Page 45 of Claws and Effect

Her fingers traced patterns over his heart. “That’s not weakness, you know.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s being human beneath all that tiger power and CEO authority.” She shifted to look directly into his eyes. “It’s what makes you more than just a strategic alliance to me.”

Her words burrowed deep into places he’d kept carefully guarded since his father’s death. Places where duty and responsibility couldn’t reach. Places where Laykin somehow kept finding her way despite his best defenses.

“I should get you some tea,” he said suddenly, needing space to process the intensity of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Tea? Now?”

“You need to rest. Tea helps with healing.”

“What I need,” Laykin replied, voice dropping to that husky register that short-circuited his higher brain functions, “is for you to stop worrying about my injuries and get back here.” Her fingers trailed down his chest. “You’ll regret this tactical retreat, Rubin.”

Every cell in his body screamed to stay, to take what she so clearly offered. His tiger clawed beneath his skin, bewildered and frustrated by his human side’s incomprehensible restraint.

“Five minutes,” he promised, escaping to the hallway before his control shattered completely.

Downstairs, Zyle braced himself against the kitchen counter, drawing deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. What was happening to him? A week ago, he’d approached this arrangement as a business merger—beneficial to both parties, emotionally uncomplicated. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without her laughter, her brilliance, her fierce independence.

Worse, he didn’t want to.

The realization should have terrified him. Instead, it settled into his chest with the inevitability of gravity.

“Trouble in paradise?” Seren’s voice startled him. She and Holden still occupied his kitchen, though they’d moved from wine to coffee.

“No trouble.” Zyle filled the kettle, focusing on the simple task to regain equilibrium. “Laykin needs rest.”

“And you needed escape,” Seren observed shrewdly. “Interesting.”

“I’m making tea.”

“You’re retreating from feelings,” she corrected, hopping up on the counter. “Classic avoidance behavior.”

Holden coughed to cover a laugh. Zyle shot him a betrayed glare.

“Your security chief has been quite informative,” Seren continued cheerfully. “Did you know you’ve never brought a woman to this house before? Not even for business meetings.”

“Personnel records are confidential,” Zyle growled at Holden.

“She’s very persuasive,” Holden defended himself, not looking remotely apologetic.

“Don’t blame him,” Seren waved dismissively. “I’m extremely good at information extraction. It’s why Laykin keeps me around.”

“I thought it was for your sparkling personality,” Zyle muttered, arranging tea bags with unnecessary precision.

“That too.” Seren tilted her head, studying him. “You really care about her, don’t you? Not just the alliance, but her—the stubborn, sometimes reckless, fiercely loyal woman who snorts when she laughs too hard.”

The kettle whistled, saving Zyle from having to answer directly. He focused on preparing the tea exactly as Laykin preferred—honey but no milk, steeped for precisely three minutes.

“She cares about you too,” Seren added more softly. “I haven’t seen her this happy in years.”

Something warm unfurled in his chest at her words.

“Boss,” Holden interrupted, expression shifting to professional concern while looking at the email on his watch.“The preliminary reports came in. We’ve identified the financial backers of the bear mercenaries.”

Zyle’s attention sharpened. “Names?”

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