The Wolf King Needs an Heir by Max Rose
CHAPTER TWO
Julian held out the bags of hamburgers and fries to the woman in the SUV. From the sound of it, she had at least three hungry kids in there with her. She looked frazzled and on her last nerve as she took the paper sacks.
He made sure to smile as he handed her the cup carrier with the sodas. He thanked her and wished her a nice day. She nodded distractedly and drove off. He glanced at the order screen on the monitor and then at the long line of cars. This time of day, it just didn’t let up.
The next car to roll up to the drive-thru window was a Honda Civic. Behind it was a black limousine. That was a mild surprise. It wasn’t the first limo he’d seen in the drive-thru line, but they weren’t exactly common, even in New York.
Julian glanced at the order screen overhead again, wondering what the limo people had ordered. He frowned. Was that right? They only wanted a chocolate milkshake? That hardly seemed worth waiting in line with all the heat and exhaust fumes. Or maybe that was just him, sweating in his ugly polyester uniform.
As he pulled together the order for the Honda, he glanced at the time. Two and a half more hours and he would finally be off. Once he got home, he had statistics homework to finish. And an essay on eighteenth-century English poetry. He was in his first year of night college. Out of high school, he’d been forced to work two jobs to make ends meet instead of going to any university. He was trying to make up for that now and get a degree.
It wasn’t easy working food service and taking a full load at school, but he didn’t see any other way to get ahead. If he wanted his life to be better, he had to make it better. No one else would help him. No one else ever had. Except for his mom, of course. That’s why a good mom was an angel. But she had passed away, and he was an adult and had to do what he needed to do to make it. That’s what she had wanted. But he was also an omega wolf without a pack living in one of the most expensive cities in the States. One thing about being a lone wolf, it sounded a lot cooler than it really was.
There was no sense crying into his personal milkshake now. He’d take a to-go cup of coffee with him for a caffeine boost for the coming homework. That would need to get him through.
Julian took the bags of burgers and fries and held them out to the teenager slouching in the seat of his suped-up Honda Civic. The teen and his friends all had that jock look to them. Maybe football players, maybe wrestlers. Julian was a werewolf, so he caught the scents of sweat and the gym locker room on them.
The teen—thick-jawed, with a wide forehead and insolent eyes—didn’t take his cup carrier with his sodas, even though Julian was holding it out for him. Instead, the guy took his time digging into the fast-food bag and shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. He was a slow chewer.
Julian glanced at the line backed up behind the Honda. People were getting impatient. He could feel it. The line stretched around the restaurant. It was just his luck. He had to work the busiest hours at this fast-food joint, and he wasn’t a fan of working the drive-thru. The speaker system was designed by the devil, so there was a high chance that any given order was wrong. Statistically, that chance went through the roof if the customer had a lot of custom changes to their order. No pickles. Fries with no salt. A kid’s meal toy…but not the one the kid already had. And on and on.
He could not wait until he had his degree. Any degree. He was still in his first year, so he hadn’t picked a major. Whenever he thought about it, he froze up, knowing he had to make the right choice. He couldn’t make a mistake. There would be no second chances. It was taking everything he had to go to school full time and work as many hours as he could at a job he loathed.
The teen was talking with his friends and still not taking his cup carrier. Julian had no choice but to keep leaning forward, holding the cup carrier out for him. Finally, the guy glanced back at Julian, laughed, and took it.
“Sorry, bro. Didn’t know you were waiting. Guess I’m lucky you didn’t drop it.”
Julian forced a smile, thanked him for his order, and wished him a nice day.
“Yeah,” the teenager sneered. “Here’s a tip for your tip jar. Get a real job.”
It wasn’t the insult that annoyed Julian. Or the contempt. Or the fact that his boss expected him to keep smiling no matter what. No, he was annoyed that it was such a sad, tired cliché of a thing to say. It didn’t even make sense because he didn’t work for tips. If he only did, this job might sting less.
The guy was a punk. But he certainly wasn’t the first. And he wouldn’t be the last. Still, it was good when the guy peeled out and left. Hopefully, Julian would never see him again.
The fancy black limousine rolled up to the drive-thru window. Julian grabbed the cup carrier with the single chocolate milkshake. The limo’s rear window lowered. He was surprised to find himself looking at a beautiful woman with dark hair, dark eyes, professionally dressed, and staring him straight in the eye. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who would order fast-food. Maybe that was why she was only interested in a milkshake?
Oh, and she was a werewolf too. It took only an instant for him to know.
He held out the carrier to her and smiled, but she didn’t take it. He was suddenly sweating, his heart racing. He didn’t have much experience with other werewolves. His father had been one, but the man had been a deadbeat.
The woman still stared him in the eyes. Was this a dominance thing? Did she expect an omega to be even more submissive than a fast-food employee usually was?
