Christmas Griffin - Zoe Chant Page 0,41
life she’d completely interrupted and who treated her like she was a bomb about to go off, and yet who already felt like someone she had known all her life.
Her mate.
Her soulmate.
It must be because he had figured out her secret, she thought. Her chest thudded strangely, and the roof groaned as though in sympathy. He knew her secret, but she hadn’t had to say anything. It was… it was almost as good as telling the truth.
Wasn’t it?
In the next room, the bed creaked as Hardwick rolled over. “Delphine—” he muttered. His voice was still rough with sleep.
She bit back a moan. Did he have to say her name like… like that? Like he was having some sort of incredible dream?
Why the hell had she gotten out of bed again?
She cleared her throat. “Hardwick? Are you feeling up to some coffee?”
“Delphine.” The sleepy roughness was gone now. He sat up, though, which provided new distractions: his sleep-ruffled hair. His face creased from the pillow. A slow blink, his expression vague and muddled, just for a moment, before the usual lines deepened around his mouth and eyes. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
The roof groaned again just as she said it, like it was trying to prove her a liar. She frowned. “It’s just the house settling, isn’t it? All that snow—”
The groaning crescendoed into a tearing sound. Hardwick leapt to his feet.
“Watch out!” he shouted, and before Delphine had time to wonder what she was watching out for, everything went white.
Really? Delphine thought. Twice in one week?
Which answered the question of whether she was alive. Answered it before she’d thought of asking it, even. Which left… how?
It took her a moment to remember that she had a body full of nerve endings she could use to figure that out. The shock of the crash felt like it had dislocated her mind. Bit by bit, she crept back into herself.
“Ow,” she muttered.
Her mind itched.
“Hardwick?” she gasped. Now that her nerve endings were back online, she could tell she was on her back on the floor, covered with what felt like a heavy blanket. Or possibly the sofa. How the hell had the sofa gotten on top of her?
Her left leg was cold. So was her right arm. She curled her fingers and felt snow crunch between them. Snow? Really? Inside?
What happened?
And why was the sofa moving?
Her other hand squeezed into the tight gap between herself and the heavy lump and she realized with another thud that it wasn’t furniture on top of her. It was Hardwick, in his griffin form. He was crouched over her, his griffin body protecting her from whatever had just happened.
The noise. The snow. Holy hell, had the roof caved in?
Her fingers brushed against Hardwick’s… chest? Feathers, soft beneath her fingertips, transitioning to rough fur lower down.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Her mind itched again. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek, frustrated. “Of course. I can’t hear you. I’m—I’m not hurt.” She was pretty sure that was the truth. “If you’re going to try to move, talk to me. I can feel it, like an itch. If you’re not going to move—”
If you can’t move. Her mouth went dry. If he was injured…
“If you’re not going to move, don’t say anything, and I’ll know that’s what you’re trying to tell me.”
Her mind itched.
Oh, thank God.
Hardwick stood up slowly. His huge chest heaved as he pushed himself off the ground, and his claws dug into the wooden floorboards. Something creaked above him. He was supporting what looked like half the roof on his back.
He flicked his beak towards what a few moments ago had been the door. Delphine got the message at once. She shuffled on her elbows in the small space he’d created for her and scrambled free.
Seconds later, Hardwick surged after her, shedding snow and broken beams.
She got to her feet and gaped.
The cabin looked as though a meteor had struck it. The roof was almost completely caved in. All that was left was most of one wall on one side and the remains of the solid old stove in the middle.
The wind bit at her bare arms. She was still wearing the clothes she’d gone to bed in, Hardwick’s long-sleeved shirt and a pair of his boxers.
He took one look at her, his eagle eyes sharp, and dug around in the ruins with his foreclaws. She caught his heavy winter coat when he threw it at her and pulled it on, then poked around