Page 9 of Wicked

“What if I’m not good at being patient?” I ask.

She chuckles ruefully. “Then the two of you have something in common.”

4

Manny

H is not himself. His eyes are bloodshot and lifeless, and he rails on me for taking the time to get Candlewick instead of thanking me for coming to get him. My calm, careful friend has been transformed into someone I don’t recognize, someone I don’t know how to react to.

We climb the stairs back to the roof where Candlewick has changed out of his white suit into a button-up shirt and jeans, but Anne is still buck naked.

“This is Anne,” I say. “Normally, she’s clothed.”

When we’re lucky enough to find a dragon shifter landing pad like this, she usually grabs some clothing from the closet. I scan the rooftop and find said closet. Why didn’t she at least wrap a towel around her shoulders?

I notice the way she’s leaning on her right foot, and I worry about her left knee. Her arthritis is worse in cold weather. Did she not change because she was too sore to walk, and she didn’t want Candlewick to know?

H nods at her like it’s completely normal to be introduced to a seventy-year-old woman who’s stark naked.

“I’m the dragon,” she explains.

“Don’t worry, H and I have already been introduced.” Candlewick flashes H a smile and saunters toward me, “Manny here is upset because we had to touch when we were riding the dragon together, and I have omega cooties.” He gets close enough to me that the connection between us feels like a magnet.

I clench my jaw and move back, ever so slightly. Resisting him isn’t getting any easier. If anything, it’s becoming harder. “I never said you had cooties.”

“Right. You just suggested I ride through New York City clutched in Anne’s claws so we didn’t have to touch.” He leans forward until he’s close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips. My body screams to kiss him, to press our bodies together, to suck on the crook of his neck. But I just stand there, using every ounce of self-control I have.

“Touching an omega isn’t going to kill you.” He warned me he wouldn’t make it easy for me to reject him. He’s definitely keeping that promise.

“Well, one of you will have to ride in my claws, and I’m not taking all three of you,” Anne says. “My back is killing me.”

So she is in pain. I shouldn’t have asked for her help tonight.

“I’m going,” Candlewick insists.

“Why?” I ask. He doesn’t need to go back to his abuser’s house. We can take care of this without him.

I can’t offer him forever, but I could make sure Dorian Gray never touches him again.

“Because we’re killing Dorian,” he says. “I’m definitely not missing that. I want to see that bastard take his last breath.”

I turn to H, incredulous. That isn’t the plan, is it?

“We’re just stopping the spell. You’re not killing anyone,” H tells Candlewick.

Candlewick pouts. “Can we at least maim him?” His voice is deliberately casual, almost joking. It’s such a change from when we talked about Dorian before.

I don’t normally let men treat me like that.

I just don’t want you to think I’m… weak.

Is he using humor to cope or simply putting on a happy face so H and Anne won’t know how deeply Dorian hurt him? Either way, he can’t come with us to Dorian’s house if he isn’t taking this situation seriously.

“This is why he can’t go,” I say to Anne.

She refuses to meet my gaze, but I see the silent resignation in her eyes. She agrees with me, even if she won’t say so out loud.

Candlewick scoffs. “Because I want to maim Dorian? When you meet him, you’ll want to maim him too. Trust me.”

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