Page 32 of Savagely Mated (Shared Mates #1)

D arcy

I wake up to find myself being looked at.

At first, I just have the feeling. Then I look down at the foot of the bed, and see Rafe sitting in the chair at the end of it.

He’s wearing a blue shirt that brings out the color of his eyes, which are regarding me very seriously.

The drugs have worn off. I do feel better for having had them, but there’s a clarity that’s returned with their absence.

But Rafe isn’t looking at me in an oh my god are you okay sort of way.

He’s looking at me in a you’ve fucked up sort of way, which is very intense given I barely know him.

It’s hard enough getting to know one person well, let alone three.

Einar and Kirin have been more forward in various ways.

Rafe’s been more content to sit back—until now.

“Hello?”

He leans forward in his chair. “Do you like being in trouble?”

I feel myself blush at his inquiry. “What?”

“Genuine question. Do you like being in trouble?”

“Sometimes.”

“Good news, then, Darcy. You’re in more trouble than you’ve ever been in in your life.”

“I don’t think so.”

“No, really,” he says. “Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you could behave yourself, and we could all play our roles in what is to come, but you’re driving wedges between us.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

I’m not going to feel guilty, or ashamed, or scared. I mean, I am going to feel all those things, but I’m not going to show that I feel them. I feel as though he is trying to make me apologize, and I don’t want to be sorry.

“I don’t think you understand, Darcy. You think Einar is your biggest problem because he lectures you, thrashes you, fucks you roughly. I’m here to tell you he’s not your biggest problem. I am.”

What, is he going to say weird things to me? Be all mysterious? Wow. What a huge problem. However will I ever handle this bullshit.

“Yeah? What makes you my biggest problem?”

“I love you.”

He says those three words like he means them, which is strange to my ears because we really have not interacted all that much.

“You mean you’re my mate, and we’re mate bonded.”

“No. I mean I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you. Well, maybe not the first moment. I fell in love with you in the fight we had with the Cardinal’s Guard.

You were elegant and ferocious. You were capable of great and terrible things.

You didn’t think about any of it, because you didn’t have to.

You have training, but you have more than that, too. You have talent.”

Now I am confused. At first it felt like he was threatening me, but now it just feels like he’s complimenting me.

“I don’t get what’s happening.”

“I care about what happens to you, and that makes me very, very dangerous when it comes to your current behaviors. I’m going to ensure they stop. Kirin’s been enabling you. Einar’s been chasing you after the fact. From now on, I’m going to be on top of you. Always.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it’s time you got up, had a shower, and came down for breakfast. You’re not going into the academy today, so it’s a good one to learn about why we are doing what we’re doing.”

“Fine,” I say, throwing back the covers. “I have to pee.”

All’s well and good until Rafe follows me into the bathroom. I know some couples do bodily function stuff around each other, but I have no intention of becoming one of those couples.

“You don’t have to watch me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fuck,” I curse as I finally understand his plan. He’s going to guard me, essentially. I’m going to have his eyes on me all the time. No privacy anymore. “Okay, you don’t actually need to do this.”

“I do, actually. It’s the only way to ensure you don’t get hurt, and to be certain that Einar or Kirin don’t treat you too roughly. It stops any kind of conflict in its tracks.”

I want to say something to the effect that he can trust me, but we both know he can’t.

I’m the definition of untrustworthy. There’s only one way out of this predicament: give him the slip.

That way he’ll learn there’s no point in trying to watch me, and give up.

Rafe seems nice and well-meaning, but he is no match for me.

“Please let me pee in peace,” I say. “I won’t do anything crazy in here.”

“No, Darcy. You’ve lost the privilege.”

“Oh, fuck off, you fucking creepy pervert,” I curse, thoroughly annoyed. “You’re just trying to punish me mentally, that’s all. This is a sick power play on your part. Well, it won’t work, because I’m not going to pee.”

I see the muscle in his jaw twitch as I storm out of the bathroom and go downstairs.

He follows me without a word. I slam the door in his face as I go into the kitchen, but unfortunately it doesn’t hurt him. I actually really need to pee, but now it is all a matter of principle.

It occurs to me that Rafe is actually the one who has fucked up, though. He gets himself a cup of coffee and sits down to read his tablet and I decide that’s a good moment to get up and wander out of the room.

