Page 12 of Dragon Thief of New York
I’ll have to do something about that. They both deserve fresh cooked meals. No. It’s not my place. Otto’s her mate, and dragons don’t take kindly to other dragons stepping into their territory. Hopefully, Otto will at least accept tonight’s dinner as the goodwill offering it is.
“Where do you fit into all this?” Lincoln asks with his eyes still on his phone.
I wish I had the answer to that. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope that maybe, just maybe, we could develop the sort of relationship that Jethro, Kyro, and Sora have. They’re the only throuple I’ve ever known among dragons, but they seem really happy. It’s not common, though. Dragons are usually too possessive with their mates to share.
In all likelihood, Kat stole Otto from me just as much as Otto stole Kat. They’re not mine anymore. And they never will be again.
“I’m just a friend of Otto’s,” I answer Lincoln’s question.
“A friend with benefits kind of friend?” he asks in the curious, unfiltered way of someone too young to fully understand it’s not polite.
“Whatever Otto and I were, it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s found his mate, and that’s who he’s gonna want from now on.” It took years before I wanted anyone other than Kat, and even then, she was always in my mind and heart. Being with Otto was the closest I’d ever come to truly letting her go. I thought it wasjust because enough time had finally passed. But now I wonder if it was because of his connection to Kat.
Lincoln’s smooth skin wrinkles just slightly on his forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, kid.” I tousle his hair, earning me a glare before he steps down a hall to call the Thai place.
With as stubborn as Otto and Kat are, I’m not surprised they’re still arguing over who’s paying for dinner when I turn my attention back to the kitchen. He’s got her cornered, his hands gripping the counter on either side of her, their noses only a few inches apart.
I clear my throat. “Dinner will be here in thirty minutes.”
They both look at me like they forgot anyone else in the world exists. I remember that feeling.
“What do you mean?” Kat pushes one of Otto’s arms and breaks away from him.
“Lincoln’s ordering now. My treat.” I’m ready for a fight from Otto, but to my surprise, he smiles.
“Great.” Otto scoops one arm under Kat’s knees and the other around her back, lifting her off her feet before she can do anything to stop him. “Just enough time for a bath.”
“Put me down! I’m not taking a bath with you!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He adjusts her higher and looks at me. “Yet.” He winks. “I just think you deserve some pampering after the day you’ve had.”
“Because of you. The day I’ve had because of you!” Kat wiggles like she’s trying to get down, but by the time they reach the hall that leads to the bedroom, she’s already laughing at something he said that I didn’t catch.
I should leave. I really should leave. Any therapist would tell me it’s dysfunctional for me to stay here while the man I was falling for draws a bath for the love of my life. The longer they’re together, the harder it’ll be for them to resist the mating pull, especially now that she’s already transformed. It can’t be healthy for me to want to be around when that happens.
But my feet are glued to the kitchen floor, and I stay.
Chapter 7
Kat
Ottotakesonelookat my combined shower bathtub and insists on cleaning it before I get in. He also refuses to let me help. Considering that he has a lot of groveling to do, I decide to let him. I doubt he’ll actually follow through. He’s probably just saying he’ll do it to seem like a good guy. He’ll get distracted, rush through the cleaning, and follow it all up by making a pass at me.
Not that I’d give in to him.
He might be hot, but I’m not about to jump into bed with him. Even if he’s my soulmate or some shit.
Once I point out where the cleaning supplies are, Otto surprises me by getting straight to work without a single complaint. My teenager should take a lesson from him.
While he scrubs out the ring of gunk on the bottom of my tub, I sit on the counter waiting for him to do a half-assed job. He doesn’t. He’s thorough, and as he works, he asks me questions about my life. Innocent things, like what kind of music I like. My favorite movie. Dream vacation. The kinds of questions you’d typically ask on a first date. Although I’ve never had a first date clean my bathtub before.
He’s surprisingly easy to talk to. A little playful, with an innocence to him that’s appealing. He might look the part of a rocker, with the stud in his bottom lip and the tattoos, but he’s boyish in his demeanor. Sweet even, despite robbing me of my choice earlier today.
I need to remember that, because it would be all too easy to let my guard down with this man, and I’m not ready to give in just yet. Some part of me understands what happened and knows I’ll probably succumb eventually, but I think he should work for it first. Is that petty of me? Maybe. But considering the extent of the crime, it seems reasonable.
Once the tub is clean, he rinses it out, then gets the water to a temperature he’s happy with and plugs the drain.
