Jessica Sims - Wanted - Wild Thing

“All righty. Heads up, then, because we’re going to go faster. Don’t jump out or anything. You could seriously hurt yourself.”

He gave me a scathing look that seemed to indicate he knew better than that, so I turned onto the road and began to head for the nearest drive-thru coffee shop. My awkward, enormous passenger seemed to be handling things okay. Hissing and growling, but okay.

Why had Finian thought this man could protect me? He was out of his element in a major way. “So, where you’re from . . . they don’t have cars?”

“No,” he said flatly.

“Ah. Horses? Do you ride everywhere?”

“We walk or run. We do not require assistance.” He practically spat the word. “We are not weak like humans.”

Well, this was a fun conversation. “Which brings me to another point,” I said, determined not to lose my temper at his sour attitude. “What are you, exactly?”

“The fae call my kind ‘long-tooth.’ ”

I had no idea what that was. “Is that fae for ‘big wild man’? I meant, what is your animal? Some sort of cat? It’s clear you’re a shifter.”

“I am a primordial,” he told me bluntly, then leaned forward to peer out the windshield as we pulled into the all-night coffee shop that I liked to frequent.

“I don’t know what a primordial is,” I told him. “Some kind of cat?”

“Long-tooth,” he repeated, as if that explained everything.

Okay, we were getting nowhere with this. I pulled into the drive-thru line. “I’m about to order. You want something to eat?”

“I should like a meal,” he admitted, his tone grudging, as if he hated to ask.

“This is good. This is a start,” I told him encouragingly. “What’s your favorite meal? Maybe we can order something similar.”

“Haunch of unicorn.”

I stared at him. Just stared. Was he . . . messing with me? But his face was deadly earnest. “Um, I don’t think they have that here. Just sandwiches and cookies and coffee stuff. How about I order you something?”

He shrugged.

I clicked the button to roll down my window and heard Hugh’s sharp inhalation of surprise. A second later I heard his claws scrape against the door, and he began to play with the window on his side. I ignored it and placed my order. “Large hot lemon tea, heavy on the lemon, a large triple espresso, heavy on the espresso, and a large soda. And a dry bagel,” I added, thinking of poor Savannah. I looked over at my companion, then added to the drive-thru window, “And I need some sandwiches. How many do you have?”

“What kind?” came the voice over the speaker. “We’re running low, since it’s the end of the day, but we might have what you need.”

“Actually, just give me all of them. Doesn’t matter what kind they are.” I winced at the total that was read back to me, then pulled forward. “Sorry, Hugh, they’re fresh out of haunch of unicorn.”

He peered out the window. “Who is there?”

“Who is where?”

“You are yelling at someone.”

Oh, boy. How to explain drive-thru logistics. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

He grunted and went back to rolling up the window, then rolling it down again.

I paid, then took the drinks and bags of sandwiches they handed over. Once we pulled out, I thought for a moment, then parked in the lot and looked at Hugh. “Before we go back, I think we need to talk.”

Hugh’s nostrils flared and he sniffed the air.

“Hungry?” I asked him, offering him the bag of sandwiches. “There’s bound to be something in here that you will like. Help yourself.” I put Savannah’s drink in the cup holder, along with Hugh’s, and took a sip of my own heavily caffeinated beverage. Mmm. Pure heaven. I closed my eyes in bliss.

The crinkle of sandwich wrappers caught my attention, along with the rip of paper.

I opened my eyes and stared as Hugh took another enormous bite out of the unwrapped sandwich in his hand. A piece of paper disappeared between his lips and he grimaced, clearly not enjoying the taste.

I stifled my giggle and reached over to help him out. “You take the paper off before you eat.”

He blinked at it, took another bite, and grunted, clearly more pleased.

If this situation hadn’t been so absurd, I would have been having a great time watching Hugh try to figure out everything. As it was, I kept circling back to my own problems. Hugh wasn’t here to entertain me—he was here to make sure another fae didn’t snatch me away before Finian claimed me. The espresso I was sipping suddenly didn’t taste so great, and I sighed and turned to Hugh. “You and I need to come to a bit of an understanding before we go any further.”

He gave me a displeased look. “I do not take orders from you, female.”

“Okay—first of all,” I snapped, losing my temper, “if you call me ‘female’ again, I’m going to punch you in the face. I have a name. It’s Ryder. Ryder Sinclair. Got it?”

“Ryder Sinclair,” he repeated.

“You can just call me Ryder,” I told him. “But if you call me ‘female’ again . . .”

“You will attempt to attack me with your small fists,” he said, clearly amused. “I understand.”

He was infuriating. “Look, you’re going to have to blend in, or you’re going back with Finian.”

“I do not take orders from you, Ryder,” he said, stressing my name. “Only Finian may order me. My vow is with him.”

I blinked. “What vow?”

“I will be his soldier for this task, in exchange for a reward. The vow is made with magic, and I cannot break it.”

All this woo-woo fae stuff was giving me a headache. “So what did he promise you? Maybe I can pay the difference.”

Hugh ignored me and just took another big bite from a sandwich.

“Is it money?”

“It is not money. It is something you cannot offer.”

Back to square one. “That brings me to my original point—you and I have to come to an understanding.”

“And I will repeat, female, that I do not take orders from you. I take orders from your owner.”

I sputtered, raising my fist. Female. Owner. He was so asking for a smack in the face.

And judging by the way his cat-eyes glittered with amusement, he was daring me to do so.

I scowled, lowering my fist. “God, you’re annoying.”

He chuckled, unwrapping another sandwich and taking an enormous bite.

“I’m serious, though. You’re going to have to blend in if you don’t want me approaching the Alliance for protection from all this.”

He snorted. “Who is this Alliance?”

“The Paranormal Alliance? It’s shifters and such. Your kind of people.”

“Whoever they are, they are not my people.” He gave me a flat look. “Explain this Alliance.”

“Okay.” I thought for a moment. “The Alliance was started because wolves run in packs, right? And they’re led by an alpha. But that’s not the case for most shifters. Things like were-coyotes and cougars and harpies don’t have packs. They don’t have that family association or protection that’s associated with a pack. They were all out on their own. So for a long time, the wolf packs kind of ran the place. They were bullies, I guess, for lack of a better word.” I shrugged, then continued with my explanation. “The Russells—that’s the ruling were-cougar clan—started the idea for the Alliance. All the non-pack shifters came together and formed an even bigger group, so now everyone’s protected. It’s like a big, friendly, furry mafia. Does that make sense?”

His lip curled. “And you think I need protection from wolves?”

“Well, no. You don’t look like you need protection from anyone or anything. I just meant that the Alliance is your people. Shifters. That sort of thing.”