wasn’t surprised Gryph was hungry again. His last meal had also been small by werewolf standards.

“I’m surprised Oliver didn’t stick around to beg for food, even though he ate while I was packing up my stuff,” I remarked. “That’s usually what he does the second we get home, regardless of when he last ate.”

“He’s tired,” Gryph pointed out as he pulled out a container and set it on the center island. “This has been a stressful day for him. Not only is he dealing with a new place with disturbing smells, he’s also worried about you.”

“I guess you’re right,” I agreed.

Gryph opened the container and began eating the leftover ribs cold.

Nothing was said, giving me time to think about the many things that had been bothering me. “Why’d you shut me out?” I finally asked. “If you really thought I was yours, why run away?”

“I didn’t run away,” he argued. “I just left.”

“Call it whatever you want,” I told him. “You left and refused to return my calls. I wouldn’t do things your way, and you weren’t willing to discuss any other options.”

“It’s not that simple, Sass,” he stated without looking at me.

“It’s seems pretty damn simple to me,” I argued. We’d danced around the issue for hours. It was probably best if we didn’t discuss it, but I seemed incapable of stopping myself.

Setting a rib bone down, he shook his head before responding. “I left because it was the right thing to do.”

“That is a complete load of bullshit,” I accused.