Page 19 of Bound to the Griffin
He wrapped his arm around my middle, pulling me against him. “You steady after that?” His voice was rough, but his eyes searched mine like I was the only thing that mattered. “We okay?” I knew what he was asking, not just about the landing and my wobbly dismount. He wanted to know if we were good, if this was going to work between us.
The world still felt tilted, spinning too fast, but I nodded roughly, a fast jerk of my chin. Words weren’t enough after that, so I lifted up on my toes and kissed him, a promise more than a question. He kissed me back, soft but fierce, and when we pulled apart, we just… looked at each other. It was not a look I’d shared with anyone before, more intimate than what we’d done in the bedroom last night. That look said yes: I believed, I trusted, Iknew. What exactly, I had no words for yet, but being here with him was enough for now.
The moment shattered in a blast of heat and sound. Flame erupted against the tree beside us, charring bark in a sudden,violent bloom. I yelped, the heat licking across my face, but Jackson reacted instantly, shoving me behind cover, his body braced like a shield. I got a mouthful of snow, not my first since coming here, but that was a small price to pay.
Huddled behind the thick trunk of a tree and blinking through the smoke, I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Were we under attack? Had someone shot at us? I noticed the other trees along the drive bore scorch marks too. Strange, round, blackened circles, as if someone had been practicing with—well… with what, actually? A shotgun? Fireworks? They looked like starbursts, too big to be from a gun, though I wasn’t quite sure, because I’d never seen either gun or shotgun damage on a tree before.
Then I saw him: a man, tall, dark hair tousled, standing in the open doorway of the cabin. He wore a silk robe, of all things, open at the chest to reveal pale muscles on a lean frame. Above his hand, something sparked to life, flames dancing in what roughly looked like a baseball shape. A fireball, an honest-to-God fireball.
“Fuck off, Jackson!” His voice carried, raw and furious. “I’m not one of your goody two-shoes sheep. I don’t need you to check up on me every damn week!” His words were accompanied by his hand winding back, the ball of flames tightening in his grip but clearly not burning him. Then he lobbed it through the air in our direction, and it exploded against the tree we were hiding behind.
My heart thundered in my throat. Magic. Real, dangerous magic. A half-naked man throwing fireballs at my head was probably the more insane part of the last twenty-four hours, and thatincluded finding a huge stash of money and sleeping with a man who could turn into a mythical creature. This was absolutely insane, but it wasn’t fear that made my heart race. This was excitement. I’d landed straight into some of my favorite novels, in a world I never thought was real but always hoped for, just a little.
Jackson leaned out just enough to peek around the tree, then glanced back at me. And damn him, he winked. Actually winked, a cocky grin tugging at his mouth like this was some game. It answered the giddy happiness that filled me at discovering just how real this world was. Inappropriate as the response was, when faced with someone who threw exploding fireballs at us, I was happy, and from the looks of it, Jackson was, too.
Then he called out to the hostile, fire-lobbing guy on the porch, voice steady and cool, “Not here for that. I’m here on business.” The sizzle that had filled the air as the guy grew his next projectile abruptly cut off. From where I was peeking around the bulky trunk of the tree, I could see it wink out in his hand. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and, with a much more polite, businesslike tone, said, “Why didn’t you say so? Come in.”
Jackson’s hand closed around mine, warm and solid, pulling me up from where he’d shoved me into the snow. I was still shaken, still staring at the scorch mark hissing faintly against the tree, but he didn’t give me a chance to linger. He brushed me off, literally, palms skating down my arms, across my sides, smoothing the snow from my coat and jeans. It should have been practical, quick, but the heat of his touch lingered far longer than the snow ever could. By the time his hand brushed down my hip and squeezed, just slightly, I wasn’t cold anymore.
The stranger watched the whole display with a gaze so sharp it cut. Brooding, dark eyes that didn’t blink nearly enough, his mouth tilted in the kind of smirk that promised trouble, not charm. Still, he turned without another fireball in hand, gesturing for us to follow him through the open door. He didn’t wait for us to reach the front porch, his robe swishing as he disappeared through the tall doorway.
I bristled the second we stepped inside. The house was warm, yes, and it smelled of cedar and something spiced, but the sheer luxury of it almost knocked me off my feet. Dark hardwood floors gleamed like glass, rugs that probably cost more than my car sprawled across them, and a chandelier of wrought iron and amber light spilled warmth across walls lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything about it screamed money. Modern, curated money. Not earned but flaunted. I had an eye for that kind of thing, because I’d half-lived in those circles back in Chicago. Evan had a house like this, and it had never made me feel at home. My mom’s house had been this way too, except for my bedroom, which I’d decorated myself.
The man himself? I couldn’t deny he was striking. Tall, lean, handsome in a sharp, cutting way, his robe hanging open enough to suggest he knew it. His beauty was a blade, though: polished and dangerous, not the kind that made you want to get closer. If you’d told me he was a wolf from Wall Street, I wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps he made his money as a day trader.
Jackson slid his arm firmly around my waist, tucking me in against his side as if I might forget who I belonged to. Possessive, protective; I didn’t mind, exactly, but the warlock noticed. Hislip curled. “Cute,” he said, voice rich with disdain. “Do you always parade your trophies this close to your ribs, Sheriff?”
Jackson didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. “Only the ones worth keeping.” He said it so calmly, so full of certainty, that it was clearly not even meant to be for show, to flatter, or to reassure me. He was stating a fact. Worth keeping. Since nobody had ever considered me worth keeping, not unless it was to their advantage, that hit home. Lodging in my chest like Cupid’s arrow. Damn it, Jackson. I was already falling; that just hastened the process.
