Chapter Twenty
Oakley
Okay, so my dad had been right about one thing—taking some time off was seriously refreshing. Especially when that time was spent watching Roman carry around seven hundred of my shopping bags for me.
At this point, I was literally buying things just to add more bags to his pile to see how long it would take him to start complaining, or at the very least, ask me to carry some of my own crap.
I didn’t even know what half the shit I’d bought was, and I couldn’t believe Rome hadn’t realized what I was doing yet.
So far, he was carrying nineteen bags. I was hoping for at least twenty-five, but I’d be happy with even one more.
Carrying a perfume I liked up to the register, I said, “Chop, chop, old man. Don’t start gettin’ slow on me now.”
All Rome did was sigh, and I held in a snicker as I passed the bottle to the cashier. As subtly as I could, I turned my back to lean against the counter and lifted my phone, pretending to scroll through it. I opened my camera app and managed to snap a few pictures of Roman and his overloaded arms.
He turned toward me and lifted a brow. “Are you seriously taking pictures of me right now?”
“What? I’m doing no such thing.”
“You act like I don’t know you.”
I couldn’t help my snort. “Don’t know why you’d complain. You look all strong and muscly carrying all that.”
He rolled his eyes and went back to scanning the area, looking for threats, but I didn’t miss the twitch of his lips.
He totally knew I was messing with him, didn’t he? But for some reason, he was going along with it.
“Are you ready?” the cashier said, trying to get my attention.
I turned to her with a smile and finished the transaction before carrying the bag back to Roman. It was a small, black bag that I was dying to hang off his ear or something, but I just held it out to him, wondering what he’d do.
He stared at it, then at me, then back at it, and let out the loudest sigh ever. This time, I had to bite my cheek to stop myself from cracking up.
“Really?” he asked, already sounding resigned.
I nodded. “Yep. I need to try on a couple of shirts over there”—I gestured in a random direction—“soooooooo here.”
The pinky of his left hand shot out. “Stick it on.”
“You sure you wouldn’t rather wear it like an earring?”
The look he gave me could’ve seared a phoenix.
When I tried to hold back a laugh, I ended up making a weird barking noise, but I still stuck the bag on his finger. “There you go.” I gave him a pat on his cheek since there was nowhere else that wasn’t covered in bags. “You make a really great pack mule.”
“You are the biggest ass ever, and I feel like I’m the only one who knows. You hide it well, but one day, the others will see.”
I couldn’t hold back my laughter anymore, and I burst out in a fit of giggles, my eyes watering as I bent in half, trying to catch my breath.
Before Roman actually got mad, I shot back up to standing, whipped out my phone again, and snapped a few pictures.
In one of them, he was looking at me with a raised brow, and the casual expression on the big guy covered in bags was hysterical and perfect.
Before he could stop me, I opened up a group text that had practically everyone we knew in it and sent a picture with the caption:
Bags I’ve had to carry today: 0
Then I shoved my phone back in my pocket and smiled up at my pack mule. “Blouses are this way.”
My phone vibrated with texts, and I knew Rome’s was too, but he couldn’t pull his out, so I wasn’t worried about him seeing it yet.
Over the next thirty minutes, I bought five more bags of things, and still, Roman didn’t ask me to carry anything. He had to know exactly what I was doing. Why the hell was he just… going along with it?
I snapped another picture of him, this time, he was mid-eye roll, and sent it along in the text chain.
Me: Rome- 25. Me- still 0
I ignored the replies again and put my phone away.
“So,” he said, staring at me. “You ever planning on helping me with all your shit, or am I just here as a glorified cart?”
I pointed at him. “Hell yeah. Made it to twenty-five.”
“What?”
“I wanted to see how many bags you’d carry for me before you started complaining or made me carry some.”
“Do you really think I didn’t know what you were doing?”
That made me grin. “Then why’d you let me…” I trailed off, gesturing to the monstrosity of bags all over him.
He shrugged. “You were having fun.”
I… didn’t know what to say to that. “And you weren’t?”
“I didn’t say that, but seeing how excited you were was… funny, so…” He shrugged again, looking kind of uncomfortable.
Since I had no clue what to do with any of that, I asked, “Wanna go to the food court for some lunch?”
“I thought you had to try on some pants now or something?”
“Nope. I’m good. That was only to add more bags for my experiment.”
He rolled his eyes again, but his lips twitched.
I started walking away, but Roman’s voice stopped me.
“Are you serious?”
I looked over my shoulder at him. “What?”
He lifted his arms, making the bags crinkle and swoosh, one of them swinging wildly. “Now that your game’s over, surely you can help.”
