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While her words and the gravity permeated, unfortunately, I was impatient and had far too much confidence in my abilities.
6
Erica
Now
A big brown blur of fur runs away as I step out of my bus. My gaze hits a large, lumber-snack of a man who rises from a bench outside the gas station door. He looks me over, disdain written all over his handsome, bearded face as I move in his direction.
“Was that Riley?” I ask when I’m about ten feet away. I know Riley’s wolf is brown and look to where the wolf was. No sign of him now.
“Don’t even think about trying to leave,” the lumber-snack warns instead of answering.
“Guess I don’t need to tell you I’m Erica.” I extend my hand anyway.
He crosses his arms over his broad, grey t-shirt-covered chest and gives me a once-over perusal that’s not remotely carnal. A switch from normal male interactions, but shifter guys are clearly different from regular ones.
I’m wearing a long A-line blue with green paisley maxi dress with pockets and brown leather gladiator sandals with a manicure and pedicure in a soft peach with a pearl finish. My long, curly, gingery corkscrew curls are everywhere, in desperate need of attention after tossing and turning on it all night long.
I pull my hand back. “I’m gonna guess you’re Lincoln.”
I recall from Aunt Lyrica’s ledgers that Lincoln’s wolf changes colors. It’s suggested he does it to be chameleon-like, blending into his surroundings. The seven top alphas in this pack all have strong shifter traits as well as some anomalies. In Aunt Lyrica’s ledgers it’s listed that Greyson Blackwood’s eyes change color, alternating from brown to silver, silver when he’s got heightened emotions. Silver like most of the Young clan. My eyes are a cross between brown and gray, a bit of my mom, and bit of my dad, so obviously Greyson’s silver eyes come from Soleil Young. Although Greyson is a Young family member, only Dani and Aunt Mimi have technically met him so far. We’ve all talked to him on the phone.
“Right,” Lincoln mutters.
Lincoln hates me. I can hardly blame him.
“I’m not planning to leave. I need a bathroom, if that’s not too big of an ask. What time does this place open?”
“Anything out of your mouth is too big of an ask. There’s a can in there. It’s open.” He jerks his thumb backwards at the store. I see a dark-haired, piercing light blue-eyed beauty watching us through the window. She steps outside.
“You can use this bathroom. But it’ll cost you.”
“Cost me?”
“Your story,” she advises, shrewdly looking me over. She’s tall, though most girls seem tall to me as I’m just five-foot-one. She’s fit, dressed in jean cutoff shorts and a tight black t-shirt. She’s gorgeous. And a little intimidating.
“I can’t give my story to anybody before I’ve given it to Riley. But I’ll buy something if you let me use the bathroom.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Did you cast a fake spell to make him think you’re his mate?”
“Fake?” I muse for a minute, then shake my head. “That’s not the right word for it. More like wishful. Though I didn’t know enough back then. Didn’t understand the…” Their eyes are on me, earnestly. I shake my head sharply. “Sorry, but I really can’t say anything until I explain it to Riley. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Oh, you’re being fair to Riley, are you?” Lincoln snaps. “That’s rich.”
“Can I possibly use the facilities in there before you all rip me a new one? I’ve been holding it for so long I’m about to embarrass myself.”
“Are you his true mate?” she asks.
I nod. “Unfortunately for him.”
She gestures inside, holding the door open for me.
When I come out of the bathroom, she’s on the phone behind the counter.
“I don’t have those answers,” she says, “but the council knows about the visitor and it’s all in hand. No. Code yellow still as far as I know. Feel free to spread the word. Okay, bye.” She hangs up, eyes on me.
This is more than a gas station. Though it’s no bigger than the average convenience store, there’s a decent selection of food, toiletries, and even a little coffee station with fresh coffee, muffins, and other pastries.
“Thank you,” I say and examine the full pot of coffee. “Smells like fresh coffee.”
I have a little French press in my van, a small generator, but always try to buy something when I use a store’s facilities.
“Made fifteen minutes ago,” she replies.
I pour a large one and grab a carrot muffin before placing it on the counter separating us. “Just a minute. I need a couple things.”
I browse the aisles and cart over two gallon-jugs of water. She’s staring at me, stone-faced as I grab an orange from a fruit basket beside the cash register along with a bag of trail mix from a rack.
