Page 1 of Softer Than Stone (Fangs & Felons)

CHRIS

There was a twitch this time. Barely there. Not even countable as a fraction likely, but it was there all the same. If I’d blinked, I would have missed it. But I hadn’t.

Was the fact that I was staring intently, refusing to even bat an eyelash to stop my straining eyeballs, a little intense? Most likely, but I had zero fucks to give. And whatever was less than zero when it meant I’d caught the barest of lip twitches from Waru.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

Handsome when he scowled. Striking when he cussed and threw out orders. And hands-down mesmerising when he smiled. Though was it technically a smile if the quirk of just one side of his mouth only made it up? Truth was, it didn’t matter.

What should have mattered was me doing a better job of observing the restaurant floor and getting ready to intercept my mark after her meeting.

All of that seemed impossible—and would likely get me a major arse-kicking from my boss, Lucas.

In fairness, though, practically every one of my colleagues, boss man included, had been more than a little distracted by a sweet arse and a sexy smile while being on the job.

Except for Kent maybe.

The only thing she tended to be distracted by was whose balls she could bust. It was an art form, and hell if she didn’t have an impressive knack for it.

But back to Waru, who I absolutely should not be dreaming of gobbling up and laying across the stainless steel countertop he usually stood next to as he checked the meals before the waitstaff ran them out to customers. But here I was.

Fortunately, none of the customers could see me drooling.

Nor could they see how hypnotic Waru became when a pissed-off, reached-the-end-of-his-tether expression turned his brown cheeks ruddy.

They couldn’t see the way he gnawed at his poor lip, either, to the point I scented blood a time or two.

Fuck, he all but lit up. All pouty and growly, his panther seemed to be just below the surface.

I wondered just how much one of his kitchen staff would have to screw up to bring even more out.

Not that I should want to see that happen in real time—especially in his crowded restaurant—but damn if the thought of shifting into my lion form and rubbing along his sleek black fur didn’t get me hard.

“Copy, Chris. Over.”

I clicked the mic on my discreet earpiece, responding immediately to Smythe, who was my tech support on this mission. “Copy. All quiet. Over.”

Another scan of the restaurant from the two-way mirror off the side of the kitchen showed no sign of my mark.

I glanced at the clock above the bar. Still ten minutes to go until the arranged meeting time.

Brax was punctual, and if Jenna wasn’t here yet, it likely meant she’d show up just in time to avoid lingering—or maybe she didn’t want to risk being alone in his company for too long. Not that I blamed her.

“Chris.” Smythe’s voice crackled in my ear, the faint hum of his many monitors in the background. “I’ve got fresh intel on Brax. You ready for it? Over.”

I clicked my mic. “Go ahead, Smythe. Over.”

“Turns out Brax isn’t just the number two in a blood racket. He’s also got his claws in something nastier—extortion using medical data from an off-the-books lab up north in Queensland. Guess who got their hands on those files? Yours truly.”

“Nice work. That why Jenna’s on his leash?”

“Yep. She’s been feeding him patient intel in exchange for keeping her sister’s existence off the radar. Brax has the kid on lockdown in some suburban shit-hole. Poor girl’s only sixteen.”

My grip tightened on the edge of the table.

“SICB hasn’t moved in yet?” The Supernatual Investigation & Crime Bureau as a whole wasn’t always known for moving as quickly as they—we—could.

At least in our unit, the Infiltration and Tactical Unit, we tended to be able cut through some of the red tape the government imposed on us.

“This isn’t our jurisdiction, technically,” Smythe admitted. “But the ITU got wind of it through a little creative digging on my part. You’re welcome. Over.”

I grin, “Smythe, you’re the reason the SICB has increased our paycheques so damn much. Over.”

“And you’re the reason Michaels is rolling his eyes at me right now,” Smythe quipped. “He says to tell you to quit swooning over the chef, by the way.”

I froze mid-scan, my gaze flicking automatically towards the kitchen window where Waru was currently glaring at a human junior chef. Heat crept up my neck.

“I’m not swooning,” I muttered into the mic. “I’m surveilling. There’s a difference. Over.”

“Sure there is, mate,” Smythe snorted. “Michaels says he’s seen less heart eyes in romcoms.”

Before I could snap back, Michaels’s voice cut in, dripping with faux innocence. “Don’t mind me, just reminding you that Waru isn’t the target here, Chris. Maybe try imagining him with spinach in his teeth? Over.”

I bit back a curse, refusing to rise to the bait.

Of course, that was when I felt it—a weighty gaze on me from across the room.

