Page 2 of Partnering with the Artist

Um.

Is it hard to breathe in here? Or is that just the polyurethane foam snoot on my head? I could have sworn I followed the correct ventilation instructions, but…well…my lungs appear to be collapsing.

“Are you all right?” Zakery asks, glancing sidelong at his table, which was displaying a slew of his comics and is now upended in front of a hundred or more gaping people.

It is, ahem, upended—of course—because I collided with it. Roughly two seconds ago.

Because. You know.

I wasfleeing.

“My love!” Harry’s voice booms through the convention hall, drawing all kinds of attention well before he lifts his head andhowlsat the ceiling lights. “Where have you gone, you vision of beauty?” Harry locates me, locates Zakery, and growls, baring all his teeth. “Get away from my mate.”

Yelping, I fumble, desperate to get up. (Easier said than done in a fursuit, might I add.)

It isn’t until Zakery rises, placing me steadily on my feet that I manage to get my legs under me. I nod at him, grateful, but he grabs my wrist before I can figure out my escape route.

“Clear the way!” he yells, then…Zakery Bachelor…is running in front of me, dragging my bulky fursuit-clad body through Sunny Con and firmly away from what I’m going to solidly and definitively say…is my crazy ex.

Chapter 1

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There’s just something unsettling about this man.

Maelin

The second I find my sister, Morana, again, I am going tokillher. What part of asking her to come with me to this con and be my handler—the person who accompanies a fursuit wearer in order to keep themsafe—did she not understand?

Panting in a backroom that Zakery shoved us into, I stare down at my pale pink and white paws pressed to my knees and fight to catch my breath. “Th-thank…you.”

“Oh, don’t mention it.” Zakery tilts his body into my limited field of view and smiles gently up at me. The long strands of his short dark hair fall over his right eyebrow as he angles his head. “Do you need help taking your head off so you can breathe better? Or…is that a morbid offer? I know some furries refuse to de-suit in front of people.”

Heat rushes to my face—or possibly that’s just the dehydration catching up to me.

My sister is theworsthandlerever, vanishing on me with my water bottle. For all she knows, I could bedeadsomewhere, shoved into a corner, a heaping pile of pink fur carcass, never to be seen again.

I stammer, “O-oh. I’m not. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being a furry, of course. Some of the furries I’ve met here today have been the nicest peopleever. It’s just… I’m not exactly… I don’t mind if…”

My mind goes blank.

(Possibly because a very attractive man around my age isoffering to help mede-suit.)

Zakery’s chilling gray eyes pierce through my soul. “You’renota furry? You’re just wearing one of the most detailed, and—frankly—most adorable fursuits I’ve ever seen on this side of the world?” He glides his hand down the soft fur of my arm, and my actual flesh prickles beneath the thick fabric. “This is high quality. Definitely made-to-order. Baselines are usually…around six thousand, I’d say. But the detail work…” He examines the frills of the dress I made for my lil fox fursona, because I didnotwant to prance about in anakedanimal costume. “Ten thousand, minimum, is my guess.” He glances toward my eyes again, amused. “While we’re discussing avid furry culture, where’s your handler, princess?”

My heart thumps in response to the nickname. Until I remember… Ialsomade my fursona a little tiara. To go with her dress. When I commit to something, I commit to something. Finally leveling my breath, I fold my fuzzy arms across my fuzzy chest and huff. “She abandoned me. Saw someone selling something shiny and got distracted like a crow.” It occurs to me that I’m in a storage space the size of a closet piled high with boxes, talking toZakery Bacheloraboutfurries. “Why do you know how much a fursuit costs?”

He lifts a nonchalant shoulder. “You pick things up when you come to cons as much as I do. Anyway…” He points. “Do you need help with the head? I don’t want you fainting on me.”

“Right. Yes.” I turn my back to him. “There’s a metal clasp that connects the head to the body…somewhere back there.”

His fingers fiddle for a moment. “Got it.”

Fresh air greets me as he lifts the polyurethane foam off, blessing me with the ability to fill my lungs. Even as the brighter light burns my eyes, there is nothing quite so sweet as cool air racing across my neck. “Thank you so, so…” I turn.

Wide eyes locked on me, Zakery murmurs, “Whoa.”

“…much.”

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