Mated to the Griffin (Elemental Mates, #5)

by Chant, Zoe

  Mated to the Griffin

  Elemental Mates #5

  By Zoe Chant

  Copyright Zoe Chant 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Content

  The Elemental Mates series

  Chapter One: Chiara

  Chapter Two: Jared

  Chapter Three: Chiara

  Chapter Four: Jared

  Chapter Five: Chiara

  Chapter Six: Jared

  Chapter Seven: Chiara

  Chapter Eight: Jared

  Chapter Nine: Chiara

  Chapter Ten: Jared

  Chapter Eleven: Chiara

  Chapter Twelve: Jared

  Chapter Thirteen: Chiara

  Chapter Fourteen: Jared

  Chapter Fifteen: Chiara

  Chapter Sixteen: Jared

  Chapter Seventeen: Chiara

  Chapter Eighteen: Jared

  Chapter Nineteen: Chiara

  Chapter Twenty: Jared

  Chapter Twenty-One: Chiara

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Jared

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Chiara

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Jared

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Chiara

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Jared

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Chiara

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Jared

  Epilogue: Chiara

  A note from Zoe Chant

  More Paranormal Romance by Zoe Chant

  If you love Zoe Chant, you’ll also love these books

  The Christmas Dragon’s Mate Special Sneak Preview

  The Elemental Mates series

  Mated to the Storm Dragon

  Mated to the Earth Dragon

  Mated to the Ocean Dragon

  Mated to the Fire Dragon

  Mated to the Griffin

  Mated to the Chimera (forthcoming)

  Elemental Mates Box Set 1 (contains Mated to the Storm Dragon, Mated to the Earth Dragon and Mated to the Ocean Dragon)

  This book stands alone. However, it’s part of Elemental Mates, a series about powerful dragon shifters finding their mates and protecting the world. For maximum enjoyment, it’s recommended to read the series in order.

  Mated to the Chimera is forthcoming. If you’d like to be emailed when it comes out, please click here to be added to my mailing list.

  Chapter One: Chiara

  Chiara Jenkins stared at the map before her with a frown.

  She’d followed a trail of cryptic hints ever since she’d first discovered the map in a bookshop, hidden between the pages of an old French book that was slowly falling apart.

  That’s how she’d ended up in France.

  She didn’t actually speak any French. But that hadn’t stopped her from realizing that she was holding an extraordinary find in her hands as soon as she saw the map.

  There’d been something weird about it. Something connected to the supernatural world.

  And ever since she’d been first attacked by a man who’d turned into a wolf right before her eyes, she’d dedicated her life to uncovering this mystery.

  It didn’t matter that both cops and doctors had called her crazy when they thought she couldn’t hear.

  It didn’t matter that her dad hadn’t talked to her in a year, ever since she’d left her awful, crushing minimum-wage job where she’d been dealing with customer complaints day in, day out.

  What mattered was that there was an entire world out there that most people couldn’t even see.

  But Chiara could. She’d started researching werewolves as soon as she’d realized that no one would ever believe her.

  Turned out that there were a lot of people on the internet who’d seen similar things. Not just werewolves—but also fairies, ghouls, vampires, aliens.

  Chiara still wasn’t one hundred percent sure if she believed in aliens, but the website she now wrote for had run a pretty convincing theory last year, claiming that all the sightings of werewolves, vampires, and other monsters were caused by the tests aliens did on humans.

  It was at least more convincing than the idea that the world was just collectively going mad.

  She knew what she’d seen. And there were so many people who’d seen similar things. Not just werewolves—but some people had seen humans turn into lions, cats, all sorts of animals. Even bats.

  Chiara had fortunately never met a vampire in her research, but if people could turn into bats, then why shouldn’t the rest of it also be true?

  “Another drink for you, mademoiselle?”

  The bartender spoke with an accent, but there were apparently enough tourists coming through this little mountain village in France that they were used to American tourists like Chiara. And the French accent was incredibly charming, if the guy wasn't old enough to be her father.

  Also, I have no time for romance, she reminded herself firmly, ignoring the man further down the bar who’d given her a slow smile when she’d come in.

  She was here for work. The map had led her to this village, and it was going to lead her further into the mountains. She didn’t even know what exactly was hidden there—but it had to be something good.

  The map was covered with all sorts of arcane symbols that she’d gotten to know during her year writing for the Extraterrestrial Enquirer.

  The corners of the map were decorated with the symbols of the four elements: Air, Earth, Water, Fire.

  At the center of the map, there were strange, twisting paths that had finally led her to this village, after a month of obsessively searching Google Maps. The path started from this village, leading to something that looked like a maze. And in that maze, there was another symbol.

  A triangle, with three lines pointing up from it.

  She wasn’t quite sure what exactly it meant, but from what she’d been able to make out from the ancient, dusty book, it had to be an artifact of immense power.

  And once I’ve found it, they’ll have to listen to me. They can’t call me crazy if I’m holding it in my hands, if they can see its power.

