The door clicked shut and released whatever hold Allan had on us.
“Ugh,” I said, brushing off my shoulders. “Vampires.”
“For once, we agree,” John said. “I feel dirty being near them.”
Ryan grabbed his sweater from the couch and put it on. The room wasn’t cold.
“Handsome?” Wick asked, still standing in front of me. He hadn’t moved.
“Seriously?” I asked. I put my hands on my hips and waited for Wick to move out of my way. He didn’t. “Out of everything he said that’s what you comment on?”
Wick shrugged. “The rest is expected.”
“Yeah.” Ryan nodded. “Pain, death, torture, suffering…yada, yada, yada. Vamp threats are all the same.”
If that was true, why did Wick and Ryan look worried?
Chapter Nine
The hairpin snapped. I grimaced and looked down at the traitorous half that fell from the lock. I bit my tongue to stop the curse threatening to burst from my mouth. Those dogs could hear anything. I’d been in Wick’s house for a week now, healing faster than I’d like and waiting for an opportunity to escape. My days filled with watching paternity tests on daytime television, kicking some ass playing cards and sparring with Wick. My nights filled with restless sleep while I tried to ignore the beefy paperweight sleeping next to me.
No opportunity to escape presented itself, the guard duty impeccable. Never left alone, not one window cracked open, not one door unlocked. My little date with Lucien became more of an impending reality. Allan’s visit made everything more real. I didn’t get to stay and play at Wick Wonderland forever. My introduction to the Master Vampire would be any day now. I was royally screwed.
I picked up the piece of my hairpin and worked on the other half still jammed in the window lock. I didn’t possess any lock picking skills, but when Wick told me to “sit and stay” like a good little puppy in his room, I decided it couldn’t hurt to try. At least it felt like a more productive way to pass the time than counting threads in the sheets or looking through Wick’s drawers. He wore boxer briefs. Yum! My mind drifted to the first time we’d sparred. He hadn’t been wearing anything then.
Focus! I bit my lip while I concentrated on the jagged end of the pin. I wanted out of this locked room.
Sit and stay. Wick used those exact words. The audacity! His cheeky smile made me want to punch him in the face. I wasn’t his to command.
Keeping my rage close to the surface, I continued to wiggle the pin. It helped distract me from what else I would like to do with that man’s face. Talk about Stockholm syndrome. I needed out of here.
The end of the pin snapped off when I pulled it to the side. I flailed backward. My head snapped back against the floor and pretty little stars danced in my vision. I took a deep breath to find some inner calm and failed. Sitting up anyway, I assessed my progress. A jagged end of the pin protruded out of the lock, barely enough to pinch between my finger and thumb. If I didn’t get it out, Wick would notice and I knew how he’d punish me.
I enjoyed our daily sparring. Wick kept trying to goad me to shift to my wolf form. That would be a mistake. I avoided shifting altogether, much to his disappointment. The stripping down process with him watching felt like a mistake. Too much heat in his gaze and too much energy between us.
Time to escape.
I made a promise years ago. Never get trapped again. Never be owned. I shut my eyes against the memories and the images of Dylan’s face. At least I no longer had panic attacks.
“Shame on you,” a deep voice startled me.
I cursed and scrambled to my feet. My muscles protested the quick movement. Wick leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. His lips quirked up at one side and his eyes crinkled. Wrapped up in my attempt to escape out the window, I failed to hear him approach the room or open the door. Andrea McNeilly, badass assassin.
“Those anti-picking locks are expensive.” He squinted in my direction. “You better make sure you get that pin out.”
Fuck that. I’d leave the broken pin jammed in the lock now to spite him. I made a show of brushing off my sweats. They weren’t dirty.
“I wonder why your room is equipped as a prison.” I crossed my arms to match Wick’s stance. “Keeping a lady friend too difficult?”
A growl escaped Wick’s throat, sending shivers down my spine. “All the rooms are set up this way. The meeting is over, by the way. You can come downstairs now.” He turned to leave. “And for the record—I never have to force a lady friend to do anything.” He shut the door firmly as he left.
Probably not a good idea to piss off the alpha, which was apparently what I just did. That didn’t worry me too much. But why keep me in his room if any of the bedrooms would suffice as a prison? I didn’t like the answer my brain gave me. I paced around the room. Maybe there were other prisoners.