Chapter 6 Reign
REIGN
I wasn’t really hungry, but when he shoved the wad of cash at me and told me to get something to eat, I pretended I was.
I needed a little bit of space to figure out exactly what was happening, because not only had I left, but my father had no idea where I was. Nothing good could come of any of this.
If I’d been smart, I’d have asked him to drive me home.
Pretended like nothing had ever happened tonight.
But I hadn’t been smart, or more accurately, I hadn’t been able to say goodbye.
In the back of my mind, I didn’t think he’d have let me even if I had.
That should’ve concerned me, but for some reason, it didn’t.
Here I was, at some truck stop somewhere I didn’t even know where, with no way back home if I wanted one. How messed up was it that I’d been so focused on this stranger that I didn’t know what county we were in.
The truck stop itself had the normal fare, but nothing looked good. I wasn’t even looking for me. I was looking for Ezra. I wanted to give him something to eat, to take care of him. Maybe want was the wrong word—I needed to. Like I had no choice.
I wandered the aisles. Most of the aisles were junk food after junk food, which I didn’t have a problem with, but would he? He definitely looked like he exercised and took care of himself. Even with his clothes on, I could see his defined muscles.
Would he look at a bag of chips with disgust? Maybe he was one of those protein bros, and I should find him a protein bar. Or maybe a package of turkey or a can of tuna. Wasn’t that what they ate?
The more I thought about it, the more I got myself worried about the very last thing that I should be. And goodness knew there was enough to worry about.
He hadn’t asked for food. For all I knew, he wasn’t hungry. We were in a situation that we needed to find our way out of, and I was thinking about his stomach.
Eventually, I reached the counter where they had a small little sandwich station set up.
“Whatcha need?” the young man behind the counter asked. If he was twenty, I’d have been surprised.
I looked up at the menu board. They were all different sandwiches, one called “Martin’s Beast.”
“Who’s Martin?”
“I just work here, man. Do you want the Beast or not?”
So much for small talk.
“Yeah, I’ll take that.”
“Everything on it?”
I glanced down at the station in front of him. “Maybe no jalapenos.” Everything else could be taken off, but if he didn’t like heat, it was probably best to leave those off. “And maybe no pickles because the juice could leak into the bread.”
He just rolled his eyes and went to make the sandwich, wrapped it up, and slapped number 72 on it. How it became 72 when there were maybe 20 sandwiches on the board, I didn’t even begin to know.
“Thanks.” I grabbed it, along with a bag of gummy bears for myself and two bottles of water, and went to the register.
I paid with my own cash, for some reason feeling like using his was using him. I didn’t want him to think I was in it for the money. Not that I had spent a huge amount, but for whatever reason, what Ezra thought of me really mattered.
He was finishing up a call when I got back to the vehicle. I heard him say “brother,” but it didn’t sound like a family-ish kind of way. Or maybe that was a byproduct of me reading too many mafia books in an attempt to get an understanding of what I was getting into.
In hindsight, that had been a horrible idea. Because either the mafia people were just as bad as in the books, causing me to live in dread of what was to come, or they were far worse than the books, in which case I was going to be ill-prepared. Neither of those were good.
“Hey.” I handed him the sandwich. “I got this for you.”
“Why?” He looked from the sandwich to me.
“I don’t know. You looked hungry?” I climbed in the vehicle and threw his money on the driver’s seat, not wanting to get into an argument, which I had a feeling was going to come if he saw me return it. This way it was already done. No argument. At least that was the plan.
My seatbelt was buckled and my gummy bears opened when he opened up his side and looked down at the money.
“I gave this to you.”
“Yeah. I don’t need your money.” It sounded rude, and I hadn’t meant it that way. “I mean, you’ve done enough for me. I didn’t want to take your money.”
I could’ve sworn he growled, and I instinctively leaned back.
“Is that why you bought me a sandwich? As a thank-you?”
“Maybe. Sort of. I don’t know. Just eat it. It looked good.” How could I explain I was compelled to feed him.
“What is it?” He mouthed 72, the label on it.
“Martin’s Beast.”
His eyes went wide. “That sounds like you’re talking about someone’s dick.”
And the second he said it, I started cracking up, because he was right. It did. “How about just call it the number that’s on the paper wrapper.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a little better.” He opened it up. “Actually, this looks pretty good.”
It had been cut into quarters, and he handed me one. “Eat.”
He wasn’t asking. Still, I was going to argue until I saw that he, too, picked up a hunk and took a bite.
