Page 37 of Ditching the Dragon (Fated Dates)

He’s usually the one to initiate our spicy mutual satisfaction. I call so he doesn’t burn something down. He runs hard at my libido. I concede, and we take a few minutes relieving stress.

This doesn’t feel like that, though.

And I’m still a little turned on.

My text goes through, but I don’t regret it. There’s another long pause, but I breathe easier when he replies. He doesn’t take the bait, though.

We spend several minutes debating the plot points of the movie, then move on to A Few Good Men.

We transition to a heated argument over whether Batman & Robin was really as good as I remember. He insists it’s too campy, but there is no circumstance where that cast can be considered anything less than exceptional in their respective roles.

His question catches me off guard.

Another pause while I know he’s collecting himself.

Heh.

He texts me a link, a log in, and a password, and then I have to debate whether this is a good idea. The site could be there to track me.

But it’s one I recognize.

And then, for some reason, we spend the next two hours texting our way through the movie. His commentary under-credits Schwarzenegger’s acting, but it’s kind of fun.

Alright, fine. It’s a lot of fun.

He’s fun to banter with. He’s playful and doesn’t knock my lack of knowledge on the franchise like most guys would. It might be his age, or it could just be him.

And he doesn’t comment on how amazing Uma Thurman and Alicia Silverstone look in their spandex suits. Eight million points awarded.

It’s relaxing. Who knew Wick had downtime mode?

Longing for my old life weighs on me while I contemplate the evening as I fall asleep.

Even stronger is the idea that this Wick, the one with easy laughter who likes cheesy puns, could be someone I’m meant to be with.

It gets a little harder to remember why I’m running at all.

Chapter Eleven

The following few days are remarkably calm. The process of moving from place to place becomes rote. I run out of hotels I’m familiar with and start repeating them.

If Wick can anticipate where I go out of over a dozen different places, then maybe he deserves to catch me.

And with every day, I’ve come to a frustrating conclusion.

I am drawn to him.

The concept of a mate is totally foreign. Humans don’t take mates. We date, stay single, get married, get divorced...

I don’t believe in fate. It’s illogical.

There is no answer for a mate bond. I’ve always thought shifters simply confused compatibility with destiny. Puppy love on steroids. I’ve known shifters with mates, and they grow old together and argue like everyone else.

But . . . I’m drawn to him.

I look forward to his texts. I force myself to shut the phone off while I sleep so I don’t reread them. I could blame it on Stockholm Syndrome, but wouldn’t that be if he’d held me captive? I’m out running around, making my own decisions.

And it’s incredibly boring sitting alone in a hotel room for hours knowing he’s out there, walking in the world.

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