Page 8 of Messy AF (At First #3)

eight

~ Warren ~

D espite the early hours, hundreds of people crowded the sidewalks of Circle City’s downtown plaza.

Couples strolled together unhurriedly. Mothers pushed strollers or chased after toddlers. A couple of teenagers rode past on skateboards, much to the displeasure of other pedestrians.

Conversation filled the morning, a dull roar of sound interspersed with laughter and the occasional shout of vendors hawking their wares. The scent of warm sugar drifted on the breeze, mingling with the earthy sweetness of ripe berries and the sharp aroma of grilled meat.

Rather than overwhelming, however, it all seemed to blend seamlessly, each sound and smell complementing the other.

Running every Saturday morning from late spring to early fall, the annual Farmers Market had been a tradition in Circle City for decades.

What had started as a few tables filled with produce had morphed into a full-on event with merchants selling everything from fruits and vegetables to handcrafted soaps.

In the past couple of years, it had even grown to include food trucks and tables offering pour-over coffee with beans sourced from small farms in the Amazon rainforest.

“Where to first?” I asked my mate, nearly shouting to be heard over the din.

“I don’t know.” Tobi stared at the sea of bodies with big, round eyes, seemingly trying to take everything in at once. “I can’t even think.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, scanning the offerings while I thought. “How about something to eat? A croissant, maybe?”

While he didn’t normally eat breakfast, it gave us a destination, a purpose, and I hoped having something in his stomach would help settle him.

“That actually sounds kind of amazing.” He eyed a few of the nearby stalls, his gaze jumping quickly from one to the next. “Where?”

“Just stick close and follow me.”

Still, to be certain I didn’t lose him in the crowd, I took his hand, holding it gently but firmly as I started walking. Pulling him behind me, I threaded my way through the throng, following the aroma of freshly baked bread that wafted on the warm breeze.

While I sympathized with my mate’s anxiety, I didn’t share it. Even in its chaos, gatherings like this held a certain kind of magic, a sense of community that hummed through every exchange.

Vendors greeted customers by name, sliding paper bags across folding tables and tucking fresh bouquets into eager hands. Strangers greeted each other like old friends. Aged men with lined faces and silver hair perched in lawn chairs beneath a shade tree to discuss important city business.

Like who they thought overcharged for tomatoes, and which neighbors had let their grass go a little too long between mows.

Even the pigeons seemed caught up in the celebratory mood, bobbing and cooing, content with whatever crumbs they could scavenge.

As we moved deeper into the plaza, the crowd pressed closer, forcing me to slow my steps as we neared the bakery stall.

On the surface, the organizers had probably thought it made sense to stack the baked goods, coffee, and confectioneries together, but in reality, it just made for unnecessary congestion.

Queueing in line behind a young mother with a baby strapped to her chest, I removed my sunglasses from the collar of my V-neck and slid them on. The weather forecast had called for another scorcher, and while not even mid-morning, the sun’s rays already burned hotly against my skin.

Tobi pressed against my side, his hand coming to rest on my forearm. It felt less like an affectionate gesture, though, and more like he was checking for a fever.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, angel. It doesn’t hurt.” Palming the back of his head, I pulled him in and pressed a chaste kiss to his brow. “It’s just a little uncomfortable.”

“I brought extra sunscreen if you need it,” he said, patting the front pocket of his cargo shorts.

He’d already lathered so much on me before we’d left the house that I smelled like a goddamn pina colada. Exactly how long did he expect us to be out in the sun?

“I’ll let you know.”

The line moved slowly, but unlike other places, no one complained. Eventually, Tobi got his croissant—a chocolate chip one the size of his head—and we went in search of a quiet place for him to enjoy it.

At the edge of the plaza, the crowd thinned, and we found an empty section on one of the brick barrier walls. About three feet tall and topped with stone slabs, the walls provided both beauty and functionality, offering seating where space didn’t allow for traditional benches.

Tobi tucked into his pastry, wiggling with obvious enjoyment. Bits of crusted bread flaked off with every bite, dusting the front of his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice, let alone care.

