Page 55 of Ditching the Dragon (Fated Dates)

He had to have known where I was. After all, he was calmly waiting in my room.

He let me have a night out.

Even if I spent it mindlessly wandering, he let me go. He’d known when I’d returned. He’d have swarmed the area with guards to find me.

He had to have, and he told them to leave me alone.

My spoon scrapes against the inside of the coffee cup while I stir the now-tepid liquid and think through what that means.

Because if Wick is coming around, maybe I won’t be trapped in the basement at all.

Rustling at the other end of the table breaks me out of my mental wandering.

The newspaper falls flat on the table.

...and Wickham Barrett glares at me from his chair.

Wickham

Annie hasn’t said a single word since she came into the dining room.

You’d think it perfectly obvious where we are, but she hasn’t spoken to me, and she doesn’t seem nervous.

She’s a little tentative, sure, but she barely glanced at me or gave a moment’s consideration to Marni’s pastry spread. I had them deliver it early this morning so my mate would have her comforts of home.

It’s the same reason I let her sleep alone in our bed last night. I want her to acclimate.

She’s used to being on her own, and I’d hoped it would ease the transition.

Mussed, dark hair is piled into a top knot, and it’s so fucking sexy. Her sleepwear fits perfectly on that curvaceous body. Seeing her here, in my house, in my clothes, eating my food fires my need for her through the roof.

Brilliant blue eyes snap to me at the end of the table. They widen in shock, then tighten. Her gaze slides to the door then back to me.

Hell fucking NO.

If she thinks she can escape, she’ll be sorely mistaken. The house sits on 120 acres on the outskirts of the city. Even if she makes it to the driveway, it’s a very long run to the main road.

Tilting my head at her, I raise a brow to convince her not to overreact.

But of course she doesn’t listen.

Plates and silverware clatter as she tosses her fork and knife onto the table. She rams a knee into the leg of the table and curses before limping through the open door.

Fucking endearing.

When I head out to the hall, my phone in my hand, texting Gerard to clear the staff from the second floor, I catch a glimpse of my mate cresting the stairs and scurrying down the hall.

She’s quick, I’ll give her that.

And it’s fun watching that thick ass run from me.

There’s no point in hurrying after her. Her options are limited, and I know where she’s going. She’s not going to leave without her wallet and cell phone.

My Annie might be unreasonable and prone to anxiety, but stupid she is not.

When I reach the top of the stairs, a door slams in the distance. Rustling and a scraping sound follow, which means she damaged our wallpaper to slide the reclining couch in front of the door.

Sighing, I check to see if she’s sent an SOS message to Vi. I probably could have cloned Annie’s phone while she was out, but I already felt bad for sedating her. My mate likes her independence, and that seemed like an invasion of privacy even I shouldn’t cross.

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