Page 38 of Bound to the Griffin (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #3)
Gwen
The first true spring morning smelled of thawing earth and lilacs.
Sunshine spilled across the pretty brick walls as I eyed the sign hanging above the front door: Sweet Dreams Guaranteed .
Jackson had teased me about the slogan, but it had stuck—whispered around town like a charm—and now it was the name of my business.
Then my griffin had made it real by having the local woodcarver, a true artist, make the sign.
ísarr had done a wonderful job, but it was only the cherry on top.
The B they thought perhaps we were sitting on something buried deep beneath the inn that caused it—a sacred well, a slumbering dragon, a magical something .
And now, no longer tainted by that evil thing from last winter, it was doing as it always had intended: promoting good dreams and better rest. The perfect, magical addition to a B Kess had all but adopted me, slipping vegetarian recipes under my door and showing up with fresh pie her mate had made.
Even Freya—so reserved at first—had come through with a sleek, lovely website that made my little B she knew.
I gave a short huff of laughter. “You really think I’d let go?
” My hand touched the mark around my neck, thicker and more prominent than Gwen’s delicate circlet.
My throat was ringed with feathers that shimmered and glowed when the light hit just right, or when Gwen and I were deep in the throes of passion.
“You’d be a fool if you did. Fact is, something strange is going on in the Hollow.
Why are we so blessed with these matings?
Why now, after so long?” Liz wanted to worry about something good, but I couldn’t bring myself to.
So we were lucky—so what? I hoped many more of my friends would be blessed with a mate of their own.
Like aloof but lonely Luther, like soft-spoken Arden, and even Thorne.
The warlock had gone back to his prickly, fireball-throwing ways, but I knew he liked it when I flew by to check on him.
At the very least, he enjoyed the verbal sparring that broke up his lonely days in that mansion.
I shrugged. “Maybe times are changing. Maybe it isn’t just the Hollow; maybe it’s happening elsewhere too.” My gaze shifted back toward the inn’s windows, where Gwen’s shadow moved gracefully across the curtains. “Regardless, I’ll guard her, Liz. With my life.”
The rocking chair creaked again, slow and thoughtful. “Good. Because I’ll be busy with my own project soon.” She cackled a laugh that was more evil hag than respected alpha wolf. Rising from the rocking chair, her skirts whispered, and her bangles chimed cheerfully.
That pulled me around to face her, thoughts centering on our de facto leader rather than my sexy mate. “Project?” I asked, certain she was up to no good. “What sort of project?”
Her eyes glimmered with the kind of mischief only an old matriarch could pull off.
“The library. Been too long since this town had a proper one. People need stories; they need knowledge. They’ll need a place to gather when the dark tries to creep back in.
” Back in , my thoughts echoed. I didn’t like it, but the truth was, it could.
Thorne had shared his suspicions with us all; we were on guard, and that was all we could do.
I frowned, then nodded. “A safe place—okay, I can see that.” I turned again to face Main Street on the other side of the B&B. The old library building sat beside Luther’s store, and I knew he regularly complained about the noises coming from the dark building.
“Yes, exactly. Knowledge is power. Remember that!” The mayor moved to the edge of the deck and touched the still-unvarnished railing with thoughtful fingers. Then she revealed her true plan: “I know just the librarian we need to take charge of that old place. Luther can help her.”
Oh boy, seriously? Another outsider? I wasn’t sure we were ready for that.
Supernaturals looking for a retreat were one thing, but we’d barely gotten over Gwen’s mom’s whirlwind visit.
Let alone the chaos of the past winter, the past fall, heck, the past summer.
It hadn’t been quiet around here from the moment Rosemary had come to reclaim her heritage.
For a moment, silence stretched between us, companionable and sure. Then Gwen’s laughter rang out again from inside, and Liz’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Go on, Sheriff,” she murmured. “Your mate’s waiting.”
I did not need to be told twice. Tipping my hat in goodbye, I stepped back into the B&B—our nest—with the weight of her words settling deep in my bones, solid as the mountain beneath our feet.
Gwen’s smile was radiant when she saw me, and I swept her into my arms, Rosy’s presence forgotten. “I love you, Gwen.”
THE END