by Zoe Chant
A Griffin for Christmas
By Zoe Chant
Copyright Zoe Chant 2018
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Prologue: Rowan
Chapter One: Emilia
Chapter Two: Rowan
Chapter Three: Emilia
Chapter Four: Rowan
Chapter Five: Emilia
Chapter Six: Emilia
Chapter Seven: Rowan
Chapter Eight: Emilia
Chapter Nine: Rowan
Chapter Ten: Emilia
Chapter Eleven: Rowan
Epilogue: Emilia
A Note from Zoe Chant
More paranormal romance from Zoe Chant
Zoe Chant writing as Lia Silver
Zoe Chant writing as Lauren Esker
Special Sneak Preview: The Griffin’s Christmas Bride
Prologue
Rowan
It might have been two o’clock in the morning, but Rowan Stanton was awake the moment his cell phone went off.
Reaching for it on his nightstand, he frowned as he saw the name on the screen: his boss, Hardwicke. Which could only mean one thing. A job.
Sitting up, Rowan switched on his lamp, swiping the phone screen to answer the call.
“Any news?” he asked, not bothering with formalities. His boss preferred things that way.
“You could say that.” Hardwicke’s voice on the other end of the line was tense. “Merritt Watts has been spotted. Or at least, that’s what we think.”
Rowan sat up a little straighter in bed. “Watts? Where?”
Merritt Watts.
Rowan didn’t even need to think twice about the name. Watts was so notorious that he remembered the name instantly. An especially nasty bear shifter who’d busted out of the prison cell the shifter authorities had confined him to about two months ago. After that, he’d disappeared, presumably laying low, and doing a very good job of it. No one had seen hide nor hair of him in all that time.
As a member of the elite Shifter Patrol Corps, it was Rowan’s job to track Watts down before he caused any more mayhem, but without any leads and with his old crew to help him stay under the radar, things hadn’t been easy.
“He was spotted outside a little town called Fairhill,” Hardwicke said. “It’s definitely in your area. And I know you have a personal interest in this.”
That was putting it mildly, Rowan thought. He’d been the one who’d brought Watts in last time, after busting up his drug ring. Rowan took the fact that he’d escaped pretty personally.
And aside from that, Merritt Watts reminded him far too much of the men he’d known in his childhood. A shifter gang had ruled the town he’d grown up in, keeping the people in a state of fear and forcing boys to join their ranks when they turned sixteen – or suffer the consequences.
Rowan had managed to escape – only to return later as a member of the Shifter Patrol, and take down the entire gang. It had been, without a doubt, his proudest moment to date: to know the place he’d grown up was free, and that no one else would have to grow up experiencing the kind of fear he’d known as a child.
“I’m on it,” Rowan said, already sliding out of bed. “If he’s out there, I’ll find him.”
“I know you will.” Hardwicke’s voice was quiet. “But Rowan, remember – don’t get too close if it looks like he has company. Call us and wait for backup. Don’t go charging in like you always do. Watts means business, and I can’t imagine he’ll come quietly.”
Rowan frowned, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he searched around his room for his pants.
“Hardwicke, that was one time,” he argued, as he sorted through the clothes at the end of his bed. He was usually a pretty neat person, but recently he’d been so busy at work that his clothes fell where they lay when he stripped off at the end of the day.
“One time too many, Rowan,” Hardwicke retorted. “I want you back in one piece. You know how valuable you are to the Patrol.”
Rowan shook his head, finally finding his pants. It had sounded for a moment like Hardwicke was expressing some personal concern – but that couldn’t have been right.
It wasn’t that Hardwicke was a bad boss, but he was a professional through and through, and he expected the same from the shifters under his command.
“I know, I know,” Rowan said. “But if it makes any difference, I promise I’ll wait if it looks like he has friends with him.”
“Even if he’s on his own,” Hardwicke replied. “He’s a tough one. Don’t get cocky just because you’re a griffin.” He paused, and Rowan thought he heard him laugh. “Call it a Christmas present to me, if that helps.”
Christmas?
Blinking, Rowan moved his phone away from his ear for just long enough to check the date: December 22nd. Three days to Christmas.
Well, that sure had crept up on him – but he supposed that was what it was like when your job was your life, and you didn’t have anyone to celebrate it with. He could definitely see the appeal of it, though: food, festivities, presents, and spending time with loved ones. It seemed like a beautiful tradition, even though, as a shifter, he’d always felt a little outside it.
He knew many shifters had adopted human traditions, but he’d always been so dedicated to his work that he’d never had much time for things like Christmas. He didn’t have anyone he could celebrate it with, either – no partner or children, and he’d lost his parents long ago. Even if he hadn’t been so dedicated to his job, Christmas just didn’t seem to be the kind of occasion someone could celebrate on their own.
Not that it matters at the moment, one way or another, he thought. Inside him, he could feel his griffin extending its claws and flexing its wings in anticipation of the hunt.
Yes, yes, let’s go! it urged him, eyes flashing. There’s not a moment to lose!
