Chapter 22 #2
Rummaging through my purse, I happily come up with more than I thought.
Between the money I saved not having to pay for the valerian root, Z robbing a grocery store before inviting himself to move in, Devlin handling dinner every night, and not bothering to pay my electric bill since I’m abandoning ship anyway, I have nearly two hundred dollars.
So I take the next right, heading to the grocery store instead of home.
I won’t blow it all, but can bridge the gaps in the random things Z brought home to turn them into actual meals.
Hell, depending on how much they run, maybe I can spring for a small electric heater for the bathroom.
May as well run up that electric bill before I ditch the house and hide behind my LLC. The clinic’s account is under the company name, not mine, thank the fates. And that one, I actually pay on time.
A sense of foreboding snakes up my spine, wrapping around my throat like a noose.
Pulling out my broken phone as an excuse to subtly look behind me, I see a group of three guys about a hundred feet back on the sidewalk, which in itself wouldn’t be strange.
I’m in the heart of the city, after all.
It’s a public street, it’s morning, and there are plenty of businesses around.
But I’ve made a living out of trusting my instincts, and I’m not about to stop now.
I’d rather look stupid about overreacting than wind up in a cage like Yukina’s.
Acting as if I haven’t noticed them, I continue walking. Each car I pass, I swiftly check to ensure no one is waiting inside and I’m being herded, and when I get near an alley? I cross the street instead of passing near it.
Which may or may not have been the worst possible decision as a giant ducks his head to clear the doorway and emerges out of the bed and breakfast, fiddling with his keys as he approaches his car.
Bracing myself for the wave of nausea, I reach out with my mimic ability, assessing the threats and which of their powers will come in handy to escape.
There are only five businesses that aren’t open yet between me and the grocery store.
One block. All I need is to buy myself enough time to run one block, and I’ll be safe.
If only the city was as anal about throwing down salt as Devlin. Fifty-fifty chance I’m going to slip and break my nose within the first five feet.
Siren, regeneration, and… I’m not quite sure about the third. A sort of vampire, but not? All I’m picking up is that he can turn blood into wine, and honestly, I’m tempted to borrow his power just to play with it for a little while.
A serial killer turning his victims into a winery wasn’t on my mystic bingo card, but I’m starting to think I’ve only scratched the surface of the weird shit the world has to offer. Or threaten me with, depending on the day.
When I reach out to the giant ahead of me, I don’t even register an ability. All I get is an overwhelming wave of safety that nearly has me buckling at the knees.
Fates, he could play keep away without breaking a sweat and just hold me out of their reach until they got tired and left. Sign me up to play monkey in the middle if he’s on my team.
My instincts have never led me astray before, so I choose to lean into them with every fibre of my being, embracing my inner Devlin. A.K.A; do not give a single fuck about what anyone thinks about you. “My love! I was worried I wouldn’t catch you before you left.”
I feel the weight of his suspicion hit me in slow motion, every centimeter his head slowly turns boring into my soul and making it whither and die a little. But that’s okay; I have plenty to spare. It’ll take more than a lone stranger to break my self-esteem.
He’d have to find it first.
“What the hell are you playing at-” I cut off his efforts to blow this for me by throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms around his middle.
Well, kind of. Dude must have monster genes with the way he towers above me, my fingertips nowhere near touching when I hug him.
He’s not even wearing a coat, just a long sleeved black t-shirt, and he still gives off enough heat to have me sinking into him.
Under my breath, I murmur, “Pretend to be my boyfriend for a minute? These guys have been following me.”
He jolts against me upon contact, stiffening for a moment before his demeanor abruptly shifts. Palming my thigh, he lifts me like I weigh nothing, hiking me up his body single-handedly and glaring over my shoulder. “Want me to kill ‘em?”
Actually… yeah, kind of. But I don’t have a good enough reason to warrant it, so I sigh instead. “No, that’s okay. Just keep me company until they’re gone?”
As easy as breathing, he sets me down to sit on top of his car, stepping between my legs and resting his palms beside my thighs, caging me in. “Do you have any idea how reckless it was to throw yourself at the mercy of a stranger?”
“Absolutely. But you’re not going to hurt me, so it’s fine.”
His soft green eyes widen in surprise. “Why on earth would you assume that? I could crush you without breaking a sweat.”
Weird flex, but jokes on him, I’m into it.
He would have no trouble throwing me around if he wanted to, but the visions it conjures make it seem more like a reward than a threat.
“Because if you were going to hurt me, you’d have ripped my head off when I ambushed you and added it to the spikes to ward off visitors from your swamp.”
He pauses for only a second before bursting into laughter that shakes his whole chest. “That’s an awful lot of confidence for such a little thing. What if I was a serial killer?”
“The odds are astronomical that there’d be two in one town.”
The smile that takes over his face steals my breath away. Before I can recover, he leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth and murmuring, “They keep shooting murderous looks in my direction, but are about half a block down now, so I think you’re in the clear.”
Why does that information kick me in the gut?
