Page 39 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

Kit’s eyebrows drew together, probably confused by my panic over what he’d meant as kindness.

“It’s my fault,” I said. “This flat is stupidly expensive because it has a nice view. Because… you can see the very edge of Battersea Park… if you squint.”

“Right…” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

And there it was, surfacing almost immediately—that strange tension that existed only between me and Kit. My flat suddenly felt microscopic. Kit Thorne in my personal space, where I slept and ate and existed.

“Can you point to where you saw him?” Kit asked.

We both headed to the one window. Like everything else in the flat, the window was small, so we had to squeeze together to both look out at once. My shoulder pressed against Kit’s arm, my entire left side flush against his solid warmth. The damp wool of his cardigan smelled like rain.

“So…?” Kit prompted. Shit. We’d been blankly gazing out the window, and I’d been too distracted by his body touching mine to remember why we were here.

“Right! Sorry!” I pointed across the road. “There. Under the bus stop. He was just standing there, staring up at this building.”

Kit leaned closer to the glass, his breath fogging the window. “And what did he look like?”

“Well…” I glanced up at Kit, towering above me. Definitely a smidge over six foot. “Like your height and build, I guess? I didn’t get a good look at his face because he had a hood up, and it’s dark and drizzly, and I jumped away from the window when I realised. But his face was angled towards my window. I just know he was looking at me.”

Kit nodded like he believed me. Completely believed me. A dizzying burst of gratitude shot through me.

“Stay here. I’ll go take a look around the bus stop and the general area.”

God, I was such an asshole. I’d been so busy dreading Kit’s arrival, wrapped up in my own anxiety at answering questions and having him invade my space, that I’d completely failed to appreciate what he was actually doing.

Kit had rushed here, soaked from the rain, whatever evening plans he’d had abandoned without question. He’d looked at me with those steady grey eyes and believed me when I said someone had been watching. No scepticism, no gentle suggestions that maybe I’d imagined it, no dismissive reassurances.

“Thank you so much, Kit,” I said, all breathy, the gratefulness in my tone maybe a tad over the top.

For some reason, this made Kit pull a very strange face. “Please don’t thank me. I’m just… doing my job.”

“Right,” I said, nodding violently. “But I really appreciate you giving up your Friday night to come straight here.”

For a moment, he looked like he might say something else, but then just walked towards the corridor.

“Wait!” I said. “Where’s your coat? It’s really drizzly out there.”

Kit paused. “I… forgot it this evening.” His voice sounded bizarrely strained.

“You can borrow my raincoat if you want—”

“It definitely won’t fit me,” Kit said with a laugh. “But I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Then he left.

I couldn’t help but watch from the window as Kit crossed the road. The rain had picked up, and even from this distance it was obvious his cardigan was now completely soaked through. He moved methodically around the bus stop, crouching to examine the ground, checking behind the shelter. A few late-night commuters gave him odd looks as they hurried past, probably wondering why this massive man was prowling around in the rain without a coat.

Strange that Kit had forgotten his coat. He was usually so prepared for everything.

He disappeared out of sight, then ten minutes later was back in my living room.

“There are so many scents near that bus stop,” he said, running a hand through his soaked hair. “But I’ve got them logged now. If your stalker comes back, I’ll know. Plus, I’ll come back as a wolf later tonight when there’s nobody about to get a better read.”

“Thank you.”

Water dripped from his cardigan onto my carpet.

“No sign of any men that look like me,” he added, like it was a funny joke, though it came out with this weird, peculiar laugh. God, this was the most bizarre night of my life.