She flashes a playful smirk, her middle finger, and erupts into a fit of snickers I don’t hesitate to add to.
After personally changing into less lax attire, helping her grab a few items she left in her vehicle, and swinging by the only taco truck I know that’s open at this hour as well as doesn’t contain an employee I’ve slept with, I follow Ana’s directions to the outskirts of Dreki where she resides. Around overstuffed mouthfuls she points different ways, complaining about traffic and terrible drivers. She carelessly flings egg around my freshly detailed car and repeatedly wipes her greasy fingers on my leather seats.
When a bit of egg crosses my vision and hits my driver side window, I playfully scold, “Could you be a little more careful? I already got pepper spray in the eyes. I don’t need egg too.”
“Hairspray,” she corrects between sucking off cheese or grease from her fingers. “And now that you bring that up-”
“Not my intention,” I mutter at the same time I pull off onto an old, unkempt road.
“Those things that were attacking me-”
“Elves.”
“I assumed they were really just trying to get to you?”
If only shit were that cut and dry.
“Why? Why were they after you?”
I skip answering to make a remark about the unpleasant view of rundown buildings we’re passing. “Do you really live out here, or is this all some elaborate ruse where you punish me for wrecking your car by getting mine stolen?”
“So. Offended,” she chomps, a bit of egg flying out of her mouth onto my dashboard.
“My car would say the same shit if it could fucking talk.”
Maps, our Genie Pinpointing System, technically can talk, but doesn’t care about shit like how dirty the vehicle physically is. She gets pissy when you don’t follow directions, or the music is too loud for her to hear herself talk.
“Take a right,” Ana mutters around the end of her final taco. “I’m the very last building.”
While part of me wants to slow down, stretch out our time together, listen to her laugh so hard she almost snorts, the other is anxious to get her inside her apartment where it has to be safer than being on the outside of it. I understand not everyone can live like we do. I get that not everyone has a fancy job or never had to flirt with making minimum wage. However, I cannot fathom my Fated Mate living a life in which she isn’t donning stunning dresses, sleeping in high thread count sheets, and snacking whenever she’s hungry instead of hiding two tacos in her bag – like I didn’t see her – so that she has something to eat later.
She can’t keep living like this.
Won’t.
We agree on that shit.
“We’re here,” Ana warmly announces, doing her best to sound relieved rather than disappointed.
Grumbles over the deteriorating building unconsciously crawl out of me.
“Relax, Peanut Butter.” She unbuckles her seat belt with a smirk. “It’s much fucking worse on the inside.”
Horror hops immediately onto my face.
More laughs are given prior to her opening the door. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”
“I’m walking you to your door.”
“Unnecessary.”
Killing the engine, I state, “I wasn’t asking.”
“Do you want more hairspray in the eyes?” She sasses as she exits the vehicle.
“Why do you even carry that shit around?” I ask following suit.
“It’s my basic hair go-bag.” We meet at the front of my car on the sidewalk. “You never know when someone’s going to have a hair emergency. And that may not sound like a real thing to you-”
“It’s definitely not a real thing.”
“-but it happens more often than you fucking think. Sometimes my brothers get fucked over at the barber – Abe the most. Sometimes my sisters-in-law get a bad dye job or need an on-the-fly fix before a work event – Lainey’s gotten so much better about managing her fro lately. Even my nieces sometimes need something.” She adjusts her hold on her shoulder bag. “Better to be prepared for anything than be prepared for nothing.” Her eyes unexpectedly swing to mine. “At least according to my dad.”
“Sounds like he was a wise man.”
“Depends on the day.”
We exchange another set of laughs upon our arrival at what I’m guessing is her apartment.
Fuck.
Even the number is barely hanging onto life here.
“Since I’m now jobless and carless, scissors are pretty much in your hands regarding our next appointment.”
The hair reference is too adorable not to grin goofily over.
I probably look really fucking dumb.
And I don’t even care.
“You can just pop over whenever,” Ana proclaims as she pulls her keys from her bag and turns to open her door.
“Should I…call first? Or text?”
“Cell’s off.” The sound of the door unlocking practically underlines her humiliation. “Haven’t been able to pay the bill lately.”
Protect.
From what? Apple?
“And I refuse to let Alex keep forking money over to me for it.” She doesn’t pause long enough for me to speak on the situation or turn for me to see her possible shame. “Thanks again for the tacos, by the way. They were amazing. Really good chorizo is so hard to fucking find.”
Cracking the door just wide enough to slip herself in is her obvious intention, yet faint hints of peppermint unsuspectingly hitting my nose has me forcefully pushing it further. “Does your place always smell like this?”
Ana takes in a deep breath before gagging. “Like stale candy canes? No.” She shoots me a teasing grin. “Except that one week I was out of toothpaste and had to improvise ‘til payday.”
Processing the horrendous thought is ceased by an elf stepping out of the shadows in front of us to fire off a round. As much as I don’t want to get hit by a magically infused bullet intended to stop a shifter from changing forms – an analyzation confirmed by an owl shifter, Dr. Sara Lettsome, who I had a one-night stand with the week before she met her Fated Mate – I would take the hit rather than let it get anywhere near Ana.
I will protect her like a being should.
Like a Fated Mate should.
One hard push on her back forces her into a bent at the waist position. My body barely has time to press itself against the entry wall to avoid the piece of metal flying at my chest. Instructions regarding where I want Ana to relocate to in order to remain safe are left to die on my tongue due to the female headbutting the attacker right in the stomach. Being shocked – possibly more than I am – leaves the creature at a disadvantage. The weapon is knocked away, and his boney frame is left to endure a whirlwind of punches from what I can only assume is a very annoyed Ana.