Page 16 of Paw Inspiring (Paranormal Dating Agency #86)

FIFTEEN

T hey began the property tour, Meara hyperaware of Artek’s proximity as he pointed out security considerations. Each time he stepped close to indicate a potential camera placement or vulnerable spot, her skin prickled with awareness. His voice rumbled through her bones as he explained various security measures, and she found herself watching his hands—strong, capable hands that somehow managed to be both gentle and powerful in their gestures.

“The motion sensors would go here,” he indicated, reaching past her to touch a tree trunk. The movement brought him close enough that she caught another whiff of that intoxicating scent—pine and mountain air and something uniquely him. “And we’ll need cameras covering this angle.”

“Mm-hmm,” she managed, trying to focus on security rather than how his shoulder brushed hers. Betsy would be laughing herself silly right now, watching her usually composed granddaughter turn into a flustered teenager.

“You’re not listening to a word, are you?” Frenchy stage-whispered from behind them. “Though who could blame you with those arms doing all the pointing and explaining?”

Meara shot him a glare, but Artek’s low chuckle—a sound that did inappropriate things to her insides—saved her from responding.

“The security system needs to be comprehensive,” he continued, his eyes twinkling with what might have been amusement. “But we can make it discrete. Wouldn’t want to interfere with the artistic atmosphere.”

“My hero,” Frenchy declared. “Finally, someone who understands that safety doesn’t have to be ugly. Unlike that jacket coming toward us—honey, that is a crime against fashion if I ever saw one.”

Meara turned, her good mood evaporating at the sight of three figures approaching through the trees. The leader’s scowl could have curdled milk, his expensive clothes at odds with his predatory stride.

“Looks like we have uninvited guests,” Trey murmured, moving to flank them.

Artek’s entire demeanor shifted, his casual authority hardening into something more dangerous. He stepped slightly in front of Meara, and despite the tension crackling through the air, she couldn’t help but appreciate how his muscles bunched beneath his Henley. Even preparing for confrontation, he moved like a dancer—if dancers could snap someone in half.

“Well, well.” The leader’s voice dripped contempt as he approached. “If it isn’t the artist playing house on Lopez land.”

“Excuse me?” Meara straightened her spine, drawing strength from Artek’s solid presence beside her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she lifted her chin. “And you are?”

“German Lopez.” His dark eyes flashed dangerously as he surveyed the property. “This land has been in my family for generations. We protected it, nurtured it, kept it safe for our people. Then suddenly, your grandmother appears with papers claiming ownership.” He spat the word like poison. “Papers can be forged. Rights can be stolen.”

“Oh honey,” Frenchy drawled, stepping forward with the kind of confidence only a man in perfectly tailored pants could muster. “Did someone forget their happy pills this morning? Because that scowl is doing nothing for your complexion. And really, the whole ‘mysterious appearance from the woods’ thing? Very last season.”

German’s face darkened. “Stay out of this, pretty boy. This is shifter business.”

“Pretty boy?” Frenchy pressed a hand to his chest in mock outrage. “I prefer fabulous fashionisto, thank you very much. And by the way, who walks up to a property dispute looking like a rejected extra from a B-grade mafia movie? The leather jacket in this humidity? Tragic.”

Meara might have laughed if not for the way German’s companions spread into flanking positions. Her artist’s eye caught the predatory grace in their movements—so different from Artek’s controlled power.

“Enough.” German stalked forward, radiating menace. “This land rightfully belongs to the Lopez family. We’ve waited decades to reclaim it, watching while humans carved up our territory. No more.” His eyes locked onto Meara. “Leave now, or?—”

Everything happened at once. German’s finger jabbed toward her chest, but suddenly Artek was there, moving faster than should be possible. One moment he stood beside her, the next he had German’s wrist locked in an iron grip. The transformation rippled through him—golden eyes blazing where hazel had been, muscles swelling as patches of dark fur shimmered across his skin.

Meara’s breath caught, not in fear but in awe. She’d thought Artek attractive before, but this display of raw power, this protectiveness... heat flooded her entire body. His partially shifted form radiated strength, and something primal deep inside her responded.

German’s companions lunged forward, but Trey intercepted them with surprising agility.

“Miguel Lopez. Tell your friend to relax,” he grinned, all teeth and warning, “let’s keep this civilized. Though I have to say, your timing is terrible. We were having such a nice property tour.”

The fight exploded into motion. German broke free of Artek’s grip and swung, his fist whistling through air as Artek moved with impossible grace. Each movement flowed like deadly poetry—Artek deflected German’s wild attacks while steadily maneuvering him away from Meara.

“Oh. My. God.” Frenchy clutched her arm, his designer notebook forgotten. “Is anyone else finding this ridiculously hot? Because I’m seriously reconsidering my strict ‘no bears’ dating policy.”

Meara barely heard him, transfixed by Artek’s fluid power. He slammed German against a tree hard enough to shower them with pine needles. Muscles rippled beneath his shredded shirt as he pinned the other man immobile, not fully shifted but radiating enough bear-like fury to make German pale.

“The property is hers,” Artek growled, his voice deeper, rougher. The sound sent shivers down Meara’s spine that had nothing to do with fear. “Challenge that again, and our next discussion won’t be so civilized.”

“Betsy would be cackling right now,” Frenchy whispered in her ear. “Her artistic granddaughter, all hot and bothered over a shifter throwing down to defend her honor. This is better than her romance novels.”