by Zoe Chant
“It’s Rowan. Rowan Stanton.” That, at least, was easy – though Rowan found himself grimacing as he realized how unforthcoming he was being. The fall and the surprise of waking up with an angel standing over him had made him forget his manners. “Please, allow me to apologize. I’ve caused you a lot of trouble.”
Emilia blinked, as if surprised. “No trouble,” she said. “I just want to know what you’re doing here. And why you’re wandering around without a jacket in this weather.”
Rowan cleared his throat. That was less easy.
He really should have just thrown a jacket on before he’d left his apartment. But the real question, obviously, was how he’d come to be in her shed, and he couldn’t explain that to her.
But nor did he feel comfortable lying, either.
As he hesitated, he studied her face. Emilia’s dark hair was long and slightly curled, but the dampness of the snow had made it curl into ringlets around her face. Her cheeks were reddened from the chill wind, contrasting with her honeyed skin. But it was her eyes that had first captured him – and were what had made him think at first he must be looking at an angel. Black and depthless, he felt he could fall into them forever.
She was wearing a thick woolen jumper, but her luscious curves were still abundantly clear to him.
She’s beautiful.
That couldn’t have been the only reason he felt drawn to her, though, surely. He’d seen plenty of very beautiful women in his time, but none of them had drawn him to them like Emilia did.
His griffin, it seemed, had sat up and taken notice of her – and it liked what it saw.
I want to know more about her, it seemed to be saying, tugging at his heart. Ask her about herself.
I can’t do that right now, he told it. And you know it.
Nothing could have been less appropriate: he had, after all, just crash-landed into what was clearly her property. The fact she hadn’t locked him in the shed and called the police was a minor miracle, and one he knew he’d better appreciate.
But he already knew he couldn’t tell her the truth about why he was here.
For one thing, she’d never believe him even if he tried. It would be strange enough for him to try to explain that he was a griffin, let alone that shifters existed all over the world. She’d probably think he was crazy – and to be honest, he wouldn’t have blamed her if she did.
For another thing... well.
Shifters were secretive. If he told her about himself, he’d have to tell her about them all.
You could trust her, though, his griffin spoke up. She has a good heart. We can tell.
That, at least, seemed to be true, Rowan admitted. She’d helped him when very few others would have.
But still...
“I’m... afraid I may not be able to tell you the whole story right now,” Rowan finally said, aware that the pause in the conversation had now gone on for an uncomfortably long time.
Emilia looked at him, arching an eyebrow. “Does that ‘may not’ mean you can’t, or you won’t?”
“I... can’t. I’m sorry.” It was technically true. The secret of the existence of shifters wasn’t his to give away – no matter how beautiful and kind Emilia might be.
But still, somehow, the idea of concealing anything from her tugged at his conscience, in a way he had never experienced before.
After all, he was used to concealing his identity. He had to be: as a shifter who tracked down and brought rogue shifters to justice, he had often worked undercover.
Most shifters wanted nothing more than to live peacefully, without drawing attention to themselves. They tended to live in groups with other shifters, but most weren’t at all hostile to humans.
But when they were...
When a shifter got it into their heads to cause trouble, the results could be devastating.
And that would be a problem for all of them – a problem that needed to be solved.
Which was what he’d been doing when the storm had rolled in, and sent him crashing to earth in such a spectacular fashion.
Such a stupid fashion, he amended, resisting the urge to grimace. After all, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been warned. And now, because I was so rash, I’ve gotten myself into this awkward situation.
“Well.” Emilia’s voice broke into his thoughts once more. “So you can’t tell me why you were in my shed.” She cocked her head, eyeing him. “Do I have to guess?”
Rowan blinked. This is unexpected.
Emilia narrowed her eyes, as if sizing him up. “You don’t look drunk, so I guess I can count that out, even though it’s the most obvious conclusion. And honestly, why go for something boring like that, when I can make up something more fun?”
