Page 3 of Panther Heart's Secret Passion
Her cheeks flushed, just a little, but she held my gaze, her wit sharp as ever. “Oh, please. I can handle myself. And last I checked, you were the one tackling drifters, not me. Care to explain that yet?”
“Not much to explain,” I said, dodging like always. “Just a guy helping out a pretty journalist. You digging up anything good in here?”
She tilted her head, studying me like she could see through my act. “Old maps, local history. Nothing you would find interesting, I bet. Unless you know something about those logging sites you are not telling me.”
I grinned, leaning in just enough to feel that spark again. “You are relentless, Adrienne. I like that. But maybe stick to books instead of dark trails, yeah? Safer that way.”
She laughed, soft but sharp, and it sent a jolt through me. “Safer is boring, Allen. And I am not here for boring.”
I wanted to keep talking, to keep that spark alive, but I caught the librarian glancing our way, holding a stack of maps. I stepped back, giving Adrienne a nod. “Just be careful, okay? I will see you around.”
“Count on it,” she said, her eyes lingering on mine a second too long before she turned back to the counter.
I slipped outside, my heart still racing from the banter. She was trouble, no doubt, but the kind I could not stay away from. I leaned against a lamppost across the street, watching her through the fogged windows as she charmed the librarian, Mrs. Carter, into sharing those maps. Adrienne’s voice carried just enough for my shifter hearing to catch, her tone all charm as she joked about buried treasure.
“Come on, Mrs. Carter,” she said, leaning on the counter. “You must have some old forest maps tucked away. I am hunting for buried treasure, you know, something to spice up my story.”
The librarian chuckled, shaking her head. “You are trouble, are you not? Fine, I will check the archives. But no promises.”
Adrienne grinned, and I could not help but smile too. She had a way of getting what she wanted, her wit sharp enough to cut through anyone’s defenses. I watched her flip through a stack of papers, her brow furrowing as she traced a map with her finger. She was relentless, and it was going to get her killed if I did not step in.
I shifted my weight, torn between marching back in there and dragging her out or keeping my distance like the council ordered. The bond made it hard to think straight. Every time I pictured her, those hazel eyes, that stubborn tilt of her chin, my chest warmed like I was standing too close to a fire. But I was a shifter, she was human, and Esoterra’s laws were clear. Getting close to her was a risk I could not afford. Still, I could not let Morris get to her.
Memories of him hit me hard. Three years ago, he stood in that same grove, his amber eyes blazing as he preached about human greed, how they would destroy our forests if we did not strike first. I argued we could protect Esoterra without war, that humans were not all the same. The council sided with me, barely, but Morris’s followers turned on me. When he was banished, I was too, guilty by association. Now he was back, and I was not going to let him ruin everything again.
The library door swung open, and Adrienne stepped out, her phone pressed to her ear. I stayed in the shadows, my ears pricking up as her voice carried across the street.
“Yeah, I got the map,” she said, her tone low but excited. “There is a restricted logging site off Route 17. I am heading there at midnight. If there is a story, it is there.”
My stomach dropped. The logging site was deep in the forest, too close to Esoterra’s borders. Morris would be watching, and Adrienne had no idea what she was walking into. I clenched my fists, the scarf in my pocket feeling heavier than it should. I had to stop her, but without spilling the truth about what I was. She was already too curious, and I was running out of lies.
Chapter Three
Adrienne
I parked my sedan under a cluster of pines, the engine ticking as it cooled in the chilly night air. My breath puffed out in little clouds, the cold biting my fingertips as I grabbed my flashlight and camera. The logging site off Route 17 was my target, a restricted zone I had no business being in, but that anonymous email and the old map from the library pointed me here. If there was a story behind the sabotaged equipment, I was going to find it. I slipped out of the car, my boots sinking into the soft dirt, and crept toward the barbed-wire fence. The metal was rusted, easy to push aside, and I ducked through, my heart pounding with the thrill of being somewhere I should not be.
The site was a mess of twisted metal under the moonlight. Chainsaws lay scattered, their cords sliced clean through, and a bulldozer sat abandoned, its side marked with deep, claw-like gashes that looked too precise for any machine. I snapped photos, the camera’s flash cutting through the dark, my pulse racing as I documented every detail. This was no corporate cover-up; something weird was going on, and I was close tocracking it. Moving deeper into the site, I scanned the ground with my flashlight, the beam catching on something odd in a tree trunk. A small, glowing shard, no bigger than a quarter, was embedded in the bark, pulsing with a faint blue light, like a heartbeat. I leaned closer, my breath catching. It did not look like any metal or crystal I had ever seen. My fingers hovered over it, itching to pull it free.
A low growl stopped me cold. I spun around, my flashlight shaking as two cloaked figures stepped from the shadows. Their eyes glinted, not human, like the thing that attacked me before. One of them, taller, with a hood pulled low, rasped my name, “Adrienne,” and a chill shot down my spine. I did not think, I just ran. Branches snagged my jacket, tearing at the fabric as I sprinted through the trees, my breath ragged. The figures were behind me, their footsteps heavy, their growls echoing in the fog. I stumbled into a clearing, my ankle twisting on a root, and nearly fell when a hand grabbed my arm.
“Easy,” a familiar voice said, calm and steady. Allen Orr stood there, his dark hair messy, his green eyes sharp in the moonlight. “You are okay.”
I yanked my arm free, my chest heaving. “What the hell, Allen? You just checking traps again or what?” My voice was sharp, but I was glad he was there, even if I would not admit it.
He grinned, that disarming smile that made my stomach flip despite the panic. “Something like that. Come on, we need to move.” He pulled me toward a nearby cave, its entrance hidden by vines. The air inside was damp, smelling of moss and earth, and the walls were slick under my fingers as I followed him in. Outside, I heard the crunch of leaves, the cloaked figures searching, their voices low and guttural. I pressed myself against the cave wall, my heart still racing, but Allen’s steady presence next to me calmed me down, just a little.
I glanced at him, trying to keep my voice light to mask the fear. “You have a real knack for showing up when I am about to get killed. What is your deal, Orr? You moonlight as a superhero?”
He chuckled, kneeling to brush mud off my boots with gentle hands, his touch sending a spark through me. “Nah, just a guy who does not want to see you get hurt. You are making it hard, though, running into places like this.”
I smirked, leaning back against the wall. “What can I say? I am an award-winning klutz. You should have seen me at my first big assignment in Seattle. I tripped over a mic cable during a live interview, took out the whole sound setup. The crew still calls me Crash Phelps.”
He laughed, a low, warm sound that echoed in the cave. “Crash, huh? That tracks. Any other disaster stories I should know about?”
“Oh, plenty,” I said, grinning despite myself. “There was this time in Portland, covering a protest. I got so caught up taking notes, I walked right into a street sign. Knocked myself flat, and some protester thought I was making a statement, started chanting my name. Most embarrassing byline I ever got.”
Allen’s eyes crinkled, and for a second, I forgot about the danger outside. “You are something else, Adrienne. Most people would stick to safer stories after that.”
