Chapter 31

Stella

The air crackled with energy. The texture of it wasn"t magical. It sizzled like electricity. The scent of metal and oil filled my nostrils, intermingling with the faint aroma of herbs and incense that lingered in the air. My skin prickled with anticipation.

I knew we were being watched. I couldn"t tell from which direction. The watching didn"t feel unsafe. It didn"t feel dangerous.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement from the shadows—a flicker of golden fur catching the faint glow. Oz shoved me behind him. But there was no hiding what was advancing on us.

A jaguar, golden and majestic, emerged from the darkness. Its sleek form moved with a silent grace that sent a shiver down my spine.

Peering over Oz"s shoulder, I was captivated by the beast"s beauty, by the way its muscles rippled beneath its golden coat, by the fierce intelligence gleaming in its eyes. It felt familiar to me, like an old friend returning after a long absence.

But then, in an instant, its friendly fa?ade melted away. It bared its canines in a menacing snarl. Its gaze fixed on Oz with an intensity that sent fear coursing through me.

Oz"s muscles tensed beneath my hands. A wave of apprehension washed over me. He was poised to confront the panther, his instincts urging him into action. As his grip tightened once, a vision seized hold of my mind.

The shop faded away, replaced by the imposing walls of a castle. Oz stood before me, transformed into his sleek panther form, his fur glistening ebony in the dim light. Across from him, a golden jaguar loomed, its eyes gleaming with a feral hunger.

"I believe my best friend has come to challenge me for your hand," said the jaguar in a deep baritone.

In a blur of motion, violence erupted, blood staining the pristine floors of the castle. I couldn"t see the carnage, but I knew in my heart that the victor was not Oz.

I snapped back to reality just as Oz moved to strike. Bile was in my throat, the acid robbing me of words. This wasn"t a castle, but I knew the outcome would be the same. I reached out with my magic, reasoning that fur was like thread. Maybe I could tighten the beast"s hair until it felt like a snatched weave?

I raised my hands. Magic flowed to my fingertips. And stopped there.

To my surprise, the jaguar was not flesh and fur. It was cold metal; a construction of gears and wires fashioned into the shape of a fearsome predator.

I looked down at the ring on my hand. I'd bought it at the local market years ago. It had been too small then. But just as my magic allowed me to tailor thread, I"d been able to manipulate the metal until the band fit me perfectly.

Raising my hand at the advancing metallic behemoth, I felt the pulsing energy of the machine course through me. Holding my fingers out and erect, I halted its advance, freezing it in its tracks. Then I brought all five of my fingers into a ball, unleashing a torrent of magic, twisting and contorting the metal until it crumpled and buckled under my command.

Slowly, Oz lowered his fist. He cocked his head to the side as he looked at the fallen enemy. Then he looked over at me. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. It grew as he assessed me anew.

I"d never felt sexier in any outfit than I did as he looked at me. Not at what I wore, but what I"d done. Seeing pride in my man"s eyes was hotter than seeing desire.

"Look at what you did!"

In an act of déjà vu, Oz once again swept me behind him. He placed me closer to the defunct metal jaguar and faced off against the darkness. What emerged from the dark was a lanky man. He was tall and wiry. A cap on his head gave him more height with the gizmos coming out of it; a monocle, a pair of tweezers — was that a laser gun?

The man"s hands were stained with grease. His clothes were pristine, covered mostly by a dingy smock. The best word to describe him would"ve been dapper. He looked like he"d come out of an early nineteenth century sepia toned film.

"All that hard work now a heap on the floor." He glowered at us, censor on his face like he was scolding disobedient children. "Where am I going to get the metal to prepare him?"

"I"d be more worried about keeping my head on my shoulders if I were you." Oz"s voice was low and menacing.

I wondered if the man had heard it. He held a controller of some kind in his hand. His fingers flicked and switched at the gears.

"I"m a human living in No Man"s Land with no affiliation. That was my security system."

"It was about to attack my mate."

The man gave a huff and marched toward the defunct jaguar robot. Oz snaked a hand out to grab him, but I caught his forearm. Just as I"d gotten the sense that the jaguar was harmless, I got the same sense about the man.

To prove me right, once the man reached his metal creation, he pried open its mouth to reveal a hollow cavity. "It was all for show. You were in no real harm."

We might not have been in harm, but this human was. The growl that came from Oz was low and out of patience. I wrapped my hand tighter around his biceps. All fear was gone from my person. I was too busy grinning that he"d just told another living soul that I was his mate.

This was the first time I"d been claimed so publicly. Ken preferred to spend our dates indoors. Preferably on my couch, eating my snacks, eyes glued to my entertainment center. We"d never gone out dancing, unless it was at the club—and very rarely at that.

"It"s fine. He"s fixable," said the human, brushing oil off his hand before extending it to Oz. "Name"s Perseus."

Oz looked at that hand like he wanted to bite it off.

"I"m Stella, and this is Oz."

Oz rounded on me. His eyes were like cut glass as he glared at me. I knew without him saying that I shouldn"t give strangers our real names. He was right, of course. But honestly, I was too thrilled that we were doing the silent communication thing that long-time lovers did.

"Stella, Latin word for star. Often associated with brightness and guidance, much like a constellation in the night sky."

In response, I giggled. Perseus was a charmer. A charmer who was about to have his head bitten off by a grumpy panther shifter.

"We"re looking for a way to get to Chicago," I said before Oz could open his mouth.

Perseus responded with a crooked smile. He beckoned us toward the back of the shop. Oz stepped in front of me, his trust in the quirky human a faint line. Until he saw what was behind the curtain.

The Pegasus stood before us, a marvel of mechanical ingenuity and fantastical design. Its form was a maze of intricate gears, shimmering wings, and powerful engines, blending together in a mesmerizing display of craftsmanship. It was exactly as I'd seen it in my head.