Page 36 of Thrown into the Mob

Though we were not out of danger, there was a lull, and it allowed me to ponder something other than when a dragon might pluck me off the street. When my mate and I had been sitting together yesterday, I’d taken to sneaking looks at him. I’d noted how he often lay his hands in his lap and when he was uncomfortable, he tugged his right ear.

And now I wished that he’d emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around his hips. He’d fall into my arms, drop the towel, and I’d carry him to bed.

The bathroom door opened and startled me out of my daydreams. I blinked. There was a towel but it was around his neck and he was wearing sweats. My mouth gaped, and I tapped my chin to close it. I probably had sleepy creases on my cheeks, and I had morning breath and hair.

His brow furrowed. “Did you sleep okay? You look exhausted.”

He thinks you look terrible, my wolf whispered.

“I’m fine,” I managed to get out.

“There's hot water if you want a shower.”

A shower for one rather than the shared version wasn’t much fun. But I couldn’t move and eyed the water slide from the ends of his hair and trickle down his neck. I couldn’t look away as I pictured where those droplets of water were heading.

But I heaved myself up and made it to the bathroom.

Oh, it’s worse than I imagined. My wolf was staring through my eyes at my reflection in the mirror.

Stop. You’re supposed to tell me I look okay.

When I came out, Conrad was heating up food.

“Hungry?” he asked without turning around.

“Starving.” I’d hoped he might react and say he was ravenous too, where neither of us were talking about food.

We ate near the balcony so we could look at the town lights as they came on. If anyone had peeked in, they’d have assumed we did this often because we were eating and chatting as if the world beyond the balcony wasn’t unpredictable.

What we didn’t discuss was how Conrad had opened up about his father and the parts of himself he’d been hiding.

“Do I have something on my face?” Conrad studied his reflection on the back of a spoon.

I glanced at him. “No.” Damn, I should have lied and pretended he did and I’d swoop in and remove it.

He closed one eye. “You’ve been staring at me.”

Oh shoot. “Sorry, I was thinking.”

He cocked his head. “About?”

He’d put me on the spot and I had to say something. “I suspect I was the first person to hear what you’d been through.”

“Mmmm.” He poked at some rice with a fork. “There was no one else, and now I have a mate whose duty it is to listen to his mate’s childhood stories.” He grinned. “But seriously, putting that into the universe cleared a little of the darkness from inside me.”

“Good.” Our eyes locked, and my fingers edged closer to his on the table. I could have leaned over and kissed him but a car horn blared in the street below and ruined the mood.

We finished eating. I washed the dishes while he dried. His hand brushed mine on a plate handoff and neither of us moved. My fingers were wet from rinsing the plate and the contact sent heat surging through me, more so than when we’d touched previously.

“Sorry.” He pulled away and took the plate.

“Why are you apologizing?”

He looked at the plate and so did I. It was a plain white one and held no significance. But I was tempted to smash it in order to break this vibe we had which wasn’t one of a newly mated couple. His scent combined with the dishwashing liquid and tickled my nose.

“Conrad, put the plate down.”

He didn’t ask why or make a joke but did as I asked. Heat drifted off him and shimmered in the air around him. I didn’t bother to dry my hands on a dishtowel but wiped them on my shirt. Conrad didn’t move when I took a step toward him.