Page 10 of Taming the Wicked Wolf

“I already gave you dinner,” I say firmly.

She sits back on her haunches waiting for me to cave.

“Absolutely not. That will not work on me.” I open the fridge and grab the pitcher of iced tea. I used to think of it as anabomination, but the last few centuries have softened me on the subject. Thankfully, Emilia doesn’t have as heavy a hand when it comes to sweeteners or I doubt I would ever sleep.

Poppy watches as I pour the glass, and my resolve slips. I pluck a small dog treat from the ceramic container on the counter and toss it over to her. “Just between us.”

I put the pitcher away and hear a low growl behind me.

“That’s all you’re going to get.”

When I look at her again, she stares out towards the living room, her floppy ears folded flat to her head.

“Shh.”

My own ears twitch, and I hear it, the faint click of the front door, like someone is trying and failing to fit their key in the lock. Strange.

I check the time, and it’s a good two hours before I could expect Emilia home. It could be another tenant with the wrong apartment, these buildings look exactly the same at night, she might as well be living in the center of a bloody maze.

You would think if it were the wrong apartment, they would have figured it out by now. No, this is something different.

The door continues to rattle as I cross the room, Poppy growls a warning, but she stays put in the kitchen where I left her. Part of me wants to let my glamour slip just a fraction, enough for them to question their own sanity.

As soon as I reach the door, I flick the lock, holding onto the knob as whoever is on the other side tries to turn it. I twist, yanking it open, and a man falls over the threshold, a bronze key slipping out of his hand and falling onto the carpet.

He looks up at me, eyes wide, lips parted, “Who the hell are you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

It strikes me I do not know what Chase looks like, and I never asked. Emilia doesn’t have many photos in her apartment andthe ones she has are of her and an older couple and a few candid shots of her with Poppy or at the bar. Nothing would suggest that she was ever married or had any man in her life.

That said, it’s hard not to recognize the feral look of desperation as he gets to his feet, stuffing the key into his front pocket. He’s quite ordinary, all things considered. A large and slightly crooked nose with brown eyes and dark, blond hair in need of a haircut, longer on the top so that it falls down over his brows.

He is just a man. Ordinary.

Still, there’s a pit in my stomach at the thought that she cared for him. She loved him and he hurt her so much she put her life in danger to summon me. There is nothing monstrous about him, no dragon to be defeated. Not even worth the breath to speak his name, and she is willing to give up her soul and her magic to get away from him.

“I live here.” He straightens.

I breathe out a laugh, “No, I don’t think you do.”

It’s possible that he’s stepped into the apartment once or twice, but there’s no sign that he’s lived here. The scent is all wrong. I breathe in, searching for a trace, but all I smell is Emilia.

“Yeah? Well, who the hell are you and why are you in my wife’s apartment?”

Ex-wife,I think.

“I am a friend, that is all you need to know.”

“Where is she?” His voice is deeper, laced with an empty threat that is almost laughable.

I take a step forward, forcing him back as I lean against the doorframe, “I think you know exactly where she is, which is why you had the confidence to break into her apartment. I’m just trying to figure out how. Do you have people watching her? Following her?”

Chase glances behind him, shifting from one foot to the other. A dog barks in the distance, and I can hear Poppy whimper a response in the kitchen.

“Tell her I came by,” He says, looking past me into the apartment, then levels a finger at me, “And I’m keeping my eye on you.”

“It was nice to finally meet you, Chase.”

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