“I’ll report back as soon as I have something, Hardwicke,” Rowan said. “And I’ll be cautious. I promise.”
“Good.” Hardwicke’s voice was back to its usual terseness. “I know you won’t let me down.”
And with that, he hung up.
Slipping a t-shirt on over his head, Rowan smiled. Adrenaline was already beginning to pump in his veins.
Merritt Watts.
One of the worst shifters Rowan had ever had the pleasure of putting behind bars.
Quickly, he pulled on his boots. Ordinarily, he might have grabbed a winter jacket for the sake of blending in – as a shifter, the cold didn’t bother him very much, but walking around without a jacket in this kind of weather would have been too conspicuous. But right now, he wasn’t going out onto the street – he was heading up to the roof.
He was just about to dash out the door at last when his phone went off again – though this time it was the beep of an incoming text message, rather than a call.
Glancing at the screen, Rowan grimaced.
WEATHER ALERT: SEVERE STORMS, the message read, with bright red exclamation points on either side of the text. REMAIN INDOORS EXCEPT IN CASES OF EMERGENCY.
The message ran on for a few more lines, but Rowan didn’t read much farther than that. Hesitating, he couldn’t stop the scowl from spreading across his face.
I can’t risk Watts getting away from me, he thought. They’d had no word of him for two whole months – and precious little to go on now, except a vague possible sighting. If he let Watts slip through his fingers, who knew when they’d find him again – and what he could have gotten up to in the meantime.
I can outfly a storm, he thought, as he dismissed the weather warning and tucked his phone into his pocket, along with his Shifter Patrol Corps ID. Thankfully, as part of his shifter magic, he kept his clothes – and everyt
hing else he had on him – when shifting.
Come on, come on! his griffin squawked impatiently. Let’s get out of here!
Despite himself, Rowan smiled. He took his job extremely seriously – but he couldn’t deny that the animal side of him still felt a certain thrill of the chase.
Catching the elevator straight up, he got off at the penultimate floor before taking the stairs up to the roof, emerging into the cold air from a service door.
Looking down over the city below, Rowan realized he really must have had his head in the clouds – or too much on his work – to have forgotten about Christmas. It was everywhere: garlands were hung from streetlamps, and Christmas lights twinkled in every shop window. Come morning, he knew those streets would be filled with people doing their last-minute Christmas shopping, laughing children, and perhaps even the sound of carolers in the city square...
Shaking his head, Rowan firmly shoved aside the feeling of wistfulness that had begun to gather in his chest.
There’d be time for that... well, sometime, anyway.
Right now, he had to work.
Rowan shifted, allowing his griffin to come forward. His hands transformed into massive lion’s paws, tipped with deadly, razor-sharp claws. His tail swished behind him, and his massive eagle’s wings spread wide, ready to fly. It was tempting to let out a loud screech from his eagle’s beak – perhaps to let Watts, wherever he was, know that his days of freedom were numbered – but Rowan managed to resist the temptation.
Barely pausing, Rowan launched himself straight up into the darkness of the sky, his mind intent on the job at hand.
Christmas was just another day, after all.
Chapter One
Emilia
Bah, humbug.
Sinking down even further into the collar of her jacket, Emilia Lopez did her best to ignore the wind howling past her ears.
Well – the howling wind, the pelting snow, and the overall misery of the season in general.
This is why I hate Christmas, she thought, as she glared at the world of white around her. Well, one of the reasons.
This time of year was bitterly cold, but Emilia knew she’d never live anywhere else – and anyway, the springtime here almost made up for the winters. In springtime, the light was golden, and the scent of clover filled the air. In springtime, she could sit on her wrap-around porch with a cup of black tea and honey, her feet bare, and glory in the warmth of the sunshine on her skin, one of her cats curled at her side purring contentedly, and one of her dogs nosing at her palm.
Really, they were the reason she’d never give up her home here. There weren’t many places that could comfortably accommodate six dogs, three cats, two rabbits and a pony. Emilia was lucky enough to have inherited her small (well, smallish) piece of land from her grandmother, fully paid off. And there had been enough in her estate to ensure that Emilia would, with very careful management of the money, be able to pursue her dreams, rather than needing to work full-time to support herself. She worked part-time as a cashier at the grocery store in Fairhill to cover her own relatively small expenses, but everything for the animals came from her grandmother’s carefully managed trust.
Emilia’s abuela hadn’t been a millionaire, or anything like it – but she had been a canny investor, apparently. Emilia couldn’t have been more grateful to her. She had been utterly shocked the first time her grandmother’s lawyers had laid everything out to her – but thinking about it, she realized she shouldn’t have been. Granny Bea had always been a shrewd one, after all, and fiercely protective of her family.
And it’s meant that I can protect my family, Emilia thought as she hauled open the barn door, at last leaving the howling wind outside.
Inside the barn it was only a little warmer, but Emilia still sighed with relief before yanking her hat off her head and pulling off her gloves. “Phew! What a storm. I think it’s better if you stay inside today, little man.”
As if in reply, her pony, Harvey, whickered softly, tossing his head.
