Page 66 of Chasing Stripes

The candles around me flickered in unison as if responding to my will, casting my shadow large and distorted against the ancient stone walls of my sanctuary. The waiting game had begun—and patience had always been my greatest strength.

FIFTY-EIGHT

Morning sunlight slanted through the wooden blinds of the alpha wing, painting stripes of gold across the tangled sheets. Bartek opened his eyes slowly, savoring the rare moment of perfect contentment. A week had passed since Artemis moved into the pride house—a week of discovery, adjustments, and deepening connection.

She lay curled against him, her golden hair fanned across his chest, her breathing deep and even. The soul-tether marks had expanded during their time together, intricate patterns of light now swirling across much of their skin. No longer contained to just the handprints at her waist or the matching marks on his chest, the golden designs had spread like a living artwork, tracing ethereal patterns up her arms, across her shoulders, and down her spine.

Bartek trailed his fingertips along a particularly beautiful swirl that curved over her shoulder blade. The pattern brightened at his touch, pulsing with responsive warmth. He marveled at how something so unexpected had transformed his carefully ordered life into something far richer than he’d imagined possible.

Artemis stirred, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks before she looked up at him. Her hazel eyes, still heavy with sleep, brightened when they met his.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice husky.

“Morning.” He couldn’t resist tracing the delicate golden line that curved along her collarbone, watching as it brightened beneath his touch. “Your magic lights up everywhere I touch you.”

She stretched lazily against him, the movement causing their marks to shimmer in unison. “We should get up. The bakery won’t open itself.”

“Five more minutes,” Bartek rumbled, his voice deeper in the morning, carrying a hint of tiger growl that he knew sent pleasant shivers through her. He pulled her closer, nuzzling into the curve of her neck and inhaling her sweet cinnamon-vanilla scent that had become as necessary to him as breathing. His hand slid to her waist, fingers aligning perfectly with the original handprints that still glowed brightest among the expanding patterns.

The contact sent a wave of golden light rippling across the ceiling, forming momentary constellations that shifted and sparkled before fading. Bartek watched the display with quiet pride. Their connection grew stronger each day.

“Your magic has become particularly responsive in the morning,” he observed with satisfaction, enjoying how the golden light flared brighter wherever their skin touched.

Artemis turned in his arms, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You become particularly distracting in the morning.”

The laughter of children echoed from the main house, breaking their private bubble. One of the twins—Lily, judging by the higher pitch of her voice—shouted down the hallway connecting the wings.

“Aunt Artemis promised glowy pancakes!”

Jade’s voice joined her sister’s a moment later. “And Uncle Bartek said he’d show us how tigers hunt!”

Bartek groaned, burying his face in Artemis’s hair. “Did I actually promise that?”

“You did,” she laughed, her fingers tracing the golden patterns across his chest. “After their third bedtime story last night. They had you wrapped around their little fingers.”

He couldn’t deny it. His nieces had immediately accepted Artemis as family, and in turn, had worked their way deeper into his heart. The connection had changed more than just his relationship with Artemis—it had softened something within him, making room for these small moments of joy he’d previously considered distractions from his duties.

They shared a smile, appreciating how thoroughly they’d been incorporated into family routines while still maintaining their own space in the private alpha wing. The arrangement worked better than either had anticipated.

“Duty calls, Tiger Hunk,” Artemis sighed, attempting to extract herself from his embrace.

Bartek caught her around the waist, pulling her back for one more lingering kiss. The marks on both their bodies flared brilliantly, so bright they cast shadows on the wall. Heat coursed through him as she melted against him, her hands sliding into his hair.

“Worth being late for,” he murmured against her lips when they finally broke apart.

Reluctantly, they separated and began dressing for breakfast with the family. Bartek pulled on jeans and reached for a shirt when a sharp knock rattled the door to their private quarters. Every muscle in his body tensed at the urgency in that sound—no one would disturb the alpha’s quarters this early unless something had gone wrong.

“Come in,” he called, exchanging a quick glance with Artemis, who hastily cinched her robe tighter.

The door swung open to reveal one of the younger pride guards, his face tight with concern. “Alpha, forgive the intrusion, but there’s an urgent messenger from Mayor Leonid waiting in the main house.”

Bartek nodded sharply. “We’ll be right there.”

As the guard retreated, Artemis touched Bartek’s arm. “What do you think happened?”

“Nothing good,” he replied grimly, pulling his shirt over his head. “Rust wouldn’t send someone this early unless it’s important.”

FIFTY-NINE

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