My head angled away from Waru’s hands like a magnet to find the man staring straight at me.

His brow was furrowed in that perpetually pissed-off way that only added to his intensity, but his stunning amber eyes were sharp, assessing. And maybe—just maybe—a little amused.

Damn it. He’d caught me.

I offered the smallest shrug, feigning nonchalance, but he didn’t look away. If anything, his lips twitched again, like he was fighting the urge to smirk outright.

Smythe’s voice dragged me back to the mission. “By the way, cameras picked up your mark two streets away. Jenna’s moving fast, and she’s not alone. Looks like Brax sent muscle this time. Over.”

“Copy that,” I replied, forcing my attention back to the job. Waru’s assessing gaze lingered for a second longer before he turned back to the kitchen, barking at his staff in what I was sure were clipped tones.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling he was more than aware of the distraction he was causing.

It was probably why we rarely carried out missions like this—with anyone aware of our presence.

Covert ops worked best when there was no one to notice if you flinched at the wrong moment or gave away more than you intended with a stray glance.

But Brax was a slippery fucker. We didn’t have the luxury of waiting for the perfect setup.

Thankfully, Waru’s restaurant, Kurranba, had been the ideal choice for Brax to haunt since flying in from Melbourne a week ago.

Nestled on the outskirts of the city, the restaurant wasn’t just close to a private airstrip—it also offered the privacy Brax preferred, thanks to Waru’s refusal to open beyond his limited ten-to-four window.

He also only took reservations.

I’d done my research before approaching Waru.

Kurranba, meaning “together” in the language of his people, the Narrunka, had been something of a revelation in Sydney’s food scene.

Waru had built his reputation on more than just exquisite flavours—he’d built it on connection.

Every dish, from the locally sourced organic produce to the Narrunka-inspired bush tucker specials, told a story of resilience, respect, and tradition.

That’s why Kurranba didn’t cater to late-night crowds or all-hours socialites.

Waru believed meals were meant to be shared during the day, with sunlight filtering through the tall windows and grounding you in the present.

He once told a food writer that the dinner rush brought “too much noise and too little soul.” That ethos, combined with his laser focus on sustainability and his razor-sharp menu, made the place wildly popular with locals and the occasional tourist who stumbled upon it.

And then there was the kitchen.

High-tech and pristine, it was Waru’s domain, but he’d grudgingly ceded the side room to me for this operation after Smythe’s very convincing background pitch.

The two-way mirror looking into the dining area was invaluable for surveillance—the large window in the door to my side also meant I could keep both the kitchen window and two-way mirror in my line of sight making it extra helpful since I struggle to pull my attention off Waru.

I’d given Waru full assurance that my presence wouldn’t disrupt his workflow.

So far, it hadn’t. Unless you counted the way my gaze kept straying to him every time I caught sight of his lean figure pacing between stations, growling at his staff, or murmuring sharp commands that somehow felt like caresses.

If Smythe had access to a heart monitor on me, he’d have plenty of fuel for his smug commentary.

Speaking of Smythe, his voice came back through the comms. “Chris, got another fun fact about Waru for you. Over.”

I clicked the mic. “This about my distraction or his culinary brilliance? Over.” Perhaps I wasn’t so shy about just how much I was crushing on the man after all.

Culinary brilliance? I should be wincing, expecting Michaels to return to comms to take the piss, but in all honesty, it had been so long since another man had captured my attention so completely, I didn’t have it in me to give two shits.

“Neither. It’s about why he named the place Kurranba. Apparently, it’s inspired by a ceremony his community holds to honour the idea of unity—bringing people together to heal, share, and grow. Sounds like a nice concept. Over.”

I could almost hear Michaels grumbling in the background about my blatant swooning. Smythe was too much of a gossip to let it slide, though. He’d seriously come into his own the last two years of working in the ITU.

“Speaking of unity, Michaels says if you and Waru keep eye flirting, we might be looking at our next SICB power couple. Over.”

I groaned, my focus momentarily snapping back to Waru just as his gaze locked on mine through the door window again. His brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. But was that amusement flickering there? Damn it. The man was going to kill me—one side smirk at a time.

Before I could answer Smythe, Michaels’s voice broke through, dry as the Nullarbor Plain. “Chris, maybe focus on your mark. Jenna’s two minutes out. Over.”

I swallowed hard and tore my attention away from the chef. Waru could wait. Right now, Brax’s game was about to start, and I needed to be ready. The fact that Michaels of all people—the resident pain in the backside—had to tell me to get my head off Waru meant I really was distracted.