Page 50 of Chasing Stripes (Enchanted Falls #3)
FIFTY
T he pride house grounds stretched for several acres, bordered by dense forest on three sides. Morning dew still glistened on grass as Bartek guided Artemis along winding paths through gardens designed for shifter relaxation—open spaces with natural features that appealed to their primal instincts, interspersed with comfortable seating areas.
“Most of the pride lives in their own homes in town or nearby,” Bartek explained as they walked. His voice took on a deeper resonance when he spoke of his responsibilities, pride evident in each word. “The main house serves as our gathering place for celebrations, full moon runs, and pride meetings.”
“It must be nice having everyone so close,” Artemis said, thinking of her solitary apartment above the bakery. “After my parents died, it was just Aunt Tilly and me. The bakery became our gathering place.”
“I remember your parents,” Bartek said unexpectedly. “Your mother used to make these incredible solstice cakes with edible sparkles. My father would bring them home for special occasions.”
Artemis stopped walking, surprise flooding through her. “You knew my parents?”
“Not well. I was just a cub when going to the bakery.” He paused, regret crossing his features. “But I remember your mother’s laugh. It filled the whole bakery.”
Emotion tightened Artemis’s throat. Few people mentioned her parents anymore as if their absence had gradually erased their presence from the town’s memory. “People say I laugh like her.”
“You do.” His voice softened. “I noticed it that first day in your bakery.”
Their hands brushed as they walked, each contact sending visible ripples of gold and amber energy between them. After the third such “accidental” touch, Artemis found herself fighting a smile. This powerful alpha tiger, who commanded respect with a single look, was acting like a shy teenager.
On the fourth brush of their hands, Artemis decided to be bold, taking his hand in hers. The immediate relief was palpable—like a muscle finally relaxing after being tensed for too long. Bartek’s fingers intertwined with hers, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand, each stroke sending currents of warmth up her arm and straight to her core.
“Better?” she asked, glancing up at him.
The tension in his shoulders visibly released. “Much.”
They followed the path to a small pond where tiger lilies grew along the water’s edge, their orange petals vibrant against dark water. Dragonflies skimmed the surface, leaving ripples in their wake.
“My mother planted these,” Bartek said, leading her to a curved stone bench overlooking the water. “She said every pride house needs something beautiful that isn’t just functional.”
“She was right.” Artemis watched a dragonfly hover over the water. “Beauty feeds the spirit.”
“My practical father argued that the space could have been used for combat training.” A rare smile crossed Bartek’s face. “Until he caught my mother sitting here alone during a full moon, and realized some things matter more than practicality.”
The vulnerability in his voice drew Artemis’s gaze to his profile. Light caught in his hair, highlighting strands of gold among the darker blonde. Without the stern set to his jaw that he typically wore in public, he looked younger, more approachable.
“The handprints,” she began hesitantly, voicing the question that had lingered all morning. “They’re not fading at all.”
Bartek turned to face her, uncertainty flickering across his features—an expression she suspected few ever saw from the confident alpha.
“Do you want them to?” he asked quietly.
She considered the question, allowing herself to truly examine her feelings. The handprints had appeared without warning, binding her to this man she barely knew. Yet sitting here beside him felt more right than anything had in years.
“No,” she admitted, surprising herself with her certainty. “I just don’t understand what they mean for us.”
“Among shifters, such marks are significant.” His voice deepened to a rumble that vibrated through her where their shoulders touched. “They indicate a bond beyond casual interest—a recognition at soul level.”
Their eyes met, and the intensity in his gaze made her breath catch.
“My tiger recognized you instantly,” he continued, each word deliberately chosen. “I fought it because I thought duty required focusing solely on the pride.”
“And now?” she whispered.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face with exquisite gentleness. “Now I wonder if this connection might make me a better alpha, not a distracted one. You balance me, Artemis.”
The admission clearly cost him—his rigid self-discipline unraveling before her eyes. The golden handprints pulsed in unison as his thumb traced the curve of her cheek, his eyes seeking permission.