“Sundar.” Her voice wavers slightly. “I… We need to talk.”
“Indeed.” I close my book deliberately, fighting the urge to wrap my tail around her distress. To protect. To possess.
Moving from behind the counter is a mistake. Her pulse quickens as I tower over her, and the scent of her reaction—not fear, but something far more intriguing—threatens my resolve.
I watch her struggle for words, knowing exactly what she’ll say before she manages to form the sentence.
“The thing is… about the bracelet…”
“You’re short on the payment.” My words come out harsher than intended, but better cruel now than… whatever this fascination might become.
Color floods her cheeks. “I tried. I really did. I picked up extra shifts, cut every expense I could, but there was this car repair,and—” She stops herself, swallowing hard. “I have most of it. I just need a little more time.”
I should refuse. End this cleanly. Instead, I study every detail I can about her—the proud tilt of her chin despite her embarrassment, the way her fingers twist nervously in her dress.
She carries herself like someone used to weathering storms alone. My instincts war within me—the ancient guardian’s need to protect clashing with decades of carefully maintained distance. Every scale on my body urges me to coil around her, to shield her from whatever she’s facing.
But that way lies madness. I am not her protector, merely a pawnbroker. That’s all I can allow myself to be.
“A deal,” I say slowly, “is a deal.”
The hope dies in her eyes, replaced by something more painful. Then she says, “Please,” and my carefully constructed walls begin to crack.
Her voice breaks as she speaks of how the bracelet has survived generations, only for it to slip from her hands in a matter of a month.
“You humans,” I murmur, more to myself than to her. “So attached to these physical reminders of your short lives.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a mistake. Something ignites in her expression—a spark of defiance that makes my hood flare with interest.
“Maybe because our livesareshort,” she snaps, and oh, her anger is glorious. “Maybe because some of us are just trying to hold on to something meaningful while working dead-end jobs and living paycheck to paycheck and constantly doubting every decision we’ve ever made.”
The words pour from her like a broken dam, raw and real. Each confession strikes something deep within me, echoing memories of my own past uncertainties. Before the guardianship, before I found my place in the world, I too knew the bitter taste of doubt.
When she mentions her ex, the thought of someone making her feel useless stirs something inside me. Something possessive.
She stands before me, vulnerable yet defiant, and my carefully laid plans crumble like ancient parchment. I taste salt in the air—her tears—and something inside me breaks.
“I have…” The words form before I can stop them. My tongue flicks out, tasting her confusion, her hope. “I have a new offer.”
“A new offer,” she echoes, and I watch her throat work as she swallows.
“Yes.” My voice drops lower, more intimate than I intended. “Though I suspect you may find the terms… unconventional.”
I pause to consider my next words. This is madness—I know it even as I speak. “Five weeks of work. Here, in my shop.”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“In exchange for your bracelet,” I continue, forcing my voice to remain steady despite how her scent shifts with interest. “Plus a proper wage, of course. Better than whatever pittance you’re currently receiving.”
“You’re offering me a job?” Her tone wavers between disbelief and something that sounds dangerously like hope. “Just like that?”
“Nothing about this arrangement would be ‘just like that.’” I move closer, unable to help myself. “You would need to learn proper handling of magical artifacts. Cataloging procedures. The difference between genuinely cursed items and simple paranormal residue.”
She takes a half step back, but not in fear—I can smell the difference. No, this is more like… self-preservation. As if she senses how dangerous this arrangement could be, not to her safety, but to something else entirely.
“Why?” she asks. “Why would you do this?”
Because your scent has haunted my shop for a month. Because your determination reminds me of things I thought long forgotten. Because watching you break just now made something in me want to coil around you and never let go.
