Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

GRIFF

G riff woke to an empty bed. The warm weight of Phoenix, the scent of her skin, and the intoxicating closeness that had marked the night were gone. Only the faint impression of her on the sheets remained, and even that was quickly cooling.

He sat up slowly, his body still heavy with exhaustion but his mind racing with the reality of her absence. He wasn't surprised she had left. After all, Phoenix was as unpredictable and elusive as the wind. But that didn't stop the disappointment from curling in his gut like a tightening knot.

She had been in his arms, in his bed, and yet, here he was alone again.

Griff rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the tangled emotions swirling within him. Last night had been more than just spectacular sex. Hell, the word 'spectacular' didn't even begin to cover it. The connection between them had been undeniable, as fiery and wild as he'd imagined it would be, but deeper too.

But Phoenix? His fated fae mate? He knew her too well to expect her to stick around because of one night, no matter how passionate it had been. Phoenix was a force of nature, and no amount of claiming her, no intensity between them, would make her submit to the bond unless she wanted it.

With a resigned sigh, Griff stood up and pulled on his jeans, heading to the kitchen where the smell of leftover coffee from the pot offered some small consolation. He had a feeling this wasn't the last time they'd end up like this—entangled and then apart. And for now, he would have to live with it.

The sun was barely cresting over the horizon when Griff left the house, riding his Harley through the quiet streets of Algiers Point, across the ferry, and back into the heart of New Orleans. He couldn't shake the lingering ache in his chest as he weaved through the traffic, his thoughts consumed by the night before and the storm of emotions Phoenix had stirred inside him.

Soon enough, he found himself pulling up to the Duvall mansion, a towering, opulent structure that stood like a sentinel amidst the old oaks and iron gates of the Garden District. It was a beautiful home, its fae magic invisible to humans, but to supernaturals, it seeped from the very walls, casting a soft glow over the property. To Griff, it was nothing more than a fortress Phoenix, her sisters, and her aunt used to keep the world at arm's length, including him.

As he approached the door, he could already feel the tension in the air. Phoenix wasn't going to make this easy, but then again, neither was he. They needed to talk. They needed to decide how to handle Fontaine, the cult, and the chaos that was brewing in the city.

The door opened before Griff could knock, and Phoenix's youngest sister, Savannah, greeted him with a raised eyebrow and a knowing, infectious grin.

"Well, if it isn't Detective Broussard, bright and early. Are you doing the walk of shame as well? Come to sweep my sister off her feet again, or just drag her back to bed?"

Griff scowled, brushing past her without a word. He wasn't in the mood for Savannah's teasing, not when his mind was spinning with everything that needed to be done.

"Where's Phoenix?" he asked, his voice low and gruff as he entered the front hall.

Savannah sighed dramatically. "Upstairs, brooding, as usual. You two really are made for each other, you know that?"

Griff didn't respond; instead, he headed straight for the stairs. He took them two at a time, his boots echoing off the polished wood as he made his way to the second floor where Phoenix's room was. He could feel her presence even before he reached the door, the faint pulse of her magic brushing against his senses like a whisper.

He pushed the door open without knocking and found Phoenix standing by the window, her back to him, arms crossed. The sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, casting her in a golden glow that made her seem even more untouchable than usual.

"You didn't even say goodbye?" Griff growled; his voice thick with frustration as he closed the door behind him. "After everything that happened last night, you just disappear?"

Phoenix didn't turn to face him, but he saw the slight tension in her shoulders. "Griff, last night was..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "It was what it was. But we both know it doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't change anything?" Griff's temper flared, and before he could think better of it, he crossed the room in quick strides, grabbing her by the arm and turning her to face him. "It changes everything, Phoenix."

She met his gaze, her eyes a storm of emotions. "No, it doesn't. You can't just?—"

Whatever protest she had died on her lips as Griff moved faster than she could anticipate, tossing her over his shoulder with ease, his arm wrapped firmly around her dangling legs. Phoenix let out an indignant cry, her fists pounding against his back.

"Griff! Put me down, you bastard!"

Ignoring her protests, Griff carried her out of the room and down the hallway, the echo of his footsteps loud in the otherwise silent mansion. Her sisters and Aunt Maeve were already standing in the foyer, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes full of mirth—okay, her aunt was pissed, but her sisters seemed delighted.

Geneva chuckled. "Well, this just got interesting."

"Out of the way," Griff barked, pushing past them as Phoenix continued to squirm and protest.

He reached the front room, a spacious parlor with high ceilings and elaborate decor, and set her down none too gently on her feet. He'd known he needed to be in a room other than her bedroom. He needed a room where they could have some privacy without the temptation of her big four-poster bed staring him in the face. With one hand, he slid the pocket doors shut, sealing them both inside and locking out her meddling sisters and aunt.

Phoenix glared at him, breathless and flushed. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe," Griff growled, stepping closer, his chest rising and falling with barely contained frustration. "I'm tired of you running. We need to talk."

Phoenix crossed her arms, her anger palpable, but she waved her hands in a quick, graceful gesture. "Fine. I just sealed the doors with magic. My family won't be able to eavesdrop."

Griff's jaw clenched, but he nodded. At least that was one distraction gone.

She huffed and turned away from him, pacing across the room. "This... thing between us, Griff, it's not going to work the way you think it will. We're on the verge of a disaster with Fontaine, the cult, the dark magic. I can't be distracted."

