Page 13 of Bound to the Griffin
Finally, he spoke. “I’m sorry.” The words came as if they cost him, all gravelly and rough. “I only bit her ankle to keep her from going over the rocks and falling to her death. She wasn’t supposed to trip. I’d never have done it if I’d known she was—” His jaw tightened, as though the word hurt. “—your mate.”
I opened my mouth, but I wasn’t sure what to tell him. I was furious that he’d done what he’d done. Nobody got to scare my Gwen like that, and to mark her skin? Unforgivable. And yet… he had caused her to fall, but he did speak the truth when he said he’d tried to keep her from further harm. Kai was not a bad male, just… complicated. Then again, most of us here were. “I’ll tell her myself. Like Luther,” the wolf added, eyes gleaming yellow from beneath the shadowed edge of his hat.
“Not necessary—” I started to say, suddenly having vivid images of what an apology looked like for a wild wolf like him. None of them were pretty. Too late, he was already shifting, his body disappearing in a flash of light like lightning sparks. Then it was changing into fur and muscle, muzzle snapping forward. He landed on four paws and raced for the cover of the evergreens that surrounded my property. A lynx padded outof the undergrowth to meet him—his mate, Freya—and the two vanished into the snow-dusted pines.
I let out a slow breath, feathers prickling under my skin even in human form. Likely, Kai’s idea of an apology was dropping a dead deer on Gwen’s doorstep. I’d have to explain that one away before Gwen decided this town had lost its mind. Most humans tended to think finding dead animals was a death threat, not a gesture of goodwill. But that was a bridge I’d cross when I got to it.
With my backyard now empty, I took a few deep breaths to center myself. Work. I had to focus on keeping Gwen safe, and now that the word was out that she was my mate, the whole town would have her back. It was time I set out to pick up the trail that Kai had lost, because I knew he would have said otherwise if he hadn’t. Shifting, I threw myself into the sky with relish, holding back an eagle’s scream until I was back over the forest.
First task: find Gwen’s thermos and the lost lid so I could return them to her. Then, I’d backtrack Kai’s trail and search from the sky for the bastard who had disturbed the peace. Gwen’s peace. And once I’d taken care of that bastard, I’d come back and start work on the B&B’s roof. I could no longer even bring myself to consider it Halver’s B&B; already, it was her place. I’d have to ask her what she was going to call it when she opened, there would need to be a sign. I knew just the guy to make her one.
Finding the thermos was easy. Finding the burglar was not. Halfway through what was beginning to feel like a terribly fruitless search, another joined me in the sky. This one was far more ancient than I, a huge, golden shadow that blocked out the watery winter sun as he rose above me. Being used to being thebiggest predator, and the one with the highest vantage point, I found it rattling to have the dragon fly above me—especially a dragon with a name like Chardum the Destroyer.
Like me, Char had been tasked with protecting the town of Hillcrest Hollow. Although I was officially appointed, even in the eyes of human law, and he had been chosen for the task by forces more ancient and supernatural than even he.
“Dark times ahead,”the dragon said. Capable of telepathy, he did not need to shift into his human form to speak, and I envied him that ability. Not so the sense of the future he sometimes had, or the way his mate, Rosemary, dreamed of dark things still lurking in the dirt beneath our feet. Once, the pair had guarded a prison housing something evil, but the prisoner had nearly been stolen and freed. Now, none of us knew if it was dead, gone or out there somewhere.
There was a small clearing ahead that I often used, and though it was too small for a full dragon, I knew Chardum could make the landing. Frustrated with my fruitless hunt, I thought the dragon might help me put things in perspective. If he was here, seeking me out, he probably had more to say than “Dark times ahead.”
As soon as my lion paws hit the ground, I shook myself through the transformation and back into my human form. Unlike Kai, who often struggled to retain his clothes when shifting, I had mastered the skill. Boots, uniform—even my hat—all of it settled into place with nothing but a thought. Across from me, Chardum dove toward the opening and shifted mid-dive. He landed in a crouch, fully dressed like I was, his long black hair still flowing upward as if caught in the wind of his dive. Very impressive.
“What do you mean? Dark times?” I asked as I crossed my arms and moved closer. I’d known Chardum ever since I’d found the Hollow and settled here. That was over a century ago, though I’d come and gone several times. Twenty years ago, the dragon and his then-nymph partner had gone missing. It was Rosy, the daughter of the previous nymph, who had come back and broken the curse the male had been under. I thought he’d gotten more serious, darker, since being buried under rubble for twenty years. I was occasionally plagued with a sense of guilt that I hadn’t realized he’d been right here, under our noses.
“Dark times,” the man said, arms crossing over a still nearly bare chest despite the subzero temperature on this winter day. As a dragon, he ran hot, and he was always proud to display the mating mark on his chest. “I do not believe the Galamut is gone, and now there’s this intruder you cannot find.” He said it casually, as if it were just a statement of fact, but it hit like an accusation anyway. Like Kai, I had failed to track what was supposed to be a simple human.