“More... fun?” Rowan asked. Okay, he was officially baffled. And way out of his depth.
I like her, his griffin purred suddenly. She’s got spirit. Spirit is good.
Shut up, Rowan told it. This is serious.
“Hmm.” Emilia lifted a finger, placing it over her lips. “I’d say you were flying around on your homemade wings, but there’s not much sun around at the moment to melt the wax and send you hurtling to earth. So it’s not that, clearly.”
Despite himself, Rowan felt his lips twitching, trying to smile.
Usually his work was deadly serious. He didn’t often get any chance to have fun. He never usually got to meet people like Emilia – so much of his life was focused on the worst elements of shifter society that he sometimes forgot other, better things existed.
Which is why he did what he did, after all: so that those better things could go on existing.
“No. No home-made wings,” he said, even as he tried to remember that this was no time for jokes.
“No beard, either,” Emilia said. “And no Christmas tree in the shed, so I don’t think you’re Santa come to give me my presents early.”
Santa? Oh, of course...
He knew about the human tradition of Santa, though it wasn’t something he had much direct experience with. To shifters, Christmas was much more of an excuse to spend time with loved ones, and any gifts they gave were always just to each other.
Rowan felt a pang of envy in his heart: whoever Emilia would be spending Christmas with, they were very lucky.
As quickly as the thought had come, Rowan pushed it away.
If Emilia would be spending Christmas with someone – someone far luckier than him – then she would probably not appreciate him hanging around her home for any longer than necessary.
Not to mention the fact that if he didn’t hurry up and call in with Hardwicke, he’d –
At the thought of Hardwicke, Rowan had to stop himself from groaning out loud.
I’ll be lucky if Hardwicke doesn’t skin me and make me into a griffin skin rug, he thought gloomily. Not, he realized, that he wouldn’t entirely deserve it. The situation he was in right now was exactly why his boss was always telling him not to rush into things.
And as much as he was – unexpectedly – enjoying the guessing game with Emilia, he knew he had to get back to work.
“I wish I could say I’d come here for a more festive reason,” Rowan said reluctantly. There was nothing he could do but tell her the truth – or as much of it as he thought she’d believe. “But the story’s much less exciting. I’m a cop.”
It wasn’t a lie, and it was a story he’d told to humans before when investigating the whereabouts of troublesome shifters. The Shifter Patrol Corps functioned basically as the marshals of the shifter world, tracking fugitives and transporting them back to face justice.
“A cop?” Emilia asked, blinking.
Rowan nodded. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his ID, holding it up for her. “I’m here tracking a criminal. You don’t have anything to worry about,” he said quickly, as Emilia’s eyes widened. “I promise you. I’m not even sure if I’m on the right track.”
Emilia regarded him, eyes still wide. “Well, I suppose it’s reassuring you didn’t track h
im into my shed,” she said. “Though honestly, the dogs are the best alarm system I could hope for. If anyone was skulking around, they’d let me know about it.” She frowned a little. “Unless it’s you, apparently.”
Beside him, the mountain of hair in the form of a dog raised his head, regarding him seriously. I like you, but you better be nice to her, he seemed to be saying.
Or maybe it was just his imagination.
I can’t get sidetracked, Rowan told himself. Regardless of whether Watts turned out to be in the area or not, he had to let Hardwicke know he’d arrived. He could start the hunt as soon as the storm cleared up, but for now, he knew he had to get out of Emilia’s hair, and find his way into town.
Rowan swallowed, even as his griffin began to shake itself, suddenly roused from its complacency. Leave? You mean you want to leave here?
I have to, Rowan reminded it. We’re here to hunt a dangerous criminal, remember? And anyway, we can’t impose any longer. Not to mention Hardwicke is already going to kill me.
Despite the fact he knew he found Emilia extremely attractive and that her home had filled him with a strange sense of calm, Rowan was having a hard time understanding why his griffin was being so weird about this.
