Doesn’t flinch.
He just steps closer, his voice dropping an octave that sends shivers racing down my spine.
“You think I’m not really a Badger Shifter?”
I cross my arms, smirking. “Unless you’re about to start digging tunnels or fighting snakes, yeah. I think you’re just a very well-dressed accountant with anger issues.”
His eyes darken.
And suddenly, the air shifts.
It feels charged.
Heavy.
Like the space between us is crackling with static and danger.
“Are we alone?” he asks, and I nod.
The last customer left minutes ago, and sometime while we were chatting, I flipped the “closed sign” in the window and walked back to the kitchen with him on my heels.
“Well,” he says, voice low and rough, “hold on to your apron, Honey.”
Before I can blink, something moves behind his eyes—green flashes of gold—and a rumble vibrates from deep in his chest.
My jaw drops.
That second sight of mine—the one I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to ignore—yeah, it decides now is the perfect time to kick in.
As I stare at him, everything around us blurs.
His outline starts to shimmer, colors flickering like an oil slick in sunlight.
It’s not just light—it's energy.
Him.
And then… he changes.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, stumbling back, my hand flying to my chest. “You’re actually?—”
There’s a ripple, like the air itself flexes, and in the space where Eb Rogers—grumpy businessman extraordinaire—was standing a heartbeat ago now crouches something wild and magnificent.
A massive creature, low to the ground and powerful, muscles rippling beneath sleek, jet-black fur.
A white stripe cuts a bold line from the top of his head down his spine, and his claws—holy mother of marshmallows—look like they could tear through concrete.
His fangs glint under the warm light of my bakery, sharp and gleaming.
A low, guttural rumble vibrates through the floorboards, and I feel it travel straight up my legs, settling somewhere entirely inappropriate.
But those eyes? Those beautiful, bright green eyes—they’re the same.
Eb’s eyes.
The sound coming from his beast is feral and warning, but for some reason, I’m not scared.
Not even a little.
