Page 33 of Chasing Stripes

Their fingers brushed as she handed him a small plate. A spark of energy—half magical, half purely primal—passed between them, causing the pastries across the counter to rise several inches off their trays.

“Sorry,” she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. The gesture drew his attention to the delicate curve, confirming his earlier observation—the left was indeed more prominently pointed than the right. “My magic’s been a bit unpredictable lately.”

“Mine too,” he admitted, showing her his palms where the golden shimmer had brightened at her proximity.

Her gaze fixed on his hands, something like wonder crossing her features. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” The honesty surprised him. “It feels warm. Like sunlight.”

The moment stretched between them, intimate and charged with unspoken possibilities. The scent of her arousal intensified, mingling with his own to create an intoxicating perfume that filled the small kitchen.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking the spell. A text from Rust:Don’t forget tonight. We’re bringing the poker chips you HAVEN’T bent out of shape while thinking about your baker.

“Problem?” Artemis asked, her voice slightly breathless.

“No, just—” Bartek hesitated. “I host a monthly gathering for friends tonight. I should finish setting up.”

Was that disappointment that flashed across her face? “Of course. We have weeks to figure this out.”

Weeks of charged proximity. Weeks of fighting his instincts and his growing fascination with her. Bartek wasn’t sure whether to dread or anticipate their collaboration.

“I’ll bring more spirits tomorrow,” he offered. “For a broader sampling range.”

Her smile made something in his chest tighten. “I’ll prepare additional pastry bases.”

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, neither quite ready to end their brief encounter.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he finally said, reluctantly turning toward the door.

“Bartek?” Her voice stopped him. “The handprints... what do you think they mean?”

The question danced too close to territory he wasn’t prepared to explore—mate bonds, magical compatibility, the ancient tales of fated pairs whose energies resonated in harmony.

“Probably just an unusual reaction between shifter and fae magic,” he offered instead, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

She nodded, but the way her fingers traced the outlines at her waist suggested she wasn’t convinced. Neither was he.

When Bartek left the bakery, the stranger in the dark suit had disappeared, but the sense of being watched lingered. He cast one final glance at Artemis through the window, catching her staring after him with an expression that mirrored his own confusion and longing.

His tiger growled in satisfaction. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Now he just needed to figure out what to do about it.

TWENTY-NINE

“You’ve been circling her bakery like it’s claimed territory,” Rust observed bluntly, tossing poker chips into the center of the table.

The private back room of Tooth & Claw had transformed for guys’ night—the formal meeting space now cluttered with beer bottles, playing cards, and platters of food. Bartek, Haavi, Rust, Artair, and several other male shifters from various clans lounged around the table, the monthly gathering in full swing.

“I’m not circling anything,” Bartek grumbled, arranging his cards without seeing them. The bourbon—the same brand he’d sampled with Artemis earlier—tasted sweeter than usual on his tongue.

“Three perimeter checks yesterday,” Haavi counted dramatically on his fingers. “Plus twenty minutes standing guard across the street while she closed up. Very subtle, alpha. No one would notice a six-foot-one tiger shifter lurking in the shadows.”

“Security concerns,” Bartek insisted, though the excuse sounded weak even to his own ears.

“You nearly bit off my hand when I reached for the last pastry she sent over,” Rust pointed out, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’ve faced less territorial responses from actual jungle cats.”

The other shifters laughed, exchanging knowing glances around the table. Bartek’s reputation for controlled stoicism made his current behavior irresistible fodder for their amusement.

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