Home > Wolf's Mate (Wind Dragons MC #5)(7)

Wolf's Mate (Wind Dragons MC #5)(7)
Author: Chantal Fernando

Yet he doesn’t make a move to leave.

“What?” I ask when he continues to stare at me—that smug, amused expression on his face making me want to punch him.

“Nothing,” he says, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Just didn’t think I’d be your type.”

So much for his leaving it alone.

“That’s because you’re not my type,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes at him. I can’t believe the things that come out of this man’s mouth. If he were a gentleman, he wouldn’t have mentioned anything at all. So what if I checked him out a little? I don’t know any women who wouldn’t, although I’ll never admit to that out loud.

“Your wide eyes and shallow breathing say otherwise,” he says, grinning, his brown eyes alight with humor.

“I think you must have a really big imagination,” I say, tilting my head to the side and studying him. “You one of those men who needs attention from women to feel validated?”

His lip twitches a few times, like he wants to smile but is trying to fight it.

“You can smile, you know,” I advise him. “It won’t make you any less badass. Maybe more likable though.” I take a step toward him, enjoying it when his gaze drops to my mouth. “Pretty sure you said you were going to jump in the shower so we can leave. I’ve been ready and waiting for a while now. Maybe you’re the high-maintenance one out of the two of us?”

I flash him a smug look and then walk out of the kitchen, brushing past him on the way, my shoulder touching his lower arm. Feeling happy I got to have the last word, my foot is on the first step when I hear him mutter, “I can see why no one else wanted this job,” which hits me like a shot to the chest. I pause for a second but then continue making my way to my room, pretending like his words don’t mean anything to me. And I mean, why should they, right?





“I CAN see why no one else wanted this job,” I growl, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead. She’s beautiful. Even more so up close. I can almost ignore the mouth on her because of how fuckin’ pretty the lips those words come out of are. I make sure to take a quick shower, throw on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, then head downstairs. She’s sitting on the couch, typing on her phone, bag by her side, obviously eager to go. How long has it been since she was allowed to leave the house?

“Where are the keys?” I ask her, wishing I could take my bike instead. I’m assuming she’s going to want to buy a fuckload of things, so we’re definitely going to need to take her four-wheel drive. Or whoever the fuck it belongs to.

She points to the coffee table in front of her, where two keys sit, hanging off a key chain of the Eiffel Tower. I grab the keys and say, “Let’s go.”

She quickly shoves her phone in her bag and stands up, sliding it over her shoulder. She follows me outside and gets into the passenger seat as soon as I unlock the doors. I drive up to the gate, then put the car in park while I hop out to enter the gate code. As it opens, I get back into the car and drive through, then hop back out to close it. Glancing around my surroundings, I look for anything or anyone suspicious before I drive down the road.

“Do you want me to give you directions?” she asks, looking down at her phone.

I shake my head. “I had a look last night, it’s only a few minutes’ drive away. I know where to go.”

She nods and looks out her window, then puts the window down and smiles as the wind hits her face.

“When’s the last time you left the house?” I ask her, staring straight ahead.

“Other than to move to a different location?” she asks. “Ummm. About a month.”


No wonder she wanted to get out so badly.

“None of the guards, or whoever, could take you somewhere just to give you a change of scene?” I ask, feeling angry on her behalf. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. What kind of life did she have? Sitting inside a house and doing nothing?

“They prefer to have me in a controlled environment in case anything happens,” she says, not sounding angry over the fact.

“Then they’re obviously not very good at their job,” I say through clenched teeth. “Or they’re just fuckin’ lazy. Yeah, it’s an added risk, but if you take the proper precautions, I don’t see why you can’t go out now and again. If you don’t, you’re gonna go fuckin’ crazy.”

She shrugs her dainty shoulders. “I never really asked them to take me out, or badgered them about it.” She sighs dreamily, the sound making my dick harden. “Really happy to be getting away right now though.”

She never asked them or hassled them about it? No diva demands? Who is this girl? I’m starting to think I was wrong about her, at least about certain things. She was still rich and spoiled, but maybe she isn’t so bad as a person.


I should probably be asking myself why was I so angry. Over someone I didn’t know, and wasn’t even sure I liked. I’d thought she was like Eliza, but after just a few conversations with her, I think I might be wrong. I’m not usually one to judge others, in fact, I’m usually the one to be judged, but something about Shayla has me all fuckin’ twisted.

“Well, while I’m here we can go and do whatever you like,” I tell her, the words flowing out of my mouth before my brain can catch up. “I’d prefer to stay away from large crowds though.”

“Really?” she asks, and I can hear the hope in her voice.

“Really,” I say as I park the car in front of the sports store. “Stay by my side; don’t wander off anywhere, all right?”

She nods eagerly and opens her car door. I do the same, quickly walking around to her side. We enter the store in silence, and she follows me around as I grab some weights, a boxing bag, and some gloves.

“Do you want anything?” I ask her, scanning the store.

“No, thanks,” she declines politely. She’ll probably ask me to take her to some fuckin’ expensive designer store next, one I’ve never even fuckin’ heard of. I pay for my goods, my brows raising when she takes the bag and gloves in her hands to carry them to the car. She must notice my expression because she says, “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a spoiled brat.”

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