Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
T hora nearly stumbled, caught off guard by her shifter side’s unprecedented response. What? No. Target, not mate.
But her sabertooth refused to be silenced, rumbling with appreciation as the man bent to lift a heavy beam one-handed, muscles flexing beneath his suit jacket. Good provider. Strong cubs.
Stop that! Thora commanded her inner beast, horrified by the direction of her thoughts. Her tiger had never shown the slightest interest in potential mates before—especially not during a hunt, and certainly never toward a bear shifter. The scent confirmed it; beneath the expensive cologne lingered the unmistakable musk of ursine power.
Bears and tigers didn’t mix. Everyone knew that.
Yet her sabertooth continued its appreciative assessment, sending inconvenient heat spiraling through her body. Thora clenched her fists, fighting for control. This bizarre reaction threatened her focus, her professionalism.
The target—for surely this was Ajax Blackwater in disguise—turned to speak with a worker, giving Thora a full view of his face for the first time.
His eyes caught her attention immediately—dark brown with flecks of gold that seemed to intensify as he delivered instructions. Strong brows, straight nose, mouth currently set in a firm line. Handsome in a severe way, his features projecting authority rather than charm.
As if sensing her scrutiny, those eyes suddenly shifted, locking with hers across the square.
The connection hit Thora with physical force. Her breath caught, heart skipping a beat before racing to compensate. Her sabertooth surged toward the surface of her consciousness, responding to the challenge and interest in that penetrating gaze.
For a suspended moment, they stared at each other—predator recognizing predator. Then his nostrils flared slightly, and something new entered his expression. Surprise, followed by a flash of heat that triggered an answering warmth low in Thora’s belly.
He could scent her interest. And worse—much worse—she could now detect his response, carried on the gentle breeze between them. The subtle shift in his personal scent spoke volumes: spice and musk deepening with arousal, overlaid with the sharp note of confusion that matched her own.
Mine, her sabertooth declared with startling conviction.
Focus, Thora countered desperately. Job. Bounty. Professional reputation.
She forced herself to break eye contact, retreating behind a display of floating candles. Her heart hammered against her ribs, breathing irregular. Never in her bounty-hunting career had she reacted this way to a target. What was wrong with her?
Pheromones, she decided. Some shifters could manipulate their scent to affect others. This had to be part of Ajax Blackwater’s arsenal—a way to disarm potential captors. A trick, nothing more.
Steeling herself against the unwelcome attraction, she reached into her jacket pocket for the specialized shifter-dampening cuffs.
They hummed against her palm, magic pulsing in rhythm with her elevated heartbeat. She needed to approach carefully, catch him off guard before he could shift or employ whatever other abilities had made him worth such a substantial bounty.
Circling around displays and market preparations, she positioned herself for a clear path to her target. He stood with his back mostly turned, examining building plans with intense concentration. Perfect.
Thora took a steadying breath, pushing down both her inconvenient attraction and her sabertooth’s inappropriate interest. Professional. Focus. This was just another job.
She moved through the crowd with practiced ease, never taking her eyes off the target. When she closed within striking distance, she coiled her muscles, calculating the optimal angle of attack for someone his size.
Five feet away.
Three feet.
Now.
Thora launched forward, a controlled blur of motion. She swept his legs while simultaneously driving her shoulder into his lower back—a takedown technique specifically effective against larger opponents. As he began to fall, her body pressed momentarily against his, and her sabertooth nearly purred at the contact.
Stop it, she commanded her inner beast as they hit the cobblestones, her landing atop him in a controlled position that allowed her to reach for his wrists.
“What the—” the man growled, his voice deep and rumbling with fury.
“Stay down,” she commanded, fighting dual distractions: her mission focus and her body’s traitorous response to their proximity. His scent enveloped her—woodsy cologne, clean sweat, and the distinctive musk of an alpha bear shifter, all infused with the sharp spice of anger and, confusingly, continued arousal.
Her inner sabertooth stretched toward that scent, wanting to rub against it, claim it. Mine.
“I’m authorized to use necessary force,” she continued, voice steady despite her inner turmoil. She snapped the first cuff around his right wrist, feeling the satisfying click of magical activation.
The crowd around them gasped collectively. Only then did Thora register their expressions—not the fear or excitement typical when witnessing a bounty capture, but shock and disbelief. Some even appeared horrified.
The man beneath her tensed, muscles bunching with incredible strength. His scent changed, anger sharpening to fury tinged with disbelief.
The cuff began to spark wildly, blue-gold energy crackling along its surface. Before Thora could secure the second restraint, the man twisted with shocking speed for someone his size. With one powerful movement, he shattered the cuff.
Metal fragments scattered across the cobblestones as the magical energy contained within the broken restraint surged outward, coalescing into something new—a shimmering, translucent cord that attached itself to both Thora’s and the man’s wrists.
“What did you do?” they demanded simultaneously.