Page 29 of Savagely Mated

I already know that nobody is using tokens for the vending machines, or if they are, they’re not using them in the machines.My guess is the tokens are entirely worthless. Couriers for Delivery 2 Go are going to have to forage for themselves.

“And where am I supposed to sleep?”

“The bike has a tarp you can pull out to use as a tent,” he says.

“You’re kidding.”

“We’ve got dorm rooms, but you don’t spend much time in them. There’re deliveries running day and night. Got to keep up with those Nile bots. Remember, the difference is our ability to provide real human personal assistance. People choose a D2G driver for their deliveries because they want the human touch.”

Also, I happen to know Delivery 2 Go charges half what other companies do, plus Nile drones only deliver Nile packages. If you want to send something on your own account, something that’s not a brand new piece of Nile-branded merchandise, you have to use one of the many courier companies in Eclipse. This one happens to be one of the only ones that doesn’t actually ask to see your license, or take ID, two factors that really pushed me toward them.

“Alright,” I say. “I’m in.”

He nods, looks me up and down, then goes to a back room for a long moment. I learn then that his pants are brown. When he comes back, he’s holding a box, which he gives to me.

“Your bike’s out the back. Your first delivery is already loaded. Good luck, Darlene.”

“Darcy,” I say.

He doesn’t hear me. His eyes are already glued to the tablet in front of him again.

The bike is actually pretty impressive. It’s black and yellow, Delivery 2 Go colors. It’s shiny and it looks new, or at least newly painted. There’s a number on the side of it, #33.

Good number, I reckon. Feels lucky. Well, as lucky as anything can feel.

I don’t ever think I’ve felt pride before, not in something I’ve owned. That’s probably because I’ve never really owned anything before. Orphan cadets don’t get a lot of stuff to keep. I have clothes, most of them stolen, and some accessories and things, but this is different. This is a machine bigger than I am, transport that isn’t just going to take me places, but change my whole life.

I also get a uniform, which is comprised of Delivery 2 Go black and yellow leathers. The pants are mostly black, but the jacket has yellow panels, and the helmet is entirely yellow. There are boots, too, so when you put the full outfit on, you’re entirely covered. I’m not Darcy, runaway-academy-dropout-and-horny-for-old-dudes loser anymore. I’m Delivery 2 Go rider.

I’m suddenly aware that I am smiling.

I feel good. Hungry, but good.

Tired, but good.

I’m doing this independent life thing. I’ve got a job. I’m going to stand on my own feet. This is it. Everything I ever dreamed of, I’ve finally had the balls to make reality.

Kirin

“There’s another one of those Delivery 2 Go bikes,” Rafe says, pointing it out as a hazard. We’ve seen maybe three or four of them crash and destruct in the last half-hour. That seems like a lot, but I reckon we’ve seen at least a hundred go by. So that’s a three or four percent failure rate. Not bad, really. Less than I would have guessed. Those couriers ride like they don’t want to get where they’re going, like there’s some delivery-themed Valhalla awaiting them.

Einar is still trying to find Darcy by approaching contacts, but it’s not sounding good. Nobody knows where she’s gone. The academy doesn’t seem to give a shit. They’re too used to her disappearing, is my guess.

I think we’ve lost her.

That pisses me off, because she belongs to us. Shouldn’t be able to lose what you own—but I guess nobody told her that. Even if they had, she’d probably tell them to fuck off. She’s hard to handle, uncouth, rough around every single one of her edges, and absolutely gorgeous.

Another one of those D2G bikes comes swinging around the corner. There’s a pack of them buzzing like flies around the intersection. I’ve started to ignore them. They’re like the visual equivalent of background noise. At least, until one of them slows down right next to us and the rider reaches out, grabs my sausage burrito that I just got from a vendor, and guns the bike.

Fucking riders. Nobody who likes riding motorcycles is entirely sane, that’s just a fact. And that means stupid shit like this is rife.

“Hell, no,” I curse.

I gun my engine and head off after the courier.

Einar and Rafe don’t pay any kind of attention. They’re too worried about the girl. Our mate. God, I hate even mentally putting the word ‘our’ in front of mate. I always knew that one day I’d meet a woman who would become everything to me. She’d be my one and only. Instead, what I’ve ended up with is a delinquent with enough sexual charge to mate bond to a whole goddamn pack. Maybe we should be grateful we didn’t bring more men with us. She might have mate bonded with a dozen guys.

With those thoughts racing through my mind, I chase the delivery rider down. This guy clearly has a very loose attachment to life, judging not only by the shit he pulls on strangers, but the way he rides. That bike is flung around corners, narrowly misses a slew of oncoming traffic and pedestrians, nearly gets horizontal in the effort to avoid a truck. I know I should give up the chase in order to preserve my own life, but this fucker has my burrito, and I have lost enough for one day. I might have to share my mate, but I will not share my goddamn burrito.

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