Blondie’s 1998 with a Goat: Chosen Book 7 Read online

  Copyright © 2018 J.D. Light

  Cover Art by www.coversbyjess.com

  Chapter One

  "Here you go, guys. Four amazing snow-cones, two crumble muffins and an ice water with lemon." He gave me the smirky up, down, when he sat my green apple snow-cone in front of me. "Go easy, 1998. I make a great green apple. I don't want you giving yourself a brain-freeze."

  Fuck, he was sexy. I was dying to taste that smirk on his plush mouth.

  I smiled, wanting to say something back, but the awe of the situation was starting to hit me. And the fact that this was my mate, in the flesh, serving me a green apple snow-cone that did, in fact, smell amazing, and he was perfection personified.

  At first, I'd been confused as to why I'd been so obsessed over they guy. I'd watched him flit around the smattering of picnic tables at the park, and thought he was the most beautiful, gorgeous thing, I'd ever seen, completely unable to draw my gaze away.

  The tight pull of those cutoff sweatpants when he'd bent over a time or two to deliver a treat to the other customers of his food truck had nearly caused me to pop he seam of my jeans.

  The air outside had stirred the breeze, causing me to not notice the source of the delicious smell that made my mouth water when it kept sweeping by me, was an actual person until it got stronger as the gorgeous man approached.

  I'd nearly growled. It felt like my entire body had been shocked at once by that stupid hotwire fence I always somehow ran into that surrounded the feed lots just outside of Purdy when I was running off a bad day.

  I looked him over again, not bothering to hide the fact that I was watching him as he continued to set stuff down in front of the person who ordered it. He was stunning. No way to deny it. I'd seen models who looked homely compared to him. Both in face and in body.

  Cliché or not, I couldn't help but wonder what a guy like him was doing in a tiny place like Purdy, running a food truck, and serving snow-cones, when he should probably be working in some big city, posing provocatively in some barely there briefs, and making tons of money.

  Trying not to growl at both the image that made in my head, and the idea that everyone would be able to see it, I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. I'd made fun of the mated couples in my pack for a lot less than getting jealous of an imaginary scenario.

  "Do you own the truck, Blondie?"

  Glancing at me as he sat a muffin down in front of Ronny, he nodded. "My brother and I do. It's kind of a new endeavor."

  "Why do I feel like I know you?" Davis leaned his head to the side, squinting his eyes at my mate, tapping his index finger to his mouth.

  He shrugged lifting his eyebrows. "How's your snow-cone?" His face gave nothing away. In fact, if I hadn't been watching him so close, I probably wouldn't have seen the slight stiffening of his body just before he hid it.

  And if I wasn't sitting there, drawing his scent in like a lunatic, I might have missed the barely perceptible change in his scent letting me know he'd gotten nervous momentarily.

  Nervous or not, he was doing an excellent job of hiding it.

  "It's amazing! What exactly is in a Killer Clown?" Davis licked his red lips, and I swear I heard Ward get an erection.

  We all heard him groan. Including his mate, who smirked and elbowed him.

  "Green apple, silver fox, and banana on the bottom layer. And then lots and lots of cherry to make it as bloody as possible." He snickered. "But maybe I should have held off on the cherry a bit. Your man is about to have an aneurysm."

  Davis blushed and rolled his eyes, while the rest of us chuckled. Including Ward, who leaned forward and pecked Davis's plump lips.

  "As freaking cute as that all is, I have to get back. If I don't, my brother will try to use my snow-cone machine. I'm still finding tiger's blood syrup in the strangest places from the last time."

  Marlow gave me one more long look, before shaking his cute little ass all the way back to the truck.

  "Damn," I whispered, eyes laser focused on the damn thing until it disappeared.

  I saw him a couple times after that, running from the truck to the tables, and back again. Always smiling. Stopping to chat occasionally. But definitely running around like a Jack Russell on crack.

  Did he always wait on people? That seemed like more than was necessary for a food truck, but maybe he thought it would keep the business going.

  Seeing a tip jar on the side of the truck that really looked to have a sad amount of tips, especially for someone running around to the degree he was, I made my way over to the truck and dug a hundred dollar bill out of my pocket. I dropped it inside, and started to turn, when a voice similar, but not quite Marlow's stopped me.

  "You don't have to do that." The voice was quiet, unsure, and when I looked through the tiny window, I was surprised to see a man with very similar features to that of my mate. "I know he looks like a crazy person running around like that, but he has to stay busy. I guess its just part of always having a super busy lifestyle before. He just doesn't know how to slow down."

  Smiling, I waved at the kid, noting that though it was obvious he was Marlow's twin, the way they carried themselves and definitely the way they dressed, couldn't be more different.

  "You must be the brother. I'm Arlington, but you can call me Arry."

  Smiling back, but ducking his head, the not-so-exact replica of my mate nodded. "I'm Bentley. I like to hide out in here. He's so good with people. I'm better with baked goods." He grabbed a basket of muffins with his left hand and raised it in the air.

  When he lowered it back down, I noticed his right arm. The best way to say it was that part of it was missing. It stopped just below the bend of the elbow, where his shirt hung limp.

  When he noticed me looking, he quickly hid it behind his back, making me feel like a straight up asshole.

  "I'm so sorry. That was super rude of me. This isn't going to sound any better than standing here staring like an ass made me look, but I wasn't exactly sure what I was…yeah, that sounds horrible, actually." Rolling my eyes, I sighed. "I'm starting to sound like Davis. If I start saying dick, cock, or dildo incessantly, feel free to slam the window in my face."

