Chapter 6
six
RAE
The car Darius sent drove me all the way to a massive hotel in the Shifter Borough. It was a crazy-long drive.
Though I fought the ridiculous compulsion, I kept pulling up that stupid website to see where he was. Repeatedly.
I found pictures of him at a 24-hour printing shop (I hadn't realized that was a thing), a tech store (I itched to get my hands on whatever headset he was going to buy), an upscale women's clothing boutique that looked like it was empty other than him and a sales woman (I couldn't help the angry possessive streak that had me narrowing my eyes at the screen), and a Thai restaurant (my stomach shouldn't have growled, but did).
Luckily, some annoying stalker had taken a video of him through a crack in the window coverings at the boutique the entire time he was in the store, so I could see that he left an appropriate amount of space between him and woman who seemed to be helping him pick out clothes.
All of the clothes he chose were black.
I didn't see him touch any thongs, either.
Someone took a picture of the number on the checkout screen before he paid. When they posted an enhanced version of the photo that cleared the blurriness, I nearly threw up at the total amount he'd just casually spent on clothes I might not even like.
Pictures of him stopping in front of an expensive hotel appeared on the website, but the hotel's security was so insane that no one saw what he did when he was inside.
He wasn't carrying any bags when he left on his Ducati, headed back toward Fae Row (to Callum & Kat Frost's house, in particular).
My car parked about two minutes after he drove away, and I swore inwardly when I looked up and realized I'd spent the entire drive tracking his location obsessively.
Something really was wrong with me.
Could a fated mate bond be considered an illness?
God, I hoped so.
The guy who'd driven my car escorted me to the door politely, even after I tried to turn him down multiple times.
The escort ended up being useful, because there were still a few of the Scorchies (Dare's fanclub, which I refused to consider myself a part of) hanging around the hotel.
They were going to lose their minds when they saw me there after seeing me leave the brewery with him the night before.
I wasn't sure where to feel smug or panicked about that, and couldn't decide, so I went with both.
Smug, and panicked.
Messy combination, not recommended.
One of the hotel's workers was waiting just inside the doors. They greeted me with a smile, then walked to the elevator with me and my chauffeur.
During the walk and the ride up to the top floor, they gave me two keycards and a quick rundown of the hotel's amenities.
I was overwhelmed long before they finished saying, "We're so glad to have you here."
It took me three tries to get the room's card reader to work because my hands were shaking so much.
As soon as I had the door open, I shut it tightly and pressed my back against it. My gaze flicked across the luxurious space, my eyes widening.
Darius hadn't been joking when he said it was a suite.
The living area was in front of me, with two large couches that faced each other, and a gigantic TV off to the side of them in the spacious room. Everything was bright and airy with hints of nature around us, clearly designed to the werewolves' tastes.
I should've hated it, but I didn't.
A glance through a massive doorway revealed a monstrous bed, and the edge of an even more monstrous bathroom.
My gaze went back to the coffee table between the two couches. The things I'd asked Darius for were sitting right there.
Plus a bag of Thai food.
My stomach rumbled, though I had no business being hungry already. I'd never needed to eat like this before, and I still didn't want to admit to myself that it was blood I needed.
I'd just have to try to satisfy my bloodthirst with whatever he'd bought for me.
Perching on the edge of the couch, I pulled out both boxes of Thai food. There were pictures of Darius on the lids of both.
He was grinning in one, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
He was posing in the other one, sprawled out across a couch. During my obsessive streak, I'd learned that he modeled for a few years. No one knew why.
When I opened the first box, I almost dropped the damn thing.
There was another picture of Darius inside it.
A much different kind of picture.
The picture had been taken from behind, while he was in the shower. Soap suds dripped down from his hand on his shoulder, and his entire body was bare, exposing every inch of his tight ass and strong thighs.
Holy hell, I needed more.
I dropped that box and ripped the second one open.
The other picture showed him sprawled out in a bed with a sheet draped lazily over him, barely covering his erection. Every dip and bulge of his muscles were on display as he posed casually, showing himself off freely.