  It was a good plan. Or at least, after more than a year of being called crazy, it was the only plan she’d been able to come up with. The only way to show that she wasn’t mad, that werewolves were real, and that everyone who didn’t believe her was in great danger.

  But first she’d have to make her way through a labyrinth in the French Alps.

  The plane tickets had used up all that was left of her sparse savings from the years spent in customer service hell. And the articles she now wrote about the paranormal underworld out there paid even worse than being shouted at by displeased customers all day.

  This was it. Her last chance to show the world the truth.

  With a deep sigh, she closed her notebook and the battered map inside it.

  She’d already spent so much time hunched over that map. Anything she hadn’t found out so far wasn’t going to make a difference.

  “Another drink?” the barkeeper asked.

  How much money did she have left? She probably shouldn’t.

  On the other hand, maybe she was going to die tomorrow, so what did it matter?

  “Please,” she said and forced herself to give him a smile.

  At least there weren’t any werewolves here. She’d read up on the place and its legends, and while there were many myths in France about werewolves, this particular area was curiously lacking in reports about paranormal activity.

  Which didn’t have to mean anything, but maybe there was a reason the map had led her here...

  She forced herself to sip slowly. She didn’t want to go to bed, not yet. She was so close. So very close.

  She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep with the excitement curre
ntly making her body vibrate. So better to spend another hour in human company—in one of the very rare places where people didn’t think she was a raving lunatic.

  Which probably was because she hadn’t told anyone what brought her here, but it was good to feel normal again for an evening.

  Or to feel as if the world was normal. As if everything was still exactly like what she’d learned in school. No secrets, no magic, no werewolves. No alien conspiracies.

  Just a tiny bar catering to the tourists who came to hike and stopped in this sleepy, picturesque village for a day or two.

  “Going for a hike tomorrow?” The man who’d watched her earlier had scooted closer. “It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?”

  His English was nearly accent-free. He wore nice clothes—a suit that seemed a little out of place in this village, but she supposed some people never managed to leave their work at home.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she said and smiled. Maybe he wasn’t quite her type—but surely it wouldn’t do any harm to play the part of a normal, definitely not crazy, American tourist for one evening. “It’s my first time in France. I love the mountains.”

  He gave her a pleased smile, then waved the barkeeper over.

  “In that case, you need to have a local drink. Two pastis, please, I insist.”

  “Oh, I... thank you.” Chiara watched as the barkeeper poured a colorless liquor into a glass, then topped it up with cold water.

  Immediately, the liquid turned into a swirling, cloudy white.

  She’d already had two rum and cokes, which was about as much as she’d allow herself usually... But the drink did look interesting. And she was in France. And she might die tomorrow.

  She gave the man another smile, this time genuine, as they clinked glasses.

  And then she took a first sip—and sputtered.

  “Licorice?”

  The man chuckled. “Pastis,” he said. “It’s anise, actually. Do you like it?”

  “I... don’t know,” Chiara said, trying to be diplomatic.

  It tasted awful, actually. She liked trying new things—but she hadn’t expected this.

  She took another careful sip. This time, she was prepared for the strange taste, but she still couldn’t help but grimace. It burned down her throat as she swallowed.

  Medicine. That’s what it tastes like. Like a disgusting cough remedy.

  “Not a fan?” the man asked. “I’m Lou, by the way.”

  It was a really weird taste for a drink. On the other hand, her life had turned upside down, she’d been nearly bitten by a werewolf, she’d sold her car, quit her job, and followed a strange map across an ocean.

  Maybe she was the sort of person who’d sit in French mountain bars sipping licorice liquor with strangers, and she just didn’t know it yet.

  Carefully, she took another sip—and barely managed to keep from spitting it out.

  If anything, it had gotten worse.

  Apparently she wasn’t the sort of person to sit in a French bar and sip weird, medicine-flavored liquor. Maybe she should have expected that.

  I’m not the interesting sort of weird. Sorry, Lou. I guess I won’t have a story for my grandchildren about the time I flirted with a handsome French stranger.

  It was probably for the best. She was on a mission, after all. A mission that could change everything, if she’d just manage to stay focused on her job.

  “Sorry.” She gave him an apologetic look. “It tastes like medicine.”

  He chuckled. “That’s all right. Leaves more for me, right?”

  “At least now I can say that I tried it.” She smiled at him, then got up. “It was nice to meet you. And thanks for the drink.”

  He wasn’t really her type anyway. She liked her men kind and generous, which meant that she hadn’t been able to find a lot of men willing to date her. Lou had a bit of that sharpness she associated with insurance brokers. Or maybe he worked in Finance.

  And while it had been nice to talk to him, the last thing she needed on her quest for a scary magical artifact was a romantic entanglement.

  “My pleasure,” he said. In the gloom of the bar, his eyes seemed strangely dark for a moment, as if they’d gone all black.

  Chiara shuddered. That had to be the strange pastis.

