“Me too,” she says quietly, taking a cookie and biting into it.
We sit in silence for a moment, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I also grab a cookie and take a bite. Falkor makes damn good cookies. I put the rest in my mouth, and after chewing a few times, I wash it down with milk, making a noise of enjoyment.
Wren finishes her milk and stands, taking another cookie. “I should get to bed.”
“Wren, hold up.”
She sits back down, looking at me.
I scrub a hand over my face again. “I want to apologize for what happened in the closet yesterday. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you in private about it and—”
She waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine…really.”
She starts to stand again.
“I’m really sorry. It shouldn’t have happened.”
She nods and sort of smiles. Then she’s walking away.
I’m tempted to call her back. To tell her that it’s not fine. That I can’t stop thinking about her. That I want to drag her to my bed and spend the rest of the night making her scream my name.
But I don’t.
I let her go.
I sit there in the dark kitchen and drink my milk. I eat another cookie, putting the whole thing in my mouth.
I’m such an asshole. I need to do better. Iwilldo better.
I pray Drake has some good news tomorrow. We can’t hole up like this indefinitely. I’ll need to shift at some point. Since having sex with Wren, my dragon is far more active than he was before. He’s already getting restless, clawing at me from the inside. And we can’t keep putting Falkor at risk for much longer either.
At the same time, if we jump the gun, it could cost us our lives. Our reputations. I don’t give a fuck about myself; it’s Wren I worry about. And my mom.
I finish my milk and rinse both our mugs in the sink, setting them on the drying rack. I pack away the last two cookies, putting them back into the tin, and wash the plate. Then I head back down the hallway toward my room.
I stop outside Wren’s bedroom door. I stand there for several seconds like a complete loser.
My hand lifts toward the doorknob.
Then I drop it and force myself to keep walking to my own bed, where I belong.
33
Grim
I pull up next to Drake’s black SUV. The clearing is just as remote as I remember it, surrounded by thick jungle.
Drake is already out of his vehicle, pacing back and forth. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders tight with tension.
The moment he spots us, relief washes over his face. It’s gone in a second, replaced by his usual controlled expression, but I caught it.
I climb out, and Wren follows suit. The afternoon heat hits me. It’s so fucking humid at this time of day.
“How are you holding up?” Drake asks, his eyes moving between us.
“As well as can be expected,” I tell him.
“Before we start, your dogs are fine and with your neighbor. Harlow and I will take them if need be. I gave them my number. Peanut and Butter are really cute, by the way.” He gives Wren a quick smile.
