15. Tessa
TESSA
Istare at him. At the man who just… wasn’t human.
“Okay,” I say faintly. “This should be good.”
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t soften it.
“Shifters exist,” he says. “And most of Redwood Crossing is part of that world.”
I blink. Then laugh.
A short, disbelieving sound. “Right. Of course. And I’m secretly a witch, too?”
“I’m not joking.”
Something in his voice makes the laughter die in my throat. My mind races—Archer’s strength, his speed, the way that man moved—
The way Delilah talked about guardians. The way this town feels.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
“You’ve already seen enough,” he says quietly.
“Then show me.”
The words surprise even me.
His eyes narrow. “You’re sure?”
“No more half-truths.”
A long pause. Then he steps back. And changes. It’s not slow. Not dramatic. One second he’s Archer—
The next—
A massive tiger stands where he was. Gold and black and terrifyingly real. My breath leaves me in a rush.
“Holy—”
The tiger watches me, intelligent eyes tracking every reaction. Then, just as quickly, he shifts back. Archer stands there again, chest rising and falling steadily.
“Well,” I say finally, voice a little shaky. “That’s… new.”
He huffs a quiet breath that might almost be a laugh.
“You’re taking this better than most.”
“I’m still deciding if I’ve lost my mind.”
“You haven’t.”
I pace once, twice, trying to process. “Okay. Okay. Shifters. Fine. Sure. Why not. That explains… a lot, actually.”
He watches me carefully.
“You said most of the town?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“And the guy tonight?”
“Rogue.”
“Meaning bad?”
“Very.”
I stop pacing.
“And now I know,” I say slowly.
“Yes.”
“And that makes me…”
“A target.”
The word lands heavy. I meet his gaze.
“Because of you?”
Pain flickers there. “Partly.”
I nod once, absorbing it. Then I straighten.
“I won’t be intimidated into leaving.”
His expression hardens. “Tessa—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I just fought to rebuild this place. I’m not running because your world suddenly got bigger and more dangerous.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is to me.”
I step closer.
“You don’t get to decide what I do with my life,” I say firmly. “Not now. Not ever.”
Something shifts in his eyes. Not anger. Something deeper. Respect. Frustration. Maybe a little fear.
“Then we do this my way,” he says.
I cross my arms. “Which is?”
“I keep you safe.”
I hold his gaze.
“Try,” I say.
I think I actually see him smile. I sit down because my legs decide for me. One second I’m standing, bracing myself for anything else Archer is about to tell me—
The next, I’m in the chair by the front window, gripping the armrests like the floor might tilt out from under me.
Shifters. The word echoes in my head like it doesn’t belong there. Like it’s too big, too strange, too impossible to fit inside the reality I thought I understood.
And yet—
Nothing about tonight felt impossible. It felt real. Terrifyingly real. I look up at him.
“Tessa?”
I realize I’m sitting there with my mouth hanging open, eyes slightly unfocused. I must look like I should be in a padded room.
“Ummm… it took a minute, but I think the crazy has caught up to me,” I giggle like a lunatic. “You’re really serious,” I say again, quieter this time.
“I wouldn’t joke about this,” Archer replies.
No. He wouldn’t. That’s part of the problem.
I let out a shaky breath and push my hands through my hair. “Okay. Okay, let’s just… let’s start somewhere that makes sense.”
He nods slightly, giving me space. I appreciate that more than I expect.
“Define ‘shifters,’” I say, because if I don’t keep this practical, I might completely lose it.
“People who can shift into animal forms,” he says simply.
I stare at him.
“Right. Of course. Why wouldn’t that be a thing?”
He doesn’t react to the sarcasm.
“Most of us are born into it,” he continues. “Some inherit it. Some… don’t survive it.”
That part lands differently. He says it like it’s fact. Like it’s something he’s seen.
“How many?” I ask.
“In Redwood Crossing?”
“Yes.”
“Most of the town,” he says.
I blink.
“Most.”
“Yes.”
My gaze drifts toward the front windows, toward the street I’ve been walking up and down for days now. The café owner who always remembers orders. The older man who bought the stack of books for his wife. The teenagers who hung around the graphic novels.
