Page 10 of Chasing Stripes (Enchanted Falls #3)

TEN

B artek leveled a flat stare at him. “It’s bureaucratic meddling. Territorial posturing disguised as community building.”

“Or maybe it’s just good business,” Haavi countered, leaning against the doorframe. “Building local alliances benefits everyone, including the pride.”

Logic, Bartek couldn’t argue with. Still, the idea of sanctioned, even mandatory interaction with the source of his unprecedented reaction sent a conflicting surge of anticipation and dread through his system.

“I’ll consider it,” he conceded. “After we get through opening week.”

“Fair enough.” Haavi checked his watch. “Anything else before I head out? Mimi’s making her famous tiger-stripe pasta for dinner, and I promised not to be late.”

“Go home to your family,” Bartek said, waving him off. “I’ll lock up.”

After Haavi departed, silence descended on Tooth & Claw. Bartek wandered through the now-quiet bar, savoring the rare moment of solitude. Late afternoon sunlight poured through the windows, bathing the room in warm amber tones. The space looked good—better than good. With its blend of rustic charm and upscale touches, the bar would appeal to both locals and supernatural tourists passing through Enchanted Falls.

Pride swelled in his chest. This venture represented years of planning, saving, and strategic expansion. What had started as a desperate attempt to create new income for a struggling pride had grown into a respected brand throughout supernatural communities.

Yet despite this accomplishment, that strange restlessness persisted beneath his skin.

Almost against his will, Bartek approached the front windows, his gaze drawn inevitably across the street. Honeycrisp Bakery stood in stark contrast to his sleek establishment—quaint and somewhat weathered with faded teal paint and a sign that hung slightly askew. The display windows needed cleaning, and one front step sagged noticeably.

Still, even from here, he could detect the faint magical energy surrounding the place. Enchantments clung to the building’s bones, a testament to years of fae magic worked within its walls. Welcoming spells, protection wards, minor happiness charms—an intricate tapestry of benevolent magic that spoke of care and tradition.

And her scent lingered, a ghost presence that continued to tug at his senses. Cinnamon and vanilla, yes, but underlying those conventional notes lay something wild and green, something that called to his tiger with irresistible potency.

His inner beast, relatively calm since his retreat to the office, stirred anew. Images flashed through his mind unbidden—golden hair sliding through his fingers, soft skin beneath his palms, hazel eyes darkening with desire as he claimed what his tiger already considered his .

The vivid fantasy shocked him with its intensity. Bartek stepped back from the window, his heart hammering against his ribs. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to suppress the primal urges surging through his blood.

This had to stop. Whatever this pull toward the baker might be—simple attraction or something deeper—he refused to let it interfere with his priorities. He’d built his reputation on unshakable control, on putting the pride’s needs above his own desires.

One glimpse of a fae across the street wouldn’t change that.

As evening approached, Bartek stepped outside, locking Tooth & Claw’s front door behind him. The street lay bathed in soft orange light, transforming the ordinary scene into something from a painting. Despite his best intentions, his eyes drifted once more to Honeycrisp Bakery.

Through the bakery window, he caught a fleeting glimpse of movement—a flash of golden hair, the silhouette of a slender figure moving with unconscious grace. His tiger surged forward so suddenly that Bartek had to brace himself against his car, knuckles whitening as he gripped the door handle.

A low, rumbling sound emerged from his chest—part growl, part something suspiciously like a whimper. The dichotomy perfectly encapsulated his conflicted state: his alpha pride demanding control while his tiger yearned to claim what it considered its mate.

With monumental effort, Bartek tore his gaze away and slid into his car. Tomorrow would bring new challenges: the bar’s opening, supply deliveries, staff orientation. He needed to focus on those practicalities, not on golden hair and intoxicating scents.

The pride came first. It always had.

But as he drove away into the gathering twilight, even his iron will couldn’t fully silence the tiger’s insistent whisper that had awakened in his blood:

Mine. Soon.