Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
A rtair listened, mesmerized, as she offered fragments of her own story—midnight escapes to the orphanage roof, her first motorcycle, the loneliness of always being the outsider. Each personal detail she shared felt like a gift, a piece of her carefully guarded self offered to him alone.
“I’ve never stayed anywhere longer than three months,” she admitted as they paused beside a cluster of luminescent flowers, their glow illuminating the curves of her face. “Never saw the point.”
“And now?” he asked, heart thundering as her fingers remained intertwined with his, her palm warm against his.
When her amber eyes met his, he saw something vulnerable and new in their depths that made his bear want to shelter her from the world. “Now I’m... reconsidering my strategy.”
Three simple words that felt monumental coming from someone who had built her life around never staying.
They stopped beside a particularly vibrant patch of glowing flowers, and Artair watched, transfixed, as Thora reached up to touch his jaw. The gentle exploration of her fingers along his beard sent electricity racing through him, but he remained perfectly still, afraid to break the spell of this moment.
She traced the line of his jaw with a touch so light it might have been imagined. Her eyes followed the path of her fingers, studying him with the same intensity she brought to tracking a bounty.
“Connections scare me,” she whispered, and he saw the flash of uncertainty in her eyes. “Staying in one place. Opening up to someone.”
“You don’t have to be good at it,” he responded, fighting to keep his voice steady while her touch sent his pulse racing. “You just have to be willing to try.”
He recognized the moment something shifted in her expression—a decision made. When she rose slightly on her toes and pressed her lips to his, his bear roared with triumph inside him. But the kiss was hesitant, almost questioning, and he could feel her holding back, afraid to let herself fully experience the moment.
His bear would have none of that half-measure. With a low growl that rumbled from deep in his chest, Artair cradled her face in his hands and took control of the kiss. He poured everything into it—his concern when she took the dart meant for him, his tenderness as he healed her wound, his joy at her laughter during dinner. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones as his mouth claimed hers with a passion that refused to allow her to retreat behind emotional walls.
The moment she stiffened, he worried he’d pushed too far—but then she melted against him, her hands clutching his jacket to pull him closer. The small purr vibrating from her chest where they pressed together nearly undid him completely.
When he finally pulled back, watching her with her eyes still closed, lips slightly parted, Artair felt something fundamental shift between them. The naked vulnerability in her expression when her lashes fluttered open stole his breath. She looked stunned, as though her carefully constructed defenses had been thoroughly breached.
“That was...” she began, then stopped, seemingly lost for words.
“A good start,” he finished for her, deliberately gentling his touch. His bear urged him to claim her completely, mark her as his, but Artair knew better. Thora needed time, space to process the seismic shift between them. Rushing her would only trigger her instinct to flee.
He stepped back slightly, though he kept her hand in his. “We should head back.”
He saw relief and disappointment war in her expression, further confirming his assessment. “Right. The reconnaissance is complete.”
“For tonight,” he agreed, pressing a softer kiss to her knuckles. “But there’s still much territory to explore.”
The double meaning wasn’t lost on either of them. As they walked back to the car, Artair noticed her free hand occasionally drifting to her lips, as if making sure the kiss was real. His bear rumbled with satisfaction.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Jash’s name flashed on the screen.
“Jash,” he answered, instantly alert. “What’s happened?”
“The thieves we captured have revealed the Shadow Bazaar’s exact location for tomorrow night,” Jash said, excitement evident in his voice. “And they’ve confirmed the codex will be offered to someone known only as ‘The Curator.’“
Artair put the call on speaker so Thora could hear.
“The timing of this information is suspicious,” she remarked, her professional focus returning instantly, though he noted with satisfaction that her fingers remained intertwined with his. “Almost like they wanted to be caught and questioned.”
“A trap?” he considered, squeezing her hand gently.
“Possibly,” she nodded. “But even obvious traps can be turned to advantage if you know they’re coming.”
As they strategized the drive home, Artair marveled at how naturally they worked together, how their minds aligned on tactical approaches while offering complementary perspectives. His bear rumbled with satisfaction at their compatibility, both in the field and... elsewhere.
When they returned to her apartment, he sensed the moment of awkward tension at the threshold. He watched Thora glance away, then at him, uncertainty in her eyes—wondering if expectations had changed after their kiss.
“Nothing has to change,” he assured her quietly, putting her comfort above his bear’s urging. “Not until you’re ready.”
The relief in her expression was mixed with something that looked remarkably like disappointment. She nodded, then surprised him by rising on her toes to press another quick kiss to his lips.
“Goodnight, Artair,” she whispered against his mouth before retreating into the building.
He watched her go, savoring the memory of her lips on his. His bear prowled restlessly inside him, satisfied with the progress yet hungry for more. But the human side of him understood what his animal instincts couldn’t—Thora Halliwell was worth waiting for.
The woman who never stayed anywhere more than three months had just kissed him goodnight. Voluntarily. That was more significant than any contract he’d ever negotiated.
Tomorrow, they’d hunt their prey at the Shadow Bazaar. Tonight, he’d dream of luminescent flowers and the taste of her lips against his. Of amber eyes that saw the man behind the power and money. Of a future where “three months” became forever.
His bear rumbled contentedly. They had time. She wasn’t running away. Not yet.
And if Artair Maxen had anything to say about it, not ever.