Page 46 of Ditching the Dragon (Fated Dates)

Acting on impulse, I bring up the text chain with Wickham.

How do dragons repro—

I delete the text.

Do dragons really lay eggs or—

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

I stare at the screen and contemplate what to say to him.

He’s probably livid.

I hurt him.

I know I did, and I hate that. Why am I like this?

I send the text before my brain can override my heart.

Bubbles immediately appear then stop. They start up again after a long moment.

My hackles rise immediately.

Instead of immediately firing off another angry response, I contemplate how to word it.

There’s another pause on his end.

My paranoia crests, and I swivel my head and twist my body in all directions looking for him.

But he isn’t there.

No white kidnapper van either.

Just the kids squealing while their minders watch. A full three minutes pass while I force my breathing to calm and my mind to center. I focus on the kids swinging back and forth.

That’s probably offensive. Can’t take it back now.

That settles a bit of my anxiety for whatever reason.

After getting to my feet, I sip the last of my coffee and drop it into the trash then turn to wander in circles for a bit.

That’s new. I’d assumed he was an expert, like he went to dragon school or something. I never expected him to be as clueless as I am.

Act of ownership? Puh-fucking-lease.

My feet ache. I’m running for good reason, but he will find me—again—eventually. I type out my response and then shut the phone off.

The Tradesman Hotel and Resort is as far along the edge of the city as I dare go. It’s on the opposite side of the city from where Wickham’s house is. I know that’s irrational. He isn’t there.

He’s still searching for me.

Another day passes while I evade capture.

It feels like I can distance myself as much as possible from him and what he wants.

He’s going to catch me eventually. My not-mate seems to always be over my shoulder, at my back, even overhead. He’s everywhere yet nowhere.

After I check in to the hotel, I can’t stand to stay confined in my room. It’s suffocating, worse than the thought of being confined in Wick’s basement.

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