Fine. He wants to follow me? Good for him.

He comes after me, of course, and instead of enjoying his coffee, he spends the next ten minutes chasing me around the house as I sprint up and down the stairs, go down different halls, and generally fuck around.

He’s fit, but this is annoying, as I intend it to be. I loop around corners of Kirin’s big mansion, and finally I get enough distance from him to jump into a powder room, slam the door, and take the world’s most satisfying morning ablutions.

When I open the door, he’s standing there, arms folded.

“What?”

“You just have to push limits, don’t you,” he says.

“If you want to watch me pee, ask nicely,” I say. “You can’t supervise me every second of the day. I’m not controllable.”

“You’re not, are you,” he says. “Explains why you were never sent to the harem.”

I shrug. “I really don’t care about any of this, you know. I have been raised my whole life to guard the king. Maybe I would never have gotten a royal guard post, but I was still raised with that ideal.”

“The true royal line of Eclipse has been deposed by a king chosen by the cardinal. It might seem that we are trying to avert disaster, but Darcy, disaster has already happened. The king you have been raised trying to protect does not sit on the throne.”

“Where is the real king?”

“Close at hand, and will reveal himself when the time is right.”

“When I’ve killed the king.” I shake my head. “We all know if I kill the king, the next thing that’s going to happen, 0.2 seconds later, is I’m going to catch a bullet. There’s no way I survive this plan. It’s insane for me.”

“We will protect you.”

“How? If you can get close enough to protect me, you can get close enough to kill the king yourself.”

“The details of the plan will be revealed closer to the time.”

“Right,” I say. “Sounds like some bullshit, Rafe.”

I don’t like this stupid ‘kill the king’ thing. Maybe these guys are all into being rebels and terrorists, but just because we’re mate bonded, it doesn’t mean I have to agree with their wild political views or their murderous plans.

“Just come and have breakfast,” he sighs.

“You don’t know what to do with me, do you,” I smirk, feeling like I’ve proved my point.

“No,” he says. “I don’t. You want to be taken care of…”

“No, I don’t. I want to be left to my own devices,” I tell him.

“I want to live my fucking life. I made a decision for myself the other day. I decided to leave the academy and get a job. And all you three have done, well, two, because Kirin’s actually pretty chill, is try to force me to carry out some crazy fucking plan.

I don’t want any part of it, get it? And watching me pee isn’t going to magically make me behave myself.

You had it right in the first place. I’m uncontrollable. So stop trying to control me.”

Rafe nods thoughtfully.

“Alright,” he says.

“Alright?”

“Yes. You want to live your life as you see fit, do so. You’re right. We don’t have any real claim to control you. You might be ours, but that’s a mate thing. It should be about love. Not using you as a pawn.”

“Right. Tell that to Einar when you next see him. I’m going to work.”

“One problem,” Rafe says.

“What?”

“Einar hid your bike. He didn’t want you on it anymore. He’s afraid you’re going to kill yourself. So I don’t know where that is.”

“Okay, so can you add one thing to that message I asked you to give Einar before?”

“Sure.”

“Tell him to go fuck himself.”

I go to D2G, because there’s nowhere else in Eclipse I’d rather be. Clint is still behind the desk. I don’t think he ever leaves the office. I wonder if he can leave.

“You’re late. Days late,” he grunts.

I feel a little special that he noticed. That’s probably indicative of some deep-seated trauma, but I’ll take a pleasant interaction where I can find it.

“Sorry, boss, got kidnapped.”

He shrugs, pulls open a filing cabinet, which he reaches without getting up from his chair, rifles through some dog-eared manila folders, and hands me a form. It has the D2G logo at the top of it, and then a heading at the top:

In Case of Kidnapping

By whom were you kidnapped?

The first question blares at me from the paper. What’s interesting is that there isn’t a blank line or anything to fill out. Instead, there’s multiple choice.

A) Yes

B) No

C) IDK (I don’t know)

“There’s a form for being kidnapped?”

“There’s a form for everything,” he answers, turning his gaze back to his digital book.

“This form doesn’t really seem to make sense,” I note as I look at the second question.

Why were you kidnapped?

A) Ransom

B) Vengeance

C) IDK (I don’t know)

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “They just like to have things on file.”

“Okay,” I say, picking up the greasy pen that has been chained to his desk since before I was born. Having been raised in a military establishment, I know a thing or two about box ticking.