“Julian Wilson,” she said. “We need to talk.”
Hearing her speak his name surprised him so much that he fumbled the cup carrier. He quickly tried to steady it with his other hand, but he only ended up bumping the whole thing harder. The cup carrier tilted. The milkshake jumped out of the slot and hurled itself to the pavement.
Chocolate shake splattered everywhere. The pavement. The side of the building. The side of the limo.
The woman leaned out a little and glanced at the spill.
“I am so sorry,” he blurted. “I’ll get you another shake right away. And I’ll clean that off your car. Just give me a second to tell my boss—”
She held up a hand, silencing him. She had very serious eyes. His heart sank. Her expression might be solemn, but no reassuring smile meant that she was pissed. If she complained to the manager, Julian would be in trouble. His hours might be cut, and that wasn’t—
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. Her voice was low, quiet enough that if he hadn’t been a werewolf, he might not have heard her over the idling engines. She held out a plain white envelope to him. “This is two thousand dollars cash.”
He stared at the envelope, feeling like his eyes were bugging out. “What?”
“This is yours,” she said patiently, still holding out the envelope to him. “If you get into this limo and come with me to meet someone.”
“What?” He knew he looked like a fool, gaping at her and repeating the same word. But his ability to think seemed to have splattered inside his head more dramatically than the milkshake.
“Two thousand dollars now,” she repeated, wiggling the envelope as if it were a fishing lure. “If you come with me to meet someone. Five thousand after you meet him.”
Someone in a car behind them honked. The woman didn’t even glance that way. Her dark eyes stayed locked on him.
He felt panic growing inside. “I… I’m working. I can’t leave.”
“So quit,” she said without hesitation. “Five thousand will cover your living expenses if you’re worried about that. You can find another job like this.”
He opened his mouth to say something. No words came out because he didn’t have anything to say. Was this a prank? It had to be.
Another horn blared.
“Take the envelope. Look inside,” she urged. “See for yourself.”
She was quite pretty. Was that part of the trick? Send a pretty woman to lure him in? Because everyone knew guys turned into drooling morons when pretty women were around. But he was gay. If they’d sent a guy who looked like Henry Cavill, they might’ve had Julian drooling and stupid. Although he was doing a good impression of stupid right now, gaping at her as the line steadily backed up behind the limo…and the orders kept piling up…
He took the envelope with trembling hands. He managed to hold on to it, not like the chocolate shake. He opened the envelope flap. Hundred-dollar bills had been stuffed inside. It looked like there might be two thousand dollars in there.
A woman in the back of a limousine had just handed him two thousand dollars in cash for no reason.
He felt like he’d fallen into some surreal dream world—a world that was part nightmare. After all, he was at work.
He held the envelope out for her to take back. “I can’t take this money. I need this job to pay my tuition.”
“I respect that,” she said, not taking the envelope. “You drive a hard bargain. We’ll pay your next term’s full tuition if you come with me.”
“Who are you? Who do you want me to meet?” He paused, scowling. “Are you mafia?”
She actually laughed, her solemn face breaking into an unexpectedly charming smile. “You can scent that I’m a werewolf. I can’t say more right now. You need to take some things on trust.”
More cars were honking. Some people were yelling angry things. Julian started to sweat even harder. Polyester was a sweaty-armpit nightmare.
The offer to pay his tuition was staggering. It was tempting, but only on the surface. It had him suspicious. Why was this werewolf so eager to have someone like him come with her? It had to be some weird sex thing. Not with her. She was too elegant and classy. But with some rich guy. A rich guy she worked for who was flabby and hairy in weird places but not on the top of his head. Someone into omegas. A kinky thing. That was the only reason all this money was being thrown around.
No. He wasn’t going with her. When something looked too good to be true, it always was. They’d lure him in, then kidnap him and sell him off to someone in another country. Some…sheik or something.
He still held the envelope out to her so she could take it back. Everyone seemed to be making him hold things out to them today. “Thanks but no thanks. I don’t think it’s for me. Whatever it is.”
“Julian!” a gruff voice shouted from behind him in the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
He spun around, his heart now in his throat. His manager, a burly man with a red beard in a beard-net, was glaring at him with close-set eyes. His skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat because he’d been working the grills during the dinner rush.
“Uh. I-I dropped this customer’s milkshake,” he managed to stammer.
“All these orders are backed up!” The manager went to the window and looked out. “The line is almost out on the street! What are you doing?”
More cars were honking. People were yelling. Unhappy. Julian was frozen, not able to think up any reasonable excuse. All he could do was clutch the envelope filled with money.
His manager was turning an alarming shade of purple. He glared at Julian and pointed toward the back of the building. “Go turn in your shirt and visor. You’re fired.”
“What?” he blurted. That was the only question he seemed to ask these days.