“I know, I know,” she said soothingly as she walked across the barn, before climbing up into the hayloft. “But trust me, winter coat or not, it’s not nice out there. But if it clears up later, I promise I’ll let you out for a wander. How about that?”
Harvey was quiet as if thinking that over a little, before finally snorting his consent. Emilia smiled as she gathered up some hay, before tossing it down into Harvey’s stall.
She smiled as she watched him begin to gobble it down, chomping eagerly. Like all her animals, Harvey had been a rescue – his previous owners (though Emilia didn’t like to think of them as that) had completely neglected him, leaving him tied to a tree with no company and no exercise, and only feeding him when they could be bothered to toss him some hay or scraps of vegetables.
Speaking of reasons I hate Christmas...
Emilia grimaced as she climbed down from the hayloft. It was just after Christmas that she ended up fostering even more dogs and cats – and the occasional pony – than usual.
All the animals she had with her now – all twelve of them – were the ones who either hadn’t been able to find a forever home, or the ones whom she’d become so attached to that she’d realized she couldn’t bear to part with them. Harvey had been one of those: from the moment she’d looked into his big brown eyes, Emilia had known he wasn’t going anywhere else.
Reaching out to run her fingers through the coarse hair of his coat, she smiled. He didn’t even pause in his munching.
“That good, huh?” she asked, laughing. Harvey snorted again, but otherwise had no response for her other than the sound of contented eating.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Emilia said, pulling her gloves back on and bracing herself to head back out into the wind.
The icy snow whirling through the air cut into her cheeks as she trudged her way back to her little wooden house. Grimacing, she pulled her woolen hat down tighter over her head, covering her face with her hands. At last, she reached the back door and yanked it open, before collapsing inside.
She took a moment to lean against the door, before reaching down to unlace her wet, icy boots.
Not that she got too far. She was immediately inundated with warm, sticky licks as all six of her dogs – Jez, Laurel, Bob, Suzie, Coop and Max – rushed forward to greet her.
“All right, all right!” Emilia laughed as she gave in to their warm welcome. “I was gone for fifteen minutes, you guys! Lay off!”
Of course, they didn’t. They just kept bounding around her, more delighted to see her than she could imagine. When she’d finally managed to extract her feet from her boots and herself from the cloud of dogs, she looked across the living room to where her cats – Antony, Cleopatra and Octavian – were curled up on a large cushion in front of the heater. They looked up when she entered, but otherwise didn’t move.
“Certain someones should take a lesson from you guys,” Emilia laughed, coming over to scritch Cleopatra’s ears. “You know I love all of you, but are you aware personal space is a thing?”
Cleopatra’s loud purr told Emilia she appreciated being separated from the crowd of loud, boisterous dogs who were currently schooling around her legs, wondering when it would be their turn for ear scratches.
Well, at least I don’t have a Christmas tree for them to knock over, Emilia thought, before shaking her head.
She was well aware that her sourness toward the holiday season was not a particularly endearing trait.
Sure, she’d been just as excited about Christmas as any other little kid when she’d been young, but things had slowly changed over the years. Adulthood, with all its complications, had worn her down, until now she felt like she couldn’t hear a Christmas carol without having a full-body shudder.
“Anyway, I have everything I need right here,” she said to Antony, as he boredly blinked his brilliant green eyes. “Who needs Christmas presents?”
And it was true – running a boarding house for rescue animals
and finding them new owners did take up a lot of her time. She had always been passionate about animals, right from when she’d been a little kid; at one time, she’d dreamed of running a farm, waking at dawn to milk her own cows, harvest her own vegetables, churn her own butter... but given that she’d realized that she was not in fact a one-woman army, she’d decided taking care of abandoned or neglected pets was a good way to live her dream without the need to run on about half an hour’s sleep a night.
So she wasn’t exactly churning butter and her vegetables came from the supermarket she worked at, but Emilia hardly felt that mattered. Thanks to Granny Bea, she couldn’t have been happier.
Sure, some human company might be nice every now and then, and sure, the nights sometimes got a little, uh, lonely. And obviously, it’d be awesome to wake up every once in a while snuggled in someone’s arms, her head resting against a broad chest, rather than drooling onto her pillow...
Nope, Nope. Stop that.
Shaking her head, Emilia frowned, pulling her thoughts back into line.
She’d sworn off love.
Not that it’s real, anyway.
She realized how childish that sounded, but she couldn’t help it. She realized that being brutally dumped by the man she’d thought she’d on December 24th was no reason to swear off the holiday season, but she couldn’t help how she felt.
It was two years ago, after all, Emilia thought as she went out to the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. I shouldn’t still be so... so...
To be honest, she didn’t really know how she felt about love. She’d long since realized that Tom, her ex-fiancé, hadn’t really deserved her after all, the cheating bastard. Her anger and heartbreak after he’d confessed to the affair and told her he preferred his other woman had long since settled into a dull numbness in her chest, but that didn’t mean she was ready to open her heart again, and risk being hurt.
And it was hard enough finding a good man these days, let alone a good man who’d also accept the furry family she came with.