Page 5 of Softer Than Stone (Fangs & Felons)

WARU

The frantic beating of my heart should have been enough for me to hyperventilate. If I wasn’t so good in a crisis, that would be exactly what I was doing.

“Waru, you’re good to ease off the accelerator.”

I got the impression that wasn’t the first time Chris had said those words to me, making me rethink just how “good in a crisis” I really was.

Heaving out a breath before inhaling slowly, I inch my foot back, my car slowing down.

For about ten minutes I’d been driving directionless, just wanting to get out of there, away from flying bullets. A glance around had me frowning.

“You doing okay?” Chris’s voice was a deep caress and surprisingly grounding.

All this time I kept my shit together, not freaking out or letting my panic spiral, but from the trembling in my hands, any semblance of calm was going to go flying out of the window.

“Waru, pull over here.” He reached over, flicking my indicator to pull into the quiet pub car park.

Another hour or so and the tradies would no doubt fill the space for their final beer of the day after work before heading home.

Pulling into a space, I sighed on another exhale before putting my car into Park. My belt was unclipped for me, but it was the warm hand that had me unclenching my grip on the wheel.

“You did great. You got us out of there safely.”

I nodded at his words, trying to silence the what-ifs as I did so.

“We’ll just take a breather, and then we’ll get moving, yeah?” His strong palm squeezed my forearm, dragging my attention to his sun-kissed skin covered by a smattering of blond hairs. They were almost the shade of his short locks, but the hints of red cut through the sunshine yellow.

“Yeah. Okay?” I made to switch off the engine, but Chris stopped me.

“Let’s leave it on.”

Fuck. The “just in case” went unsaid.

The quiet in the car stretched taut, tension clinging to the air like the remnants of gunpowder. My hands rested on my thighs, finally still, though my chest still rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm.

“Waru,” Chris said again, softer this time. My name on his lips was almost a plea.

I turned my head towards him, intending to reassure him that I was fine. Really. But whatever words I was about to say evaporated. His gaze locked on mine, and the unspoken intensity in his golden eyes was a tether I couldn’t break.

Before I could second-guess myself—or before Chris could—I leaned forwards, closing the space between us.

The moment our lips met, it was like a fuse had been lit. A heady mix of relief, adrenaline, and raw chemistry exploded between us. His hand cradled my jaw, thumb brushing the curve of my cheek, while I angled towards him, swallowing the quiet groan he let slip.

God, he tasted good—like coffee, like danger, like the spark of something I hadn’t let myself hope for.

It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was frantic, consuming, a desperate clash of mouths and teeth that made me forget the bullets, the fear, and everything else except him.

When we finally pulled apart, our breaths mingling in the confined space, I felt more grounded than I had in hours. My lips tingled, and the sharp edges of the world seemed a little softer.

Chris didn’t apologise, and neither did I. His gaze lingered on my mouth for a beat longer before he cleared his throat.

“We need to go,” he said, though his voice was rougher than I’d started getting used to.

I nodded, still reeling but pulling it together. “Where?”

“To Stilton,” he said, easing back into his professional veneer, though the flush on his neck betrayed him. “It’s a safe house, about an hour south of Sydney. It’s where we’ll be holding the people we’ve arrested.”

I frowned. “Why do I need to go? Why can’t I just head home?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he hesitated for a moment before answering, “Because you’re a witness now. And because I don’t trust Kole’s people not to retaliate.”

The mention of Kole sent a chill through me, but I worked to push it down. I should be worried about my staff, about the restaurant, about the damage and what condition it was in. But as my yayi always told me, “You’ve got to listen to the land, to what your gut tells you.”

And right now? My gut was screaming not to let Chris out of my sight.

“You’re driving,” he said suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I blinked. “What?”

He gestured to the car. “Your car’s less conspicuous than anything Eclipse has got. And honestly, I’m not sure I trust anyone else to keep us in one piece right now.”

My throat tightened at the compliment, but I rolled my eyes for show. “Fine. But if we get pulled over for speeding, you’re the one explaining it to the cop.”

Chris chuckled, low and deep, as his hand settled on my thigh. It was a possessive touch, reassuring and grounding all at once.

I didn’t question it.

Didn’t move it.

Hell, I didn’t even think I could.

But focusing on the road while his fingers rested there? That was a challenge I wasn’t prepared for, but I’d give it a good go.

We drove with Chris spending most of the time talking through his comms. Picking up half a conversation was all levels of frustrating, but likewise, the less information I had, the sooner I could return to normality when all this was over.

“Is this the norm for you? Your life? Dodging bullets?” I asked when he’d signed off with “Over and out” a few minutes ago. We were almost forty minutes out of the city, traffic not too bad considering it was a Sunday.

I shot a look his way when I felt him do the same. A gentle squeeze of my leg preceded his “It’s not an everyday occurrence.” There was a brief hesitation before he said, “Sometimes there’s a case that makes things… tricky.”