Looking at him in the dim parking lot light, he definitely had that gruff exterior that the Stravon family did. I wanted to ask him if he was mafia, but also, I didn’t want to know the answer. Because as much as I hated it, I was attracted to him… like, super attracted to him.
Not reaching out and putting my hand on his thigh when we were driving had been hard, which in turn had made me hard. Which was exactly what should not be happening here.
If I’d been somebody who went out and just made out with random guys or had friends-with-benefits or situationships or even relationships… well, maybe. But that wasn’t who I was. I had never even kissed a guy, and here I was wanting to bone this one.
“I have a weird question for you.”
He looked from my sandwich to my face, and I took a bite, chewing it and swallowing before asking again.
“So, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for your help, but I just want to clarify—am I being kidnapped?”
He shook his head. “No, of course you’re not.”
“I didn’t think so, but also… I was just checking.”
“Not kidnapped… you don’t want to be married, right?”
I thought I made that abundantly clear, but guess not.
“Oh, hell no.” Not the tiniest of bits. Resigned to, maybe. Only that had been before. Now? Now I didn’t think I could go through with it no matter the consequences.
“Then here we are. I’m helping you not be married. What made you think I was kidnapping you?” He didn’t seem mad, more confused. That was a good thing. “I handed you all my cash at a place you could have easily escaped from.”
“Honestly? You might not know this, but the Stravon family… they’re mafia.
And I kind of read a lot of books about the mafia, and…
I don’t know, my imagination got away with me.
” I actually hadn’t really even thought about it until I was ready to ask.
And then there I was, asking the man who was helping me if he was a freaking kidnapper.
Way to go, Reign. Way to freaking go.
“If you need to take me back, now that you know he’s mafia, I get it.”
He handed me a second quarter of the sandwich and finished up his. “Did you think I didn’t know that already?” He popped the last piece in his mouth and crumpled up the paper, giving me time to answer.
“I don’t know.”
“Everyone knows he’s mafia.” He turned on the ignition. “Of course I know.”
“But then why are you helping me? I don’t understand.”
“Because I don’t want him marrying you any more than you want to marry him. We need to get going.” And that ended that conversation.
He turned on the car and drove down the street. I wasn’t sure where we were going. I guess in hindsight, I hadn’t cared. He said he was keeping me safe and keeping me from marrying someone I wanted no part of knowing. That was enough.
But as we pulled up to a cabin, all the questions could no longer be contained. I needed the answers. “Why? Why are you helping me? For real, for real.”
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face me. “When I said I didn’t want him to marry you, it’s because I wanted to marry you.”
“You wanted to marry me?” That made no sense. What made even less sense was that it sounded like a great plan to me. “Not marry you so much as… mate you. And we might as well get it out in the open, I’m like Stravon.”
“I knew it. You’re mafia too.” And even though it should be a red flag the size of a football field, I didn’t care.
“Well, yeah, I am, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
This time it was me who unbuckled; I had to be looking at him face on to make sure he fully saw the honesty in my words. “Don’t you think that’s kind of a big thing?”
“Not as big as the other thing.” He grabbed his jaw. “I’m a wolf shifter. And I want to mate you.”
He couldn’t be serious and yet he was.
“Wolf shifter? Like in the books? Wolf shifter, like that kind of shifter?” Was I really entertaining his wild notions? Yes, and beyond that, I believed them, and somehow it made sense.
“Yeah.” He bit his bottom lip, and what was my first thought? I wished it was my teeth there. “You’re not running.”
Running? Why would I run? Oh yeah, because any person hearing someone thought they could turn into an animal should get away while they still could.
Only I didn’t believe he only thought he could shift, but that he was an actual wolf some of the time, which I supposed meant the running was a good idea.
But that would mean leaving him, and I didn’t want that. I very much didn’t want that.
“That’s because, as messed up as all this is, from the time we met to right now, I’ve had this pull toward you that defied logic. I think I believe you. I’m not saying I understand all of this, but how about this… maybe show me your wolf.”
One of two things was happening. This could be real, and this man, this man I was attracted to, that I felt safe with, turned into a wolf and wanted to mate me.
Which, if they were anything like the lore I knew, meant he would protect me with everything he had, making the whole mafia thing not that important, or maybe that important but in a very different way.
Or maybe this was all a dream. And if it was, I might as well live it out to its fullest. It wasn’t like I dreamed of a sexy mafia wolf shifter every day.
Whatever the case was, I was soon to find out.