Page 15 of Savagely Mated (Shared Mates #1)

K irin

The most beautiful woman in the world kicked me in the balls today.

I’ve spent every minute since I met her trying not to show how attracted I am to her, and now Darcy is apparently our group mate.

Not going to lie, I’d much rather have her to myself.

I’m the one closest to her age. She’s about twenty, and I’m twenty-five.

That’s the kind of age gap that’s considered wrong sometimes.

But Rafe is thirty-three, for god’s sake, and I’m pretty sure Einar is over forty, which is ridiculous. She should be mine, and mine alone.

After she stole our van, we went back and got the bikes. They’re much faster than the van, they let us split traffic, and I really like mine. The feeling of power rumbling between my legs, propelling me down the winding hills is an excellent panacea for a bruised ego.

It’s getting on to midday by the time we get back to the city and regroup. I assume there’s a plan. There’s always a plan.

Our first problem is that we can’t seem to find the van. Then we do.

“Van’s been impounded,” Einar says. He pulls out the tracker unit, which shows the current address of the vehicle. “It’s in the police lockup.”

I see Rafe try and fail to hide his smile.

He likes how fucked up this girl is. He likes the fact that she keeps doing things that get her into trouble.

But he also didn’t pay for the van. I did.

My estate pays for a lot of our toys. All of these bikes came out of my coffers.

It wouldn’t do to mention it, but I am not pleased at the prospect of having to replace the vehicle.

Einar looks a lot less amused.

“The van doesn’t matter,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s Darcy we need.”

“She’s probably run back to the academy,” Rafe says.

“Maybe, but I doubt we will get the same jump on her again. She’s not going to be sleeping at night for a while. My guess, she’s curled up somewhere right now, asleep.”

“I’ve got an idea. We go to the academy, and we get a release for her. That’s possible. They have an external recruitment sector, remember? We can just ask them.”

“Ask them to release their only female shifter cadet? One intended for the king’s bed?”

“Someone has to be protecting her. She’s twenty, and she hasn’t been taken to the palace. You know the king’s tastes. Usually, the second it’s legal, he has them in his boudoir.”

“She’s not ready for the palace. She might not be considered acceptable at all,” Rafe says. “Can you imagine her speaking to the king the way she spoke to us?”

“She wouldn’t do that. She’d be respectful,” Einar says.

Rafe and I laugh at that. Even Einar smirks slightly.

We haven’t known Darcy long, but we’ve known her long enough to know that any facade of propriety she might put on for a monarch would be the thinnest of veneers, and she’d show her true nature sooner rather than later. The academy knows that. They’d have to know it.

“You still have pull there,” Rafe says to Einar. “It might be time to try an official application. See if you can’t take her on as an apprentice or similar. You know she’s got to be pissing them off.”

“I left the academy years ago,” Einar reminds him. “They’re not going to hand over a rare shifter female to us just because she’s annoying sometimes. She’s a card they’ll be able to play one day, and they know that.”

We’ve pulled off the main street and have our bikes leaned up in a parking space while we have this discussion.

All around us, Eclipse City is performing its usual bustling mass dance.

Everybody here is stressed the hell out and on something.

Either a stimulant, a sedative, a dissociative, a psychogenic, or all four at the same time.

A delivery bike races past us at full speed, splitting traffic, winding in and out of cars before it hits a curb, spins into a passing vehicle and explodes.

I feel the heat of the combustion in my face from hundreds of feet away.

Whatever was stacked precariously on the back of that thing needed a dangerous goods tag.

Traffic continues to flow around the accident without stopping.

There’s not much to salvage. There’s nothing organic left at all.

There’s just a lot of carbon and twisted metal.

The only thing to survive is the yellow tail flag that got caught on a pole on the way to the accident, and still flags out with the company’s details…

Darcy

Delivery 2 Go

I am standing in a smoky office with a map of Eclipse City on the wall. There are dozens of little yellow lights rushing all over it. Occasionally, one blinks out. I assume that’s a delivery completed. I hope that’s a delivery being completed. Otherwise it’s something a little less productive.

