Page 7 of Guarded By the Bigfoot
He shook his head. “Try again.”
“Because something’s clearly wrong with the Veil,” I said. “The magic’s... oh, I don’t know, let’s say ‘different.’ Unsettled, perhaps? You know nothing about this, right?”
He studied me for a long moment, like he was weighing how much to reveal. “Here’s the thing, Agent Woods. You’re in Guardian territory now. My territory. And something’s been stirring up trouble in these woods. Something that has everyone spooked and the wards flickering. So, if ARC wants to know what it is, they...”
Oh, this is just great. Territorial Guardian and suspicious. My lucky day keeps getting better. “They should send someone to investigate?”
His eyes narrowed, but I held his gaze. After a long moment, he sat back. “Finish your soup.”
I wanted to argue, but the warm food was making my eyes heavy again. “I’m not staying here forever,” I warned, even as I sank deeper into the couch.
“No,” he agreed softly. “But you’re staying tonight.”
Something in his tone made my heart flutter. I blamed it on the strange-looking herbs floating in the soup. “Fine. But tomorrow will you take me to the Veil and?—”
“Tomorrow we’ll see what the storm left behind.” He stood, his frame blocking out the firelight for a moment. “Rest, Parker Woods. You’re safe here.”
As he moved toward the door, I found myself watching him go, struck by the grace in his movements and the way the lights played across his fur. He paused at the threshold, glancing back at me with those eyes.
“Welcome to the mountain,” he said, and then he was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts, my soup, and the distinct feeling that I was in way over my head.
I sank back into the cushions, trying to sort through everything. The crash, the rescue, the magnetic pull I felt toward a creature I should’ve been wary of. This is ridiculous. I’m here to do a job, not moon over a Bigfoot who happens to be both literally and figuratively the most magnificent creature I’ve ever met.
Even if he did make drinking coffee look unfairly attractive for someone with fangs.
Focus, Parker. Focus.
4
BROCK
Debris littered the village streets in the wake of the storm’s fury. Broken branches lay scattered across the muddy walkways, and puddles reflected the first golden rays of dawn. Windows were darkened, shutters hanging crooked, as if the buildings themselves had been battered by the tempest.
Yet despite the lingering devastation, a sense of bustling activity was already in the air. Shopkeepers emerged, surveying the damage with furrowed brows before rolling up their sleeves and getting to work. Fae darted between the buildings, weaving strands of glimmering magic to repair torn awnings and shattered glass.
I kept Parker in my periphery as we made our way through the storm’s aftermath, tracking her quickened pace and the way her eyes drank in every detail. Her scent, earthy and floral, teased my senses, her wild energy filling the air around us like an electric charge.
“Look at this place,” she breathed, pausing to trail her fingers along a tattered banner. “What a storm that was.”
“It did a number,” I said, angling a critical eye over the disarray. Beneath the bustle of recovery, an undercurrent of power prickled across my skin like static. “But they’ll have it sorted in no time, if I know this village.”
Above us, enchanted vines drooped from the night’s battering, their usual hum of magic uneven and weak. My shoulders tensed, a weight pressing against my senses. Something was off, like a jarring note in a familiar melody. The storm hadn’t just battered the village; it had weakened something deeper.
The feeling clung to me as we weaved through the streets, Parker’s gaze flitting between the wonders around her until we reached the gilded archway of Glitter and Gruel. Her energy was alive with awe.
The inn was glowing with warmth and light, the scent of fresh bread wrapping around us as we stepped inside. Glowing orbs drifted lazily near the ceiling, casting soft shadows on the wooden beams.
“Well, if it isn’t the village’s favorite pair!” Finn grinned as he leaned over the counter, ignoring the tray of pastries threatening to topple under his weight. “You should’ve seen Brock before. All growls and brooding. Now look at him, domesticated!”
“Finn.” My tone carried a warning, but it only made his grin widen.
“Relax, big guy. I’m just saying she’s clearly good for you. Even after all the business with the Dread?—”
“Finn!” Calla’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. “Pastries. Now.”
But the damage was already done. Parker’s sharp gaze locked onto me, curiosity and suspicion flashing behind her eyes.
“After all the business with what?” she asked, arms crossed.