"Distracted?" Griff's voice was dangerously low. "You think that's what this is?"

Phoenix stopped, turning to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something that mirrored his own confusion. "What else do you want me to say? You know as well as I do that we can't afford to get tangled up in this right now."

Griff took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. "We're already tangled, Phoenix. And running from it isn't going to change that."

She held his gaze for a long moment, the tension between them crackling like static in the air. Finally, Phoenix exhaled, the fight seeming to drain out of her. "What do you want, Griff?"

"I want us to stop fighting each other and start fighting the real threat." His voice softened, though the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "You and I—we're stronger as a team. I can help you with this. We can help each other."

Phoenix's eyes studied his face, searching, he was sure, for any hint of subterfuge. When she found none, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "An alliance, then? You really think that's going to work?"

Griff shrugged, stepping closer. "You provide insight into the demonic and fae threats. I give you access to the police resources I have. If we have to, we can coordinate through Geneva. Wait, maybe we shouldn't involve her. This is going to be dangerous."

Phoenix snorted. "Like me, Geneva teethed on danger. Much as you may not like my Aunt Maeve, she raised us to be tough, strong, and able to take care of ourselves. She never wanted us to have to rely on anyone. We were brought up knowing our destinies. When each of us accepted our copy of the Grimm files, we acknowledged and accepted that fact."

"Can those files offer some insight into what's going on?" asked Griff.

Phoenix shook her head as a wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Sometimes, but it's never that simple. It would be so much easier if they just contained a picture and description of the demons Charlotte fought—something like here's what it looks like and here's how you kill it, but instead, it's all about reading between the lines."

"Yeah, subtly is not your strong suit," chuckled Griff. "I'm no ancient tome about how to fight demons and other magical creatures, but we can work together to take down Fontaine and put an end to whatever the hell he's got planned."

For a moment, Phoenix didn't respond. She just stared at him, the weight of the decision hanging between them. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Fine. An alliance—an uneasy one but an alliance."

Griff's lips quirked into a small smile, the tension between them shifting ever so slightly. "I can live with uneasy."

The decision made, they both felt the shift, as if a line had been drawn and crossed. But even as the tension between them eased, Griff couldn't help the frustration that lingered just beneath the surface. Phoenix was still a mystery, still holding back, and it gnawed at him. He wanted more than just an alliance with her, he wanted all the things he'd never allowed himself to even dream.

As they delved deeper into the investigation over the next few days, working side by side, that frustration only grew. Phoenix was brilliant, no question about it. She had an uncanny ability to sense patterns, to understand the nuances of the magic at play in a way Griff couldn't. But she was secretive—guarded. Every time they uncovered something new, she'd give him just enough information to keep him in the loop but never the full picture.

It was driving him mad.

They tracked down leads, piecing together bits of information that linked Fontaine to multiple demonic summonings across the city. Phoenix recognized the magic in the symbols, the patterns in the attacks, and between them, they were able to piece together that Fontaine had been involved in various unsanctioned rituals, though none could be directly tied to him. It was corruption at a level they hadn't anticipated—deep-rooted and widespread.

One afternoon, after a long day of chasing down leads, they found themselves back at Griff's shotgun cottage in Algiers Point. The weight of their discoveries was pressing down on Phoenix—he could see it in the tension in her body. Phoenix sat on the couch; her legs tucked beneath her as she scanned the documents spread out on the coffee table. Griff leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her, his arms crossed.

"We're getting close," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Fontaine is summoning demons, but I think it's a lot bigger than we thought. There are more players involved, more connections. It's almost like?—"

"Like he's not the one pulling the strings," Griff finished for her, his voice grim.

Phoenix glanced up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Exactly. But who's backing him?"

"That's what we need to figure out," Griff said, pushing away from the counter and moving to sit beside her on the couch. He picked up one of the papers, his brow furrowing as he scanned the text. "If Fontaine's working with someone more powerful, we're going to need more than just your magic and my badge to take them down."

Phoenix nodded; her expression serious. "Agreed. We need allies. People we can trust."

Griff grunted, tossing the paper back onto the pile. "Trust isn't exactly something I have a lot of these days."

Phoenix's lips quirked into a small, wry smile. "Tell me about it."

For a moment, they sat in silence, everything they'd learned looming over them like a dark cloud. Griff's frustration simmered beneath the surface, but as he glanced over at Phoenix, watching her delicate fingers trace the lines of a demonic symbol, he couldn't deny the feelings he had for her—admiration, respect, lust. She was brilliant, driven, and capable of things that still astounded him. But she was also a puzzle, one he was determined to solve.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You know, for all your secrets and evasions, you're damn good at what you do."

Phoenix glanced at him; one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Was that a compliment, Detective?"

Griff shrugged, leaning back against the couch. "Just calling it like I see it."

She smiled faintly, but the tension between them didn't fully dissipate. There was still so much unsaid, so much left unresolved. And though they were working together now, there was no denying the ever-narrowing rift between their professional partnership and the undeniable connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

As they prepared for the next steps, for the inevitable confrontation with Fontaine and whoever was behind him, Griff couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get much worse. The evidence they'd uncovered pointed to something far larger than they'd anticipated—a network of corruption and dark magic that stretched deep into the city's core.

And though he trusted Phoenix with his life, he still couldn't fully trust her with his heart.

Yet.