Chapter 2 #2
Without another word, I stomped past her.
She flinched at my sudden movement, shrinking slightly, but I couldn’t stop myself.
My feet carried me to the hearth, where I threw more logs onto the fire.
Sparks flared, heat licking my face. It was already too hot for me, sweat slicking down my spine, but she’d need it.
Worse, the heat was gathering most uncomfortably under the plastic helmet, and the bases of my horns itched.
The kettle went onto the stove with a clang, frustration and anger bleeding through in every one of my motions.
Water, tea, warmth—things I didn’t need, but she did.
My back stayed to her as I worked, jaw clenched.
I could hear her moving behind me: soft, tentative sounds, the shuffle of her boots coming off, fabric rustling.
Don’t look, I told myself. Don’t. But then I did, like I just couldn’t help myself.
She was crouched by the fire, and her coat, gloves, and hat lay in a heap beside her.
The flames painted her in gold and shadow, her hands trembling as she held them out to the warmth.
Her sweater was knitted, snowflakes scattered across soft fabric that hugged her in ways that made my throat dry.
Her figure was slender, delicate curves in all the right places.
She was too fragile for a storm, and far too tempting for me.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. The kettle screamed as if mocking me. I poured too fast, slamming the mug onto the table beside her. Tea splashed over the rim, hissing on the wood. More spilled than stayed, and I didn’t even care that it might stain the wood of my hand-carved coffee table.
I couldn’t breathe in here, I couldn’t breathe with her filling up the spaces inside my home.
I turned on my heel, stalking to the counter where my phone lay.
Jackson would know what to do. He had to.
Talking on the phone was usually the extent of my social interactions, and I hated every minute of it.
Anything to get rid of her, though. I punched in the sheriff’s number, certain he’d help out, it was his job, after all.
“You have to come get her,” I barked the moment he picked up.
Panic clawed at my throat, and I twisted to glance at my unwanted guest from the corner of my eye.
Had she heard that? She was still by the fire, her back to me, and, damn it, she was bent over, showcasing the delicious curve of her ass cupped in her snug jeans.
What was she doing? Was she trying to give me a heart attack?
Oh, she was just spreading out her wet winter gear in front of the wood stove so it could dry.
There’d been a pause in answer to my barked-out demand; now, the sheriff scraped his throat. “Is that you, ísarr?” Jackson’s voice was deep, calm, gratingly patient. It could’ve been my imagination, but it felt like my urgency to get rid of Bianca amused the man.
“Yes, it’s me. There’s a human in my cabin.
She wandered in during the storm. You need to come get her.
” I didn’t say now—saying that out loud would have made me sound even more desperate.
My hand went up to scratch one of my horns beneath the stupid helmet.
If she was forced to stay, I’d be forced to keep wearing this terrible disguise and hope she didn’t ask if I was sick, considering my blue skin.
What excuse could I give—that I drank too much colloidal silver?
That could turn a human’s skin blue, couldn’t it? Would she buy that? Doubtful.
The griffin gave a low whistle. “The storm’s too fierce, and the roads are closed.
” No, no! That couldn’t be. I stalked to the nearest window, lifted the curtain to peer out, and swore.
It was coming down hard out there already, but it didn’t feel like the storm had hit Hillcrest Hollow quite yet. He could make it.
“I’ll clear you a path,” I hissed, lowering my voice and glancing over my shoulder at the girl by the fire.
She didn’t seem to be listening, but still, I kept my words a whisper.
“I’ll calm it down, just a corridor of safe passage.
You can drive out here. Take her off my hands.
” It was a risk; I was not in control of my powers, and I hadn’t made any attempts to handle a snowstorm like this in years.
I wasn’t even sure I could do it, I just knew I had to try.
Jackson chuckled, feathered arrogance in the sound.
“You’d toy with a storm for one lost human?
There’s enough trouble in town, friend. You can babysit for a night.
” As if toying with a storm would cause more trouble for them all, the words stung.
Not that Jackson had meant them that way, that was just my own insecurity speaking.
My grip tightened on the phone until the plastic creaked. “Jackson—” I began to plead, but the line went dead. I swore, low and vicious, and this time, definitely loud enough for my guest to hear. Now what? She couldn’t stay, there was no way she could stay.
Her voice came from the fire, soft but steady now.
“You really don’t want me here, do you?” I turned to look at her, though it was the last thing I wanted to do.
She sat with her back straight, shoulders hunched slightly, as though bracing for a blow.
Her blue eyes met mine, luminous, too big for her pale face.
“It’s all right. I’ll be quiet.” The words lodged in my chest like splinters.