I somehow held back my snort at his word choice. Tricky? Tricky was timing the rising of a soufflé to perfection, not going through your day wondering if you were going to get shot. At least that was the case in my world.

“And while there’s always a case that needs working on and there’s often an arrest on the horizon, I can hand on heart say that last time I was shot at was seven months ago.”

My brows jumped high, and I whipped my head in his direction.

His “you see how awesome I am because it’s been a whole seven months” smile dropped, no doubt at seeing my expression.

I bounced between incredulous that he thought that was an impressive length of time and horror that he was basically saying at least, what… twice a year someone tried to kill him?

“Uhm….” He trailed off, no longer looking so certain.

“ That is absolutely not normal.” I shook my head, an uncomfortable churning in my gut starting at him being at risk. “You know that, right?”

After a beat, he squeezed my thigh once more, but this time I lost his touch as he slowly removed his hand. My gut bottomed out, already feeling the drift before we’d had a chance to get started.

His expression shifted, not quite softening, but transforming into almost a careful understanding.

“I get why you’d think that, and you’re right, it shouldn’t be normal for anyone.

In an ideal world, we’d all be going about our daily lives smelling the roses, chasing rainbows, and fucking under the stars. ”

My heart flipped at his words. All of that sounded like heaven. Where could I sign up for that with him?

But he wasn’t finished. He continued calmly, the only inflection evident one of quiet understanding, “But that’s not the world we live in.

We’re imperfect. Humans, supes, people in power, folks who should know better—every single one of us is flawed.

” He searched my gaze, staring at me with his golden eyes that looked so much darker in the dimming light.

“It’s my job to do what I can to make things better.

To hold people accountable when they step out of line.

To stop the bad guys from ruining the good parts of life for the rest of us. ”

His words carried weight, but his voice remained steady, almost serene. He wasn’t just explaining himself—he was grounding me, calming the churning storm of worry inside me.

“That’s… noble,” I said, trying to sound less rattled than I felt.

Chris gave me a wry smile. “Noble’s one way to put it. Frustrating, exhausting, and sometimes downright maddening are others.”

I huffed out a laugh despite myself, the corners of my mouth twitching upwards.

“Still,” he added, his tone softening as his gaze zeroed in on my lips before he made eye contact, “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s who I am. But I get that it’s not easy to hear.”

His words left me warm, conflicted. Was he trying to warn me? Or prepare me?

“And what about relationships?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, my voice quieter than I’d intended.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “That’s a big question.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a curious kind of guy.”

That earned me a chuckle, but the smile faded into something more thoughtful.

“It’s complicated,” he admitted, his focus shifting back to the road.

“Most of my friends in the bureau—and even in Eclipse—they tend to date other agents or people in similar lines of work. It makes sense when you think about it.”

“Because no one else would want to put up with the danger?” I asked, only half-joking.

“Partly,” he said, his smile returning faintly. “But mostly because they understand. They know what it’s like to drop everything for a call. To live with uncertainty. To carry the weight of a world that never really stops spinning.”

His explanation made sense, but it didn’t make me feel any better. My gut twisted, and I stared out the window, watching the blur of cars as they drove past us.

Was he telling me we couldn’t explore this thing between us? That I wasn’t cut out for his life?

“Waru,” he said gently, pulling my gaze back to him. “That’s not me saying this can’t happen. I just wanted to be upfront with you about why people like me end up where we do.”

I blinked at him, my pulse quickening. “Then what are you saying?”

He held my gaze a beat longer before answering, “I’m saying that while my job can be consuming, I don’t want it to be my whole life.

When I clock off, I want to spend time with someone who reminds me there’s a world outside all of this.

Someone who makes me laugh. Who doesn’t care about badges or agencies.

Someone who’s got a life of their own and is okay letting me be part of it. ”

The weight in my chest eased, but my heart was still racing, the touch of our kiss replaying in my mind. Was he saying…?

Something in his words chipped away at the barriers I’d spent years building.

I’d learned to wear my edges sharp, my front unyielding, like stone worn smooth by storms. But Chris didn’t look at me like I was all hardness.

He saw the part of me I tried to forget—the softer core I couldn’t quite carve out, no matter how many layers I wrapped it in.

“Chris,” I said quietly, my voice almost unrecognisable to my own ears. “Are you sure you’re ready to deal with someone like me? I’m not exactly known for making life easy.” Jesus, just ask any of my staff or my family. The latter loved me unconditionally, but I knew it wasn’t always easy for them.

“I—” His hand went to his ear, signalling someone was speaking. “Copy that,” he said into the receiver. “ETA twenty minutes.”

The moment was gone, replaced by the distant hum of urgency that seemed to linger around him.

Chris turned back to me, his expression calm but determined. “We should get a move on.”

I nodded and focussed fully on the road ahead, accelerating a little, driving towards a destination that was still unclear in more ways than one.

As the road stretched on, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. About what he hadn’t said.

Was I being reckless even thinking about pursuing something with a man like Chris?

Maybe.

But damn, I wanted to.