He opens the door and I move to get in, but his hand on my arm keeps me standing. “Turn toward me and look over my shoulder.” When I just glare up at him, because there is no way I could look over his shoulder—the dude is massive—he chuckles and angles his body so he’s still protecting me, but I can see around him.
“At the corner,” he murmurs. “Near the coffee shop.”
I find the area he’s describing and stare at it. A moment later a blond head pops around the corner, glances at us, and then pops back, as though they were checking that we haven’t left yet.
I frown and glance up at Creed with arched brows. “I don’t know what that means? They’re fans of the show?”
“Maybe,” he says, helping me into the front seat of the car. As the door closes, I take a deep inhale, letting his familiar petrichor scent sooth me, even if it still smells a little wrong to my omega. I click on my seatbelt as he rounds the hood and slides in next to me. “But that man has been lingering outside the bank or at the coffee shop every day since you started working again. There’s a black sedan that idles outside the yoga studio and follows you home, Ren. Every day.”
I’d been feeling feverish from the other alpha’s proximity, but now I’m shivering. “Tell me, Creed.”
He glances at me and blows out a breath as he starts the car. “We think you’ve either got a stalker, someone who saw you on the show and became obsessed with you. Or the Bravonnian monarchy is watching you.”
There’s a lurch in my chest. Even though I know when he says ‘monarchy’ he doesn’t mean Forsythe. He means the queen. Though why she would be watching me I have no idea. I’m halfway across the world from the Ashbourne pack.
They publicly rejected me.
She can’t possibly think I’m some kind of a threat.
I wish there was a way for me to reach out to the Ashbourne Pack and just verify with them if this stalker is someone I need to be concerned about. But of course. I don’t have a way to do that. It's not as though we exchanged phone numbers. I suppose Jude could probably track one down for me, but then what would be the point of that?
I don’t want to actually talk to them.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
There’s an aching, longing part of me that very much wants to talk to them.
But I’ve been working hard to snuff that part of me out.
It would serve no one. They made their choice, and now I have to live with it.
When Creed settles into the seat next to me, he leans over and opens the glove compartment unceremoniously, before he turns on the car and begins the drive home, leaving me blinking at the contents. A cell phone.
And a taser.
I glance over at him as he pulls into traffic. “Am I supposed to do something with those?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “We got you a new phone and a new number. No one has it but us and your mom and Ginny. When we get back to the house, give your phone to Jude he’ll keep an eye on it and sort out the important bits with the unimportant bits so you don’t have to.”
I snort. So does he. We both know that my phone has been inundated with unimportant bullshit for the last few weeks. Mostly requests for interviews, for a comment, for some sort of statement about being on the show with the Royal pack.
The other omegas have been everywhere, splashed across sensationalist news sites, social media and entertainment news. They’re eating the attention up, but I still have no inclination of rehashing my heartbreak, even less now that I’m dealing with the effects of their rejection. I don’t want anyone to know, least of all the pack that hurt me.
I pick up the phone and the screen lights up with the familiar background picture. Me, Ginny, my mom and Haven. I push aside the urge to cry, which seems to be on a hair triggerthese days, and somewhat more hesitantly pick up the taser with my thumb and pointer finger.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?”
“Keep it on you when you're out of the house at all times. Use it to shock any fucker that gets too close to you and run like hell when they go down.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “It's strong enough to bring down an alpha.”
Well, that just makes me want to carry it even less. “What if I accidentally shock myself?”
He chuckles. “I trust you’re smart enough not to do that.”
“Well, you have more faith in me than I do. That would be the cherry on top of the shit sandwich that has been my life.”
“I don’t think cherries go on sandwiches.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. So I got the saying wrong. Sue me.”
