Page 17 of Paw Inspiring (Paranormal Dating Agency #86)

SIXTEEN

M eara couldn’t tear her eyes away from Artek. Every line of his body screamed protective rage, yet she noticed how carefully he controlled his strength—powerful enough to dominate, disciplined enough not to seriously harm.

German’s companions backed away, hands raised in surrender while Trey kept them covered. When Artek released him, German stumbled toward where they came from the forest, trying to maintain dignity despite his rumpled appearance and wounded pride.

“This isn’t over,” German spat, but his bravado rang hollow. “This land was stolen from us once. It won’t happen again.”

“Actually,” Frenchy called after them, “I think it is over. But do try to work on that exit line. Very cliché! Maybe next time try something with more pizzazz. And honey, that jacket needs serious help now—consider this a fashion intervention!”

As their forms melted into the woods, Trey tossed Artek a pair of sweats. The partial shift had apparently been less kind to his clothes than his dignity. Meara caught a glimpse of rippling muscle before her brain kicked in and she spun around, face flaming.

“Don’t you dare look away now,” Frenchy hissed, trying to peek around her. “This is a prime viewing opportunity!”

“Frenchy!” Meara grabbed his arm, surprising herself with how possessive she felt about who got to ogle Artek’s current state of undress. “Show some respect.”

“Oho!” His eyes sparkled with delight. “Look who’s getting territorial already. Betsy would be so proud.”

Artek emerged fully dressed moments later, his usual composed self despite the recent violence. But something had shifted in how Meara saw him—the power, the protectiveness, the absolute certainty with which he’d defended her claim. Her skin tingled with awareness every time his gaze found hers, and she could have sworn his nostrils flared slightly, catching some change in her scent.

“We should discuss additional security measures,” Artek said, running a hand through his dark hair. A few pine needles fell free, and Meara fought the urge to step closer and help brush them away. “If you’re planning to live here and host events, we’ll need comprehensive coverage.”

“I...” Meara gathered her courage, very aware of Frenchy’s encouraging nod behind Artek’s shoulder. “Would you like to discuss it over dinner? As a thank you, for handling...” she waved vaguely at the trees, trying not to remember how his muscles had rippled during the fight. The memory sent fresh heat coursing through her.

“Smooth,” Frenchy whispered. “Nothing says ‘thanks for defending my property’ like a romantic dinner for two.”

“It’s not romantic,” she muttered, though her heart skipped when Artek’s eyes softened to warm honey.

“I’d like that,” he said simply, but something in his tone made her stomach flip.

“Perfect!” Frenchy clapped his hands. “Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to make this place fabulous while keeping it secure enough to withstand rejected mafia extras. I’m thinking hidden cameras disguised as artistic installations, some strategic lighting that’s both dramatic and defensive—we can make safety look sexy, trust me.” He paused, eyeing Artek appreciatively. “Though clearly, some security features already have that covered.”

As they moved inside to plan, Meara caught Artek watching her, his expression intense yet warm. Heat pooled in her stomach as she remembered his fierce protection, the raw strength he’d displayed defending her claim. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she had a feeling her artistic haven had found its perfect protector.

“By the way,” Frenchy sidled up to her while Artek and Trey discussed camera placement, “I saw you checking out those abs during the clothes change. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Though I might need detailed descriptions for my personal records.”

“Frenchy!”

“Just checking if you were paying attention, darling.” He patted her arm. “Though based on that blush, I’d say you definitely were.”

Meara glanced at Artek, who stood by the windows discussing security placement with Trey. Sunlight painted his profile in gold, highlighting the powerful lines of his body. When he turned, catching her stare, his lips curved in a knowing smile that sent her pulse racing.

“So,” Frenchy whispered, “about that dinner... want help planning the menu? Because, honey, that man looks like he works up quite an appetite.”

This time, Meara didn’t even bother with the elbow. Her attention remained fixed on Artek, remembering the fierce protection in his golden eyes. Somehow, despite the threats and tension, she’d never felt safer—or more alive. Maybe Betsy had known exactly what she was doing when she set up this property, after all.