Page 36 of Bound to the Griffin (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #3)

I clutched at Luther’s shoulder, trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The thing had wanted to devour me, but it wasn’t getting me. Not while my people were here, not on Jackson’s watch. I knew he’d come; I knew he wouldn’t abandon me.

The world changed in a blink. One moment, the woods pressed close and black as ink, the creature’s hunger gnawing at the edges of my soul. Dark consuming everything around us like a greedy maw stretched wide. The next, there was snow glare, a wide street, and cold air I could breathe again.

Luther set me down in the middle of Main Street, and I swayed on shaky legs.

Behind me, the forest still loomed, but then—like smoke whisked away by a sudden wind—the darkness snapped, retreating all at once.

The shadows bled backward, unraveling, until nothing remained but morning light and the faint glitter of frost on branches.

It was only a sliver of woods I could see over the top of the B I could see the marks on his skin.

Only, when I blinked, they did not seem so bad anymore.

Blink again, and that darkening bruise just looked like a five o’clock shadow.

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, but then a smile tilted the corner of his mouth. His arms tightened around me, safe, warm. “I heal fast, perk of being what I am, honey.” I was so glad he explained that, or I would have thought I was imagining things. Glad he was okay. Glad it was over.

Around us, the town was waking from its nightmare, or had the nightmare been all mine?

Figures emerged from the snow-buried streets, limping, supporting one another.

Thorne came first, pale and ragged, leaning heavily against Ted’s shoulder.

Arden hovered behind them, bandages in hand, fussing.

Others followed, and my breath caught at the sight of them.

A man with skin the color of copper fire and long black hair flowing down his bare back, his chest gleaming with sweat despite the cold.

Another, tall and broad as a Viking storybook carving come to life, his blond hair tangled.

He planted his hands on his hips and boomed, “We gather at my diner. A stiff drink, now that that’s over!

” Yeah, I vaguely recognized him as the guy from the diner I’d tried to greet my first day here. What was his name again? Mikael?

The crowd grumbled approval. Grandma Liz appeared, wrapped in her ever-present shawl, white hair haloed by frost. She nodded, eyes sharp as always.

“He’s right. We need to figure out what to do.

Come along, child.” Her eyes were kind as she nodded my way, but her finger pointed, steady and commanding, toward the diner.

Warm golden light spilled from its windows, flowing into the snow like a beacon.

I didn’t resist. Jackson never let go, steering me through the crowd, his arm a fortress around my shoulders.

I leaned into him, feeling the thunder of his heartbeat—steady and real—under my cheek.

It was surreal to see all these people who had rallied and to try to put the scuffle of darkness and magic into a place that made sense inside my head.

I still wasn’t quite sure what had happened, what was going on.

Jackson looked like he had the answers, though.

Inside, the diner glowed with heat and humanity.

Voices rose in laughter, chairs scraped, mugs slammed on tables.

Relief bled into the air like spilled wine.

Jackson and I slid into a booth, still wrapped around each other like we’d never let go again.

The blond Viking brought me a big cup of tea, smelling like sencha and something a tad stronger, like he’d spiked the drink with brandy or something.

I drank it gratefully, letting it heat me from the inside out.

The door banged open, and three men in cuffs were dragged inside: Evan among them, eyes wild, muttering under his breath.

The others were Halver—hollow-eyed and trembling—and the burglar, his face pale and furious, Chicago written in every scar and sneer.

Under the pointed questions of Jackson and the mayor, the story came tumbling out in pieces.

Or at least, the parts these humans knew about the money.

Halver never made it beyond these streets.

Thirty years ago, he’d robbed a bank with the mob and stolen their cut.

Too scared to leave, he’d buried the money in the B it had broken down all his defenses.

He talked of debts to the mob, promises to reclaim what Halver had stolen, and if Gwen got in the way, well… best she vanish.

It made Jackson growl fiercely, enough to make his deputy and the General Store owner put a restraining hand on either shoulder.

I felt an odd sense of relief at the words, though.

So that’s why he’d come here. Not because he wanted me back; that part had never made much sense to me.

It was my mother’s dream, not his. I had nothing to offer him.

The burglar remained nameless and silent until Grandma Liz turned her wrath on him.

The diner hushed, every eager audience member holding their breath as she made him squirm beneath her steely gaze.

Eventually, he spilled, his name, his affiliation to the mob, how his father had been one of the men Halver had ripped off; how last fall, someone had spotted Halver here, connected the dots, and sent word to Chicago.

Luther leaned in, all sharp grace and glacial eyes, gleaming with power. “I can make them forget.” He glanced at Evan, then at Halver, then at the burglar. “All of them. Erase this—erase her—from their thoughts. They’ll never come back.”

The mayor, steely-eyed, not so soft and grandmotherly-looking right now—nodded.

“Yes, do it. We protect our own. Get rid of these worms once and for all.” Protect our own.

That included me; her warm smile, as she winked at me, said it all.

It was perhaps inappropriate, but I felt the warm glow in my belly of true happiness, of belonging.

I had Jackson. I had these people who’d rallied so fast and so quickly after a storm, and after an attack.

Sure, they’d been a bit unpleasant when I first got here, but I saw why now, and I understood it.

If another outsider came tomorrow, I’d do exactly what they’d done to me, no questions asked.

Ted, Kai, and Luther led the men out, and only the burglar protested as they went.

“I’m a Pitman, you can’t do this. Don’t you know what kind of pain you’ll be in once my buddies get here?

” It only made the men laugh, well, Luther laughed; what the other two did sounded far more like growling.

Then they were gone, and I couldn’t say I was sad to see the last of any of them.

Thorne slumped on a counter stool, patched up by Arden’s neat hands, his face grim.

The doctor sat next to him, hunched low in his seat, quiet and seeming to try to disappear altogether.

Thorne ignored him as if he weren’t there and didn’t need him.

“I’ll put wards on her house. No dark will cross that threshold again,” he swore.

He did not say anything about costs, didn’t make it a sneer or add a dash of mockery.

So he had a bit of a nice guy in him in a pinch, good for him.

The native man stood by the bar, his arm wrapped around a beautiful Black woman with vines of green curling out of the cowl of her thick sweater.

I was pretty sure she hadn’t been part of the fighting, or whatever it was that had vanquished the dark thing in the woods behind the B&B, she’d shown up here, nonetheless.

It was very clear she was an item with the golden dragon, if that’s really what he was.

The gleaming gold in his human eyes, the sharp slitted pupils, I believed it.

They were like fire under his lashes when he rumbled, “The dark shall not return in dreams, but it may return.”

“I don’t care,” Jackson said. His hand slid into mine, our fingers locking, his thumb stroking over my pulse.

He didn’t look away from me. “As long as it leaves Gwen alone, it doesn’t matter.

I’m taking her home.” His smile softened, hungry and tender all at once.

“Truly home. My mate.” Cheers rose behind us, laughter spilling bright as sunlight on snow.

Cups clinked, chairs dragged closer together, relief bursting into celebration. I heard only Jackson.

Hand in hand, we slipped back out into the cold.

The door shut behind us on a wave of warmth and voices, and we walked together into the bright light of day.

If any last shadows still clung to me, they fell away then, and I felt as light as a feather as we headed across the street and slipped through the alley toward Jackson’s cabin.