“Return to the nest?” Blaise prompted Dior as they returned to the grocery store.
“Wait until the werewolves return and Raiden is confident that he has the situation in hand,” Dior replied. “And then, yes, we will return to the nest. Keep an eye out for an alternative location in case we need to remain.”
“Go home?” Verity looked between them, her voice hopeful. “I feel like I need to soak in your bathtub for three days and then spend a week in the nest.”
Blaise’s grin was predatory. “That aligns with our plans,” he smirked.
“The city still needs feeding,” she sighed. “And then there is the matter of Charon.”
“Hmm,” Dior was confident that the Charon situation had resolved itself, with the winged man unable to resist the pull of his mates. He exchanged a look with Blaise and the goat grinned wickedly. Blaise was also confident that they had won the winged man over.
“What about you, Maverick?” Verity leaned around her mates in order to look at the werewolf. “What is going to happen with you?”
“I don’t know,” the werewolf shrugged. “Maybe things will change, and the runs will open up again.”
They entered the grocery shop and found three trolleys, loading them with foodstuffs, pasta, rice, noodles, dried vegetables and spices, before releasing the front door and pushing them out into the street.
“A ride?” Dior suggested to Verity, lifting her into Blaise’s trolley. “Be careful,” he cautioned the goat.
“With such a precious burden? Of course,” Blaise beamed. “Hold on, Verity.”
They had to pause a few times and lift the trolleys over debris that blocked their path, and the noise of the trolleys drew the attention of the werewolves and winged ones as they drew nearer.
“There is a grocery store,” Dior told Raiden. “No fresh produce, all dried or preserved. But it should augment the fresh that you are having brought from the runs.”
Ashlynn was no longer with the meeting, and Dior wondered if she had returned to her mates. He raised his eyes at Etienne and the griffin gargoyle edged nearer, his dark hair falling into his eyes.
“Stay or go?” Dior asked.
The griffin looked over his shoulder at where Charon spoke with Galatia, the tone of their discussion in their tongue, less aggressive than it had been. “We need to stay,” Etienne decided regretfully. “Whilst Charon is here, they cannot collude in their tongue, and they are more comfortable talking with their own, than with Raiden.”
“Do you want to scout for a location to nest?” Dior suggested.
“Yes,” the griffin’s eyes lit. “Oui en effet.” He stripped off his clothing, thrusting it into Dior’s arms before shifting into his gargoyle form and leaping into the air.
“Is everything alright, Dior?” Raiden asked, interrupting his conversation, his eyes tracking Etienne into the sky.
“All is fine. My mates and I look for a nest for the night,” Dior replied. “We are newly mated, there is… urgency, you understand.”
“Ah,” Raiden grimaced. “Yes, of course.” His eyes went to Charon. “Charon too?”
Dior looked to Charon. The winged man coloured and nodded ever so slightly. “Yes,” Dior returned his eyes to Raiden, his chest swelling with his triumph. “Yes, Charon too.”
Raiden’s eyes went to Galatia. “Once you find a nest, we will break for the day, to prepare food and find accommodation, and resume in the morning?”
“That will suit us,” Dior agreed readily.
“We could go back to the house where Maverick and I slept last night,” Verity suggested, looking up at Dior. “It had water, and all.”
“Very good,” Dior felt himself harden. “We will take some food, and go to this place,” he decided signalling Etienne to land. The griffin dove, landing heavily, his claws scraping on the surface of the road. He shifted back into his man-form, and Dior noted Galatia exchange a look with one of the other winged women, appraising the griffin’s physique with appreciation.
“Dior?” Etienne raised his eyebrows oblivious to the admiration of the winged women.
“Verity stayed in a house last night, she suggests we return there.”
“Very good,” the griffin purred. He was hard, Dior noted, and beading at his tip, responding to their pheromones. “Le besoin devient urgent, et je veux baiser le pigeon.”
“I am beginning to realize that I am the pigeon,” Charon observed overhearing and moving away from Galatia to stand near Dior and Etienne. “What about me?” Etienne raised his eyebrows and dropped his eyes to his erection, before raising them again with a slight shrug. “Ah,” Charon murmured. “I think I can guess.”
“Shall we?” Dior asked him. “We have somewhere.”
“Ah,” Charon looked over his shoulder, and Dior could hear his heartbeat increase and the rise of desire on his scent. “Yes, I guess.”
“Raiden,” Dior drew the attention of the werewolf. “We will – ”
“You wanted to speak to me?” A young woman stepped out from between two buildings, a gun held in her hands at the ready pointed at them. Her red hair blew forward over her face, but her eyes remained fixed and steady. “Do not think to try anything,” she cautioned them. “Not only am I armed, but I have a number of sharp shooters positioned to defend me.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Raiden stood slowly, his hands held out. “This is a peaceful meeting. I am Raiden, alpha wolf of the local werewolf pack. This is Galatia, leader of the winged ones who have made this town their… home,” the slight hesitation in the description was barely noticeable. “And Dior, the leader of the gargoyle triad from the nearest city. We are here to find a peaceful resolution between the people in this area and the winged people, so that we may return to somewhat of a normal life.”
“What makes you think these thugs will agree or hold to their agreement?” The woman scoffed.
“They need us,” Raiden explained. “And we need them.”
“We need them to leave,” she replied tersely.
“Well, that is not possible,” Raiden was calm but matter-of-fact. ” So, we need to find a path that will work for all the people of this region. What is your name? Let’s talk together. Keep your sharp shooters and gun if it makes you feel secure, but let’s lower it as a gesture of goodwill, eh?”
The woman glanced over her should as the sound of engines approaching echoed up the street.
“That is just my people,” Raiden assured her. “Returning with fresh produce from our farms, so that we may have a feast tonight to ease the way into more negotiations in the morning.”
The Utes parked down the road, blocked by the townspeople’s attempt at building defences, and werewolves jumped out, opening the trays in order to remove wooden crates that clearly held greenery and vegetables, and carry them up by foot.
Trapped between the werewolves approaching from behind and the gathering before her, Dior feared that the woman would panic and begin shooting indiscriminately. Such an action could quickly spiral out of control, and they would be lucky to escape with minimal losses.
He met Etienne’s and then Blaise’s eyes. Each gargoyle shifted slightly closer to their non-gargoyle mates. If people began shooting, the gargoyles could shift and protect them with their stone bodies. Dior prepared to shift and leap to cover Raiden.
The woman reached the same conclusion, and she released the gun, holding it in one hand and then lowering it to the holster that she wore on her hip, sheathing it slowly.
“Alright,” she decided. “You have done as you told us you would, and brought back food, so I am inclined to believe you that you think this will work. So, let’s talk. I am Liberty. Everyone calls me Libby, however.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you Libby,” Raiden relaxed.
“F-k me,” Maverick murmured under his breath. “I think I just came in my pants.”