“What does your mate say about this?” I asked, heat crawling up the back of my neck as I shoved away the sense of failure. It was useless and would not amount to anything; I simply had to do better. Chardum’s golden eyes were slitted like a reptile’s, giving his face something exotic and sharp. He shifted on his feet, and I knew he felt the urge to move wings he did not currently possess.
“Rosemary has a cold; she does not like the winter,” he said mildly, but there was concern for his mate there that he masked. It made sense that the plant-loving nymph did not like winter, when everything either died or went dormant. It was not a time when she had much use for her talent, and if I recalled correctly,her father, Zachary, would walk around like a bear with a sore tooth for most of the season. Unlike her father, though, Rosy tended to be more down-to-earth and gentle.
I waited, certain Chardum was going to get to the point eventually. Beings as old as him did not always sense the urgency of others. Usually, he was better at it, but today he seemed to be taking his own sweet time. Anxiety filled me to get back to Gwen; it was hard not to tell him to get to it.
“Rosy says her dreams are troubled, a voice calling to her, luring her. Make sure,” the dragon said, and now he pierced me with a look filled with potent warning. “Make sure you watch for the danger within, as well as without. It could be more insidious than you think.” Okay, warning heard. It sank beneath my skin, worming into the back of my mind, where it settled.
What did he mean? What was he talking about? I wasn’t sure if Chardum knew himself. Warning delivered, he seemed done with the conversation. Leaping into the sky, he changed, wings unfurling, body shifting into his massive, golden dragon form. His head turned, honing in on the only location that mattered to him: his home, where his mate resided, sick with a cold.
I did the same, leaping skyward and shifting. And like the great guardian dragon, I was pulled in only one direction: toward my mate.
Chapter 11
Gwendolyn
I shut the door behind Jackson and just stood there, back pressed to the wood as if I could trap the moment inside. It had been barely a kiss—a brush, really—but my lips still tingled, and my cheek still felt warm where his hand had been. My heart… my heart was being ridiculous, skipping and stuttering like it was seventeen again and this was my first crush.
“Safe,” he’d said. That word had stuck harder than the kiss. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had told me I was safe, and meant it. I had always felt like I was alone in the world, meant to take care of myself and others, not the other way around. Jackson made me feel like I finally had someone watching my back, in my corner. Jackson kissed me, but what did it mean?
My phone trilled in my pocket, reminding me that there was a world outside this strange—and getting stranger by the minute—town. I recognized the sound and wished I could just toss the thing into the flames: Mom’s ringtone. I stared at it and willed it to stop. Of course, it didn’t. The first call went to voicemail, and my fingers clenched around the silent phone, waiting for the next round. It came, and then a third. She persevered and even called a fourth time, like she could sense I was ignoring her and wanted to prove she’d always have the last word.
With a muttered curse, I grabbed it and held the power button until the screen went black. The fire—someone, possibly this cowboy hat-wearing Kai or the deputy—had left in the hearth had settled to glowing embers, and I went to stoke the flames sothe house would stay toasty. There was enough firewood there to last me a few days; I could give myself that.
Then I poured myself a cup of one of the tea blends the Mayor had brought in her huge welcome basket: cinnamon and chamomile, rich and sweet, though not quite like my favorite. I settled into the one comfortable lazy chair by the flames. My ankle ached as I tucked my legs under me, a faint reminder of everything that had happened.
The warmth of the tea, the soft snap and crackle of the fire, the way my body finally—finally—felt like it could rest. I let my eyes close for just a second. The work that was left to be done on the house would wait; I had earned a little nap after all the upheaval.
I blinked my eyes open what felt like only a second later, but all I saw was darkness. This was not my living room; it wasn’t anywhere I knew. This wasn’t the soft dark behind closed lids; this was heavy, oppressive, like the air itself had weight. Cold crept up my legs, which I felt even through the warm, oversized sweats that belonged to Jackson. I might as well not have been wearing anything at all. My breath puffed out white in front of me, even though I couldn’t see my own hands—a plume of pale in front of my face—but that was the only distinction against the all-consuming black that surrounded me.
Somewhere ahead, trees whispered. Fear pounded in my chest, hard and fast, bordering on panic. What was this? Where was I? Why could I hear trees but not see anything? There was a foul taste in my mouth: sour, acrid—like fear itself had a taste. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go, and my feet felt rooted to the spot.
“Gwen…” The voice slid through the dark like smoke, curling around my ears, inside my head. Low and smooth, with an undertone that made my skin prickle. It was seductive, and it was insidious, and it made my guts twist up inside. Still, I turned toward it without thinking, my eyes searching the dark. That voice was better than the nothing all around me, was it? An anchor point in this blinding black.
