Page 31 of Bound to the Griffin (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #3)

Jackson

The storm had quieted, but the cabin still groaned like an old ship on dark waters.

The wind whistled against the eaves, and now and then, ice slid from the roof with a crack that rattled my nerves.

My griffin stirred in my chest, restless, every sound an itch beneath the skin, every silence a warning.

The phone buzzed against the side table, sharp in the hush. I snatched it up before the second ring could wake Gwen, who was curled warmly against me, tangled in quilts and firelight. She murmured in her sleep, cheek against my chest, and I held still until her breathing steadied again.

“Jackson?” The voice was tinny, uncertain.

It was Liz’s niece. She was a young wolf, still green enough to get turned around by her own instincts.

And though this wasn’t widely known, she’d only recently come here after losing her entire pack, including her parents.

She was fragile, which was why I sent Drew so often to check on her.

I didn’t agree with Liz’s decision to assign the young woman to guard our human, even if it was a relatively safe job.

“What is it?” I kept my voice low, edged with command.

It helped to be steady with her, to have that calm center her, anchor her.

Though the truth was, a hint of frustration clung to the back of my mind, which I tried to hide.

Thankfully, this was a phone call, and she could not use her nose to suss out what I was feeling.

“I—I’m so sorry. I thought he was still in the cabin. I had eyes on it the whole time, but…” A breathless pause. “He must’ve slipped out under the storm.” She whimpered, then held her breath as she waited for my answer. I tried to reel it in. I really did.

Cold anger clawed through me, sharper than the winter air. “You lost him,” I snapped at her, then made myself take a deep breath. Gwen stirred against my chest, and I did not want to wake her.

“I...yes. I’m sorry.” She sounded close to tears. “The wind was so bad. I stayed out there all night, I swear…” She trailed off, as if uncertain how to finish that sentence. I did not doubt that she’d done her very best. What foolish human would brave a snowstorm, anyway?

I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing my voice level.

Yelling at her wouldn’t change the fact that the bastard was gone.

And she had braved the storm—a young wolf, half-frozen out there in the woods—trying her best to please her alpha and the sheriff.

I could not forget that she was not a soldier, not trained for this the way Drew and I were, or uniquely fixated on hunting the way Kai was.

“All right. All right. Go home. Warm up. You did what you could.”

She sniffled her thanks before the line went dead.

I sat in the dark, fire low and smoldering, my griffin prowling behind my ribs, demanding I act.

Pawns or not, this one was mine to keep eyes on, and I’d let him slip.

He was more determined and more conniving than I’d given him credit for, if he’d gone out in this weather.

I had to consider what it meant, had he known he was under watch?

I eased myself free of Gwen, hating the loss of her warmth, and dressed quickly.

Then I bent to wake her, though the last thing I wanted was to disturb her slumber and share this unfortunate news.

She blinked up at me, hair tousled, eyes soft with sleep.

“Jackson?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep, reminding me of the sensual things we’d gotten up to under the cover of the storm.

“I’ve got to go,” I murmured. “I need to check in with the others.” Though I wanted to go out and track the burglar again, duty called first. Now that the storm had faded, there were roads to check and homes to inspect.

I needed to make sure that each remotely living inhabitant of the Hollow had made it out safely.

Most of us were very self-reliant and capable of taking care of anything ourselves.

Some of the shifters who made the Hollow their home were not, though—like Mrs. Winters, who was a deer and easily startled, or Peters, who kept to himself and his goats, an ancient satyr with hardly any sight left in his old age.

He might need help if any of his herd wandered off.

“I’m coming with you.” Her voice sharpened in an instant, and her eyes grew flinty with determination. That look was a warning, telling me not to shut her out.

“I’ll be flying hard and fast,” I tried anyway, but that did not deter her.

I would have smiled if that wouldn’t have encouraged her.

She was so bold, so brave, and always ready to do exactly the opposite of what would be considered safe or smart.

Not that I’d ever tell her it had been a stupid idea to buy a B that was my girl.

Kai approached, tail low, ears back, and I clawed the snow with my paws, wings growing tense as I braced myself to leap between them if needed.

Gwen smiled at him. “Forget it. And please, no more deer. Okay?” He dropped his head, then abruptly spun and jogged between the houses and in the direction of the roads I’d assigned him.

Drew leaped into the air to fly after him.

It was a signal to the others, and both Luther and Ted turned together to head off in their direction.

Kess hugged Gwen one last time before going to the tow truck and her mate, warm inside the cab.

I wished I could urge Gwen to join her, but she was determined to stay with me.

I lowered myself in the snow as she approached, and she nimbly climbed onto my back, snug between my wings.

Her warmth pressed close, steadying the beast in me.

Then we leapt, the ground falling away, the world opening in silence and snow, just the two of us, soaring into whatever waited.

It was not the same as flying with her in the quiet morning hours had been last time.

This was urgent, still dark, and urgency rode me hard.

Elly’s phone call with the bad news, the fact that Gwen’s ex was in her B&B unsupervised, and the dark dreams. Though Gwen had told me she no longer had them, I did not trust it.

I’d assigned myself the remaining stretches of road and cabins because I was the fastest flyer with the sharpest eyes.

Drew hadn’t liked that—I’d seen it in his eyes—but he had not protested.

I’d avoid the ice dragon’s territory and only do a quick flyby over the farm where Chardum, our other dragon, and his nymph mate resided.

The golden dragon did not like the cold any more than his nymph lady did, but he stepped onto the already-snow-cleared porch when I winged overhead and waved, telling me that all was well.

Then I spun, turning us in the direction of Arden’s moss-covered hovel and bridge, and beyond it, the glass-and-stone abomination that Thorne had built for himself.

Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone: check that the warlock had weathered the storm all right, and ask him—again—about the dark dreams.