“When you’re finished, I thought we could browse the different stalls.” No hurry. No pressure.

“I’d like that,” he answered, giving me one of those radiant smiles I loved so much. “Actually, there is one table I want to check out, but I don’t even know if it’s still here.”

I arched an eyebrow in question, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The last time I came, there was this guy selling these big jars of honey. You could sample them, and they all tasted slightly different.” He paused, his eyebrows drawing together in concentration.

“Something to do with the bees and where they get the nectar?” He waved his pastry around and shook his head. “Something like that.”

I knew exactly which table he meant. “The guy’s name is Chuck, and as far as I know, he’s still here.” At least, he had been the previous summer. “He usually sets up around the same spot, so he shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

Honey side quest locked and loaded, he seemed to eat with more enthusiasm, polishing off the entire croissant and licking his fingers clean. He’d probably end up regretting the sugar bomb later, but for now, he was happy.

“Ready?”

“Wait here.” Popping to his feet, he pressed his water bottle into my hands and pointed to the sign over the adjacent alleyway, indicating the public restrooms. “I’m going to use the bathroom and wash my hands. I’ll be right back.”

“And maybe clean your shirt off too.”

He glanced down his front, then stuck his tongue out at me, giggling as he walked away and disappeared into the alley. Chuckling at his silliness, I leaned my back against the narrow tree trunk behind me and settled in to wait for him.

The flow of pedestrian traffic waxed and waned as people came and went from the market. Some passed through empty-handed, or with nothing more than a single cup of coffee. Some shuffled along, arms laden with paper bags or jute totes.

I grinned as I watched a little boy toddle after his parents, his tiny frame bowed backwards as he struggled to carry a mini watermelon. Under no circumstances would he allow his dad to help him, though.

I admired his tenacity, and I imagined the world would be a lot different if adults had that kind of confidence in themselves.

The minutes ticked by. Two. Three. At the five-minute mark, I started to get restless. When ten minutes had passed without any sign of Tobi, that restlessness morphed into concern. And when he still hadn’t arrived after fifteen minutes, I couldn’t wait any longer.

Even if there had been a line at the urinal, he should have been back by now.

Pushing up from the wall, I tossed the empty water bottle into a nearby bin and headed for the alley.

I stopped outside the men’s room, my palm pressed against the door, but I didn’t go inside. Beneath the stench that always accompanied public facilities, I inhaled the fragrance of sun-drenched laundry, faint but recognizable, leading away in the opposite direction of the plaza.

Pushing my sunglass up to perch on top of my head, I continued down the alley, my heart beating into my throat as the muscles in my back knotted with tension.

It was quieter here, the buildings buffering the noise from the market, but I didn’t hear Tobi. I hurried my steps, searching for any sign of my mate as I went. I didn’t know what I had expected to see, but of course, I found nothing. Just his unmistakable scent, clean and bright.

And laced with a tinge of anxiety.

I thought I detected another familiar smell, but I couldn’t untangle it from the odor of rotting garbage and stale urine that saturated the air. Unable to place it, not sure if it even mattered, I focused on Tobi instead.

His scent grew stronger as I neared the end of the alleyway, and I slowed my steps, forcing a calm I didn’t feel as I listened for anything out of the ordinary. I heard a faint scuff, the crunch of gravel, the hum of traffic, a quiet, flirtatious giggle.

But no Tobi.

Emerging into a gravel parking lot, I scanned the area, squinting against the glare of the sun off car windows, but I still didn’t see any sign of my mate. His scent, however, led me around the corner, past a barber shop and a small boutique to the entrance of another, narrower alley.

Then I heard it. Tobi’s voice.

“Damn it, let go of me!”

“You smell like shit,” a deep, guttural voice responded.

Peter.

“And you’re an asshole,” Tobi shot back. “So, I guess we’re even.”

Tobi didn’t sound distressed, but that didn’t matter. Instincts took over, burning away any humanity I possessed. My canines burst through my gums, and a deep, primal growl ripped from my throat as I charged into the alley, moving too fast for human eyes to follow.