Usually, it didn’t have to be reminded of its duty. But there was just something about Emilia...
“I’m sorry to have intruded like this,” Rowan said, ignoring the way his griffin grumbled. “I really should get going.”
“Not into that weather,” Emilia said, shaking her head and pointing to the window. “On the trail of some dangerous criminal or not, you’d have to be crazy to go out into that. Besides, the nearest town is half an hour’s drive away. Were you planning on... walking there?”
She cocked her head, waiting for his answer.
Flying, actually, Rowan thought, and had to resist the urge to grimace. Everything would have been so much easier if he could just tell her the truth!
“A colleague was going to meet me,” he said, feeling a pang in his chest as the evasive response left his lips.
“Well, either way, you’ll need a jacket,” Emilia said. “I might have one you can borrow. My ex left a lot of his stuff when he... I mean, uh...” She glanced at him, embarrassment in her eyes. “I have some men’s clothes lying around,” she continued after a moment. “They might fit you. I’ll go grab them if you wait here a second.”
With that, she got up, hurrying out of the room.
Rowan watched her go, unable to help but notice the cute way her jeans hugged the curve of her backside. She was a curvy woman – just the kind of figure he’d always found himself attracted to. He’d always liked a woman with hips and a butt.
But is that all you like about her?
Frowning, Rowan contemplated things as he reached out to pat the head of the dog lying next to him. It blinked at him sleepily from behind its shaggy fringe of fur, before nuzzling against his hand.
“Good boy,” Rowan murmured, as he moved his hand down to check the tag on the dog’s collar. “Max,” he said, and the dog’s ears cocked a little at the sound of his name. “Your mistress is a very pretty lady, did you know that?”
Maybe Max did, because he looked resolutely unsurprised at Rowan’s words.
He looked up at the sound of pattering paws, only to see three other dogs trotting in from another room. Two terriers, by the looks of things, and an old, gentlemanly Lab.
“Hi guys,” Rowan said, smiling at them as they regarded him soberly. And then, as if deciding he could be trusted, one of the terriers let out a small yip before bounding forward, landing squarely on his lap. The second terrier followed suit, though the old man Lab trotted sedately over a moment later, before settling himself at his feet.
“Oh, I see, I see,” Rowan laughed, as he patted each of them in turn. He’d always liked animals, though he didn’t keep a pet himself. It just didn’t fit in with his hectic lifestyle. He’d never want to leave an animal by itself for as long as he sometimes had to be away from home. It just wouldn’t have been fair on the poor creature. “Is this how you greet all your houseguests?”
“No, it isn’t.”
Rowan looked up at the sound of Emilia’s voice in the doorway. She was holding a thick jacket folded over her arm, and her expression was one of mild surprise – though her eyes were dancing with amusement. Black as jet and soft as sunlight, they held a kind of lively beauty he didn’t think he’d ever seen before in anyone else, human or shifter. Perhaps that was mainly because he usually dealt with criminals, but...
...But maybe it’s because she’s special, his griffin spoke up. Maybe it’s because there’s just something about her...
Rowan blinked.
What are you saying?
But his griffin didn’t answer. It remained silent within him, though Rowan thought he could, somehow, detect an aura of smugness about it.
“They usually take quite a while to warm up to people,” Emilia said. “Especially men. I’ve never seen them like this before.”
“Oh?” Rowan grinned as he gave one of the terriers’ ears a good rub. “Well, I’ve always had... an affinity, I suppose, for animals.”
He felt a twist in his chest as he said the words. Was that deceptive? It was skirting the truth, he supposed. To be fair, animals had always liked him.
Emilia nodded, smiling. “Well, I can definitely see that!” Walking over, she placed the jacket down on the couch next to him. “They’re all rescues, so they can sometimes be very cautious when it comes to anyone new,” she said softly. “But they seem to have taken to you right away.”