“Is there a form for a spare bike, because mine is being held by the kidnappers? I think they might be terrorists.”

Clint sighs and rifles through the same file drawer, before slapping another paper down in front of me. This one reads:

So You’ve Lost Your Bike to a Terrorist Syndicate

Is your bike gone?

1. Yes

2. Yup

3. Mhm

“Is this a joke?” I look at him incredulously.

“Delivery 2 Go has no sense of humor,” Clint grunts.

I turn my attention back to the form.

Estimate the chance of recovery:

Less than 5%

More than 5%

My bike has been spotted in one or more terrorist-related news broadcasts with the Delivery 2 Go stickers still on.

“You can do those later,” Clint says. “We need you on the road.”

I nod and fold them up, sticking them in one of the suit’s many pockets. That’s one of the other things I love about this job. The suit is so practical. There’s a place for everything. And it hides my identity, makes me one of a very big crowd. And I am always productive. Useful.

“There’s a spare bike in Bay 13,” he says.

That’s it. No lecture about carelessness, or needing to be careful. No big long guilt-inducing spiel about how I’m not grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given, like the academy tutors always gave.

I go out to Bay 13, where the loaders are stacking the panniers with deliveries, and I interface with the arm unit that has a glowing map of Eclipse on it, with the optimal route lined in yellow, and dots where the deliveries go.

I get on the bike, gun it, and start my day.

First delivery comes in three minutes under target.

I check the arm band, and see that I’ve been awarded three extra credits on my account.

Not only do I get the thrill of recklessness, I get rewarded for it too.

I grin broadly, and head out again. I’m being very careful to keep my thoughts on work, and to not at all think about Rafe, or Kirin, or Einar, all of whom will be angry at me for this.

Maybe not Kirin. He’s not as serious as the other two. I think he actually gets it.

“Here you go,” I say as I hand off another package. “Have a D2G day!”

“Fuck you, bitch.”

People in Eclipse are known for being rude, but I’ve never encountered anybody who seemed pissed off that their package was on time. I look up from my arm band, confused.

It takes me a second to realize that this isn’t actually a standard delivery. I’ve driven into yet another trap. Not one set by my mates, but one set by a street gang interested in taking my cargo.

There are six people standing around me, all young males, all armed with cobbled together weapons of various kinds. Someone has welded a sword to a handgun. I can’t imagine how that functions. Badly, I suspect.

“Get off the bike,” their leader says.

“I can’t. I’ve already lost one bike, and the paperwork for using two is likely to…”

I don’t get to finish the sentence before I am roughly hauled from the bike by three men.

They throw me on the ground and one of them kicks me in the side, the same place I crashed the other day.

A shock of pain rushes through me, very quickly followed by rage.

Not hot rage, the kind that makes you do insane things, but cold rage, the kind that makes you do insane things in a very calculated manner.

“Strip her. Let’s see what else we get to unwrap.”

I let them take my outer clothes off, because I don’t want them getting damaged when I turn feral. So these filthy strangers peel the Delivery 2 Go leathers away, slide my boots from my feet, and yank my helmet off.

“She’s cute! I didn’t know they got cute delivery… arrgghhh!”

The scream is due to the fact that as soon as my D2G livery is no longer in danger, I snapped into my wolf form and began destroying them.

Limbs snap between my jaws. Blood flows into my mouth.

One by one, I tear them apart without mercy, and with great enjoyment.

My animal self has no compunction about killing.

It’s not like when I hit a man with my sword and a bit of him fell off and I panicked. Wolves don’t feel guilt.

Later, I might feel bad, but for now, all I feel is right.

Six men on one woman is an unfair fight, but six men against a wolf are mere appetizers.

When the threats are dealt with, and the concrete runs red with the blood of those who dared accost a delivery rider, I slide back into my human form.

Their blood feels disgusting on my feet. Sticky, warm, and all too biological. I try to avoid looking at what’s left of their faces, but the human eye is always drawn to expressions, and right now I see six very dead expressions.

A woman starts screaming.

This time it’s not me. I think she’s the girlfriend of one of the men who used to be intact and alive, and is now neither one of those things. The sounds she makes are wild, incoherent, and terrified.

I let her scream as I pull on my uniform. I have more deliveries to make.