  She blinked. A heartbeat later, his eyes looked completely normal again.

  That’s it. I’m imagining things. Time to sleep.

  “Have a good night,” she said brightly, and then turned towards the door.

  She felt a moment of relief when she stepped outside into the cool night air.

  Now that she thought about it, she’d actually like to have one last night of good sex before risking her life on a magical mountain. Just not with him.

  Something about him gave off a strange vibe, a hint of teeth and sharpness. The thought of being in bed with him made her squirm, and not in a good way.

  Fortunately for me, absolutely no one is going to ask the local lunatic who believes in werewolves and vampires to spend the night at their place. Sex is completely off the cards. Focus on your job!

  With a deep breath, she turned the corner. There, not far, was the tiny, cheap hotel where she was staying.

  When she’d left, it had still been light outside. Now, at night, the street seemed a lot narrower and darker than it had looked during the day.

  There were no streetlights in this small alley. She hadn’t realized that when she’d checked in.

  Chiara gritted her teeth and reached into her bag, taking out her key. This was a sleepy French tourist village. Nothing ever happened in these places, except for when a goat escaped from a farm.

  She had absolutely nothing to fear.

  A second later, darkness seemed to swallow her.

  The alley had gone inexplicably darker.

  It was the only warning she received before she found herself pushed hard against the wall.

  “The map!” a male voice hissed. “Give me the map!”

  The voice was familiar.

  She felt her heart clench in her chest as she looked up at her attacker, dizzy. It was Lou from the bar.

  “I know you have it,” he growled. “Give it to me, now!”

  It took a moment to understand what he was saying.

  As soon as she realized what he wanted, her blood went cold.

  He wanted the map. The secret map no one knew about.

  Which meant that Lou knew why she was here. He knew she wasn’t an American tourist who’d come to hike in the French Alps.

  “Who are you?” she asked, glaring at him, even though he still held her pressed against the wall.

  He didn’t answer—but in the gloom, she could see his eyes glisten.

  She hadn’t been mistaken in the bar. They’d gone black—completely black, like a shadow was staring back at her.

  The sensation made her shiver with a sudden fear she’d never experienced before. She had no idea what he was—demon, vampire, warlock?

  But something inside her was terrified.

  Some instinct deep inside her knew that the shadow looking at her was the most dangerous thing she’d ever faced in her life. More dangerous even than the werewolf she’d once surprised.

  A heartbeat later, he lost patience and reached out for her bag—and just as suddenly, he was ripped back and flung against the wall on the other side of the alley.

  Everything had happened so quickly that it took Chiara a long moment to realize what was going on.

  Another man had appeared in the alley. A man with blond hair, wearing a simple, white shirt that stretched over broad, muscled shoulders.

  He didn’t have any weapon, as far as Chiara could see.

  She wanted to warn him. The man who’d attacked her was a demon, or some sort of vampire, maybe—no matter how strong her rescuer was, he wouldn’t stand a chance against Lou.

  She couldn’t force out a single word as she stared at where Lou had made it back to his feet. The darkness in his eyes seemed
to have deepened. It was like staring into an abyss, the darkness and coldness of outer space looking back at her until she felt a terror so strong her knees nearly gave out.

  The stranger took a step towards Lou, unafraid.

  And just like that, the shadow retreated, the unnatural darkness in the alley lessening. Lou snarled at them, the sound an inhuman hiss. Then he turned and ran.

  “Are you all right?”

  It took another moment until Chiara realized that the stranger was talking to her.

  She tightened her fingers around her bag, clutching the old leather so hard her fingers hurt.

  It was still there. She still had her map and her notes. Nothing had happened.

  “I’m fine,” she said automatically, then took a deep breath.

  Her legs were still trembling. She reached out to the wall behind her to steady herself.

  “Thanks! That was really brave. He wanted to steal my bag... I guess that’s why he was trying to get me drunk in the bar.” She flashed the newcomer a shaky smile. “Sucks to be him, I’m a cheap backpacker. He should try his luck in Saint-Tropez, or wherever it is the rich and famous go.”

  She didn’t mention the strange darkness in Lou’s eyes with a single word. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.

  It was never a demon—or a werewolf.

  It was a simple thief, and the fact that she’d had a drink.

  Or that was what the cops had told her after she’d tried to tell them what had happened. Well, she wasn’t going to make that mistake a second time. Not until she had proof they wouldn’t be able to ignore.

  “Have you seen him before?” the man asked. “There was something strange about him...”

  “Did you see his eyes?” She shuddered as she remembered the darkness. It had been calling to her—threatening her...

  “You’re shaking.” He gently touched her arm. “Where are you staying?”

  For a moment, Chiara couldn’t make out what he was saying. At his touch, she’d looked up—and found herself falling into the most incredible blue eyes.

  Even in the gloom of the tiny alley, they seemed filled with light. She’d never seen eyes that bright. They were shining at her in a pure azure, like that of a bright summer sky, or sunlight glistening on a mountain lake.