“It’s a very common language, and it was how he addressed me. I was just being polite.”
The woman stood abruptly, dumping the rest of the water onto the concrete floor. Ewen watched it spread across the stained surface, soaking into cracks and disappearing.I’d lap that up in a heartbeat if I could get out of this damn chair,he thought, blinking rapidly.
“We know who that man is,” she said. “He goes by one name as if he’s a celebrity. Lamont. Freelance journalist, apparently highly regarded in his field.” She sniffed as if she found theidea ridiculous. “Interesting that he happened to be at the same restaurant as you.”
Panic spiked through Ewen’s chest. If they knew Lamont’s name, they could find him. Could hurt him. Could…
“We weren’t working together,” Ewen said quickly. Too quickly.Damn it, slow down, and keep calm. “I’d never met him before that night.”
“Then why did he look at you like that?”
Like what? Like Ewen mattered? Like seeing Ewen had flipped some switch in Lamont’s brain and rearranged his priorities?
Except it hadn’t, clearly, because Lamont had left.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The woman studied him, dark eyes calculating. “You’re protecting him.”
“I’m hardly in a position to protect anybody. I don’t know him. We exchanged maybe ten words before your goons showed up.”
“Hmm.” She moved toward the stairs, heels clicking against concrete. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Mr. Cross. Think carefully about what you want to tell me. My employers are running out of patience.”
She left, and the door locked behind her with a heavy clunk.
Ewen sagged in the chair, adrenaline draining away and leaving exhaustion in its wake. His fox was pacing now, agitated and anxious. The animal kept reaching for Lamont through a bond that apparently didn’t exist yet, whining when it found nothing.
“He doesn’t know,” Ewen whispered to his fox. “That’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
Because if Lamont had recognized Ewen as his mate, he never would have let those men drag Ewen away. He would have tornthrough them like tissue paper, would have followed the van, would have tracked Ewen down by now. The mate bond was supposed to be overwhelming, impossible to ignore. But it only worked if both people felt it.
That had to be it. Lamont didn’t know.
Some paranormals, like shifters, recognized their mates instantly. For others the process took time, or proximity, or the right circumstances. For example, vampires needed to smell someone’s blood. Ewen’s fox had known the second Lamont walked into view, but maybe whatever Lamont was - and Ewen still couldn’t figure that out - maybe his species didn’t work that way.
“Or maybe you’re just not his type,” Ewen muttered. “Maybe he likes tall, muscular guys who don’t get kidnapped within five minutes of meeting.”
His fox growled, indignant this time.
Fine. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter that Lamont didn’t know. If he didn’t know, he wasn’t coming. Which meant Ewen needed to figure out his own escape plan, because sitting in a basement waiting for rescue was pathetic and would probably end up with him dead.Then I’ll never learn what species Lamont is.
Ewen tested the zip ties again, twisting his wrists carefully. The plastic cut deeper, warm blood trickling down his palms. The chair didn’t budge, the bolts were holding firm. Even if he could shift - which he couldn’t with the way his hands were bound - his fox form wasn’t exactly built for breaking chains. He could slide out of the zip ties that way…but both of my shoulders would be dislocated.
Silver foxes were small, quick, and clever. Great for stealing chickens and looking adorable. Terrible for combat.
Footsteps overhead made Ewen freeze. Multiple sets this time, heavy boots against floorboards. Voices filtered down, arguing in Arabic. Ewen’s Arabic was decent enough to catch a few words: “complications,” “timeline,” “dispose.”
That last one sent ice through his veins.
His fox whimpered, pressing close to Ewen’s consciousness. The animal didn’t understand why their mate hadn’t saved them, and couldn’t comprehend the idea that Lamont didn’t know, didn’t feel the pull. To the fox, it was simple. Mates belonged together. Everything else was just details.
“I know, buddy,” Ewen whispered. “I know.”
He closed his eyes again, letting himself picture Lamont one more time. Those dark eyes, intense and focused. That long hair that Ewen wanted to touch, wanted to tug loose from its tie, and run his fingers through. The way Lamont had looked at him, really looked, as if Ewen was worth paying attention to.
Maybe if they ever met again -when they met again, Ewen corrected firmly - he’d actually get to have a real conversation. Maybe he’d make Lamont laugh, find out what that smile looked like when it wasn’t guarded. Maybe he’d get to touch those broad shoulders and even lean on them a moment.
The door opened again. Scar-eyebrow descended the stairs, and his expression promised nothing good.