Grabbing the shifter by the throat, I pinned him against the side of the building, a sort of dark glee filling me when his head met the bricks with a satisfying crack. The asshole bared his canines, snarling back at me, his muddy brown eyes flashing with the amber glow of his kind.

“Get your fucking hands off me.”

He surged forward, trying to push himself away from the wall, but I slammed him against the bricks again, holding him in place easily.

“Give it up. I’m older and stronger.”

And far more pissed off.

“Fuck off,” he spat.

“Angel, are you okay?” I asked, still holding Peter’s gaze.

Tobi shuffled closer but stopped outside of the shifter’s reach. “I’m not hurt. Just mad.”

“I just wanted to talk,” the shifter tried to reason, his tone milder when addressing Tobi.

“And I told you there’s nothing to talk about,” my mate shot back. “I’m not mad because you have feelings for me, Peter. I know you can’t help that.”

It was far more kindness than the asshole deserved in my opinion, but it didn’t surprise me. Honestly, I would have expected nothing less, even if it frustrated the hell out of me.

“I’m mad because you don’t give a damn about what I want.”

“That’s not true,” Peter blurted. “Of course, I care. I love you.”

I growled at his confession, my fingers digging into his windpipe. “Watch yourself, pup.”

“I’m not going to argue whether you love me or not,” Tobi countered. “I don’t love you back, though. I’ve never seen you as anything more than a neighbor.”

“But what about—?”

“I love Warren,” Tobi interrupted, a note of finality in his voice. His shoes scuffed over the cobblestone as he took another step forward and lifted his hand, showing Peter the mating mark on his palm. “I love my mate.”

“Mate?” He snapped his attention to me, his eyes wide and panicked.

While humans frowned on it, according to shadeling law, I was well within my rights to end his miserable existence right then and there. And he knew it.

“I could rip out your throat and leave you to bleed out in this alley,” I said, smirking when I felt his pulse jump beneath my palm. “But I won’t because that would upset Tobi.”

I had expected an immediate agreement, but Tobi said nothing.

Interesting.

“If you ever come near my mate again, though,” I continued, my voice laced with dark promise, “I will end you. I don’t forgive, pup, and I sure as fuck don’t give second chances. Are we clear?”

The light faded from his eyes as his gaze flickered to Tobi and back. After a significant pause, he offered a reluctant nod.

“Then go.” I tossed him to the side, flicking him away like an annoying mosquito. “Don’t let me see you again.”

He hit the ground with a pained grunt, but he didn’t stay there. Scrambling to his feet, he took off out of the alley at a dead run and disappeared around the corner. He didn’t look back.

Alone, I turned and pulled Tobi close, stroking his cheek with the back of my hand. “Are you really okay?”

He leaned into my touch with a soft smile. “Yeah, I’m really okay. Just having a minor crisis of identity.”

Frowning, I tilted my head in question. “Meaning?”

“That was really hot, and I feel like, maybe, that doesn’t make me a very good person to think that.”

I laughed, unable to stop myself. Gods, he was too fucking cute for his own good. Or mine, for that matter.

“Would you really have killed him?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more serious.

“Yes.” And I wouldn’t lose a single night of sleep over it. “Does that bother you?”

He shook his head slowly. “Probably not as much as it should.”

We had a lot to unpack in that simple statement, but it was neither the time nor the place. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here faster.”

“You got here about the same time we did,” he countered.

“The line was super long in the bathroom, but I didn’t run into Peter until I was leaving.

We argued, then he dragged me over here.

He said I smelled like shit.” His nose scrunched, clearly offended by that.

“Then you showed up and wrecking-balled him into the wall.”

Somehow, that made it worse, knowing I had been that close and still unable to prevent it.

“What do you want to do now, angel? Do you want to go back to the market? Or should we call it a day and head home?”

He had been brave and composed in the moment, but now that the adrenaline had begun to ebb, the color had drained from his face, and tremors vibrated his lean frame.

“I…”

“There’s no wrong answer,” I assured him when he hesitated. “If you want to go home, we can come back next weekend to find your honey.”

He sighed, the breath weak and shaky. “Take me home.”