Page 5 of The Hidden
I stare at his stormy gaze for a second, not sure what the hell to say. “I don’t know exactly what that means, like my last name?” I inquire, uncertain. “It’s Umbra. Which I already told you. If you’re asking where I’m from, the answer is Colorado.”
A knock raps on the table, and Gray Eyes’ eyebrows drop slightly. "Colow-rah-down?” he asks, butchering the name of the state.
“Yeah, you know, America. The United States of America, to be exact,” I elaborate, but he only looks more perplexed.
Another knock on the table echoes around the room, and the large bodies at the table shift with discomfort.
I can tell by all of their faces that they have no idea what I’m talking about. “What country am I in?” I ask, not able to help myself. I mean, I’m aware that Americans are known to have a bit of an ego about where we come from, but how have none of them heard of it? What kind of cut-off, hillbilly, mountain town am I in?
“You are in the Eyrie of the Hidden,” the sky shadow grumbles at me, and he stares at me with a knowing look, like he expects me to recognize this place.
I quickly flick through all the world geography that I know, but nope, the Eyrie of the Hidden is not ringing any bells. “Where the hell is that?” I ask. Last I remember, I was just over the border in Alberta. Maybe this is a random Canadian town I’ve never heard of?
A knock slams against the table, and each of them suddenly looks as confused as I feel.
“Could that explain why she didn’t carry the vow but none of us know her either?” Gray Eyes turns to his left and asks Kit Duhamel.
“Where did you find her again?” the red-bearded man on the end asks.
“The Amaranthine Mountains,” Kit Duhamel mutters, and his hard stare fixes on me again, but I see a hint of curiosity in it now.
“Syta, you should never have gone out that far on your own,” a dark-haired woman, who is sitting next to the blond evil laugher, speaks. I’m shocked for a minute because I thought she was a man too, but her voice is distinctly feminine even if her bulk and muscles aren’t.
“That’s not important,” honey eyes snaps, and she immediately closes her mouth and gives an apologetic nod.
“There used to be a gate in those parts the Ouphe of old used to use,” the long brown haired table knocker offers, and I realize that he’s a woman too. They’re both so thick and angular, I just assumed they were men, but now I’m thinking anyone with a beard or scruff is male, and anyone without facial hair might not be.
“Do you know what you are?” the blond man with the pain-promising laugh asks me.
“No,” I tell him again, my own anger seeping out into the word.
I wait for the knock that proves to them I’m not lying. When it comes, they all start talking over each other in shock. I release a huff and look over at Ami. I’ve pieced together what he’s here for, but I’m infinitely curious about how it works. Based on the state of his eyes, I’d guess it’s something he can physically see. He stares at me unblinking, but the hint of a friendly smile peeks out of one corner of his mouth. I give him one back and then turn to focus on the cacophony in front of me.
“She’s obviously highblood; just look at her,” the blond man says.
“Maybe, but she carries no vow. Zeph confirmed it,” the woman with the straight brown hair argues.
“What color was her gryphon? Maybe her natural markings mask it somehow?” the dark-haired woman counters.
“Force her to change. We can inspect her more thoroughly,” someone else demands, but I’m lost to my own swirling thoughts and no longer able to track what they’re saying.
Gryphon?
The name bounces around in my mind, and it conjures up images of a shit ton of English heraldry. I try to think past what I may have seen on coats of arms and connect the mythological name with what I saw in the reflection of the lake as I flew over it. Gryphons are half bird, half lion? Or maybe it can be any big cat, because the sky shadow’s ass was definitely black. And mine was definitely white. I did have a tail. I remember trying to beat the shit out of Kit Duhamel, the honey-eyed sky shadow, when he attacked me. My face was very eagle like, with the exception of the long black, back-facing ears.
“Gryphon,” I whisper, trying the name on to see how it feels around my body. A knowing warmth fills me, and I look down at my palms in awe.
I’m a fucking gryphon!
The air in front of me shifts, and I look up with alarm, reminded of what it felt like to get attacked in the air. Like some fucked up flashback, the sky shadow—who I’m pretty sure is the guy, Zeph, Gray Eyes was talking about—is stomping toward me, hate radiating from his eyes. I have no idea what to do. He’s massive, easily seven and a half feet tall, and he looks like he wants to crush me...again.
He stops just shy of me, his chest shoving against mine slightly, and I have to fight to keep my footing and not take a step back to make room for him. I lean into him, refusing to give him my space, and my traitorous body responds to his proximity. My nipples harden against him, and just the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, sends a zing of anticipation and pleasure straight to my clit.
“I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to find out. If Lazza thinks I can be fooled by a counterfeit call and a pair of tits, he has another thing coming.”
I stare up at the abhorrence pouring out of his eyes, and I bristle. I have no idea what he just said, but the tone is clear. Anger takes over, and I fist bump the death wish that just showed up inside of me. I lift my hands and push the massive fucker doing his best to intimidate me. He takes a couple steps back, and I don’t know who’s more shocked by that, me or him.
“Fuck you,” I spit venomously at him, and the shock sluffs off his face as he charges me. He slams up against me again, and it’s like he hits a barrier right where I begin. I’m ready for him this time, and I cheer loudly inside when I once again hold my ground. I’m not sure what he’s going to do to me, but I know it’s not going to be good. I can feel his fisted hands at his side and the rage pouring out of every pore.