I was texting him before I even thought about what I'd say.
Me
How many people have these pictures?
Are they out there on the internet?
Dare
So they were spicy enough to catch your attention?
Me
Answer the questions
Dare
They're on the internet
Me
TAKE THEM DOWN
Dare
They've been up for decades, I think it’s too late to bother
I lost a bet, and the modeling was part of the deal
I dropped my phone, shoving both of my hands through my hair as I slid back on the couch, dragging my knees to my chest.
Why did it feel like the world was closing in on me?
Why did I feel so possessive and self-conscious and unreasonable about all of this?
Why was I at this hotel at all?
What the fuck was I doing?
My phone started ringing.
I stabbed the button to ignore the call without looking down to figure out who it was. Grayson, Mia and Charity, and now Darius, were the only ones who had my number. Mia was the lamia queen and Charity was her mate, and they both left me alone unless they needed something.
The ringtone died out, then started again.
I grabbed my phone off the couch and saw the messages he'd sent.
Dare
Does it matter?
Are you okay?
If you don't answer my calls or texts, I'm coming to your room
I scrambled to message him back.
Me
It's fine
I'm going to bed
Thanks for the stuff
Dare
It doesn't seem fine
I ignored his message, turning my phone off. After I slid the chain lock into place so I knew no one could get in (without the help of some magic), I ripped the pictures off the inside of the boxes and shoved them into a bag nearby, then picked up the food.
The yellow curry smelled incredible, but the mango sticky rice looked so good that my mouth fucking watered. I cleaned the entire box out before packing the curry and tucking it in the hotel room's small fridge so I could have it later.
Darius wouldn't always be sending me food.
I wouldn't always let myself accept it, either.
But I mean... maybe he was kind of mine. According to the fated mate bond. That didn't really mean anything, though. It was just fate. It made me obsessed with him, but it probably didn't affect him the same way.
Actually, it obviously didn't, because he hadn't been obsessively tracking me. He hadn't even wanted to accept the possibility of me maybe being fated to him.
So yeah.
I definitely wasn't his.
I didn't know what I was going to do about the mate stuff, but I wasn't going to worry about it yet.
I carried the other bags directly to the bedroom and opened the one from the tech store first. Though I wasn't surprised to find a fancy headset inside, I was grudgingly excited.
And also full of dread.
Another messy combination of emotions. Yay.
There were four bags from the boutique. Even the bags themselves looked fancy.
I had more dread when I dumped the contents of the boutique bag on the bed and found pajamas, just like I'd asked for.
Not just one pair of pajamas, though. He'd brought me a massive variety of options.
A simple, matching set with a silk tank top and shorts.
Something similar in a stretchy, cotton fabric.
A pair of boxer-style shorts and a cropped tee.
Tight shorts and an oversized men's shirt.
A plain bralette and a pair of comfortable-looking full-coverage panties, too.
There was a note on the bottom, on a branded card from the boutique. Dare had scribbled:
You don't seem like the button-up shirt and long pants type, but lmk if I'm wrong. I'll return whatever you don't want, no worries.
-Dare
I read the card again.
And again.
There was no sex joke. Nothing suggestive at all.
I'd asked for pajamas, and he'd brought me pajamas. Many different types of them.
Technically, the spicy pictures earlier were my fault. I'd basically asked for them when I teased him.
I could admit that the pajama options were sweet of him.
And yeah, I genuinely liked talking to him, even if he was a pain in my ass. I'd get bored with someone who wasn't.
I just didn't see how a mate bond between us could work. I was off balance, with him. Even more than I was with everything else. Yes, I could handle him when we were interacting, but everything else that had to do with him was so extremely overwhelming.
It freaked me out, honestly.
So... what was I going to do?
For the moment, there was a simple answer.
Video games.
I pulled on the bralette and boxer shorts, threw all the rest of the clothes back in the bag to be dealt with at another time, and plugged my gaming console into the TV.
Hooking my headset up was easy, and I buried myself in video games afterward.
For multiple days.