Page 56 of Awry
He sighs and stands.Then, inexplicably, he leans over and presses a gentle kiss to my temple.“Find your way home, little one.”
I nod.My throat clogs with grief as I fight through an almost overwhelming urge to either break, shattering completely— or to run, far and fast.
Neither is an option.
Running never really has been, though I’ve given it a shot a time or two.But the amulet around my neck means even that’s gone now.There is no place to hide.I carry it all with me wherever I go — the power, the destiny, thebeing.
Grinder steps away, heading for the door as a pristinely maintained older-model green pick-up truck pulls up out front, parallel to the curb clearly marked as a no-parking zone.A dark-haired woman is at the wheel.Her gaze fixes on Grinder as she leaves the truck running and gets out.Though one motorcycle looks much like every other one to me, I’m fairly certain that Grinder’s bike is strapped into the bed of the truck.
Tasmin sets a chocolate milkshake topped with real whipped cream and sprinkled with dark-chocolate shavings on the table before me, pulling my attention away from the window.A swirl of caramel decorates the entire length of the interior of the tall goblet.
“Thank you,” I murmur, already pulling it toward me and fitting the straw in my mouth.
She pats my shoulder, her attention out the window, watching the newcomer and Grinder.“The halibut burger will be just a moment.”
I’m not sure I’ve been touched this much in one day for years, and definitely not by strangers.Shifters are naturally tactile, though.I like it more than I ever would have thought … as if maybe I’ve been starved of casual affection.Touch starved.
The Conduit isn’t a person.Not a person to be gently caressed or coddled with milkshakes and fish burgers.She is a power.She isthepower.The reason everyone else moves through the world.Without the Conduit, there is no fate, no destiny, no life force or essence threading the universe together.
My shoulder feels cold and empty when Tasmin drops her hand and moves away to exuberantly greet the newcomer at the door.I catch the name ‘Cayley’ and some polite inquiries after her family, then tune out.Outside, Grinder climbs in the truck and pulls away.His gaze rests on me until he’s forced to look at the road.
I slurp up a third of the milkshake, then all of the whipped cream, intentionally weathering the spike of headache that comes from drinking the supremely cold, supremely tasty beverage too quickly.
Worth it.
A striking woman with waves of near-black hair spilling down over her shoulders slides into the bench seat across from me.Her features are broad, with thick, dark brows and long lashes edging rich brown eyes.She’s taller than me.And seriously ripped.She’s wearing a slim-fitting black leather jacket over a tank top and black jeans, but I catch a flash of color as she steps around the table.Her laced boots, which are dark plum.
The leather jacket is covered in a multitude of fabric patches, as well as a prominent Outcast Motorcycle Club patch.The designs are heavy on calligraphy and of all sizes and shapes, including what appear to be tongue-in-cheek, occasionally naughty merit badges.The three that immediately catch my eye are:It’s Only Kinky the First Time,Good Girl, andI Don’t Like to be Told What to do Unless I’m Naked.
I’m a bit jealous — just for a moment — of the sex appeal and charisma she oozes effortlessly.Okay, also of the ridiculously cool jacket.
“I’m Cayley,” she says.“And you’ve created quite the stir.”She leans slightly forward, elbows on the table and chin resting on her folded hands.Her makeup is understated, her lightly tanned complexion flawless.She has her fingernails painted in a dark-plum-to-black gradient.
Ignoring that I feel like a malnourished, grubby, aimless child in her presence, I remind myself that appearance isn’t everything.Then I take another sip of my milkshake, giving her space to elaborate— because I honestly can’t remember much after slitting the berserker’s throat, dying, and somehow still getting Presh to the motel safely.
I lost my car in there somewhere — I’ve forgotten to follow up on that — and drew way more ongoing attention than I’m usually comfortable with.Also, I have a vague sense that Muta might have made multiple appearances, and that’s never great to deal with in the aftermath.
As Coda pieces together my last twenty-four hours, I hope the awry hacker isn’t going to find more bodies that need to be dealt with.
Cayley tilts her head.It could just be a thoughtful gesture, except … it’s slightly more animalistic.She’s a shifter, no doubt.Another canine of some sort?She smells like cherry blossoms on a rainy day— a scent I’m familiar with because it’s one of my favorites.I’m going to miss early spring in Vancouver, and all the pink snow decorating the sidewalks.
It’s a delicate, subtle perfume, maybe?Though I didn’t think shifters wore scents because of their general sensitivity to such things.
“I thought maybe you could fill me in?”she finally outright asks.
I’ve almost emptied my milkshake, but I still feel utterly empty.
Clearly, I need another.
“No?”Cayley’s tone is still all gentle, playfully beguiling.
I meet her eye to eye.I haven’t put my glasses back on.
She doesn’t flinch away.Inexplicably, she just nods, as if she expected nothing less.
Tasmin appears, sliding a halibut burger and fries onto the table before me.The burger is huge.A half-inch-thick fish fillet, lettuce, tomato, fried mushrooms and onions, with some sort of tartar sauce melting over it all.Whole-wheat bun, lightly buttered and grilled.The fries are thickly sliced and golden brown.And I’m pretty sure the small ramekin is filled with garlic mayo.I’m salivating just looking at it.
Then Tasmin exchanges my empty milkshake glass for a whipped-cream-topped, thick and creamy caramel wet dream.A thick twist of chocolate syrup curls up the inside of the goblet.
