Page 35 of Ditching the Dragon (Fated Dates)

She chuckles. “I guess I can keep all this then?”

Out of her purse, she teases me with a thick manila envelope. I snatch the packet and shove it into my own purse. I had to buy a cheap cross-body bag after failing to take something other than my duffel from my apartment. I’m also going to need to do laundry soon.

“I should go. I can’t stay in one place for long. Thanks, Vi,” I reply and pull her into a tight hug.

“Don’t thank me; I still think you should be trying to work it out with him. How do younotwant to be a mate to a wealthy, accomplished shifter?”

“I’m my own woman. Wick doesn’t understand that and he never will. He wants me hidden away where I’ll wither.”

“Didn’t he buy your apartment and Marni’s cafe?”

“Yes. And other things, I’m sure.”

“If he wanted to lock you in the basement, why would he buy things you have to leave the basement to visit?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

“Food for thought, hon. Stay safe, okay?”

The route back to tonight’s hotel is an agonizing detour through paranoia. At every turn and shadow, I worry I’ll find him there.

It was a major risk meeting up with Violet, but I needed a new influx of cash. For the thousandth time in the last two weeks, I’m grateful I went through a serial killer documentary phase in college.

Because I seem to have made it out unscathed.

Not that Wick is a serial killer. Stalker, maybe. Likely kidnapper. Definitely a control freak.

In the latest room, I drop my bag on the bed and sigh at the bland space. More beige and white. Another abstract painting on the wall.

My purse is placed by the door for easy access, the shoes lined up there as well, and I dig my spare prepaid card out from between the mattresses to add to my wallet.

My go-bag, with my few clean clothes neatly folded and the dirty ones in an overstuffed plastic shopping bag, is open but ready to run at a moment’s notice.

When my phone immediately chirps, I debate moving rooms again, even though I’m confident that the backtracking and circles would’ve lost anyone following me.

Plus my feet are fucking killing me. I’m wearing sneakers, but between the circuitous route to Violet’s car and then again from the parking garage to here, I’m getting way too many steps in.

Picking up the phone, I prepare for another exchange with Wickham Barrett.

The man is a conundrum. He has his choice of women. Hell, he had his choice of me before he went feral. Had he left it at the one night stand, I’d have fondly remembered the night for the rest of my life.

As it is, Wick is a liability. Utterly unpredictable except in his obsession. It has the feel of a child so excited to receive a toy they break it.

I do not want to be broken, thank you very much.

His text takes me aback, though.

That’s new. Normally, the texts are allI’ll find you, andyou’re mine, andcome bounce on my cock. Sure, he pokes around for information, but he doesn’t get emotional. He’s said he wants me with him, but he’s never told me he misses me.

Whatever this new tactic is, it’s best to view it skeptically. I settle into the desk chair and rest my feet on the corner of the bed.

The response comes through quickly.

I give a rueful shake of my head, then remember he can’t see me.

He’s going to laugh at that. I can practically hear his chuckle in my mind. His response chimes through.

Smiling, I tap out my answer before I can think better of it.

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