Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Cam
Kissing Rowen was different than with anyone else. We hadn’t been seeing each other for long—a week, really— but there was a level of intimacy and trust I wasn’t sure I’d ever had before. On a deep level, I trusted him.
Even knowing people would talk if we left early, I was ready to ask Rowen how much longer the event would be, and if we could make an early exit to go back to my place. Or his place, I wasn’t picky.
With Rowen’s tentacles being able to hold me up and maneuver me around, we didn’t even need a bed. Could we have sex on his motorcycle?
Then some rude hicks interrupted us.
The two redheads were obviously brothers, and looked like identical twins—except one had a scar on his face.
Unlike Rowen’s long, rich, auburn hair, their copper heads looked like they got a haircut from a weedwhacker.
Behind them, I saw two dirty motorcycles parked illegally behind Rowen’s, partially blocking the road.
They were also greasy.
Not like how King or Clark Finley came in with engine grease under their nails, and sometimes smeared on their faces. These two were greasy like a politician you know is cruel to animals.
One of them referred to me as Rowen’s boy toy, and I snapped. I shouldn’t have assumed I could come out as non-binary to strangers in a small town, but Blue Lake had been so welcoming.
My words to contradict the assholes were met with laughter and pointing. Sigh. So mature. I was ready to take Rowen’s hand and walk away, but my man went stiff when one of the twins stepped towards me.
“Are you a girl, then? Want to give my dick a try?” The scarred one slurred lasciviously, even more under the influence than his brother. “Bet it’s better than fins. Can he even fuck you?”
A woman nearby gasped and covered the ears of a child, who was thankfully hidden behind her. I hoped she thought the jerk said Rowen’s name was ‘Fin’ and didn’t catch his meaning.
Leaning around Rowen’s arm as the woman walked away with the child in her arms, I whispered, “He’s eight times the man you are, creep.”
The unscarred man lunged forward, as if to avenge the insult to his brother’s honor, but he was slower than whoever blocked his path.
Leather-covered shoulders and dark, curly hair stopped the man short.
The logo on the back of his jacket told me who it was: Enforcer of the King Pack Motorcycle club.
“Back off, Zac,” Rowen’s friend Ricky held up his hands but didn’t touch Zac. I knew he was currently the bartender in town, who did tattoos on the side, but he’d previously been a professional MMA fighter. Hopefully these douche canoes would listen.
Rel, a firefighter and the Vice President of their club, stepped up beside Ricky, crossing his arms and blocking scar-face from skirting around Ricky.
“You want to protect this? Are you all queer now?” Zac asked, spitting his words. He clearly meant queer as an insult, but I was happy to reclaim the word as part of my identity.
“So what if we are?” Rowen’s dad appeared beside Rel, creating a wall of muscle between us and the interlopers.
Rowen stiffened in front of me, and I wondered if this was his dad being an ally or something more.
As far as I knew from what Rowen told me, Clark Finley had never dated anyone.
My first instinct was to assume he was just being a good dad and person.
Before I could think too hard on it, King rushed over to stand beside Ricky.
“Are you saying you and Zed got beat by a bunch of queers?” King drawled, raising an eyebrow.
Zac sputtered and glanced at his brother. I laughed at the fact these guys were named Zac and Zed, but also wondered where Zed got his scar. Rowen told me there were mostly wolf shifters, and I had to wonder if ‘King Pack’ was literal.
If the club was an actual wolf pack, what did that make these two? I remembered something about bear and coyote shifters and took in their tall height, broad shoulders, and fuzzy knuckles. Were they shifters?
“Fuck you,” Zed replied with zero wit. He grabbed his brother’s shoulder and backed up. “They don’t even have liquor. Let’s get out of here.”
“Buh-bye,” Riley piped up, with Channing giving them two middle fingers. I hadn’t noticed their approach, but they stood up to the bullies on equal footing with the men.
“Dicks,” Channing grumbled.
“Hey now, I like dicks,” Riley joked back. “They’re more like shit stains.”
“I was thinking of them as douche canoes,” I added and Rowen pulled me into his side.
The entire group started laughing at the banter between me, Riley, and Channing as if we hadn’t just had a tense confrontation.
At that moment, I had the realization that Channing and Riley were probably also wolf shifters.
My mind whirled as the twins hopped on their bikes without helmets and revved their engines.
Dark smoke billowed out of the exhaust, and I had to assume they weren’t welcome to get tune ups at Motorvated.
The entire group of them had jumped in to defend Rowen and I. No one had even raised their voices or thrown a punch. I was glad for it, since we were at a very public family event. I’d never had the type of community that rallied around people just because someone was cruel to a queer person.
In San Francisco, I had plenty of gay and trans friends, but I also worked six days a week. I never let myself build those connections. Somehow, I found it in Blue Lake with a bunch of shifters.
Tires squealing had us all turning our heads as the twins peeled out and headed north. The sound interrupted the holiday music and cheery conversation of the tree lighting.
As if time stood still, everything went silent besides the sound of their retreating bikes, and then a child’s cry cut through the air.
The eight of us rushed towards the street where traffic was still moving. Rowen grabbed for my hand and pulled me back when I almost stepped in front of a van.
We didn’t need to keep looking, though, because there was a little boy sitting in the middle of the road, sobbing and crying.
I might not be a shifter like Rowen and his friends, but if those assholes hurt a child, I was going to find out where they were and hurt them right back.