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

Jackson

The wind was biting sharply up here, cold enough to freeze my damn feathers stiff.

I circled low once over the north ridge, scanning the tree line.

No smoke. No fresh tracks. Not even Arden’s lumpy silhouette lumbering around like he usually did near his moss-coated hovel.

Stubborn old troll. He’d better not have frozen his big stone ass to the riverbank again.

I angled a wing and let the wind carry me toward the narrow stretch of woods that cradled the rickety North Bridge, the one Arden kept promising he’d reinforce and never damn well did.

The snowfall from two days back had been heavy enough that I couldn’t let it slide without checking.

The last thing I needed was someone crashing through the planks and getting swept downstream. Again.

When I spotted the sagging boards and a suspiciously crooked beam, I gave a warning screech, dipped lower, and flared my wings hard enough to kick up a gust that scattered snow from the pine boughs below.

I landed in a spray of powder and shifted mid-step, feathers receding, claws snapping into boots. My tan pants were already damp from the knee down, and I hadn’t even made it back to town. I gave the bridge a look that would’ve scared sense into a less stubborn structure.

“One more week,” I muttered, brushing snow off my uniform jacket, the thick coat warm and, thankfully, waterproof. “And I'm tearing you down myself.”

I didn’t hold out much hope. Arden would find some reason to complain.

Trolls hated it when anyone touched their bridges.

This one hated snow even more. I walked to the edge of the bridge but didn’t step onto it.

The road hadn’t been plowed. Though Gregory often took care of that, likely, the minotaur was too wrapped up in his mate right now to care.

The bridge didn’t look safe enough to cross, even on foot.

I peered through the hole the crooked beam had created, and there he was: Arden, sitting on the bank below the bridge beside the frozen water, bundled up tighter than I was, his nose pink from the cold.

He gave me a sullen look that said he’d heard my comment about tearing down the bridge.

Then he shook out his shaggy hair and rose agilely to his feet, slipping from beneath the bridge before his head could strike the wood.

“I’m fine,” he rumbled, his arms crossing over his massive chest. Even in his human form, he was a big man, but I was no delicate flower either, and currently, I stood on the embankment above him.

Tilting my head down, I gave him my best drill master stare, and I saw his mouth twitch into a half smile.

“Seriously, Jackson. I’m good. Plenty of supplies, plenty of firewood, and a pile of good books. ”

That should hold him, so I gave in and stepped back.

Arden leaped onto the bank, his gaze flicking to the frozen stream once, with a mournful expression.

He loved to fish, and he was probably missing the task.

“Fix the bridge,” I said to him, and I pointed at the crooked beam, which had shifted planks enough to really make it dangerous.

He got a stubborn look on his face, so I stared him down, and he relented with a sigh.

I shifted without waiting to see if he wanted more small talk—Arden wasn’t a big speaker anyway—and I was feeling an odd sense of urgency to complete my task.

Digging my lion paws deep into the snow, I launched into the air with a squawk, beating my wings to gain enough lift to clear the trees.

I circled Arden once and was satisfied when he waved before turning back to the moss- and now snow-covered little home.

I didn’t leave until I was satisfied he was picking up his tools to begin the required repair work.

I checked in on a few more folks scattered along the back roads.

Mrs. Winters had enough firewood, Pete’s goats hadn’t broken loose again, and I narrowly avoided getting hexed by Thorne, the local warlock and professional bastard.

You’d think checking on someone’s well-being wouldn’t warrant a fireball lobbed at your head.

But nope. That was Hillcrest Hollow hospitality for you.

By the time I reached the edge of town, the sun was sliding low, and my toes were stiff with cold.

The town looked peaceful from the ridge.

Snow glinting off sloped roofs, the old bell atop the town hall casting long shadows, and my cabin—modest, weathered, with smoke curling from the chimney—waiting just off the main road like it always did.

The carved sheriff’s sign swung a little in the wind.

We didn’t have the time, space or budget to have an actual sheriff’s office, so my home did double duty.

I’d much rather have the money to pay my deputy than to run this territory all by myself.

It was bigger and much more involved than your average small town, after all.

What I didn’t expect was Drew, planted right on the front stoop like he’d been dropped there.

The gargoyle was in his human form, which didn’t make him any less unnerving, with his granite-gray eyes and a build like a refrigerator.

He was as still as ever, but his mouth was twitching with restrained excitement.

