Page 16 of Gold & Shadow

I gaped again, but Orson just smirked, taking his breakfast to the coffee table.

I stayed in the kitchen and ate at the counter, feeling like I needed some distance from the suddenly bold bear-shifter. I couldn’t decide if I liked him better grumpy and growly or…well…hungry.

“Show me your magic then,” he said when he had eaten about six hundred sausages. He clearly needed to feed his muscles, but my gods, the male could eat. He put his plate in the sink, leaning against the counter to watch me finish my toast. “We will need a plan for thwarting your original employer, and I need to know what skills I’m paying for.”

“Could you maybe put on a shirt first?” I grimaced, gesturing to several miles of bare chest and tattoo. “It’s distracting.”

Orson grinned so widely that I caught a hint of sharp canines. “Distracting, huh?”

“Look, I can also admit that I find you…physically attractive,” I hedged, my blush sort of ruining my confidence.

“Just physically?” he cajoled, grinning in a strangely bear-like way.

“Yes! Nothing else,” I declared, feeling my blush creep higher. “Which is why nothing will come of it. But it would be easier to focus if you wore a shirt.”

Orson had pushed away from the counter and begun prowling toward me, and I didn’t realize he had me against a wall until I felt the rough wood against my back.

“Very well, Little Thief,” he agreed. “But only if you take yours off.”

“What—”

“So I can check the stitches,” he purred, crowding me against the wall. “Nothing else.”

“My side feels fine.” It was only a partial lie. Itdidfeel significantly better after the fever and the green goop.

Orson waited, his arms crossed and his chest still completely visible.

“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes and pulling the shirt over my head. The movement hurt, and I winced, and Orson gave me an “I told you so” look.

My breasts were fully wrapped by the bandages holding the dressing in place, and I began to unbind them defiantly, trying to call Orson’s bluff.

“Let me,” he said after the second pass made me hiss in pain. “Gods, Lis, you are a stubborn little thief.” He took the bandages from me, holding the borrowed shirt up and pressing it to my chest. “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

“Fine,” I said again, clutching the shirt to me like a lifeline. I lifted it only so he could unwrap the bandages, the two of us an awkward tangle of arms as he tried to give me privacy. My cheeks heated at his closeness, despite the shirt between us.

“Finally,” he said, throwing the bandages on the counter at his attention went to the injury. “This is what I get for doing too good a job.” I scoffed as he peeled the dressing aside to inspect the stitches.

“Well?” I asked, keeping my eyes locked on the beams of the roof, rather than looking down at the male inspecting my bare skin.

“Healing up nicely, I think,” he said, glancing up at me with a twitch of his beard. “Stay put. I need my glasses and I’ll get fresh bandages.”

I did as he bade, still feeling awkward with the balled-up shirt covering my breasts.

“Why do you have so many bandages?” I asked when he returned with a basket of what looked to be medical supplies.

He huffed a laugh, dampening a washcloth and pressing it to the wound. It was warm, like his hand, and I felt goosebumps break out over my skin.

“I’m injured a lot,” he replied, gesturing to his tattooed and—I realized belatedly—scarred chest. Many of the scars were hard to see, covered in inked black runes and swirling designs, but he’d clearly been in more than a few fights. “Bear-shifters are aggressive, especially in their youth.”

“Even with the amulet?” I asked, nodding to the gold paw on the chain around his neck.

He nodded, placing a fresh dressing to the wound and providing a clean roll of bandages. “Even then.” He looked up at me, his eyes a warm chocolatey brown as regarded me. “I’m going to have to wrap you up again, Little Thief. It will be easier for both of us if you lift your arms and drop the shirt.”

“I can do it myself,” I argued, reaching for the roll of bandage.

He held it just out of my reach, smiling faintly. “You won’t be able to wrap it tightly enough,” he argued, his beard twitching again. “I’ll even take off my glasses to make it harder for me to inspect your admittedly perfect breasts.”

My heart gave an odd stutter at his description of me, and I fought the flush that rose up in response. “I don’t need help, you know,” I said, still clutching the shirt to my chest, along with my dwindling composure. “I can manage on my own.”