Page 10 of Shifting the Flame

"What exactly did she mean by that?" Danica ventured, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Asher's gaze shifted to her, the full force of his attention making her heart race. His eyes traveled from her face down to her slender fingers clutching her notebook, then back up again with quiet appreciation.

"It means," he said, his voice a deep rumble, "that we have a festival to plan. Together."

Danica opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat as a splintering crack split the air. Twenty feet away, a team of volunteers struggled with an enormous wooden archway—the festival entrance. The structure wobbled precariously, tilting sideways as one of the main support beams gave way. A young man perched on a ladder scrambled for balance, his tools clattering to the ground.

Time slowed to a crawl as Danica watched the massive beam slide free from its moorings. It was falling—directly toward her.

Before her brain could fully process the danger, strong arms scooped her off her feet. The world spun in a blur of color and motion as Asher lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against a chest so solid it felt like a wall of warm granite. For a fraction of a second, her body registered his heat, the clean scent of his skin, and the powerful thud of his heart against her side.

Then he was setting her down gently beyond the danger zone, his movements precise and hurried.

"Stay here," he commanded, already turning away.

Danica barely had time to catch her breath before Asher lunged forward, his body moving with preternatural speed. He caught the falling beam in mid-air, his muscles bunching beneath his shirt as he took the full weight of the timber. The fabric strained across his shoulders, the seams visibly testing their limits.

"Down now," Asher barked to the blonde man on the ladder, his voice cutting through the chaos with absolute authority. "Joe, grab that brace. Sam—get me another rope."

The volunteers responded instantly, jumping to follow his directions without question. The man on the ladder scrambled down while others rushed to secure the structure. Danica stood transfixed, her pulse hammering as she watched Asher hold the massive beam steady with seemingly minimal effort.

His face showed no strain, just focused determination as he repositioned the timber with controlled strength. When one of the volunteers fumbled with a rope, Asher guided him with calm precision.

"Loop it twice around the joint—that's it. Pull it tighter."

Within minutes, the arch stood solid once more, and the welcome banner unfurled across its span in a flutter of bright fabric. The crisis had been averted so efficiently that several townspeople passing by hadn't even noticed the near-disaster.

The male volunteer with blonde hair approached Asher, his face pale. "Thanks, Alpha," he said, his voice slightly trembling.

Asher clapped him on the shoulder. "No one gets hurt under my watch." His tone was matter-of-fact, not boastful.

Danica remained rooted to the spot, her professional composure momentarily shattered. Her body hummed with residual adrenaline—and something else she wasn't ready to name. The memory of being held against that broad chest, lifted as if she weighed nothing... The sensation lingered like a physical imprint on her skin.

Asher approached her, concern evident in the slight furrow of his brow. "You okay?"

Danica forced herself to breathe normally, gathering the scattered fragments of her usual wit. "Remind me to stay on your good side," she said with a smile that didn't quite hide her racing pulse.

"I wasn't showing off," he said, misreading her expression.

"I didn't think you were." She glanced at the now-secure archway. "Though if that was your idea of thoroughly convincing me you need help with this festival, it was pretty effective."

His lips quirked up at the corners. "If I wanted to do that, I would have let the beam fall on the funnel cake stand."

"Destroying perfectly good carnival food?" Danica gasped in mock horror, then smiled. "That would've sold me for sure."

The tension between them shifted, warming into something that felt dangerously like attraction. Standing there in the dappled afternoon light, with the scent of sawdust and her own lavender perfume mingling in the air, Danica suddenly found herself unable to remember all the logical reasons why developing feelings for this man would be a terrible idea.

FOUR

ASHER

Asher couldn't tear his eyes away from Danica as she stood there in that tailored charcoal dress, her long brown hair falling over one shoulder, looking entirely too delicate after nearly being crushed by the festival archway beam. His dragon clawed beneath his skin, demanding he keep her close and safe. The memory of her body against his chest—light, warm, and perfectly nestled in his arms for those brief seconds—sent a rush of heat through him.

"We should head to my office," he said, loosening another button on his shirt and rolling his sleeves higher. The physical effort of catching that beam had barely taxed him, but the surge of protective instinct it triggered left him overheated. "I've got the festival binder there, along with my laptop."

"Your office at town hall?" Danica asked, tucking her notebook into her purse.

"No, my home office. It's close by, and I can show you what I've put together so far."

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