That made me laugh again, and I walked over to him, saying, “Why don’t we drop this crap off at the car, then grab something to eat down at the food court?”
“I like that plan, but if we’re going out there, why don’t we go to one of the restaurants around the mall instead of the food court? The food’ll be better.”
I shrugged. “Fine by me. Lead the way, good sir.”
“Oak.”
I bit back a grin and tried my best to look innocent. “What?”
“Innocent doesn’t work on you.”
I gasped in mock horror. “You dare say that to the royal—”
Before I could finish, Roman shoved an armful of bags into my chest, cutting me off and making me laugh at his look of satisfaction. “A royal pain in my ass, that’s what you are.”
I gasped again, this time in mock outrage. “How dare you say that about your—”
His hand came up and covered my mouth, cutting me off, mostly from shock and a little from the feel of his skin on my lips. Holy shit. Holy crapola, his skin was right fucking there. I could actually lick him if I just opened my mouth and—
“Do not finish that sentence… Your Highness.” He actually meant, you royal asshat.
I snorted, and I almost, almost opened my lips and dared to lick a stripe along his palm, but I forced myself to stop and take a step back, making him drop his hand. “Yeah, whatever, Mr. High Guard Dickhead.”
“Wow, now you’re calling me names after I carried all your stuff for you all day long? This is the side of you that no one but me gets to see.” He sighed. “I need the world to know that Oakley Von Stein is actually a world-class douche canoe.”
I laughed. “Oh my Scales, you’re so mean! That’s what I’m going to tell the whole world.”
“The world already knows that.”
That made me roll my eyes, and I shoulder-bumped him as we walked toward the exit. “They think that, sure, which is probably a good thing for a king’s guard, but in reality, you’re one of the kindest people I know.”
He snorted like I’d said the most ridiculous thing ever, and we walked out of the mall.
“Seriously, Rome. You’re amazing, and I never would’ve come this far without you. You… you make me feel safe.”
He stopped walking and faced me, so I stopped too, staring up at him. He really was tall as hell. And handsome. And I really did feel safe with him. I always had.
“I…” He scanned the parking lot for a moment. “Really?”
I sent him a sincere smile. “Yeah, Rome, really. You’ve always made me feel safe.”
I didn’t know how to put into words how important that was to me.
How much it’d meant when I’d first come here.
How I didn’t think I would’ve pulled myself out of that cult mentality without him.
Without Dad and Tan too, of course, but Rome, he…
he’d always made me feel warm and comfortable, like I could be myself around him, no matter what.
It was something I’d always cherish and be grateful for.
“Okay, so the world needs to know just how sweet you can be sometimes too.”
That made me snort, and we started walking again. “Great, so you’re gonna tell them I’m a royal asshole with a sweet side?”
“Exactly.”
“Dork.”
We made it to the car, and we started piling the bags into the trunk and the back seat.
One of my bags had something breakable—a crock pot I didn’t think he’d ever let me use, although I didn’t see how I could start a fire with one of those—so I knelt on the backseat and set the thing on the floor so it didn’t fly off the seat and break.
Then I pulled all the other bags off my shoulders and arms, letting them fall wherever they landed, and ducked back out of the car with a satisfied sigh.
“Where do you think we should go fo—”
My words were cut off when I was pushed roughly back into the car, and a loud noise rang through the air. It took me a second to realize it was a gunshot, or a spell that sounded like one.
The breath rushed out of me, and I fought back for only a second, thinking I was being attacked by someone, before I realized Roman was the one who’d pushed me.
“What the fuck?” I breathed out, gathering myself. My hands were on the car’s seat, and my ass was sticking out of the car with Roman’s own ass pushed against it.
For only a split second, dirty thoughts sprang to mind, but then I heard Rome grunt, and I knew exactly what was happening.
I was being attacked, and Rome was protecting me.
Shit.
As quickly as I could, I flipped around, my butt landing on the edge of the seat, so I could see what the fuck was happening. I was climbing out of the car as I registered what I saw.
Roman was in hand-to-hand combat with a masked person wearing all black, carrying a very large machete. Behind them, there were four more guys moving in, all in black, all with masks covering their faces so only their eyes were showing.
But I recognized those masks. I recognized the emblem each of them had on their upper left pec. I recognized the weapons in their hands.
The Emissaries of Gepisha’s Iron.
The cult.
They’d come after me.
I reached for a spell in my pocket, but before I could touch the artifact, I felt a blast of magic rush over me, shoving me back into the car again and pushing me against the seat.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fucking move.