“You’re fired. Turn in your stuff and go.” His boss—ex-boss—walked off, yelling for one of the counter staff to take his place at the drive-thru window.
Julian turned to look out the window, feeling numb all the way through. The woman in the limo was still watching him with that same serious expression on her face.
“We’ll be waiting for you out front,” she said. Then she sat back, and the tinted window rolled up again. The limo smoothly pulled forward, its side still splattered with dripping chocolate milkshake.
The next customer pulled to the window. Some guy in a hat with a sports team on it who started yelling at him. But Julian wasn’t listening. He turned around and walked away, shoving the envelope into his pants pocket. He pulled off his visor and ugly maroon polyester shirt and left them on the counter. He exited through the side door. Everyone was staring at him. His armpits were a sweat swamp. He felt like his whole body was on fire. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this humiliated. Fired from his fast-food job. God.
He started around the building to the metal pipes coming out of the ground where he chained up his ten-speed bicycle every day. He was fumbling with the padlock combination when the limo cruised up behind him.
He spun around, suddenly furious. “Haven’t you done enough? You got me fired.”
The tinted window hummed as it lowered again. The woman in the business suit stared at him with that same inscrutable expression. “Get inside. We’ll take you to meet someone and then take you home if you’d like.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he growled.
“Julian, this opportunity could change your life. I’m asking you to take a chance. Besides, what do you have to lose?”
“How do you know my name? I don’t know you. Who are you?”
“A friend.”
“Don’t even start. I don’t have werewolf friends.”
It was true. He didn’t have werewolf friends in New York. He didn’t have that many human friends either. He’d only lived here for a couple of years, but he hadn’t done spectacularly well with the whole socializing thing. He was so busy with work and school. But part of it was because he was naturally shy and reserved. He’d never been the life of the party. He was never even invited to the party in the first place.
“Julian,” she pressed. “The offer still stands. We’ll pay your next term’s tuition if you come with me.”
“You must think I’m an idiot. I’m not going with you.”
“Why not?” She sounded honestly curious. He scowled at her, but she was watching him intently. He felt like an animal on display at the zoo.
“Because,” he snapped. “Now go away. You’ve done enough. And I’m keeping the money. It’s only fair. You got me fired.”
“Five grand to come with me. Just one meeting.”
He shook his head and swung onto his bike. Maybe he should call the police. Tell them he was being stalked by a woman in a limousine who wanted to give him money.
Yeah. That was believable.
“Why don’t you want to come, Julian?” she asked. “I thought you would be interested in a chance like this.”
“Why don’t I want to come? Because this whole thing is sketchy as hell. I might not be anyone important, but I don’t want to be murdered in some sex dungeon.”
She didn’t laugh at him or mock him. She tilted her head a little and slowly nodded. “Yes. I see. I made a mistake approaching it this way. I assumed the offer of money would be enough to interest you. And that you would trust me more because I’m female.”
He put his foot on the bike pedal, ready to go. He was done with this freaky conversation. He only wanted to get home.
“I hope you can forgive me for misjudging you,” she said. “I promise you won’t be hurt. Nothing bad will happen. I give you my word. One meeting, that’s all I ask. A few hours of your day. Hear us out and you will have next term’s tuition covered.”
He turned to face her again. He should simply ride away, but curiosity and fear that he really might miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime chance fought with his suspicion. “Who do you want me to meet so badly? I don’t get it.”
The woman hesitated, considering his demand. Then she seemed to reach a decision. “King Edric Rylan of Ry Novia.”
Julian stared at her, aware his mouth was hanging partially open. He must look like he’d been pole axed. He certainly felt like someone had clobbered him a good one.
“The alpha king?” he croaked. “He wants to meet me?”
She nodded briskly and opened the limo door for him. “Is that enough to convince you to come? He only wishes to talk.”
“Why? Why does the king want to talk to a nobody like me? I’m not special.”
“You are special. Come with me. He will explain why.”
Julian still hesitated. It was definitely an omega kink thing. That was the only way Julian might be special.
But he could really use a break on tuition. Especially because he’d just lost his job. Which hadn’t even fully sunk in yet.
Then again, Julian was expected to meet the alpha king while smelling like greasy French fries and stress sweat, wearing cheap shoes, cheap trousers, and the T-shirt he’d had under his uniform. It was humiliating.
But…tuition. Two grand in his pocket…
“What about my bike?” he asked, knowing he was searching for another excuse to refuse. He shouldn’t need any excuse not to do something he didn’t want to do. Yet, things were not that simple. They never were.
She shrugged. “Bring it with you. In the limo with us. There is plenty of room.”
“Fine. But I’m not going to bow,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m only doing this for the money and because you cost me my job. So if I stink, I’m not going to apologize for it.”
“Fine,” she said, clearly amused. “My name is Megan Colson. Thank you for coming. I’m already looking forward to this meeting. It should be very interesting.”