Christmas Griffin - Zoe Chant Page 0,10

one of those things that all shifters knew.

So why lie?

There had to be something more to it. And much as he wanted to find out why this woman wrapped herself in lies, much as he wanted to help her the way he dedicated his life to helping others, he didn’t have time for something more right now. He needed rest. A total retreat.

He needed for his goddamned head not to hurt every time he looked into those golden, lying eyes.

He was still trying to make his head stop spinning when he got back inside and stomped the snow off his boots. Delphine was still sitting on the sofa. She’d gathered the blankets around herself like a cloak, and just for a moment before she turned to look at him, she seemed… worried.

Then she noticed he’d returned, and her face smoothed over. Except for that exhausted sharpness at the edges of her eyes and the tilt of her head.

“Ice,” he said, and handed it to her. She pressed the bundle against her head with a sigh.

“Thank you.” She gave a grateful smile. “I know it’ll heal quick enough, but this helps the pain, at least.”

This time, he managed to hide his wince of pain.

“Something to drink?”

“Oh—coffee, if you have it.”

He thought of the poisonous cup he’d dropped earlier. “You might regret that. I’ve only got instant.”

“I’m not that fussy. Instant’s fine.” A white lie. The sort of thing he could shrug off in January but stuck like a burr in December.

“Your funeral.”

He filled the kettle again and set it on the always-on iron stove. There was only one spare mug on the counter. He cursed and scouted around the floor for the one he’d dropped. Delphine gave him a curious expression as he grabbed it and made a half-hearted attempt to mop up the spill.

She kept watching him as he spooned instant coffee into the mugs and waited for the water to boil. He didn’t look back at her, but he was as sure of her eyes on him as he was of her restlessness as the silence lengthened.

“Thank you,” she blurted out at last. “For s-saving my life. I didn’t know there was anyone else out here. I thought—” She let out a heavy breath. “I don’t know what I thought.”

His griffin whined as the lie hit home. He snorted. I don’t need you to tell me that wasn’t the truth.

“Call it a Christmas miracle,” he suggested, wondering what it was that she had thought in the moments before she fell into the snow.

“I suppose.” Blankets rustled as she moved around. “I’m curious, actually. I know it sounds ungrateful, but I’m dying to know what you’re doing all the way out here. At Christmas.”

Four sentences, and not one of them was a lie. He was almost impressed.

The kettle whistled, and he poured water into the mugs. “Milk, sugar?”

“Yes to milk, no to sugar.”

He fixed her drink, then hesitated, and decided to take his black. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Her bright eyes tracked him as he sat down opposite her, in the same worn armchair he’d been in when she woke up.

He braced himself and took a sip of his coffee. Delphine did the same. Her eyes went distant and horrified. “Oh. Um. Yum,” she said. It was so unconvincing a lie, he wondered why his griffin bothered to point it out.

But point it did. With claws.

Rubbing the pain in his temple, he put his cup down. “You wanted to know what I’m doing out here?”

“What can I say? Apparently, I’m the sort of person to look a Christmas miracle horse in the mouth. Or something.”

“Griffin, not horse.”

“Sorry?”

He leaned back. This mystery woman, his mate, deserved to know what she was dealing with.

And part of him wanted to see how she would react to the truth.

“Griffin,” he said gruffly. “You pegged me as a shifter earlier, you might as well know what I am.”

“A griffin shifter.” Her eyes—didn’t shine, exactly. The expression in them was more complicated than that. “Pine Valley is full of surprises. Dragons, hellhounds, a pegasus… and now a griffin shifter. When did you move here?”

“I didn’t.” To her silent question, he added, “I’m on vacation. A week’s… decompression… and then back to work. I’m a detective.”

“You’re a detective? That sounds like a difficult job.” And she was definitely looking uncomfortable now.

This whole hell of a situation just kept getting worse.

Hardwick snorted. “I’m better suited for it than most,” he said. Moment of truth. “My griffin can tell when people are lying.”

He