The stranger’s eyes flicked between us, unreadable for a moment, then narrowed with faint amusement. “You didn’t drag me out of bed for relationship advice. What’s this business?” He said it as if he didn’t really believe Jackson had anything to offer, anything to ask that was worth his time. I really disliked this asshole, though his similarities to Evan certainly didn’t help.
“You don’t need business,” I muttered before I could stop myself, my eyes roving over another sleek, expensive piece of furniture. A leather sofa the size of a boat, glass tables without a fingerprint to be seen. “Clearly.” If he heard me, he ignored me, didn’t so much as glance in my direction. He’d slouched against the back of that huge couch, but even slouching, he looked polished.
Jackson’s voice cut in. “Gwen, this is Thorne. He’s a warlock. Thorne, this is Gwen. She owns the Hollow’s B&B.” It was said with what sounded to me like a hint of pride, but I felt nerves tighten in my stomach. Was this guy in on the whole “scare me off” thing, or had he already been informed I was now welcome to stay? “Warlock” certainly didn’t sound like a normal, pleasantprofession. That was a male witch, sort of, wasn’t it? That explained the fireballs.
It certainly got a reaction. Thorne’s eyes sharpened instantly, his posture shifting like a blade unsheathed. The weight of his gaze on me was sudden, suffocating, and I had the horrible feeling he knew something. Maybe a lot of somethings. My stomach twisted, bracing for more rudeness, but he only inclined his head and flicked a hand. “What do you want?”
Jackson didn’t waste time, his voice cool, as businesslike as this guy was. “There was a break-in at the B&B. We haven’t been able to track the burglar. Not me, not Kai. He’s slippery in a way that shouldn’t be possible.” I tilted my chin up just in time to catch the frown on his face, the hint of suspicion. Did he think this guy had something to do with that? How bad a guy was this dude?
Thorne’s expression cleared as though a fog had lifted. A humorless laugh escaped him. “Oh, that. Yes, he crossed my path. Paid me well to cast him a cloak. Nothing elaborate; a simple spell to make him untraceable. Easy enough to undo.”
Jackson’s stare turned sharp, the kind that could cut steel. “Undo it.” It was an order, and one that brooked no argument. If it were me, I’d hurry to obey it. Well, maybe not, I did tend to do the opposite of what people wanted of me. Then again, my mother never asked outright; she always manipulated. Evan hadn’t been any different.
Thorne rolled a shoulder, careless, like he wasn’t in the least impressed by the sheriff’s tone. “And why would I do that?” he asked, grinning, something dark glinting in his black eyes. When Jackson bared his teeth, it seemed to me that his canineswere unnaturally sharp. The growl that rumbled from his chest would suit a lion just fine. It shot a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with unease or fear. Jackson’s sound of intimidation might be all animal, all other, but it was primal, it was powerful, and I knew it was on my behalf. It was...sexy.
The warlock shrugged again, still appearing utterly unconcerned, but something dark flickered over his face, a shadow to his expression. Then it cleared again, and the careless, somewhat cruel smile was back. “I’m trying to… better myself, you see. New town, new habits. So perhaps, given that your burglar is a criminal—which I didn’t know at the time—I’ll undo it without charging. This once.”
He raised a hand and snapped his fingers together. They were long and elegant, with manicured nails, nothing like my own short and serviceable ones. You couldn’t exactly wear nail polish when remodeling an entire ancient building on your own. Still, the sight made me wince. For some reason, I felt tawdry, cheap. I didn’t like that very much. As if the warlock knew, his eyes locked with mine, his mouth lifting even further into a cold smirk. “Done.”
I couldn’t stop staring. Did he just declare he’d undone a magic spell? Was that all it took? I had expected him to lead us into some dark, smoky potions room with a bubbling cauldron and nameless things in jars on endless shelves. All he’d done was snap his fingers. “Just like that?” I asked, before I could think better of the question.
His smile hit me like a splash of ice water: sudden, disarming. It was the first full smile, and one that wasn’t cloaked in barbs and blades. “Peanuts. Child’s play,” he drawled smugly.He straightened away from the back of his couch and tugged the sash of his robe more tightly about his narrow hips in a perfunctory manner. Then his smile turned sly, and I knew he was going to say something to needle Jackson, I knew it. “Congratulations, by the way. On your mating with our sheriff.”
The word landed like a punch in my gut.Mating?My cheeks burned. I looked up at Jackson, but he coughed sharply, shooting Thorne a warning glare. Whatever passed between them wasn’t for me to understand, because Thorne only smirked wider. Pleased as punch to have landed that blow. These two definitely did not get along,not at all.
Jackson pressed forward, ignoring the jab. “One more thing. Have you seen or heard anything about shadows invading dreams? Dark things, whispering, trying to draw people into the woods.” I did not like being reminded of the dreams, but I could not deny that I wanted to know why I was having them. A shady warlock with some degree of power did seem like a good person to ask, if we could even trust him. How did we know he’d truly undone this supposed anti-tracking spell?
Still caught up in what I’d been seeing when I closed my eyes, the need for answers was powerful. “Green eyes,” I added before I could stop myself, and his eyes swung back from Jackson to me. The memory of that nightmare gaze still chilled me to the bone. “Watching.” Just like he was right now, and I didn’t miss the similarities, even if the warlock’s eyes were black as night, not green.
