Page 13 of Bound to the Griffin (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #3)

Jackson

Liz had barely cleared the porch before Gwen turned those brown eyes on me.

Still warm from her smile a moment ago, they now held a shadow.

It was a flicker of unease she didn’t want me to see, but my eagle eyes spotted it anyway.

She didn’t want me to leave any more than I wanted to leave, and I wanted to preen knowing that, while hating it at the same time.

The bond tugged at me, low and insistent in my chest, the way it had since the second I first laid eyes on her.

My griffin half didn’t care that I had business waiting; patrol schedules, unanswered questions, a burglar still at large.

It cared about keeping her close. Guarding.

Nesting. It wanted me to get up on that roof and start fixing it for her, but it also wanted me to fly out and kill the bastard who had dared to break into her home.

I didn’t want to leave her here alone, even for an hour.

But if I didn’t keep the rest of Hillcrest Hollow in order, someone else might try to make her leave, and that wasn’t happening.

I would not stand for a single mean glance or veiled barb; enough was enough.

It was time I let them all know they needed to consider Gwen one of them, because she was mine.

“I’ve got to go too,” I said, and my voice came out husky with the tangle of emotions inside my chest. Protectiveness continued to be first and foremost. Her brows lifted—just a fraction—but I caught it.

Her grip on the cup Liz had shoved into her hands tightened, the tea trembling just slightly.

It wasn’t the chamomile and lavender she liked so much, but something equally soft and soothing.

That tiny flinch landed like claws in my gut.

I stepped toward her before I could think better of it.

One step was all it took to bring her into my space, and my hand came up on its own, cupping her cheek.

Warm. Soft. Her pulse kicked under my thumb; I could hear it, my griffin ears catching every quickened beat.

“You’re safe here,” I told her, letting my thumb brush the corner of her mouth. It wasn’t a promise; it was a fact. “I won’t be far.” It was impossible for me to go very far, even if I doubted that anyone would be brazen enough to bother her in broad daylight.

Her breath hitched, her eyes locking on mine.

She smelled of flannel and faintly of cinnamon, but under that, there was the unique note my kind could scent in a mate.

It was something like the first bite of crisp air before a storm.

I leaned in, close enough that my lips barely grazed hers.

Not a full kiss, just enough to leave the echo of one behind.

Her breath caught, and I forced myself to pull away.

If I stayed, I’d forget everything else I needed to do.

She didn’t call out my name, but it hung in the air anyway when I turned and walked out her backdoor.

The cold outside was a shock, biting my cheeks and lungs.

I cut through the snow toward the evergreens at the back of her property.

By the time the trees closed around me, I was shifting with a flash of bright light, muted against the glow of the snow in daylight.

Muscles stretching, bones reforming, wings tearing through the air with a snap that startled a flock of crows from a nearby pine.

Feathers caught the wind, and I surged upward, the ground falling away.

Up here, the mate bond pulsed like a beacon I could still feel even from above the treetops.

My eyes, sharper now, scanned for threats.

Every roof, every alley, every snow-packed road.

My territory, but it was her territory now, too.

There was no sign of the burglar, just the quiet of winter that greeted me.

By the time I touched down at my cabin, Drew was already waiting, stone-faced as always.

His posture was so straight it could’ve been carved from the same granite as his gargoyle form.

He wasn’t alone. Luther was there too, standing with arms folded and a smirk already in place.

Ted was in his work pants and heavy boots.

Mikael, from the diner, smelled faintly of bacon grease.

And Liz, every inch the alpha-mayor, was already poised to take charge.

“What the hell’s going on?” Luther asked before I was even halfway to them. My shift shivered over me in a golden glow, making the vampire throw up an arm to cover his face. His glare was rather baleful as I straightened to my full height again and stomped up my crowded porch.

Liz didn’t even blink. Her bracelets chimed as she stepped forward.

“Quiet.” The word rolled out of her with the kind of authority that makes wolves snap to attention without thinking.

Then, she looked at me, eyes softening. “I owe you an apology, Jackson. I should’ve believed you when you said she was your soulmate. ”

That stopped the conversation cold; even Luther shut his mouth as realization dawned.

Damn right, she should have believed my instincts, and I should never have let her doubt my own judgment.

I nodded once. “I appreciate it, Grandma Liz.” Then I turned to Drew and pierced him with an eagle-eyed stare.

“I need you on outer patrols for now, while I stay close to town.”

He frowned—gargoyles never liked straying far from their perceived area to protect; for Drew, that was the town center—but after a moment, he gave me a short nod.

His slate-gray eyes flicked from my face to the bell tower over the town hall, which our mayor had recently ordered repainted.

The deputy had done most of the work on that, and I knew what that meant.

I’d already caught him perching on a corner several times.

Luther broke the silence with a laugh, low and amused.

“Bold move in my store the other day. I’ll forget the store credit for your lady.

Call it repayment for my rudeness.” He had been rude, but only because, as a collective, we had decided to run off any strangers.

Technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but I wasn’t going to forgive him until she did, anyway.

“You can tell her that yourself,” I said, locking eyes with him so he knew exactly what I meant.

She was the one he’d hurt; he’d have to apologize to her.

“And none of you—” I swept my gaze across the group, my voice dropping to a warning rumble, “—mention the mate business yet. She’s not ready.

I need to bring her in slowly.” We had all heard horror stories of humans turning on their lover when finding out the truth, but Gwen was going to be more than my lover, so I had to have faith.

Kess, Gregory’s mate, was human; she’d taken the news well, so I hoped Gwen would too.

Then I turned my eyes to the older werewolf, who so far had remained silent.

Like a shadow, he stood behind his alpha’s shoulder, guarding her back.

Under my gaze, Ted cleared his throat. I asked him, “Did Kai find anything while tracking that burglar?” His eyes, amber with the glow of his wolf, flickered, and I wondered how close to the surface his beast was.

His son was “moontouched,” feral and close to shifting all the time. What about Ted?

It would, for now, remain a mystery. The older wolf jerked his chin toward the shadows.

“Ask him yourself.” That’s when I saw him—Kai—lurking in the shadows like he was part of them.

Too still, but I could hear the restless thump of his heartbeat.

The others peeled away, knowing what was coming.

I didn’t move, freezing like a predator in wait.

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 out of 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.