Christmas Griffin - Zoe Chant Page 0,13

the cold for far longer than anyone sensible would have been! And I took my gloves off, and I… I did so many stupid things!”

She was angry. Why was she angry? Because she almost died? Or because she’d decided that Hardwick couldn’t be—

Her eyes locked on to him. He looked different, somehow, and it took her a moment to figure out why. The deep, stressed lines around his mouth and between his eyes were less deep. The tension that had seemed to crackle through his whole body every time he looked at her had eased.

Damn. All it took was her having one tiny breakdown, and suddenly her rescuer looked less like he wanted to throw up?

She pressed her palms against her face. “I thought I was thinking, but I wasn’t. If you hadn’t found me…”

“But I did. It’s—” He sounded reluctant as he added, “it’s best not to think about what might have happened if I had not.”

“But how did you find me?” He was right, there was nothing to be gained from thinking about all the ways she could have died through her own stupid fault. But that wasn’t going to stop her from digging into what had happened. If she was going to explain all this to her family, she’d need to get her story straight.

“I… heard you.” Hardwick grimaced, as though he’d just sucked down another mouthful of coffee. But his cup was still in his hand, resting on his lap.

Delphine frowned. “You heard me? It’s not like I was calling for help. And I’m sure I would have noticed if this cabin was anywhere near where I crashed. I might have lost it, but I wouldn’t have missed a whole house with lights on and everything.”

“You wouldn’t have seen the cabin. We’re about a mile away from your car—”

“A mile away? How did you hear me from so far away?”

Hardwick’s jaw twitched. “I told you my griffin can sense lies.”

Delphine flushed bright red. He’d found her because he sensed that she was lying? What had she said that was a lie when she was stuck out there by herself? She searched her memory, determined to find that he was mistaken. Okay, she lied to her family, but she didn’t lie to herself.

Hardwick flinched.

She’d tried to boost her morale. Told herself that she would be okay. That wasn’t a lie, was it? That she could handle things. Maybe in the technical, objective sense they’d been lies, but she hadn’t meant them as such at the time. She’d thought they were the truth. Or that speaking them aloud could make them the truth.

And then she’d said—

Cold dripped down her spine, worse than the snowstorm Hardwick had saved her from.

She’d said I am a real Belgrave, damn it.

Was that what he’d sensed?

Oh, God. Oh God oh God oh God—

“Delphine.” Strong hands caught hers. One of them moved to her shoulder, then her chin. He pushed her head up. “Breathe. You’re safe now.”

Safe wasn’t the problem.

“On my count. In, two, three. Hold, two, three. Out, two, three…”

Slowly, with the help of Hardwick’s breathing instruction, Delphine clawed herself back together.

Don’t think about it. The realization she’d pulled herself out of was a black hole sucking at her attention and it took all of her strength to avoid it. She blinked hard and found herself staring into Hardwick’s black eyes.

Her stomach tightened. Every point of connection between his body and hers suddenly flared with heat. His hand was wrapped securely around hers, the calluses pressing against her soft skin. His other hand under her chin, so intimate she worried he could feel her pulse thundering against his fingers. He’d moved to her so quickly that one of his legs was pressed up against hers and even though there were layers and layers of blanket between them, she was suddenly imagining what it would be like for him to slide his leg between hers, spreading her beneath him, hot and languid and longing.

“Uh,” she muttered, breaking eye contact as heat flooded to her cheeks. “Sorry about that. I was… I… freaked out.”

“It’s understandable.”

“It’s embarrassing.” As embarrassing as the way her heart was fluttering in her chest. Of all the people to get a crush on, she had to pick a shifter—someone whose heart was always going to be on hold for someone else?

She pulled her hand out of his. At the same time, he withdrew, as though he’d suddenly realized he was sitting too close to her.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” he