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“I will take that as a yes,” he says, and my face heats. I give my son his binky, his amber eyes peering at me in the darkness of the car.
“What’s your name?”
“Everly,” I answer him.
“Odd name. What pack were you from, or were you born rogue?”
“No, I was in a pack,” I answer. I refuse to tell him which one; it's no secret my family’s pack and the Blood-Alpha are constantly at war.
“Your name? I can tell you have Beta blood,” I tell him.
“Marcus, and yes, I am Valen's Beta,” he says before pulling into a drive-thru. I grab my wallet.
“I don’t want your money,” he says before ordering for himself. "What do you want?"
I don’t say anything, feeling awkward, so he orders two of the same thing.
“Is he asleep?” he asks, and I look at my son. I nod as he pulls up to the next window.
“Climb in the front,” he says, which makes me look at my son again, worried.
“I don’t bite, climb over,” he says while patting the passenger seat. I unclip my seatbelt before climbing over into the front. Placing the seatbelt on quickly, I notice that he doesn’t have a mark on his neck; he hasn’t found his mate yet. A bite on the neck always means that anyone, man or woman, has been “marked” by their mate.
He opens some cupholders and places the drinks in them before passing me a paper bag.
“You can eat in the car,” he says. I thank him and I open his burger box for him, letting him take it out.
Marcus pulls over on the side of the road before flicking the interior light on so we can see before turning in his seat to face me. “Eat. I won’t hurt you.”
I open the burger box, the smell making my stomach melt. My hands are shaking as I retrieve the burger.
“Are you cold?” he asks, turning the heat up.
I nod my head. It's a lie. I was fine in the car; it's the fact I haven’t eaten a hot meal in ages or even just actual food that isn’t canned spaghetti or granola bars. I bite into the burger and a sob nearly escapes my lips; I am quick to suppress it so he doesn't hear. I chew slowly, savoring the taste and the warmth. Looking up, I see that he is watching me while eating his burger.
I blush, feeling embarrassed that he is staring. He must think I am pathetic. I feel pathetic accepting a stranger's help, and almost crying over a damn burger.
“Thank you,” I tell him while taking a sip of the cold Coke. It fizzes in my throat and on my tongue but tastes so good.
“Where is your family?” he asks curiously.
“He is my only family,” I tell him, looking at my son.
“They tossed you, didn’t they, for being unmated?”
I swallow, looking down.
“My mother was a single mother, not a rogue, though. My dad died and she raised me alone. She struggled, but she had the pack. Must be hard having no one to help at all,” he says. I don’t say anything. What can I say? I am the disgraced daughter of an Alpha?
We eat in silence, and for the first time in ages, I feel full, yet still, he hands me his fries, telling me to eat them before starting the car again. After twenty minutes of driving, I realize we're getting close to my old pack when he turns onto a road going in the opposite direction.
It takes another twenty minutes of driving through his territory before he pulls up at a large, three-story house. I can hardly see through the darkness of the night, but I can tell it's modern-looking.
“Are you okay? Stepping across didn’t make you feel sick?”
I shake my head. It's odd. Usually, rogues feel sick crossing a border, but I don’t.
“Huh. Odd,” he mutters.
