Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
As soon as we pull into the industrial area, Grizz changes. His face hardens, his eyes locking on a nondescript warehouse on one side of a long chain link fence. A few cars are parked close to it, but he parks far away.
“What is this place?”
“No man’s land. Not shifter, not vampire. They both claim it, though. But everyone knows what happens here is off the radar. Doesn’t count. No retaliation allowed.”
My eyes trail back to the building. “Retaliation for what?”
“You’ll see. Here”—he shrugs out of his jacket— “Put this on.” He continues as I scramble to obey, “When you’re here, you’re my property.”
The statement sends zings straight to my things, and he notices it. “Not like that. I’m not collaring you.”
I put my hand to my neck. The vampire’s scar is a clear enough mark of ownership. Grizz thinks so too, his face turns dark. “You don’t belong to him.” His hand surrounds my neck, a living collar. His fingers are rough against my skin. His face dips to mine and he growls. “He mistreated you, and I stepped in. Shoulda done it sooner. Would’ve, if I’d known. Now you’re in my care. That means when we’re here, stay close, stay quiet, follow my lead. You understand?”
“Yeah. Like high protocol.”
His brow wrinkles. “Not sure what that means, Kit.”
“It means you want me to behave a certain way, and if I don’t, there’ll be consequences. High alert for both of us.”
His fingers gentle, stroke my scar. “High alert is right. In my den, it’s safer, we don’t need protocols. Here, one false move could be dangerous. I wouldn’t bring you here, but didn’t want to leave you alone. So stick with me, I’ll get you through. Got it?”
“Got it. Grizz—” I catch his hand. “I know you told me not to run. It’s nothing personal. I’m bound to Augustine. I…owe him.”
“You owe him nothing. Not that I can see.” Now he strokes my cheek and I find it hard to breathe. “It’s okay. It’s the way you’re wired, I’m getting that. I’m going to work on it, though. Maybe if you owe me more than him, you’ll forget him, yeah?”
I nod, swallowing on a dry throat. I like the sound of that. Way, way too much. He’s declared at every turn that this is just a job for him. I can’t lean on him more than I have to.
He gets out and heads around to my door again. It feels like he’s serving me and I don’t like it. I’ve been trained to serve, not to be serviced.
But when I open my door ahead of him, he growls. “You wait for me, Kit.”
Okay, right. Follow his lead.
He holds out his hand, I take it and wait while he grabs the fast food bags and drops them into the bed of the truck. We head across the parking lot, attached at the hand. Biting my lip, I race to keep up, taking two strides to his one. The place smells like shifters, all sorts. My fox isn’t scared though, walking in Grizz’s shadow.
As we wait a white Camaro rolls up with a dark-haired guy and a second, better dressed one with silver hair. By his young face he’s prematurely grey. The dark-haired guy has a cigarette sticking out of his mouth, unlit. He looks a little like James Dean. I don’t realize I’m staring at him until he winks at me. Flushing, I look at the ground.
“Well, well,” the black haired guy puts out his hands as if he’s going to hug us. His accented English is mocking. “The prodigal son returns.”
“Declan.” Grizz nods to the black haired guy. “Parker.” The grey headed dude nods back and Grizz plants his boots in the pavement. “Where the fuck is my bike?”
Declan cocks his head. “It’s coming. Any minute now. Ya ready for your fight? You know the wolves are mad at ya? Gonna try to set ya up.” Irish, I realize as he keeps talking. He has an Irish accent.
“Not here to talk about the fight,” Grizz grumbles.
Grumpy Grizz, I tag him silently. I have the feeling that most people know Grumpy Grizz. I’m the only one who sees his other side. That makes me smile, deep down, but I don’t let it show. Not to these strangers. I can’t glare at them, like Grizz, but I blank my face. I’m pretty good at not showing what I’m feeling. Augustine got mad when I expressed too many emotions.
“I want my bike and then I got a proposition.”
“A proposition? I haven’t been propositioned in a parking lot since—”
“Shut up, Dec.” The grey haired guy, Parker, elbows him. “Grizz, the bike’s coming. In fact”—he turns to the entrance—“here it is.”
Sure enough, a guy riding a big ole Harley roars up to us.
“Who’s that ridin’?” Grizz growls. His body’s all hard. I angle close to him and he puts a hand on my back. Soothing me without taking his eyes off his bike.