Chapter 15
Cristox
The morning air carried the scent of fresh bread and roasted nuts, mingling with the earthy smell of produce and the faint metallic tang from the smithy at the square's edge.
But the usual energy of market day felt muted, like someone had turned down the volume on the entire village.
Conversations were hushed, laughter sparse and apologetic.
Not surprising—we buried Craig just two days ago.
I adjusted my peacekeeper's badge, Craig's badge, the metal still warm from my pocket, and tried not to think about how strange it felt pinned to my chest.
"Cristox!" Old Man Hendricks waved from his vegetable stand, his weathered face creasing into something between a smile and a grimace, deep lines carving canyons around his eyes. "Congratulations on the appointment, son. Craig would've been proud."
I nodded, my throat tight, the words stuck somewhere behind my sternum. "Thank you, sir."
"Hell of a way to get the job, though." Hendricks shook his head slowly, his gnarled hands resting on a pile of root vegetables. "Hell of a way."
That sentiment echoed through the market like a funeral dirge.
As I made my rounds, people kept stopping me.
A hand on my shoulder or arm, warm and heavy with expectation.
A solemn nod, eyes searching mine for reassurance I wasn't sure I could give.
Mrs. Chen pressed a still-warm dumpling into my palm, her fingers lingering a moment too long.
The Kowalski brothers both shook my hand, their grips firm, eyes red-rimmed, faces drawn with grief that had aged them a decade.
Even surly Tom Brennan managed a gruff, "You'll do right by us, won't you?
" before turning back to his metalwork display, his jaw working as if he wanted to say more but couldn't find the words.
Each interaction felt like a stone added to the weight already pressing on my chest. They were counting on me. All of them. And I was determined that no one else would get hurt.
Especially her.
Ruby stood behind her booth near the center of the square, and despite the grief, the pressure, the uncertainty gnawing at my insides, I felt something in my chest loosen.
My tail swayed slightly, betraying my pleasure before I could stop it.
Somehow, in the midst of everything and using someone else's kitchen, she'd managed to bake enough to open her stand.
The display was modest but beautiful. Golden loaves with crusts that caught the light, honey-glazed pastries glistening in the morning sun, small cakes decorated with preserved fruit in careful patterns that spoke of hours of patient work.
She glanced up as I approached, and the smile that spread across her face—warm and genuine and just for me—made the whole damn morning worthwhile.
Memory hit me like a tidal wave. Ruby beneath me last night, her back arching off the bed, lips parted in ecstasy as I'd claimed her completely.
The way she'd wrapped her legs around my hips, pulling me closer, deeper, her nails scoring delicious paths down my shoulders.
The sounds she'd made when I'd gripped her thighs and spread them wider, those breathless moans that had driven me wild.
The slick heat of her, the way her body had clenched around me when she came undone in my arms.
My cock responded immediately, and I had to adjust my stance to keep from making it obvious to the entire market.
Not the time, not the place. But my body didn't seem to care about propriety when it came to Ruby.
One look at her, and I remembered the taste of her skin, salt and sweetness.
The heat of her around me, velvet and fire.
The way she'd whispered my name like a prayer, a plea, a promise.
I cleared my throat and tried to think about literally anything else. The killer on the loose. The pressure to protect everyone. Tom Brennan's ugly mug.
It didn't help much.
"Peacekeeper," she said, her voice teasing but warm, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Come to inspect my permits?"
"Just making sure everything's in order, ma'am." I couldn't keep the grin off my face.
Our eyes locked, and suddenly the noise of the market faded.
The haggling voices, the clatter of coins, the shuffle of feet—all became distant and unimportant.
I couldn't look away. Didn't want to. The way the morning light caught her hair, turning the strands to molten gold.
The flour smudge on her cheek that I wanted to brush away with my thumb.
The way her lips curved, soft and inviting.
"Cristox, you're holding up the line," someone called out, and I realized I'd been standing there like an idiot while three people waited to buy Ruby's bread.
"Right. Sorry." I stepped aside, heat creeping up my neck, but I didn't go far. Couldn't seem to make my feet carry me more than a few yards away.
For the next hour, I found excuses to circle back to her booth like a moon caught in orbit.
