The soles of my new sneakers made sucking noises against the flaking laminate floor when I walked, and dingy stuffing burst from the stools and the booths in the corner. The counter gleamed in the low light, buffed to a polish by the bored young man with nothing better to do and no motivation for extending his efforts to the rest of the place.
“Shots for all my friends,” Claudia announced. “Line ’em up and keep ’em coming.”
Forty-five minutes later…
Gwyllgi can get drunk, for a few minutes, if they really dedicate themselves to the cause. Otherwise, the alcohol might as well be water. Me? I didn’t have a fantastic metabolism, so I had to be careful what and how much I drank in unfamiliar company. Given what had happened last night, I was sipping Coke. Just Coke. That didn’t stop Claudia from lining up shots for me too, but I had taken to nudging them her way.
The fact she didn’t notice why her shot glass was bottomless said a lot about how deep she had climbed into the bottle. Under different circumstances, I might have been impressed with her single-minded dedication to chasing a buzz. Tonight, it worried me how desperate she was to escape her life, even for a few minutes.
“To the rotten son of a bitch who sired me.” Claudia raised her glass. “May he burn in hell for eternity.”
The others drank to that, but I didn’t know her father from Adam, so I wasn’t sure if I should sip or not.
“He’s a waste of a shot,” Ares murmured in my ear, causing me to jump. “He was a bastard.”
“What are you doing here?” I set my Coke on the counter. “Babysitting me?”
“Did the diaper bag give it away?”
“I need to get to HQ.” I hopped off my stool. “Be a pal and distract our hostess.”
“I knew I should have stayed outside,” she grumbled, clearly not a Claudia fan. “I have to pee. Can you wait that long?”
The stack of coffee cups in her hand earned her my sympathy. “Go on.”
A vibration in my pocket gave me hope I was about to have an official reason to make my escape.
>>I’m out of ABS.
>What?
>>Acrylonitrile Butadiene Styrene.
>>Plastic. For the 3D printer. I’m out.
>What do you expect me to do about it?
>>Bring a few spools to HQ with you?
Heaving a sigh, I figured this was as close to divine intervention as I was likely to get.
>Where do I get them?
Bishop had the address ready to copy/paste in seconds, no surprise, and I promised to play fetch.
A 3D printer was all fun and games until enthusiasm outlasted the machine’s ability to keep pace with Bishop’s imagination.
“Midas?”
“Nah.” I glanced up to find Claudia leaning over my shoulder for a glimpse at the screen. “Work.”
“You’re not so different from an alpha.” She took another shot. “The city’s not so different from a pack.”
“You’re right.” The slight blurriness in her eyes concerned me. “I’m not, and it’s not.”
“No wonder Midas settled on you.”
The word settled pricked my ego, but I told myself that my insecurities were tainting her intent.
For someone wanting to drill me about how to land a mate, she hadn’t asked me a single question.
“I prefer to think I settled on Midas, but sure.”
“Tisdale doesn’t like me much.” She claimed my empty seat. “I get why, I do, but…have you ever been so afraid of paying what you owe that your purse strings shrivel right up?”
“Yeah.” An unexpected wave of kinship swept through me. “I have.”
“I did have designs on Midas, but not for the reasons you might think.”
A twist in my chest bumped my voice an octave. “Oh?”
“I wanted out,” she explained. “He was my ticket to the good life.”
Before I could tell her I didn’t exactly regret him not punching her ticket, she had another drink in hand.
“I was a pack princess.” She lifted her glass to the light. “I stood by and watched my father ruin us. When I was a kid, I had an excuse. I couldn’t have taken him. You know how gwyllgi dominance fights go. They’re brutal.” Her lips trembled. “But I’ve been grown for a long time now and continued to do nothing.”
“He was your father.” I met her gaze, which startled her, then held it. “Family makes it complicated.”
“Truer words.” She set the still-full glass back on the counter. “I gave Midas a hard time earlier, it’s what he expects from me, but I have to bring new blood into my pack, and he would never leave Atlanta.” She flashed me a quick, almost shy grin. “Or you.”
“Hey.” I had an idea. “Explain this mating business to me. Both fated and chosen.”
“You mean you don’t know?” Her eyes widened. “He didn’t tell you?”
“We’ve had our hands full lately.” I grimaced. “I get the broad strokes, but I want the nitty-gritty.”
Absorbing that, she tilted her head in thought. “You know how the whole soul mate thing works?”
“It’s a wargs-only club for the most part, right?”
“Yes.” She chewed her bottom lip. “There are a few gwyllgi with warg bloodlines only a few generations back who experience it, but it’s rare. Incredibly rare. You’d know if you and Midas were one of the lucky ones.”
Mood deflating, I had to ask, “How would I know?”
“It creates a bond, a magical tether, that joins your soul to his.”
Jaw dropping, I debated marching back to the Faraday and smacking Midas for his secret-keeping.
Unless Claudia was wrong. Or lying. Either of those would make me happier than I was now.
Like everyone else, she had wanted Midas for reasons that had nothing to do with who he was but who his mother was, and that was all kinds of messed up in my opinion. He deserved better. I loved him, for himself and only for himself, but he deserved better than me too.
I had more baggage than Hartsfield-Jackson, and Atlanta’s airport was the busiest in the world.
But he loved me.
And I…I was so far past ever letting him go.
“Otherwise, mating is marriage without the dress, rings, or cake.”
Snorting out a laugh, I teased her, “None of the fun stuff?”
“Basically.” She rolled her eyes in agreement. “I did see a guy go down on one knee once, but mostly the mating is assumed in more traditional packs. A couple sticks together long enough, and bam. Their scents entwine, their lives mingle, and the pack views them as a mated pair. End of story.”
“Like a common-law marriage.”
“The only exception to the rule is with alphas and future alphas. They’re expected to put on a show.”
“Oh joy.”
The ringmaster of our show would be Tisdale, I had no doubts on that score.
Yet another tidbit Midas had neglected to share with me.
Probably out of fear I would suddenly catch the flu.
Again.
Frak.
“What did I miss?” Ares rejoined us. “Sorry it took so long. I fell asleep on the toilet.”