Page 9 of Two Wrong Turns

“No, I wanted to be fourthed. That’s my lucky number, jackass.”

An argument broke out, though it was more a spirited debate than an actual fight. I shoved food in my mouth quickly while Barrett was distracted. I didn’t need him deciding to leave before I had a chance to properly show him the space he belonged in.

My den.

It wasn’t much, but it was home. I knew if he gave it a chance, he’d fall in love with it too.

He didn’t look back until my last bite. When Barrett saw the state of my empty plate, his eyes went wide.

“You must have been starving,” he said, his brows dipping. “Do you not eat while you work? Is there some kind of rule against it? There shouldn’t be since you’re the boss.”

He muttered more questions to himself. It was endearing to see him upset on my behalf, even if it was misguided.

I slipped my hand over his to get his attention. Well, mostly for that reason. I also wanted him to stop beating himself up over something that wasn’t true.

“I’ve had a few other meals today. I’m a big guy. Always have been. Food is fuel, and I need lots of it.”

His gaze wandered over me like a soft caress. I knew what he saw. Big shoulders. A stomach that wasn’t flat but wasn’t a beer belly either. I had more than enough room to store all the fuel I put in my tank.

A slight blush came over his cheeks. My beast growled at the tempting sight. I had to force a cough to cover the noise, though a few others in the diner heard well enough that they chuckled at my expense.

Done with having an audience, I tilted my head to the door. “Why don’t I show you the place, then you can decide if you want to stay or not?”

Wrong. He was going to stay no matter what.

Though he did need to believe he had some kind of say in the matter.

Barrett hesitated for only a minute more before nodding. We stood together and left the diner after I dropped enough to cover both our meals.

In no universe would I let my mate pay for our first meal together. He’d be lucky if he’d win the argument to pay for any future meals. My bear wanted to provide for him in all ways. That meant food, shelter, and fucking. In that particular order too.

Outside, I stopped by the truck I now realized had to belong to him. “You’ll follow me,” I demanded.

He rolled his eyes, then climbed into his vehicle without saying another word. My hands itched to yank him back to me, grip his jaw, and make sure he understood I was his Alpha. He needed to respect me and know that I only wanted what was best for him.

Fighting my bear led to more growling and stomping than was necessary to get back in my vehicle. I pulled out, then waited a few spots down to make sure he would follow. I got more than a couple of knowing glances from shifters roaming the streets. I was sure someone had spread the gossip about my mate showing up at the diner. They’d be placing bets all night too.

Nothing like a potential mating to bring out the gambler in all of them.

Ignoring the looks, I focused on the beat-up vehicle behind me. We drove through town slowly, partially because I wanted to keep him in my sights, but also because I knew how intimidating this place could be for anyone new to town.

I wasn’t born here, and it wasn’t my original pack.

When I was a young cub, I was brought here and dropped off. At least, that’s what everyone in town told me. The shifters in the area recognized me for what I was and took it upon themselves to raise me as if I was part of their pack.

It took me far too long to realize I was different. And even longer to get answers as to what happened leading up to my arrival.

My mother died during childbirth, and my father was not a good man. He worried keeping me around would only put me in danger. I’d been given to another set of shifters who couldn’t conceive. They were my parents in all sense of the word despite not being biologically related to me.

I contacted my birth father shortly after becoming an adult. He told me, “I had no other choice. It was fight for you to get a chance or let you fall into the same patterns I had. I couldn’t risk it.”

Three months after I found him and got the answers I needed in life, he died as well. He’d been blessed with a second mate, one who died from a car accident. As Fate deemed it, he went too. Shifters rarely survived a broken mate bond. The pain was far too great. My father managed to escape death once, but he couldn’t manage it the second time.

Thinking of broken bonds made the notion of a shifter human pairing come back to the forefront of my mind. What in the world did it mean for me that I’d be tied to his life force? Surely our bond would extend his years, rather than shortening mine.

We’d have to find an elder and ask them once I convinced him to mate with me. I wasn’t so convinced it would be an easy task. He was wary — as he had every right to be.

I wasn’t the friendliest person on a good day. I was even worse when fighting my instincts to claim my mate while in a very public setting.

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