“Thanks for letting me use you. I should probably get going then if you want to let me down?”
His hesitation sets every needy desire I’ve ever suppressed alight with hope I have to mentally punch in the face.
I have three, four I guess, if I’m being technical, mates.
That’s more than enough dicks to juggle.
After growing up ostracized, it’s more than I ever dreamed I’d find.
I have no business dragging another person into the clown show that is my life.
If wishes were fishes, we’d all drown, or however the saying goes.
“Not particularly. Where were you headed before you decided to climb me like a tree?” he rumbles, and heat suffuses my cheeks.
I attempt to wiggle my way out of his grip, but his hold is rock solid.
After a futile minute of squirming, he relents with a put-out sigh and gently sets me back on my feet.
“The grocery store?”
I can’t even tell you why I phrase it like a question. But something about this mountain of a man has me all shaken up.
“Perfect, me too.” We walk the rest of the distance in companionable silence, and I take the opportunity to study the man I hitched my survival on.
He’s the BFG; big, fuckable giant. Damn near seven feet tall, stacked with enough muscle to make gym bros cry into their protein shakes, and a unique blend of dark blond and light brown hair threaded into viking style braids that end just past his shoulders.
Tattoos decorate his knuckles and crawl up beneath the long sleeves of his shirt, peeking out beneath his collar to adorn his neck.
It’s the soft green eyes that really do me in, though.
Seeing far more than you’d expect a man his size to.
“Shit,” he breathes, staring down at his phone with a pained expression. Pulling out a hundred dollar bill from his wallet, he slips it into my hand and commands, “Don’t tell anyone you saw me. For your own safety.”
With that, he’s just… gone. Disappears out the doors without a trace like he never existed at all. I didn’t even get his name.
It’s probably my Havoc trauma, but it hits me harder than I expected when the sliding doors close behind him.
It’s a good five minutes before I have my emotions stuffed down into an impenetrable box and grab a cart, wandering the aisles.
I’m able to get far more than I anticipated thanks to the weekly sales going on in addition to the money my savior left as a parting gift, so I roll up to the register feeling like life has finally started to fall in my favor after twenty-four years of an uphill slog.
That really should have been my first clue.
“I-it’s covered," the cashier stammers, and I frown, super confused.
“What do you mean, covered? That’s not how stores work. How the hell would someone know what I was going to buy enough to estimate a pay it forward thing? Why would they in the first place?”
The teenage cashier swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he avoids meeting my gaze. “He was very clear, ma’am. Anything you purchased was to be charged to his card.”
My first thought- ma’am? Seriously? Talk about a punch to the gut. I’m nowhere old enough to be a ma’am anywhere but an elementary school, and it’s yet another dropkick to my already abused self-esteem.
Second? There are only three possible men he could be referring to. Two of which I’d be frustrated about, but could accept why they’d make the assumption and have a calm, rational conversation with when I get home.
Reading the annoyed confusion on my face, the cashier blurts, “The guild master, ma’am.
He was very specific in his demands. Every register in every store in town has a picture of you with a note now, so there won’t be any confusion with shift changes or new hires, you don’t need to worry.
No need to call your mate, we have everything handled.
Will this be all, or is there something else you need?
I could send someone to grab it. No trouble at all, seriously,” he says, sweat trickling down his temple.
Are eye twitches a sign of a heart attack? Because either I’m about to die, or someone else is.
“Please hold.” Abandoning my spot in line, I walk past the people behind me, grabbing things at random.
Some chips, a comforter set, and Jules’s favorite brand of socks to keep his tail covered in our icebox of a house.
After a moment of hesitation, I go back for a couple of slim, electric space heaters as well.
Walking past the annoyed customers, I plop it all on the belt, and the cashier rings them up like his life depends on it, a cart of bagged items already waiting for me.
“Anything else, ma’am?” he asks, smile forced and not even sparing a single glance at the frustrated people grumbling behind me in line. Like he’s more scared of what Havoc will do to him than whatever they’ll attempt.
I’m pissed that a thrill shoots down my spine at the knowledge that my fated mate’s name carries that much weight, while equally loving in it. That love also comes with a heaping dose of reality, though, and that shit hurts.
“Thanks.”
Taking my haul, I loop all the bags on my arms and start the arduous trek home.
It’s only twenty minutes, but with the heavy load and all the icy patches on the sidewalks?
It makes me really appreciate Devlin’s efforts.
He’s busy doing… whatever the heck a Devlin does when he isn’t breaking into my house, and still, he finds time to make sure I don’t get hurt on my commute to and from work.
He acknowledges his flaws and works with them to find solutions to ensure the people in his life aren’t neglected.
I just don’t understand what Havoc’s playing at. What does he gain by paying off my house and covering my groceries? Absolution for his guilt?
“He doesn’t deserve a single bit of peace if he can’t even find the courage to admit he fucked up and apologize,” I mutter to myself, feeling a little feral myself.
If Havoc thinks he’s going to storm into my life and take over now that it suits him? He’s in for one hell of an unpleasant surprise.