Checking on crowd flow. Making sure she had enough change.
Asking if she needed anything—water, a break, help with the heavy baskets.
Each time I got close, my hand found the small of her back, or her fingers would brush against my arm, feather-light touches that sent electricity shooting through me.
"You're not very subtle," Ruby murmured when I leaned in to grab the pastry she offered.
"Don't want to be," I murmured back, my lips close to her ear, close enough to catch the scent of vanilla and cinnamon that clung to her skin.
She shivered, and I felt a surge of masculine satisfaction before forcing myself to step back. Professional. I needed to keep it professional. I was the peacekeeper now, not just some lovesick fool mooning over his mate in the middle of the market square.
But damn, it was hard when she looked at me like that, her eyes dark with longing and promise.
The real challenge was keeping my distance when Teddy was around. The kid was weaving through the market crowd, helping Ruby restock her display, his small hands carefully arranging the loaves with serious concentration. Every time I looked at him, my chest tightened.
My cub.
The words echoed in my head constantly now, a drumbeat that matched my pulse.
I wanted to tell him. Wanted to pull him aside and explain everything—that I hadn't known, that I would have been there if I had, that I was here now and wasn't going anywhere.
That he was mine, and I was his, and nothing would ever change that.
But Ruby and I agreed to wait. Just a few more days.
To let things settle. To give Teddy a few moments of calm before we turned his world upside down again.
Still, it was torture. Sweet, exquisite torture.
"Uncle Cristox!" Teddy called out, waving with a grin that was so much like Ruby's it hurt. "Mama says you can have a cinnamon roll for free since you're keeping everyone safe!"
"That's generous of her." I accepted the pastry, my fingers brushing Ruby's as she handed it to me. I saw the same longing in her eyes that I felt—the ache of wanting to tell him, to claim him, to make our family official.
"You're doing a good job helping your mom," I told Teddy, crouching down to his level. Up close, I could see so much of myself in him. The shape of his jaw. The way his eyebrows drew together when he concentrated. Even the set of his shoulders.
"I help every market day." He puffed out his chest. "Mama says I'm her best assistant."
"I can tell." I wanted to ruffle his hair, pull him into a hug, and tell him everything. Instead, I stood and took a bite of the cinnamon roll, the sweetness exploding on my tongue.
Ruby's eyes met mine, and I saw the same struggle there—the same war between wanting and waiting. We were doing the right thing. But that didn't make it any easier.
Before either of us could say anything, Mei's son Cuietsu jogged up to the stall, slightly out of breath. Even though he was adopted, I would swear he had Mei's smile.
"Teddy!" he called out, his voice slightly sibilant. "Storytime's starting at the library in ten minutes. Miss Harmon's reading the one about space explorers."
Teddy's eyes lit up. "Mama, can I go? Please?"
Ruby glanced at me, then back at Teddy, her hand moving instinctively to smooth his mane. For a moment, I thought she might say no, keep him close where she could see him, where she could protect him.
"Okay." She smoothed down his mane with gentle strokes. "But you stay with Cuietsu and come straight back when it's over, understand?"
"I will!" Teddy was already bouncing on his toes, practically vibrating with anticipation.
"I'll make sure he gets home," Cuietsu promised, and the two boys took off together, weaving between the market stalls, their laughter trailing behind them.
Ruby watched them go, her hand pressed briefly to her chest, and I saw the fear there—the terror that never quite went away after someone had tried to hurt your child.
When she turned back to me, we were alone, or as alone as two people could be in a crowded market square, surrounded by dozens of people who were politely pretending not to notice us.
"This is killing me," I whispered.
"I know." Her voice was barely audible. "Just a few more days. We need to give him time to calm down after everything that's happened." Teddy had been fond of Craig, and his death had caused my cub nightmares.
I nodded, but my jaw clenched. A few more days of pretending that the cub wasn't everything to me. A few more days of being Uncle Cristox instead of Dad.
I was about to respond when Harris Eelan approached, wiping his hands on his apron, leaving dark smudges of grease across the fabric. He ran the settlement's small repair shop, fixing everything from farming equipment to water filtration systems.
"Morning, Peacekeeper." He nodded. "Ruby."
"Harris." Ruby's smile slid into place. "How's business?"