Clint. That’s the name on the tag affixed to the big man behind the desk. Clint looks like the culmination of a long line of breeding for the middle-management gene.

His shirt is white with blue stripes and yellow stains underneath the armpits. I don’t know what his pants are like, because he hasn’t gotten up since I got here. He has the most impressive mustache I have ever seen, a big fluffy creature that seems to have a life of its own.

He’s chewing on the business end of a vaporizing pen, which I am almost certain is malfunctioning.

It keeps fizzing and spitting, and every now and then it sets a bit of his mustache on fire.

He puts it out between two fingers, not seeming to care.

The mustache almost seems to regenerate instantly, or maybe it’s so bushy and thick that a little fire can’t stop it being fabulous.

“Can you ride?” the mustache asks.

“Of course,” I lie. I did a motorbike handling skills course three years ago for two sessions before the instructors said I ‘wasn’t responsible enough’ and was ‘going to kill myself and probably someone else.’

“Good. You get a bike, but you pay for it. Your first three hundred deliveries are paying it off, so you don’t get paid until those three hundred deliveries are completed. If, at any time, you leave the employ of Delivery 2 Go, the bike will be reclaimed.”

“You mean if I leave before it’s paid off, or…”

He looks at me with milky eyes. “If, at any time, you leave the employ of Delivery 2 Go, the bike will be reclaimed.”

“How do I eat, and live?”

“Vending machines,” he says, gesturing to a hall outside the office, which is lined with vending machines. I saw them on my way past. They’re old and sticky and the goods inside don’t look like they’ve been replenished in ages. “You get tokens for the vending machines.”

I already know that nobody is using tokens for the vending machines, or if they are, they’re not using them in the machines. My guess is the tokens are entirely worthless. Couriers for Delivery 2 Go are going to have to forage for themselves.

“And where am I supposed to sleep?”

“The bike has a tarp you can pull out to use as a tent,” he says.

“You’re kidding.”

“We’ve got dorm rooms, but you don’t spend much time in them.

There’re deliveries running day and night.

Got to keep up with those Nile bots. Remember, the difference is our ability to provide real human personal assistance.

People choose a D2G driver for their deliveries because they want the human touch. ”

Also, I happen to know Delivery 2 Go charges half what other companies do, plus Nile drones only deliver Nile packages.

If you want to send something on your own account, something that’s not a brand new piece of Nile-branded merchandise, you have to use one of the many courier companies in Eclipse.

This one happens to be one of the only ones that doesn’t actually ask to see your license, or take ID, two factors that really pushed me toward them.

“Alright,” I say. “I’m in.”

He nods, looks me up and down, then goes to a back room for a long moment. I learn then that his pants are brown. When he comes back, he’s holding a box, which he gives to me.

“Your bike’s out the back. Your first delivery is already loaded. Good luck, Darlene.”

“Darcy,” I say.

He doesn’t hear me. His eyes are already glued to the tablet in front of him again.

The bike is actually pretty impressive. It’s black and yellow, Delivery 2 Go colors. It’s shiny and it looks new, or at least newly painted. There’s a number on the side of it, #33.

Good number, I reckon. Feels lucky. Well, as lucky as anything can feel.

I don’t ever think I’ve felt pride before, not in something I’ve owned.

That’s probably because I’ve never really owned anything before.

Orphan cadets don’t get a lot of stuff to keep.

I have clothes, most of them stolen, and some accessories and things, but this is different.

This is a machine bigger than I am, transport that isn’t just going to take me places, but change my whole life.

I also get a uniform, which is comprised of Delivery 2 Go black and yellow leathers.

The pants are mostly black, but the jacket has yellow panels, and the helmet is entirely yellow.

There are boots, too, so when you put the full outfit on, you’re entirely covered.

I’m not Darcy, runaway-academy-dropout-and-horny-for-old-dudes loser anymore. I’m Delivery 2 Go rider.

I’m suddenly aware that I am smiling.

I feel good. Hungry, but good.

Tired, but good.

I’m doing this independent life thing. I’ve got a job. I’m going to stand on my own feet. This is it. Everything I ever dreamed of, I’ve finally had the balls to make reality.

Kirin