Christmas Griffin - Zoe Chant Page 0,57

interrupted them. “How about one of you tells us exactly what this message is meant to say, then.” His griffin was angrier than he’d ever known it to be, and his voice had a sharp edge that was all claws.

Blessed Belgraves or not, the teenaged boys looked suitably awed. They exchanged another nervous look.

“You.” Hardwick pointed at Vance. “The one who wasn’t hanging off our windowsill. Talk.”

He sat down next to Delphine. His griffin ached to transform and shelter her under its wing, but he made do with wrapping an arm around her. She leaned into his embrace, her spine stiff.

Hardwick watched Vance scramble for words. The young man stared at his sister, regret all over his face as he took in her frozen expression and twisted-together fingers.

“We’re not stupid, you know,” he blurted out.

Next to him, his brother groaned and bit down on his own hand. “Seriously?”

“Shit! That’s not what I—I mean—after last year, when we surprised you here for Christmas and you didn’t even want to talk to us—”

“That’s not true!” Delphine’s head jerked back. She glanced at Hardwick and, when he didn’t react with pain, let her shoulders sag. Hardwick tightened his arm around her. Damn this family. They had her so messed up she couldn’t even trust herself to say that she wanted to spend time with her own brothers without worrying that was a lie?

Delphine swallowed. “Of course I wanted to talk to you.” About so many things, Hardwick guessed, even if she hadn’t let herself acknowledge it. “You’re my family. I—I thought I’d be spending Christmas with my boss, alone, and then you turned up, and I was so…”

She stopped.

Hardwick knew what she was going to say. It was obvious in the way her eyes had brightened as she got closer to the word, and how they’d shuttered over when she made herself hold her tongue.

Happy, he said to her silently. He didn’t send the word telepathically; he held it close to his heart, pressed it into the golden light that joined his soul to hers. You were so happy.

“You were so worried.” Vance sat down on the hotel room’s squishy armchair by the window, suddenly looking a lot younger. “We thought you’d be happy, but the whole time we were here it was like you were tiptoeing around us. Like Mum does when we’re at Grandma and Grandpa’s. And—and we thought about how we hardly see you anymore. It’s like you try to avoid hanging out whenever we’re all together. Not just the big family parties, but even if it’s just us.”

“It’s not like that.” Delphine’s face was tight with misery. “I love you guys. I really do. And Mum.”

“And we love you too! That’s why you should have told us you’re not a shifter!”

There must have been some color left in Delphine’s face after all because she went even paler. “I don’t—what are you—”

“We figured it out, okay?” Anders’ expression was sullen. Hardwick had enough experience with teens to know that it was because the kid was unhappy. “We should have figured it out earlier, but we didn’t. Neither of us has ever seen you shift. You’re way different when we talk over chat or video to when we talk in person. You’re all interested in what we’re doing, and stuff.”

“Oh…” Delphine looked as though her heart was breaking.

“So, that’s what the card’s about.” Anders was glaring at the carpet now. “We know you’re not a shifter, but that’s okay. Loads of people aren’t shifters. And we still love you, or whatever.”

Delphine’s breathing had gone very quiet. “Does Mum know?”

“We haven’t talked to her about it yet—”

“You can’t tell her. You can’t tell anyone.” Any hint of softness in Delphine’s body vanished. She was rigid as one of the frozen trees outside, all its sap turned to ice. “Promise me.”

“But—”

“Promise!”

It was as close to a growl as he had ever heard from her. He wondered if the boys heard the desperation in it—or only the anger.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Delphine

They promised not to tell. They didn’t look happy about it, and Delphine knew she was being unreasonable, but fear tore at her under her skin until she’d browbeaten both of them into not saying anything.

“I can’t go down to breakfast after that,” she admitted to Hardwick after the twins had left, both of them sending her sullen, unhappy looks over their shoulders.

“If you don’t want to go down, we’re not going down.” The protective growl in his voice made her heart quicken. “I’ll reach out