“All rescues?” Rowan felt his admiration for Emilia growing even stronger. “You’ve taken in four rescue dogs?”
Emilia laughed. “Oh, no – there’s two more around here somewhere. I’m sure they’ll be here as soon as they realize there’s ear scratches being handed out. And the cats will be back for the heater soon enough. The rabbits are upstairs and Harvey’s in the barn – but that’s all of them, I swear.”
“Harvey?” Rowan asked.
“He’s a pony.”
“Well, makes sense that he’d be in a barn, then.” Rowan looked down at the little dogs on his lap once more. They gazed back, tongues lolling. “And you look after them all by yourself?”
It might have been him, but Emilia’s laugh sounded just a touch... bitter. “They’re a handful, but we get along fine.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest you couldn’t handle them,” Rowan said. It was clear the dogs were all utterly spoiled and superbly looked after. “Just that it must be quite a bit of work.”
Emilia seemed to hesitate a moment, before shaking her head. “Sorry, no. You didn’t imply anything. Maybe I’m just a little touchy about it – but I shouldn’t take that out on you.”
“It’s fine,” Rowan said, as the larger of the two terriers on his lap – Suzie, her nametag read – shuffled around, getting more comfortable. Between the dogs surrounding him, the soft glow of the fire, and Emilia’s warm presence, Rowan realized how easy it would be to forget that he was here for one reason, and one reason only: to track down Merritt Watts. Domesticity was something he didn’t have much experience of. His apartment back in the city was cold and utilitarian – somewhere to sleep and eat when he wasn’t out on a job.
Emilia’s home, on the other hand, truly was a home. From the worn couch to the old blankets that covered it, the mismatched rugs, the breakables clearly placed on high shelves to keep them out of harm’s way... everything spoke of a house that was meant for living in. A house filled with warmth and joy and life.
It was a side of life he didn’t often get to see.
And somehow, he’d stumbled into the middle of it.
“The storm shouldn’t last too much longer,” Emilia said, breaking into his thoughts. “But... uh...”
She trailed off, looking away. Was it Rowan’s imagination, or did her cheeks seem a little red?
“Are you sure you don’t... want a show
er or bath?” she asked eventually. “Hypothermia is no joke.”
Rowan hesitated. He really didn’t need a bath – he hadn’t even especially needed the blanket Emilia had so thoughtfully wrapped him up in. Now that he was over the initial shock of the fall, he was fine. Shifters ran hot and healed fast: there was nothing wrong with him that the last ten minutes of warmth and sitting down hadn’t fixed.
“I’ll be fine,” he said after a moment. He knew Emilia was just acting out of concern for him, but there was really no need to make this even more awkward by pretending he needed even more of her time – and care – than he’d taken up already.
And I need to get going, he thought, with reluctance. He needed to call in with Hardwicke. And then, he needed to get on with the search for Merritt Watts.
Emilia gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t need to warm up?”
Feeling uncomfortable, Rowan coughed slightly. Within him, his griffin stretched luxuriantly. She could warm us up.
If you’re not going to be helpful, you can just be quiet, Rowan told it – even as he felt his mind flooding with all the ways he’d love to warm up with Emilia.
“No, I promise you, I’m genuinely fine,” he managed to get out.
Emilia continued to look at him a moment longer, before dropping her eyes. “All right,” she said. “If you’re sure.” She hesitated. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“You’ve done more than enough already,” Rowan assured her. “But if there’s one last thing, I should probably make a phone call.”
Emilia made a face. “My phone line’s been down since this morning when the storm rolled in,” she said. “They do that sometimes. And I don’t get great cell phone signal here at any time. You can try, though.”
Given Emilia’s tone, Rowan didn’t have much hope when he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, it wasn’t showing any signal, and when he dialed Hardwicke’s number, all he got was the automated message telling him his call couldn’t be connected.
“Damn,” he muttered, hanging up. “That’s... not great.”