Chapter Nine
Wickham
The next nine days are a confusing blend of work, searching, and morning calls from my mate. It’s a helluva way to start the day. At least I haven’t torched any more acreage. My mate loves Tavers City’s parks, and it’d be a shame to destroy them all out of frustration.
She’s listened to my command not to come without me, at least as far as I can tell. If she had any idea how feral that makes me. How much it drives me to find her that much more.
Life has slowed me down, though. Wherever she went, she’s been smart about where to run. She’s also been smart enough not to stay in one place for more than a night. She might not have any credit cards, but somehow she always manages to stay a step ahead.
Her morning video calls give her away, though. That may be why she allows them early and won’t accept them before bed.
She calls, we come, she goes.
It’s fucking infuriating. She belongs with me. If she accepted that, it would be better for us both.
I pull up the text chain. I transferred it to my actual phone. I don’t think she realizes that it’s changed, but carrying multiple phones is annoying.
Silence reigns for several agonizing moments.
I can practically feel her eye roll. She thinks I’m over the top, but she has no idea.
Annie, my mate, completely captivates every waking moment of my day and all of my dreams.
She’s asked me to give her Violet’s new number several times. I always rebuff it. The pressure has to be mounting. Anything to bring her home, even if it means isolating her.
Several silent moments pass. I know that, right now, she’s pacing around whatever room she’s in and seething. If I could only see the look on her face.
The immediate response to lash out over that flares, but I breathe through it. Snapping at her won’t convince her to come home. Still...
I stab the call button. “Don’t you fucking dare, Annie. Your orgasms are mine.”
“Everything is yours,” she spits out. “Don’t I get anything? I’m not even allowed to have friends.”
“You have friends.”
“Not when I can’t talk to them. This is what I don’t like about you, Wickham. I need my independence. Forcing my servitude isn’t the way to persuade me.”
“I’m not giving you Violet’s number.”
“Don’t you want me to come home? The best way to do that is to make me more comfortable, and I’ll never feel comfortable when you insist on controlling every aspect of my life.”
“I’ve survived 213 more years than you.”
“Invalidating my experiences is the best way to convince me not to come home.”
There it is again.
Come home.
She’s started saying it more and more. It may be a carefully constructed fabrication to make me more amenable, but if so, it’s working.
“Fine. I will let you talk to Violet.”
“Really?” she squeaks on the other end. While she does, I shoot a text off to my security chief to increase the tracking on Violet.
“Yes, Annie.”
Her giddy, sweet laughs fill my ear, and I start to think I should have let her have Vi back sooner.
“Text me the number,” she says.
“Don’t need to; you already have it. I transferred our text chain to my personal number days ago and let her have her number back. You keep hitting call from the text string, so it comes to my phone.”
I also cloned her new phone so I can track every message, but Annie doesn’t need to know that.
A plan forms as to how I can convince my fierce, independent mate to surrender for good. Even when I finally find her, it needs to feel to her like she’s won or she’ll only run again.
I’m a patient man, and I’m good at the hunt. I’ve waited for her for centuries; I can bide my time and do this right.
Annie curses but then returns to the phone. “Thank you, Wick. You won’t regret it.”
“Come home and show your appreciation.”
“Very funny.”
Annie
The moment I hang up on Wick, I call my best friend.
“Annie?” Violet shrieks.
“Violet!”
“Sweet mother moon, why didn’t you call me?” she yells at the phone.
“You gave Wick your phone,” I accuse back.
“Well, he bought me a new one. How was I supposed to know he’d steal my number for several days? Doesn’t explain why you never called me so I could give you the run down. I considered whether he’d chained you in his basement for real and his updates were bullshit.”
“Updates?”
“Every day, he lets me know where you’ve been so I don’t worry. He has a text chain with your parents and brother too.”
Deep, meaningful breaths. DEEP, meaningful breaths.
She doesn’t hear any of my forced mindfulness, though, because she’s launched into a babbling explanation of the features of her new car. Once she catches a breath for air, she switches topics to ask, “Have you been hotel hopping like he says, or do I need to twist his balls off with a hacksaw?”
“Do not talk about Wickham’s balls,” I growl.
Oop, not so touchy.
“Feeling a little jealous, Annie? It wouldn’t be the first time. He insists you’re mates. I thought he was only trying to convince me to give you up, but maybe there’s something to it?”
“There’s nothing to it. Just don’t talk about things you will never see , let alone touch.”
She cackles on the other end of the phone.
“I’m tempted to push you on that just to see how irate you’d get, but I miss you too much and need the details.”
We spend several minutes catching up. Parsens is mostly the same. Milton bought the family loss lie and then no longer cared whether I came and went, thanks to Wick’s insistence on claiming me publicly.
My “mate” has apparently renovated my office in my absence. I’m hesitant to think what he’s done to my car and apartment.
I try to ask about my open projects, but it’s not my bestie’s thing. She finally promises to check in on the two open revisions I have before we see each other.
We end the conversation with a plan for Vi to meet up with me for more cash in a few days. I’m running egregiously low. If I don’t get a refresh soon, I’ll run out of resources and have to go to Wick with my tail between my legs anyway.
We’ll meet after work, once she’s searched for a cafe neither of us have ever been to so Wick can’t find me.
Come Thursday, just before the post-work rush, she texts me the location of a cafe in the East Gardener District.
That gives me a measly thirty minutes to get across the city with my duffel. My feet hurt already.