Sent Beast Mate(Beast Mates, #3)(28)

“I’m looking for a girl. Her name is Sienna. She left with a sheltered batch of girls Maurice picked up in Beast City. You know her?”

I knew her. But I didn’t know this guy. “Who’re you?”

“I’m her dad.”

At first, I narrowed my eyes, not believing him, but, then, I took in his pale features. Sienna was pale white, almost an albino but not. She looked like him. Lucky her, I thought. Someone was actively looking for her. “Sienna escaped. I don’t know where she is.”

“When did she escape?”

“Umm, time is hard to tell when you’re kept in the dark.”

“Try.”

“A few weeks ago. Say five weeks. I can’t be sure.”

“You made it to Texas?”

“They got stuck in New Mexico. That’s where I came from.”

“The market’s that way.” He pointed behind me and rounded his delivery truck. He started it up and left.

“Geee, thanks, dude.” I walked in the direction he’d pointed, hoping I could get there on foot. As I rounded the large building, I walked right into a parking lot and paused. Wind blew up my dress again, and I pulled the material together and tucked it between my legs. I should’ve worn pants and definitely panties.

And maybe a ski suit, because the wind along with the army of bikes in the parking lot chilled me to the bone. Lots of bikes out here. All large and all sky bikes.

I didn’t fly, and I wasn’t about to start now. So I kept walking.

Until I saw it. A Harley-Davidson. Grounded and gleaming clean. Oh yeah, baby, I knew how to ride that one. Ol’ Hawke had one at the circus, made money just by revving the engine. I hurried over to the Harley, straddled it, and shivered at the cold seat between my naked thighs. Looking down, I tried to reach the ground with my foot. I tilted my body to the side, but I was simply too short. I’d fall right off this thing. This was made for a large male. Hope deflated, I folded my arms over the handlebars and laid my face on them.

To my left and at the very end of a row was a small pink bike.

I hopped off the Harley and hurried to it. I jumped on the seat and throttled the engine. A round panel in front of me lit up, and the bike spoke in a deep baritone voice. It said, “Lifting off.”

Oh shit!

In my excitement, I hadn’t checked if the bike flew or rode on the ground. Since this row held parked Harleys, I’d presumed this row was for ground transport. “No, no, no lifting.”

It lifted.

I yelped and gripped the handles. “Down, girl,” I told the bike.

“Where to, pair of Mayhem the Barbarian?”

A pair? “Noooooo.” I shook my head. I shouldn’t be driving this bike. I shouldn’t have stolen his pairing collar. Mayhem would go nuts when he found out his twenty-dollar property stole his thousand-dollar property and flew away from his court. “We don’t have to go anywhere,” I said to the bike.

“Anywhere,” it said and propelled us forward.

“Ohhh! No, no, Fresh Market? Is that somewhere?”





Chapter Twelve





Reagan



Fresh Market was somewhere in New City. The bike hovered over a sea of wagons filled with sheep and cattle. Enclosed in a huge gated community, the humans traded goods. It looked like one of our communities and not a marketplace. Besides, I expected fruit and vegetables, not sheep, but from what I gathered, the Fresh Market was a livestock market similar to the one we’d seen in Virginia some three years ago. Why would anyone name it Fresh?

“Okay now,” I told the bike, “wanna descend, or are we gonna hover over the people?” We drew attention up here, when I would’ve liked to visit the market with a bit more stealth, seeing as I was spying on Hunters of Mayhem and shouldn’t be here in the first place.

“Scanning,” the bike proclaimed. I tapped the handle with my thumb, waiting for the “scan,” though I had no idea what that even meant. “Scan completed. Safe parking found.” The bike jerked to the left, then down, and I squeezed my eyes as it descended at rapid speed.

“I hate this thing.” My stomach rose, then settled as the bike’s tires unfolded. I peeled open one eyelid. “Are we done?”

“We have not landed.”

I peeked underneath my feet. Sure enough, we hovered about ten feet from the ground. I couldn’t jump off. “Land,” I commanded the thing.

“Password required.”

Shit! “Give me a hint.” I waited but the bike didn’t respond. “Mayhem.”

“Incorrect password. Try again.”

“Mayhem the Barbarian son of…” I couldn’t remember his full name.