√SIXTEEN.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN.**

Draken was speeding through the city like he had a hot date with a parking ticket. Meanwhile, I was gripping the passenger door handle like it was a lifeline. I quickly left a message for Karina, telling her I was okay and I planned on sleeping over at my family place. She replied to me with a heart emoji, and I felt a pang of guilt for lying to her. Karina was a good friend, but even at that, I had reasons for hiding the truth from her.

When we got to his building, I was pretty sure it had more floors than there are days in the year. Draken parked his car, hopped out, and I followed, trying to play it cool. I swear, the elevator alone was fancier than my entire dormitory. We entered it and took it up to the sixth floor. His apartment was enormous, nearly as big as Topper's place, but Draken's condo was meticulously designed, with striking artworks and inspirational quotes on the walls. It felt like the complete opposite of his bedroom at the Gallagher estate.

"Your place is huge," I said, unable to hide the fact that my eyes were about to pop out of my head.

He led me to a massive window overlooking New York City. The view was so stunning. Just like Topper's place, it had a fantastic vantage point overlooking the Hudson River Park. I could've charged tourists to look through it.

"It's beautiful," I muttered under my breath, lost in the scenery. It was stunning.

"The view is one of the main reasons I bought the building," Draken said, standing beside me.

"You bought the whole building?" I asked, stunned. I knew properties in Tribeca were notoriously expensive.

"Topper hooked me up after buying his building down the street," he replied nonchalantly. "It was a good deal for the price. I just paid 30 bucks."

"Thirty bucks? Are you serious? Did you get it at a thrift shop?" I asked, trying to remember if I'd ever seen a *‘Buy One Get One Free’* sign on a skyscraper. There was no way a building in New York, especially Tribeca, would sell for just 30 dollars. "It just can't be right."

Draken laughed. "When I say 30 bucks, I mean 30 million," he clarified. "My bad."

We stood there, soaking in the city lights and it felt like we were in one of those cheesy romantic movies where the soundtrack was a *Taylor Swift* ballad. I was trying really hard not to think about our mate bond or even more…the kiss we shared earlier, but it was like trying to forget your first encounter with a hot chili pepper—it was definitely coming back to burn. So, I wandered around the condo, pretending I was into art. Draken had all these fancy paintings and sculptures, like he was auditioning for *"The Great British Bake Off,"* but with art instead of pastries.

One piece particularly caught my eye—a portrait of a bleeding wolf, split in half, with each half moving in different directions. "This is beautiful," I said, reaching out to touch the canvas. It was an oil painting. "Who made this?"

"I did," Draken replied.

“You did?”

"I painted that," he said.

I took my gaze away from the painting and stared at him, surprised. "I didn't know you paint. This is so good. I bet this is the type of painting one would find at the *Louvre* museum."

"You think? I think it's just mediocre," came his response. He seemed unsure about his art

"You don't sound confident," I noted.

"I'm not. I don't think I'm as talented as my brother anyways."

"He paints also?"

Draken nodded. "Give me a minute," he said, disappearing into another room. He returned with a large frame. "Drake and I shared the same hobbies, including painting and ballet when we were kids. He was my motivation in middle school, but he's better at everything. He drew this with just a pencil."

The portrait felt so alive. It was a drawing of three boys at the beach. One was smiling while playing with a Barbie doll, another was crying, and the third had a blank expression, staring at the boy with the doll. The level of detail was astonishing, almost like a photograph in black and white.

"Perfection, huh?" Draken said.

I nodded, entranced by the portrait. "What is the story behind it?"

"Drake told me the crying kid is me, the one playing with the doll is Topper, and the one with the blank expression is Drake," he explained. "He never told me the backstory, but he gave copies to both Topper and me."

I nodded, grasping in his words. Then I turned back to Draken's wolf portrait. "What about you? What's the story behind your portrait?"

"It's about my brother and I," he replied, dropping down the portrait in his hand. "I mean, we're twins but we're nothing alike. Drake is what one would call perfect -"

"Perfect doesn't exactly fit with someone in a wheelchair," I joked before my brain could put on the brakes. Draken's eyes went wide, and I felt like I’d just been caught raiding a nun’s cookie jar. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made such a joke."

Draken burst out laughing. "No, no, I'm not even mad at it. I'm just surprised you have a sense of humor," He shook his head, still chuckling.

I punched him lightly in the arm, like I was suddenly a karate expert. "Hey, I'm a regular stand-up comedian," I said, though in my head, I was definitely adding this to the list of things I'd regret saying later. "I have a lot of layers to me."

"I hope to one day unravel them all," he said, and I could hear the desperation in his voice as he brought one of his hands to my cheeks. "About the kiss—"

"Can we go to sleep already?" I quickly interrupted, trying to avoid the topic. I didn't know what I was scared of, but I also didn't think I was ready to have the conversation. "Where would I be sleeping? I can just manage on the couch."

Draken chuckled. "I see you don't want to talk about it."

If someone had told me back in middle school that Draken Gallagher would be my *mate* or even my first kiss, I would have hit the person. Just a week ago, I labeled him as my nemesis. But now, I didn't even know if I could still call him one. "What do we have to talk about?"

"I told you I want to get to know you better, but you didn't give me a reply," he said.

I bit my lip, looking down. "I don't know about that, Draken," I said, "I don't see how it's possible for a cat and a werewolf to mate. It's like a prey purposefully entering a predator territory."

"You're overthinking it—"

I cut him off. "Can we just go to sleep? I have class tomorrow," I hoped he'd take the hint and let me avoid the awkward conversation.

Draken seemed like he still had a lot to say, but he kept quiet and led me to the bedroom. "The other rooms aren't furnished yet, so you can take my bed and I'll take the couch."

I wanted to disagree, but Draken shut me off as he dragged me over to his bedroom.

"No arguments," he said, grabbing a duvet from the closet before heading out. "Good night, Eline."