Page 71 of Cruelly Fated
“She offered to pay in goods…”
My blood boiled. “What?!”
Laughter burst through the speaker. This dead bastard had a long-lasting death wish. A dragon’s scorch left wounds that took months to heal.
“Relax. She’s going to draw my portrait. After seeing her quick sketch, I’m convinced I got the better end of the deal. Your girl’s got real talent,” he said with awe in his voice.
I scowled into the distance, irritated that I hadn’t known this about her. I hadn’t been paying enough attention. I thought I had, but she’d been deflecting like a pro. A real conversation was long overdue.
“What’s the address?”
“She asked me not to tell,” he drawled.
“You’re taking her side over your friend’s?”
“I called you, haven’t I?” He cut the line.
I redialed immediately. No answer. Scumbag.
I tore the black satin sheets off and jumped to my feet, bare as a mountain peak. I owed Allie an apology for how I’d acted last night. Before I fell asleep holding her, after the kind of slow, lazy sex that calmed my dragon, I’d started plotting breakfast in bed. I even planned to order flowers from the shop downstairs.
“Ah, damn it.” I paced in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the early sunrise cutting through at eye level, blinding. What did he mean she’s paying for her new place with a portrait? At least she’d turned to the vampire and not that flirt of a wolf. I stopped cold. She had mentioned art school once…
My gaze snagged on a sketchbook she’d left on the kitchen bar. I hesitated. She’d never told me not to look. I flipped it open near the middle; stunning landscapes, vivid faces, and lifelike animals leapt off the pages, each brush stroke so skilled that they seemed to live and breathe within the bound paper.What wasthe last thing she drew?I flicked more pages and sucked in a breath.
She had captured me sleeping, with one arm under my head, bare chest, sheets tangled around my waist and legs. A pencil sketch, but the resemblance, the proportions, tattoos, everything about the image was like staring in the mirror.
It hit me. She’d drawn this before she left.
How long had she been awake? Torn between staying…and walking out?
She had titled her drawing too… Elegant cursive across my chest read:Stupid dragon.
Huh. No one had ever dared to call me names before, but I guess I’d earned that one.
I snapped the sketchbook shut between my hands and returned it to its place. It belonged here now. Just like Allie’s coffee cup by the sink—still sitting where she’d rinsed and set it. Just like Allie herself. She made this place feel like home. Without her, it was back to being a pristine, empty, curtain-less penthouse.
I turned in a slow circle, unsure what to do next. My brows pinched. I’d never felt this way. Without her, everything looked dull. Food tasted bland. I lost the motivation to chase whatever legacy my father was pushing on me now.
Ah, my father… We had a meeting this morning. Apparently, I was his favorite son again. The sudden shift in how he treated me was jarring. But he was still my father, the only stable force I’d ever known.
Until Allie.
She wasn’t a permanent part of my life yet…but if last night proved anything, if she could handle my rough mouth and still fall asleep in my arms, in my bed, then I had no doubt she wanted this too.
The dragon curled up inside me and purred in quiet approval.
Soon…
Thirty-One
ALLIE
Stepping into the club felt different today. As usual, I’d arrived early to prep for my shift. Lance texted he was running late, so I got to work, retrieving the shop vac and cleaning cigarette butts, peanut shells, and the occasional shard of broken glass from around the patron tables.
Larry emerged from the office hallway at one point, hands shoved in his pockets, glaring at me. I switched off the vacuum and greeted him. He scowled and veered awaywithout a word.
I bit my lip. Kyon’s intervention last night had ticked him off. We hadn’t been paid, and all Larry’s efforts—securing me an audition, pretending to be my manager, personally driving me to the club—had gone up in smoke.