“You’re telling me all of them—”
“Not all,” he interrupts. “But enough.”
A chill slides through me.
“Delilah,” I say slowly.
He nods once. Of course. That explains… a lot, actually. The way she talks. The way she knows things.
“Conrad?” I press.
“Yes.”
“Mason?”
“Yes.”
I let out a breath that turns into a short laugh. “Wow. Okay. Sure. Why not. Whole town’s a secret supernatural society. Totally normal.”
“Tessa—”
“No, I’m fine,” I say quickly, holding up a hand at the same time my head drops between my knees. “I just need a second to recalibrate my entire understanding of reality.”
He goes quiet, letting me have it. Good. Because if he tried to interrupt me right now, I might actually scream. I stand up and start pacing, my thoughts racing to catch up with everything he’s just dropped on me.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Okay. That explains the strength. The speed. The… fighting.”
My mind flashes back to the alley. The way he moved. The way the other man moved.
Not human. Definitely not human. I stop pacing. Turn back to him.
“And you,” I say, narrowing my eyes slightly. “You’re a tiger.”
He holds my gaze.
“Yes,” he says.
I blink.
“Okay.”
Because honestly? At this point, why not?
“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” he says.
“I’m compartmentalizing,” I reply. “There’s a difference.”
A flicker of something—almost amusement—passes through his expression.
“Do you want to see again?” he asks. “Would that help or hurt?”
I hesitate. Do I? Part of me screams no. Because once I see it for a second time… once I know it’s not just a crazy hallucinatory one-off—
Once it’s real—
There’s no going back. But another part of me—
The stubborn, curious, refuses-to-back-down part—
Leans forward.
“Yes,” I say.
His expression shifts. More serious now.
“Are you sure?”
A long pause. Then I nod before gasping and holding up a hand.
“Wait! I mean… I’m assuming… I’m sure…” I groan. “It’s safe right?”
I nod, softening.
“You are always absolutely safe with me, in either form.”
She exhales slowly, satisfied, nodding again.
“Alright. Why don’t you sit back down this time?” He takes my arm, leading me gently back to the chair I collapsed in moments ago before backing up several feet.
I expect… something dramatic. I know I’ve seen this once already, but I was still unprepared. Now, I watch closely, watching to catch every nuance. I expect something magical. Anything. A slow transformation. A flash of light. A cinematic moment that gives my brain time to adjust.
That’s not what happens.
It’s fast. Too fast. One second he’s standing there—
The next, the space he occupied is filled with something else entirely. Massive. Powerful.
A tiger. A real, actual tiger. My breath leaves me in a rush.
“Oh my God.”
I press myself into the back of the chair, gripping the arms.
He’s—
He’s enormous. Bigger than I expected. Broader. Stronger. His fur catches the light in deep gold and shadowed black, muscles shifting beneath it with every subtle movement. And his eyes—
They’re the same. The exact same eyes. Watching me. Aware. Intelligent. Archer.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay, that’s—”
I don’t even have words for it. Because how do you describe something like this? It’s not just shocking. It’s impossible.
And yet it’s standing right in front of me. Alive. Real. Breathing. Then, I take another breath and lean slightly forward.
“Say something,” I manage weakly.
The tiger blinks. Then—
He shifts back. Archer stands there again, like nothing happened. Except everything did.
I stare at him.
“You just—”
“I know.”
“You were—”
“I know.”
“A tiger.”
“Yes.”
I let out a shaky laugh, pressing a hand to my forehead. “Wow. Okay. Yep. That’s… definitely… something.”
He watches me carefully, like he’s waiting for me to panic. Or run. Or shut down.
I don’t. Not completely. Because beneath the shock—
There’s something else. Something grounding. It’s still him. That’s the part that matters.
That’s the part my brain clings to.
“You’re still you,” I say slowly.
“Yes.”
“Same personality. Same… attitude.”
A faint huff of breath that might be a laugh escapes him. “Unfortunately.”
“Good,” I say. “That’s good.”
Because if he’d changed—
If he wasn’t still Archer—
I don’t know how I’d process that.
