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“I want you to hang them somewhere that won’t kill people if there’s a fire!” I snapped, finally meeting his gaze directly.

Something changed in the air between us. His pupils expanded, nearly swallowing the amber of his irises. His nostrils flared again—he definitely was smelling me, the weirdo—and his grip on my hand tightened fractionally.

“You know what your problem is, Inspector?” His voice had dropped to a dangerous rumble.

“Please, enlighten me, Chief Blackwood,” I retorted, proud that my voice only wavered slightly.

“You’ve spent so long checking boxes that you’ve forgotten what it means to be alive.” He was close enough now that I could see the individual flecks of gold in his eyes. “When’s the last time you did something that wasn’t in your rulebook?”

Last night, actually, when I jerked off thinking about you after our fight at the dock.

“My personal life is none of your concern,” I managed, trying to tug my clipboard free.

He didn’t let go. “Everything in my town is my concern.”

“I’m not in your town. I’m visiting your town. Temporarily.” I finally yanked the clipboard away, clutching it to my chest like armor.

“And yet you’re trying to change how we do things permanently,” he challenged, following as I backed up a step. “Our fireworks display brings joy to hundreds of people. It’s tradition.”

“Tradition isn’t a safety exemption!” I could feel my face heating. “And furthermore—”

“Furthermore?” He actually smiled, showing those unusually sharp canines. “Who talks like that?”

“People who graduated high school?” I suggested sweetly.

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. Before I could react, he’d taken the clipboard from my hands and tossed it onto a nearby desk. “My office. Now.”

“Excuse me?”

“My office.” He pointed down the hall. “I’m tired of having this argument in public. If you want to tell me how to do my job, you can do it where I don’t have to worry about my language.”

I should have refused. I should have retrieved my clipboard and continued my inspection. Instead, I found myself following him down the hall, my eyes helplessly drawn to the way those worn jeans hugged his thighs with every step.

His office was exactly what I expected: organized chaos. Framed certificates hung crookedly on walls. Maps of the surrounding forest were pinned up with colored markers indicating trails, water sources, and what appeared to be animal migration patterns. His desk was buried under paperwork, and a worn leather jacket hung from a hook on the door.

He closed the door behind us with a decisive click. The sound made my mouth go dry.

“Look,” he started, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I understand you’re just doing your job. But this town needs its traditions. These fireworks—”

“Could start a forest fire that destroys everything you claim to love,” I interrupted, standing my ground even as he approached.

“I would never let that happen.” The absolute conviction in his voice was startling.

I laughed bitterly. “What are you going to do? Smell the fire before it starts?”

Something shifted in his expression. “Maybe I could.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I stepped closer, poking a finger at his chest. It was like poking concrete. “You’re not superhuman, Chief. You can’t predict accidents, you can’t smell danger, and you can’t—”

His hand wrapped around my wrist, gentle but immovable. “Can’t what?”

We were inches apart now. I could feel the unnatural heat radiating from his body, see the way his pupils had expanded again, leaving just a thin ring of amber around the edges.

“Can’t ignore basic safety protocols just because you think you’re invincible,” I finished, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I never said I was invincible.” His thumb was moving slowly across my pulse point, which was now racing embarrassingly fast. “Just very, very good at what I do.”

“And what exactly is that?” I breathed.