“The fun can begin,” he said before I’d even landed and shifted.

My backyard was barely big enough for my griffin shape, but a screen of evergreens blocked the view from the neighbors and the rest of town.

“She arrived last night. The woman; the new owner of the B he was starting to grow on me.

I groaned, raking a hand through my hair.

“Of course she has.” The former owner of the B that was a historical fact. Halver had been by far the worst, but at least he had had no guests to speak of during all that time, which was one worry less.

Drew grinned, sharp and knowing. “Halver’s Haven.” He stepped off my porch, moving for the first time since I returned. Though he had a key, he never went into my home, not unless I was there to urge him inside, to force him to sit down and do some paperwork.

“She’s calling it that still?” I asked, surprised anyone would want to keep the name of that misfit. He’d left in such a hurry, in the dead of night, that my senses were tingling with suspicion. Nobody did that unless they had something to hide.

He shrugged. “For now,” he drawled, a boyish grin flashing across his face.

His stone-gray eyes sparkled with that humor from before, that unrepressed excitement.

Unlike me, he seemed to relish the task of dealing with an unwanted human.

Well, he could have her for all I cared; I wanted to steer clear as much as I could.

I climbed the steps and thumped his shoulder, sending the guy stumbling across the icy yard. “Go warm up, and make sure Liz’s niece hasn’t tried to tame another raccoon. Last time, she set the woods on fire.”

His expression soured instantly, his eyes narrowing. “That girl...” he muttered, but nodded and jogged off down the road, the snow crunching under his boots. Alone, I turned toward town, hands in my pockets and mouth set in a grim line.

Running humans off had never been my favorite part of the job.

But after the last town meeting, it was unanimous: no more normals.

Too much attention. Too many risks. We needed Hillcrest Hollow to stay safe for people like us: shifters, witches, warlocks, vamps, trolls, and gods knew what else had trickled in over the past years, looking for shelter, for peace.

It used to be a much more bustling town, allowing us to thrive and hide in plain sight, but when our nymph disappeared twenty years ago, the protections fell, and people—humans and supernaturals—began to leave.

Now we had one once more, and a dragon for extra protection. I was eager to make the town thrive again, to bring it back to its full potential. That didn’t include judgmental humans, especially not after the most recent mess of criminals chasing after their heir.

After that fiasco, I couldn’t help the irritation curling in my gut. The girl hadn’t even been here two days, and already she was poking around, smiling, introducing herself—just begging for trouble. It was bad news all around.

Leaving my house without going back in for dry pants, I stepped onto Main Street.

The air smelled like woodsmoke and ice, tinged with something sweet, like cinnamon and old dreams. I ignored it.

Halver’s Haven squatted at the far end of the street, its sign crooked as a drunk’s smile.

The paint was peeling. The windows were lit from within, though, and that meant she’d already unpacked. Already settled.

I sighed.

Kai stepped out of his father’s plumbing shop as I passed, brushing his hands on a rag.

He was wearing his usual scowl, fangs flashing a little too easily.

He pointed across the street with one claw-tipped finger, straight at the general store.

He was all fangs and feral glow, as close to a shift as ever, but that was no surprise.

Anything set off Kai; he spent more time on four paws than two.

I nodded, adjusting my coat collar against the cold.

The skies had opened up to patter my hair and shoulders with a gentle layer of snowflakes.

Not the kind that chilled your bones, not yet, but the kind that would slowly soak you to the skin, catching you unaware.

I hurried across the street, ignoring Mikael, who stood at the diner’s window with his arms crossed over his wide chest, glaring and nodding at Luther’s store just like Kai had.

I got the message, they wanted me to pitch in. Time to make the new girl feel… unwelcome. At least, that had been the plan, but the second I pushed open the store door and stepped into the warm, eucalyptus-scented space, my whole damn world shifted sideways.

Because there she was, standing by the counter, snow still clinging to her coat, notebook in hand, brown eyes wide and hopeful—like she hadn’t been chewed up yet.

Like she still believed in good things. Her scent hit me first: warm spices and cinnamon and something else I couldn’t name but already wanted to wrap around myself and never let go.

My pulse jackknifed, and my practiced glare began to shift before I could control myself. She turned, met my eyes, and everything in me just... clicked.

Mine.

The word struck like lightning, sizzling through every cell and roaring through the beast inside me. Mine. Soulmate. Oh, hell...