I start pacing again. Because standing still feels impossible.
“Okay,” I mutter. “So. Shifters. Rogues. Territory. Rules.”
I glance at him.
“Define ‘rogue,’” I say.
“Shifters who don’t follow the rules,” he explains. “No territory. No restraint. They take what they want.”
“And tonight?”
“Wasn’t random.”
I stop pacing.
“No,” I say quietly. “It didn’t feel random.”
He watches me carefully.
“They were testing,” he adds.
“Testing what?”
“You.”
The word lands like a stone dropping straight through my chest.
“Me?”
“Because of me,” he says.
There it is. The thing I was already starting to suspect.
I cross my arms, bracing myself. “Explain.”
“I’ve been… visible,” he says. “Around you. Around the bookstore.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think?”
“It drew attention.”
“So this is my fault now?”
“No,” he says immediately. “It’s mine.”
The conviction in his voice stops me.
“You didn’t ask for this,” he continues. “You didn’t know. I should have kept my distance.”
Something twists in my chest. Because I remember the argument. The way he pushed me away. This is why.
“You were trying to protect me,” I say slowly.
“Yes.”
“By telling me to leave.”
“Yes.”
I exhale. “You really need to work on your communication skills.”
A faint, reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Noted.”
Silence settles between us again. But it’s different now. Less tense. More… grounded. Because at least now I understand the stakes. Or I’m starting to.
I lean back against the counter, studying him.
“So let me get this straight,” I say. “Because you showed interest in me, some rogue shifters decided I’m a potential leverage point.”
“Yes.”
“And now that I know all this—” I gesture between us, “—that makes it worse.”
“Yes.”
I nod slowly.
“Okay.”
He frowns slightly. “Okay?”
“Well, yeah,” I say. “What’s the alternative? Panic? Cry? Pack up and leave?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation.
I stare at him.
“Not happening.”
“Tessa—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I just opened this bookstore. I just started building something here. I’m not abandoning it because your world suddenly got more complicated.”
“It’s not just complicated,” he says. “It’s dangerous.”
“So is life,” I shoot back. “People deal with danger every day.”
“Not like this.”
“Maybe not,” I admit. “But I’m not running.”
He steps closer, frustration edging into his expression.
“You don’t understand what you’re risking.”
“Then help me understand,” I challenge. “Don’t just tell me to leave. Tell me what I need to know to stay.”
That stops him. Really stops him. Because it’s a different question. A different approach. Not rejection. Not denial. Adaptation. I see the shift in his expression. The calculation. The realization that I’m not going to back down.
“I can’t guarantee your safety,” he says finally.
“I don’t need guarantees,” I reply. “I need honesty.”
Another long pause. Then—
“Fine.”
The word is quiet. Reluctant. But real.
“If you stay,” he continues, “you follow my rules.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Your rules?”
“My protection.”
“That sounds suspiciously like control again.”
“It’s not,” he says firmly. “It’s survival.”
I consider that. Then nod once.
“Alright,” I say. “I can work with that.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “That was too easy.”
I smile faintly. “Don’t get used to it.”
Another silence settles. But this one feels—
Different. Like the beginning of something instead of the breaking of it. I glance around the bookstore, taking it in with fresh eyes.
“This place,” I say slowly, “is basically a beacon now, isn’t it?”
His expression tightens. “Yes.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Love that for me.”
“You can still leave,” he reminds me.
I shake my head. “Not happening.”
He studies me. Then nods.
“Then we adapt.”
I push off the counter, stepping closer to him.
“Then we adapt,” I echo.
Because that’s what I do. That’s what I’ve always done. Life changes. Throws something impossible at you. And you figure out how to live with it anyway. Even if it means accepting that the man standing in front of you—
Is also a tiger. I glance up at him, meeting his gaze.
“Next question,” I say.
He exhales, almost amused despite everything. “Of course there’s a next question.”
“Oh, there are a lot of next questions,” I reply. “But we’ll start with this one.”
I cross my arms, tilting my head slightly.
“How many other secrets is this town hiding from me?”
Archer actually smiles. And somehow—
That’s the most unsettling thing of all.