Page 29 of Fanged Secrets
My fingers itched to reach for her hand, but I hesitated. Dylan lay unmoving like she was carved out of stone. There was a stillness between us contradictory to our feverish collision moments before.
Biting back my hesitation, I lifted my hand but quickly dropped it again when Dylan sat up, looking just as lost as I felt.
My eyes traced the muscles of her back, tight under her stained tank top, and tracked the column of her spine, memorizing every curve and line. I was faintly surprised to find that Dylan wasn’t overly bulky, but her sinewy muscles were starkly defined. The artist in me thought I could draw them from memory. The rest of me thought I would much prefer the live model.
I watched those lean muscles suddenly tense up, her shoulders hunched over. I saw Dylan’s lips move as she murmured, swearing under her breath. She ran a hand through her mussed hair, sending dark strands sweeping over her shoulder, and moved to get up.
Panic speared through me at the thought of her leaving again. No matter what happened, no matter how vicious the consequences, I couldn't take another disappearing act, another lonely night spent waiting for her to come back. Acting on instinct, I scrambled to my knees, reaching for my discarded cell phone.
Dylan got to her feet, clothes in disarray, watching me cautiously. Her face was drawn, her eyes hollow. She looked removed, moving rigidly across the living room. Her hands shook when she straightened her shirt.
She pulled on her crusted jacket while I typed frantically into my cell, turning the volume up.
"I know where to find her."
Dylan stilled. Her eyes narrowed in my direction, jaw tense. "What the hell are you talking about?"
I drew in a ragged breath, conscious of my grazed knees and the biting cold. I had no plan, no forethought. I just wanted her to stay. That thought alone made my fingers move, typing the confession out.
"The woman at the club. I know how to find her. I can track her car."
Dylan’s brow quirked, but she said nothing. Her skepticism was palpable. To prove my point, I pulled up the tracking signal on my cell with shaky fingers and held it out for her to see. I watched her expression carefully, searching for any sign of belief or relief.
I realized that sharing this information could prove to her that I wasn't a mole. If I was willing to help her, maybe she would see me as an ally, not an enemy. And with a target to focus on, we wouldn't have to acknowledge what had just happened between us.
Dylan zeroed in on the screen, her expression unreadable, before lifting her gaze to mine.
“How?”
“I told you, I saw her near my father’s home. I stuck a tracker on her car.” I typed warily, my eyes flicking back to her stony face. “I wanted to know who she was, so I followed her. That’s why I was in the club.”
Dylan was quiet for a beat, tongue running over her teeth while she digested the new information. Slowly, she extended her hand, her lips forming the words with forced restraint.
“Give me the phone, Amara.”
I snatched it away, my heart leaping into my throat as I quickly typed out a message. "If you try to take it, I'll delete the location."
Dylan’s eyes darkened, and she dropped her outstretched hand. “I could take it from you before you have the chance to blink. Don’t test me – not now.”
Dread curdled in my stomach, but I stood my ground, shakily hauling myself upright. The aftermath of our entanglement was scattered across my body – love bites and bruises littered otherwise unblemished skin. Dylan paled visibly when she took in her handiwork, her eyes dropping briefly to the glistening evidence of my orgasm smeared across my inner thighs.
I took the opportunity to type again, fiercely meeting her stricken gaze. “You probably could – you could take it by force. But you won’t. And I’m coming with you.”
Something she had said earlier was bothering me, something about my father and his plans. Dylan asked if he could be using me as a diversion. He knew the Leyore clan would watch me, expecting me to be a mole. I was beginning to suspect she might be right. And if that was the case, and this strange woman was somehow involved in Don’s grander scheme, I wanted to know.
For a tense moment we stared at each other. I held my breath and my heart fluttered like a bird in a cage, but I refused to buckle.
Finally, I watched Dylan exhale sharply, shoulders drooping in grudging acceptance. “Fine. But we’re going right now. Put your clothes back on before you catch a cold.”
Relief was a balm to my pulsing nerves, but I kept my expression neutral as I nodded and quickly gathered my discarded attire. My underwear was ruined so I went without, tugging on my shirt and shimmying into my jeans, wincing slightly when the fabric brushed my still-sensitive clit.
Dylan watched me in stony silence, her eyes still holding that mix of regret, resignation, and something else I couldn’t quite name. I dropped my gaze, focusing on untangling my tousled hair with my fingers.
What had happened between us could never be undone. Exactly what that meant for the future I wasn’t sure. But for the time being, we had a lead to follow.
Chapter 17
Dylan
