Page 2 of Wicked

“I’m, uh, Isaiah.”

He smiled, and there was something magical about it, something so alluring I would have made a fool of myself and given him my number if I thought there was any chance he’d call me. It had to be his thrall, of course. It wasn’t a full thrall. I didn’t think he was my fated mate. But damn, I wished he was.

He leaned in closer to me. “Mmmm, I like your thrall. It’s subtle. Are you half or quarter red wolf shifter?”

“I don’t know.” My alpha dad had left too long ago for me to be sure. My omega dad hadn’t stuck around either. It had been just me and Grandma ever since I could remember, and she was a fox shifter.

“That’s cool. We’re bastards too. The lot of us. I’m half snake shifter, Wrench is half wolf, Rope is half human, and Lead Pipe claims he’s half dragon, but no one believes him.”

The other guys laughed at that. They were crowding around the table, talking to each other. They sounded very different than they had with the clients. One of them had a Southern drawl, and another sounded like he was from Jersey.

As they got closer, I felt their thralls too. Not full thralls. No, their thralls were like mine. Subtle. Mild. Just enough to make them alluring without putting someone entirely under their spell.

“Are those their real names?” I asked.

Revolver shook his head. “This isn’t the kind of job where you use your real name. We go by different Clue pieces. Most of our clients are old, so they think it’s cute.”

Lester glared at him. “Very funny. I’m old too, you know.”

“Yeah, but some men just get hotter as they age.” Revolver flashed him a grin that was so bright, I was breathless from it. Most of the other guys seemed immune to his charm. Not Lester. The two of them locked eyes for several seconds before Revolver looked away, almost bashfully.

“Anyway…” Lester said, clearing his throat. “I owe you some money, Isaiah. Come with me, and I’ll cut you a check.”

I stood up, but Revolver grabbed my suit jacket. “Wait, I like this one. Check out his suit, Les. It’s bold.”

“He’s too shy.”

“He’s just nervous ’cause it’s his first day. C’mon, Isaiah. Flirt with me. Show this old bag of bones what you’re made of.”

A few of the other guys cheered, and one of them started chanting my name. It didn’t catch on, which they promptly teased him about, but the teasing wasn’t mean. It was warm and good natured.

I think that was when I saw the opportunity for what it was: a chance to belong somewhere. I’d never experienced that before. Not really.

That night was the only time I wore the white suit. Lester let me borrow his suits the first few times I met with a client, and after that, I had enough money to buy suits of my own. The white suit sat in my closet until the day I decided to run away with Buddy.

That morning I knew I’d probably end up in jail for the rest of my life. Or at the very least, Dorian would have me killed. So I decided to go out with a bang—to be the glamorous man my younger self had dreamed of all those years ago. Adding Gran’s fake pearls was the perfect touch. I felt ready to take on anything. Even death.

But now my hands tremble as I slide the orange jumpsuit off my shoulders. The courage the pearls and suit gave me a few days ago has worn thin. I have no delusions about what will come next. Dorian Gray had held me down by the throat—threatened to squeeze the life out of me. And that was before I’d helped Buddy escape.

I don’t know what he’ll do to me now. Whatever it is, it has to be worse than prison, or he’d just let me rot in here.

I hope Buddy is okay. If Dorian is moving forward with his plan for me, that may mean he’s already done the spell. Buddy could be nothing but a vacant doll now.

The white suit reeks of sweat and is horribly wrinkled after my time on the road with Buddy. It’s still a huge improvement over the orange jumpsuit. I slip my wallet into a pocket without checking what’s inside. The cards don’t work anymore. Dorian saw to that before I was arrested.

The guard guides me down a cement hallway and through several sliding metal doors that clang loudly as they open. Then we’re standing in front of a glass door that opens to the outside. The night sky is dark, and the glass reflects our images like a mirror.

If Revolver were here, he’d flash me one of his powerful smiles and tell me I look like hell. But he won’t be waiting for me outside. When I decided to help Buddy escape, I distanced myself from him. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I knew Dorian would come at me in any way he could. Especially if Buddy was freed. And I couldn’t lose Revolver the way I lost Gran.

I square my shoulders and step out into the cool night.

“Good luck out there,” the guard says.

Then he’s gone.

A parking lot sprawls out before me to the right, and to the left is a ragged sidewalk leading God knows where. Just as I lift my foot to start walking, an enormous blue creature descends from the sky. The fading light shines through its translucent wings, and its shiny scales gleam like a warlock’s jewel, almost vibrating with magic. I’ve always hated how arrogant ice dragon shifters are. They think they’re better than everyone else. But in this moment, I get it. I can turn into a fox or a wolf, but those are nothing but cute woodland creatures. The power and mystique of a dragon is completely different. It’s no wonder they used to rule the earth.

My heart races. There’s only one reason an ice dragon would be this close to a prison, and in their animal form, no less. Shifters never expose their animal forms to anyone but their mates or families. It’s considered obscene.

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