Under His Wings(25)

And then there were the scars.

Puckered whirls and ridges covered her left shoulder and arm, telling their own story of tragedy and pain. His heart had clenched at the sight of them. His hippogryph had howled at the agony she must have suffered.

Still, those dissimilarities were skin deep.

A reluctant smile touched his lips.

Tamar had snapped at him, called him that insulting name. Buckbeak. He snorted. He’d lived with humans for hundreds of years and knew most of their slang and pop culture. With the phenomenal popularity of J.K. Rowling’s series based on a young wizard, he’d caught Tamar’s reference immediately. His wife would have never been so impudent. She’d been a shy, demure woman, her temperament as far from this spitfire as east from west. Pria would have trusted Nicolai to protect her from harm. She wouldn’t have fathomed picking up a weapon to defend herself.

Maybe if she had—instead of relying on him—she might be alive today.

Her mistake had been in placing too much faith in her mate.

His fists tightened at his sides and he jerked to a quivering halt outside the bathroom door. Needle-like stings pricked his palms and his back itched and tingled as his wings threatened to burst free.

Another really bad sign.

His emotions and instincts short-circuited around Tamar, popping and sizzling like an out of control current. He’d loved Pria—she’d been the only woman in his long existence to touch his heart—but even she hadn’t incited this…this wild primal need to fuck. Theirs had been a gentle courting, as tender as their mating bed.

But with Tamar, shit, both man and beast snarled and lunged to scratch, bite, mount…take.

It didn’t make sense. None of this did. His behavior reminded him of a mated male. And that was just impossible.

Nicolai frowned. The connection he shared with Tamar defied every known lore and belief held by his people. Yes, some species mated with humans. The hippogryph wasn’t one of them.

Even though mated pairs did not share gifts and the females could not transform into their beasts like bondmates, in human form the couples were equal in strength and power. And even if he could bypass the dream-sharing with Tamar, one important, huge factor continued to exist—humans and hippogryphs did not mate.

For humans were mortal and hippogryphs were…not.

His people were magical beings—stronger, more powerful, immortal. Yes, hippogryphs could have sex with humans—it was frowned upon, but not forbidden. Fucking was a physical act based on a primal, biological need. It didn’t require emotion or commitment or a melding of spirits. Hell, sex didn’t require names.

Mating was not only a sharing of bodies, but hearts. It was the continuation of a species, the affirmation of tradition. Theoretically—and theory was all healers had since there wasn’t a known mating between a hippogryph and human—interbreeding with a weaker, less-gifted mortal race would emasculate a people who prided themselves on strength and power. Whose survival depended on the young produced from mated union  s. Hybrids, or half-breeds, would be considered deygma, abominations.

The imbalance of a human and hippogryph mating would be far more perilous with bondmates. Though his people could take more than one mate, they often stayed with their chosen partner for a lifetime. Yet if something—such as death—occurred to separate the pair, finding another mate was possible. But unlike the relationship between a mated pair, a hippogryph had only one bondmate. The soul tie between the male and female went so deep if one of the pair died the other normally decided to follow his or her mate into death or opted to enter nepenthe, a coma-like sleep that could last for centuries—or eternity.

Grief and fury had engulfed Nicolai after Pria’s death. Yet instead of selecting Eirene or eternal rest, he’d chosen to channel his rage and sorrow into hunting rogues like the one who’d murdered his bondmate.

Still, no matter how short the time Nicolai and Pria had together, she’d been the fated other half of his soul. The female whom the Fates had destined for him.

So this…this attraction to Tamar had to be something else—something with a reasonable explanation.

Like he needed to get laid.

Inhaling a deep, steadying breath, he willed back the partial change. At the same time her hyacinth aroma filled his nostrils, lined his throat and seemed to attach onto every hair follicle on his body.

It was delicious, intoxicating…and wrong.

All creatures possessed a scent particular to their race—as if their DNA contained a specific code labeled smell. Nicolai recognized other hippogryphs by the traces of wild heather and wind that clung to them. The loup-garou carried the untamed fragrance of ancient dark-moss-covered forests, while the grimm reeked of freshly turned earth and desolation.