Page 26 of Paw Inspiring (Paranormal Dating Agency #86)
TWENTY-FIVE
“ J ust furniture moving?” Artek set down the cabinet, turning to find her near. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in her dark eyes, to count each paint splatter on her oversized sweater.
“Well...” She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “You do make excellent eye candy while doing manual labor.”
His bear practically strutted at her obvious appreciation. “That so?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her fingers traced the tribal tattoo visible below his rolled-up sleeve. “Though I’m starting to think you flex extra hard on purpose.”
Her touch sparked an inferno under his skin. His bear stirred, responding to the teasing challenge in her voice, the way her fingertips mapped the ancient symbols marking him as alpha. Her scent shifted subtly—paint and creativity mixing with something warmer, headier.
“Would I do that?” He caught her wrist gently, his thumb finding her racing pulse. The bear in him purred at this evidence of her attraction, how her breath caught when he stepped closer.
“Absolutely.” She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, and the sight of her—dark eyes bright with mischief, lips curved in that knowing smile—snapped the last thread of his control.
He kissed her like a man starving, like his bear had been waiting lifetimes for this moment. One hand tangled in her hair while the other curved around her waist, drawing her flush against him. She made a soft sound of surprise that melted into a moan as he deepened the kiss, tasting paint and coffee and pure Meara.
Her fingers clutched his shoulders, nails digging in when he nipped her bottom lip. The slight sting only fueled his need. His bear rumbled in satisfaction as she pressed closer, arching into him like she couldn’t get enough. Like she burned for him the way he burned for her.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers. Her heart thundered against his chest, matching his own frantic rhythm. The scent of their mingled desire made his head spin.
“Wow,” she whispered, voice deliciously husky. “If that’s what happens when I comment on your muscles...”
He couldn’t help the growl that escaped, possessive and hungry. “Keep touching me like that and find out.”
Her laugh turned breathless as she smoothed his rumpled shirt. “Tempting. Very tempting. But...” She stepped back, though her fingers lingered on his chest. “Stay for dinner first? I promise not to poison you with my cooking.”
The domestic request, coming right after such an intense moment, somehow made his bear even more certain she was meant to be theirs. “As long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself until after we eat.”
“No promises.” Her impish grin promised delicious trouble. “Besides, I seem to recall someone saying they appreciate thorough investigation...” with the same grace she showed at her easel. They ate simple pasta at her counter, trading stories and sharing glances that made his bear want to purr.
“Want to watch a movie?” she suggested after they’d cleaned up. “I brought some old favorites from the city.”
She selected “Immortal Beloved,” surprising him. He wouldn’t have pegged her for a classical music enthusiast. But as the film played, she revealed another layer of herself—years of piano lessons, a way to hold onto one of the few clear memories she had of her mother.
“She loved Beethoven,” Meara said softly. “I remember her playing the Moonlight Sonata. I was so young when they died, but that memory... it’s still vivid. The way her hands moved over the keys, how peaceful she looked.” She traced patterns on the couch arm. “Betsy found me a piano teacher after I came to live with her. Said if music helped me feel close to my mother, then she’d make sure I had that connection.”
The vulnerability in her voice made his bear want to gather her close, to protect her from old hurts they couldn’t prevent. “But you found your own passion in painting.”
She nodded. “Art became my way of processing everything. Though I still play sometimes. Just... not for anyone since Betsy passed.”
“Would you play for me sometime?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.
She hesitated, vulnerability flickering across her face. “I... haven’t played for anyone but Betsy in years.”
“No pressure,” he said quickly. But his heart squeezed when she added softly:
“Maybe. For you, I might.”
As the movie credits rolled, Meara rose from the couch, her movements hesitant but determined. “Come with me?”
Artek followed her to a corner of the great room he hadn’t noticed before where a beautiful upright piano sat draped in a protective cover. His breath caught as she pulled the cloth away, revealing polished wood that gleamed in the dim light.
“It was my mother’s,” she said softly. “Betsy had it moved here last year. I haven’t touched it since...”
She trailed off, but he understood. Since Betsy died. Since her world shifted again.
Without a word, he settled onto the bench beside her, close enough to feel her warmth but giving her space to breathe. Her fingers hovered over the keys, trembling slightly.
“You don’t have to—” he started.
The first notes of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata filled the cabin. Artek watched, transfixed, as Meara’s hands moved across the keys with growing confidence. The music wrapped around them like silk, each note carrying echoes of memory and meaning.
His bear quieted, soothed by the melody and the trust she showed in sharing this piece of herself. When she stumbled slightly on a passage, he placed his hand at the small of her back—not to correct, just to support. She leaned into his touch, never missing another note.
As the final chord faded, a single tear traced down her cheek. Artek caught it with his thumb, cupping her face with infinite gentleness.
“Thank you,” he murmured, meaning so much more than the music.
She turned into his touch, eyes shining in the darkness.
He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in her scent—paint and piano keys and profound trust. His bear rumbled contentedly, recognizing another piece of their mate’s soul unveiled.
“Stay?” The word whispered across his lips, heavy with meaning.
“As long as you need.”
She smiled, soft and real. “Could be dangerous. I might need you for quite a while.”
His answering kiss tasted of promises and possibility. “I’m counting on it.”
Later, as moonlight painted silver stripes across the cabin floor, Artek held Meara close on the couch, her head tucked under his chin. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat called to something deep in his soul, something his bear had always known was waiting.
His mother’s words about sapphire rings echoed in his mind, but for once, the thought didn’t make him bristle. Instead, he found himself imagining future nights like this—music and moonlight, trust and tenderness, his mate safe in his arms while their love story played on.
German’s threats still loomed, but tonight belonged to them. Tonight was for discovering the melody their hearts made together, for letting old wounds heal under gentle hands and careful kisses.
Tonight was for falling, knowing someone would catch you.
As if reading his thoughts, Meara snuggled closer. “You’re thinking too loud.”
“Just planning.”
“Security stuff?”
He smiled into her hair. “Future stuff.”
She hummed contentedly, and his bear preened at her trust, her willingness to let him guard her dreams. Whatever tomorrow brought, they’d face it together—the artist and her protector painting their own masterpiece in shades of love and courage.
Some things, after all, were worth fighting for. Worth claiming. Worth keeping safe.
And Artek intended to do all three.