The Griffin Marshal's Heart (U.S. Marshal Shifters 4)

He kissed her closed eyes, taking away her tears. He was so gentle. She didn’t know how anyone could have ever looked at him and not known how purely good he was. He shone with a kind of internal light she’d never seen in anyone else.

“We’re not going to die here,” Cooper said. He wrapped his arms around her more tightly than ever, cradling her against his chest, against the fresh, clean smell of his skin. Gretchen listened to his heartbeat. Against all odds, it was reassuring.

When he said, “I’m going to get us both out of here,” she actually believed him.

14

Cooper was acutely, painfully aware of the ticking clock.

As soon as he’d opened the door to go outside, he had sent the temperature in the car plummeting down even further and faster than before. Whatever time Gretchen had left before the cold got the best of her, he’d just cut it in half, especially since he’d left her without a shifter space heater. All she had now was her own failing body warmth, the clothes she’d put back on, the two hand-warmers (which wouldn’t be doing nearly enough), and Martin’s fleece blanket.

And while this was much, much lower on his list of priorities, he had to be realistic about his own prospects, too. He’d taken his coat—Gretchen had insisted on it, despite his protests—but he was still standing out in sub-zero temperatures and dealing with wind that cut straight through his clothes. Gretchen might not be able to survive waiting inside the car much longer—and he might not be able to survive waiting outside it, either.

If he was going to find his griffin, he had to do it fast.

And this was already too slow.

He closed his eyes. It might or might not help him concentrate, but it would definitely keep the hard, icy snow out of them, and that had to be a plus.

He felt scattershot. He needed so badly to save her that it was like his head was filled up with a sound and fury that drowned out even the storm. He knew it wasn’t helping, but he couldn’t seem to make it stop.

Then, out of the darkness, something in him did stop it.

Prison sucked in a lot of ways. Almost every way. But it did teach you how to be calm, Coop: it taught you how to stay calm even when everything around you was hell and chaos. It made you so good at controlling yourself that you locked away the part you most need to reach, so it’s a mixed blessing, but that’s the kind of calm you need right now. That’s the kind you need for Gretchen’s sake.

But what if Roger was right? What if his griffin was gone for good?

Are you really going to believe Roger over Gretchen? When it comes to something as important as your own soul?

No. No, he wasn’t.

Even if his griffin really could die inside of him, he was going to have to believe that it wasn’t dead yet. If Gretchen needed any part of him, he was determined to give it to her, even if he had to drag it out of some early grave.

He had to stop thinking about the ticking clock. He had to find that calm. If he didn’t, he was going to just keep messing himself up. If you let yourself get eaten up by worry about whether or not you could do something, you’d never relax enough to get it done. He had to just trust that Gretchen was right—once a shifter, always a shifter.

He breathed out and concentrated, reaching into the darkness inside him, the darkness that had felt so empty for so long now.

He couldn’t do anything about his sharp, persistent fear of how Gretchen was doing, but he could use it for motivation. She was why he needed to reclaim his griffin now more than ever. He had to help her.

I know you’re there, Cooper thought. You’re part of me.

Silence. Darkness.

I was hurting. It was hard to hold onto you when you wanted to fly—when I wanted to fly—and we couldn’t. You reminded me of everything we’d lost, and I couldn’t deal with it. I hid you away for so long that I forgot how to find you, but there’s no way you’re lost for good. I need you. I always have. And more importantly, Gretchen needs you.

There was something there... a sound inside him that was almost like wings rustling.

She’s great, buddy. She’s funny and gorgeous and brave. She shook my hand like there was no reason she shouldn’t have, and she saw something in me that no one else ever did. She believes in me. She didn’t have to do any of that, and as far as I’m concerned, that makes her the nicest person in the world. And now she’s in trouble. She’s freezing, and I need to get her somewhere warm. I’d carry her myself, but I wouldn’t get there fast enough.

It still wasn’t enough.

He added, I love her.

It had become the central fact of his existence. Something more important than everything else.

He loved her, and he could almost believe that she loved him back. If she did, then he was someone worth loving. Maybe he was still broken, but he wasn’t incomplete.

Gretchen was right. He hadn’t lost himself... and so it was impossible for him to have lost his griffin. All he had to do was reach far enough and grab on hard enough.