Page 17 of Gold & Shadow

“I’m sure you can,” Orson replied evenly. “But you don’t have to, Lis.” He reached up a hand, his finger grazing my cheek more gently than I would have thought it possible for him to touch. “Let me help you,” he repeated. His voice dropped to a husky pitch. “Please.”

The cursed “please” undid me. I swallowed and nodded, my heart pounding rather hard as I dropped the shirt and lifted my arms just enough that Orson could get the bandage around me. He worked quickly and clinically, covering my breasts first to offer me the semblance of decency.

“Done,” he murmured, tying the bandage off and picking up the shirt I had dropped. With a grin, he pulled it over his own head.

I gaped, and he grinned.

“Clothed as promised.”

Chapter 9

After insisting on Orson providing me with a replacement for the shirt he had stolen off me—which was technically his, but who was really keeping track?—I finally showed him my shadow magic.

We spent a good hour in the living room, Orson asking all manner of questions about how the magic worked, while I showed him the various ways I could utilize the shadowsin my work.

“Thieving is not work,” Orson argued when I balked at showing him how I picked the lock on his front door. “Triple the pay, remember?”

“Fine,” I sighed, producing a thin spear of shadow and sending it into the locked trunk he had produced for me to demonstrate on. It took less than two minutes for my shadows to find and trip the internal mechanism, releasing the lock. “Happy?”

“Have you ever considered using these powers for good, rather than evil?” Orson asked, his eyes twinkling at me behind his frames in a way that told me he was amused. “Children’s puppet shows perhaps? Locksmithing for elderly widows?”

“Ha,” I deadpanned, crossing my arms and giving him an impatient look. “Charity doesn’t pay the bills or fill a belly.”

“I suppose not,” he agreed, his eyes still lit with amusement. “But it fills the soul.”

“Gods, are you a poet now?” I scoffed, flopping onto the sofa and trying not to wince as I overestimated the amount I had healed. I didn’t need Orson mocking me for re-injuring myself. “Is that how you fillyoursoul?”

“No,” he said, dropping onto the coffee table so that he was directly across from me. “My soul is focused on finding answers.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling a bit abashed. “We didtryto look for my parents.”

“I’m not judging,” Orson said with a frown. “I had no siblings to care for. No remaining den mates. You have six sisters who need you.”

“Izzy did most of the work, truthfully,” I said, feeling strangely self-conscious and looking away to pick at a loose thread in one of the blankets. “She kept us all healthy and did most of the cooking. Lena kept the house and the younger ones in order. My magic just happened to be the most…well…lucrative.”

“And what would you have done,” Orson asked, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes, “if you hadn’t had to work? To steal?”

“I…don’t know,” I confessed with a shrug, feeling warmth coil in my gut from the way he was staring at me. “What would you have done, if you didn’t have to search for your den?”

“I would have had to rule, eventually,” he said, making me frown in confusion. “But I like to keep my hands busy.”

“Wait,” I said, scooting back on the couch so that he was forced to drop his hand. “Rule?”

“Hmm,” Orson said, looking slightly chagrined, like he had said too much. “I was sort of in line to the throne.”

“Bears have a throne?” I asked, my eyes going wide as I realized that I had been lusting after royalty, not just any bear-shifter.

“They do,” he replied, his beard twitching again. “All shifters have different leadership structures, but bears have a king. Or a queen.”

“And you are the prince?” I asked, feeling a little panicky as I reevaluated every interaction with him.

“Iwas,” he corrected gently, leaning forward on his knees. “But my father was killed when the den turned on each other, and my mother was one of the lost. So now I am Orson Asbjørn, King of the Bears.”

I blanched. “Should I…curtsy?”

Orson boomed a laugh, and the sound eased the knot of worry that had solidified with his revelation.

“Please don’t,” he chuckled, smiling at me with genuine amusement. “I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you curtsied.”