Page 58 of Captive Wilderness
The thought shouldn’t have made me sick to my stomach, but it did.
Because of that, I’d vowed not to touch her, to keep my hands to myself and make this visit to Vancouver all about business. But every time she looked at me with those cat eyes of hers, my promise went right out the window.
I opened the door, glowering. Two hotel staff greeted me with hesitant smiles, then carried bags and boxes inside. They deposited them on the table beside the kitchenette and left without a word. When the door shut behind them, I stared, blinking at the massive mound of goods.
Brooke slunk out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a hotel robe. A cry of delight left her lips when she saw everything. “It’s like Christmas morning.” Smiling, she dove in. Makeup, shoes, hair products, smaller bags filled with tissue paper, everything got pulled out, examined, then set aside.
I’d wondered why she hadn’t come out with anything from that clothing store after spending almost two hours inside.
Out of one of the larger, square shopping bags came a briefcase. A briefcase? I shook my head, wondering why she needed all this stuff. Not that I cared about how much she spent. It wouldn’t even put a dent in the money I’d earned from working with Landon over the years, including the stocks I owned with his company, Urick Enterprises.
From the last bag, she pulled out two cell phones, one looking like it was the latest model, the other a low-tech flip phone.
“Burner phone,” she said when I raised my eyebrows at her. “I didn’t want to use my old number in case they could track me or my sister that way. But I need a way for her to contact me.” Her expression hardened, erasing the joy she’d had from exploring all her purchases. “She’ll try to check on me if she can. If she’s safe.”
I nodded. It made sense to get a disposable phone. My mate was good at thinking ahead. I jerked my chin at the other one.
She smiled. “This one is for you. I dreamed about how you used to text your friends and family all the time and thought you could use it.”
When she extended her hand to me, I shook my head. I wouldn’t need it. I wasn’t going to be in town that long. As soon as we found her sister, I’d go back to my cabin.
Her smile fell. “But…” She stared at the box. Her hand twitched once before she lowered it.
Brow furrowing, she put the phone box back inside the bag. She wouldn’t meet my gaze as she took out the charging cord for her phone and plugged it into the charging station in the side table near the couch.
Then, with two of the bigger bags in her arms, she headed to the bathroom. “I need a shower,” she muttered over her shoulder. The door closed behind her with a click.
My chest ached. Her emotional withdrawal hurt, but I knew it was for the best. She had to know there was no way for this to work. Not with the beast waiting to break free permanently and Brooke needing civilization to survive.
Even as I said those words to myself, the bear inside me growled in protest. It didn’t want to let her go.
Mate. Mine.
But I couldn’t allow the bear to win. Not this time. Brooke’s safety and happiness were on the line, along with anyone else’s who would come into contact with me. The aching hole in my chest expanded.
I stared at the mess remaining on the table and ran a hand over my face. My woman liked to shop. I’d known it from her dreams. When she got together for a shopping date with her mother, they’d spend the whole day going around to different stores, having lunch and coffee breaks, making it a whole experience. I knew from Brooke’s thoughts that those moments were some of her favorites with her mother.
On the other side of the bathroom door, the shower turned on. I remained immobile, staring at the shopping bags on the table. It took me long minutes before I moved, finding the room service menu in the kitchenette. After staring at it, I left, heading to the lobby to order.
The water was still running when I returned fifteen minutes later. That woman also loved her showers. Not that I could blame her for taking advantage of the room’s amenities after being stuck at my cabin for so long.
God, how she must have hated it. I’d dreamed of her sitting on the dock once, and she hadn’t been filled with disdain, only peace. But up at my cabin, she didn’t have the things that had kept her happy before meeting me. The stores, the clubs, the dinners out, the excitement… I could offer her none of it.
I walked to the window and stared out at the harbor. No matter how much it hurt, I had to let her go. She’d had little choice in the initial mating and her heat had dictated the rest. Over time, the pain of being separated from my mate would fade. For both of us.
While I listened to the shower, I told myself these things over and over again, hoping at some point I’d believe it.
A half hour later, room service arrived on a rolling cart. I’d cleared the table and the server set it out before disappearing. To distract myself from the increasing pain in my chest, I arranged everything. I knew what Brooke liked from our dreams. Bacon and eggs, toast, a side of cherry Danish, coffee, and orange juice. I might have gone overboard, but I’d wanted her to have everything she loved.
I glanced at the bathroom door. The water had stopped, but she remained inside. I hoped she would come out before everything got cold. To keep her dish warm, I covered it with the silver dome. My stomach grumbled and I glanced at the door again. No telling how long she’d be. With a heavy exhale, I sat in one of the chairs and dug into the eggs. When I’d finished my plate, she still hadn’t come out.
I was about to pour myself a second cup of coffee when the bathroom door finally opened. The sight made me jump to my feet, overturning my chair and dropping my mug in the process.
Gone was the mate I’d come to know over the past two weeks. In her place was a business woman in a navy pantsuit with a bright white dress shirt underneath. The blonde hair that usually spilled everywhere like it had a life of its own was tamed in a neat twist at the back of her head, not a stray curl out of place. She wore glasses,glasses, and behind them was a face that belonged in a boardroom. Arched eyebrows, red lips, cheekbones that looked like they could cut glass—she’d sculpted her usual softness into something else. How had she done it?
If I hadn’t seen her go into the bathroom myself, I would have thought a stranger had walked out.
A small smile twitched on her lips at my reaction. She spread her arms and did a little turn. “What do you think?”