  Snickering, he brought his arm back around. "It just caught your eye? Something didn't look right and you did a double take?" At my cringe and nod, he smiled and shrugged. "I get it. We all look twice when something doesn't quite add up."

  "Did you get hurt? Is it recent?"

  "Yes, and no. I was hurt a long, long time ago. When I was six. So, in a way, the timing was kind of a blessing. I don't really remember a lot about having this hand, and I don't remember the pain." Shrugging, he continued to smile, as he quietly said, "I'm pretty sure I was meant to be a righty, though, because my handwriting is shit."

  That surprised a laugh out of me, and he joined in.

  "Bentley?"

  I turned my head, to find Marlow standing behind his brother inside the truck, a look of surprise on his gorgeous face.

  Again it struck me as funny that these two definitely looked alike, both exceptionally handsome and more than worthy to grace every sexy billboard ad to exist, but they weren't even kind of hard to tell apart.

  Marlow's expression was open and confident. Bentley's was almost closed down, and clearly unsure. Marlow was outgoing and bold, giving as much or more than he got, his adorable brother was quiet and shy.

  Marlow glanced at me, a slightly confused, small smile ticking up the corners of his mouth. "Are you being haunted by the ghost of years past, Bent? Like the years before we were old enough to even make memories?"

  "Arry was just awkwardly gawking at my arm, and talking about dicks." Bentley giggled, and the sound made me smile.

  "I have something so inappropriate to say right now, but I'm going to resist." Glaring playfully, I pointed a finger at the man. "You're meaner than I originally thought."

  That only made him giggle more, and Marlow raised an eyebrow at me. "Please tell me you weren't about to bring up stump porn."

  Whatever face I made, must have been one for the record books, because both of them started laughing so hard, they had to lean on each other to not fall over.

  "Arry!" Bennett came up behind me, blinking when he saw Marlow and Bentley. "Holy shit. Are they multiplying in there?" He looked around dramatically, like he fully expected to see more popping out of an oven or something.

  Marlow laughed, walking over to the snow-cone machine, and getting started on what I assumed was his next order. My eyes followed him, enjoying quite thoroughly, the graceful way he moved.

  He didn't even seem to notice me, as he pulled three cups out, placing them on the counter in front of him. I watched his arms as he worked, mesmerized by the way the muscles rolled beneath his bronzed skin.

  I couldn't help but imagine what they would look like working my cock, and I groaned, letting my mouth fall open slightly. I licked my lips, biting down on the bottom one. I was dying for a taste of those long, syrup covered fingers, and then those sweet looking lips.

  Bentley snickered, and I glanced up, smiling when I realized I'd been caught ogling his brother. I shrugged, letting him know I wasn't trying to hide it. The boy giggled again, quietly, and opened the oven, before picking a pan of muffin batter up and slipping it inside.

  With Bennett there, he was back to keeping his arm tucked away, and quietly performing his task. Like he'd been before my stammering had made him feel less self-conscious for a sma
ll period of time.

  Not wanting the guy to be uncomfortable in his own space, and knowing my mate was probably too busy working to deal with a creeper standing just outside his truck, making things awkward, I turned to usher Benny away.

  He was busy watching the snow-cone making process like a kid learning the secret to life. I almost felt bad about making him leave.

  "Alright, let's leave them to it."

  "Yeah, it's not like we won't be back, I had to sit on Syn to keep him from swallowing his snow-cone whole after that first bite." Shrugging, Bennett turned and walked back toward his mate. "Pregnant men. Am I right?"

  Glancing through the window, wondering if the idiot had been heard, I found my mate and his sweet brother wearing identical expressions of confusion, but neither said a word.

  "Well, bye, evil twin and eviler twin. It was almost nice meeting you."

  Bentley waved me off, smiling slightly. Marlow met my eyes, his mouth opening like he was going to say something, but instead, he cleared his throat and waved, shaking his head and smiling. "Bye, 1998. Sorry we don't sell Dr. Martens here. Maybe someday."

  Rolling my eyes, I laughed and spun toward my friends.

  As I walked away from the window, I could clearly hear Bentley say, "So, Arry was the gorgeous guy with the ridiculous goatee you came in here flapping about earlier, wasn't he?"

  I stopped, out of sight, listening in.

  "Shut up!" Marlow growled under his breath. "And what was all the giggling about when I walked in?"

  Laughing, Bentley asked, "Were you jealous? Don't worry Marlow, I wasn't flirting with your man."

  "He's not my man. You just seemed more relaxed than you usually do around new people. It was nice."

  "You're just glad I'm already getting along with my future in-laws." There was a squeal, and then, "Damn it, Marlow! That's cold!"

  "I don't even kinda feel bad."

  ***

  The man on the screen in Green's office looked more slimy and creepy than big and imposing, but his size, or strength physically weren't our biggest problem. It was the fact that this man had somehow convinced hundreds of shifters that killing off all but certain members of their leap, pack, skulk, pride, or whatever else, was going to somehow make a superior race of shifters.

  Linus Martin was staring into the camera with a type of coldness reserved for serial killers. And, in all honesty, he kind of was. His murder weapon just happened to be hundreds of gullible shifters that were willing to do anything to feel important.

  "We could just kill him," Foster said, sounding like he wanted to do just that. "Unfortunately, he has people like Gerald here." He pulled up a picture of the cheetah shifter that had first attacked Sutton, and then tried to attack all the chosen. "Who goes around recruiting people from different areas. Anyone of these guys could step up at any moment and take over."

  "And there's a good chance the Becker Leap is now on their radar." Flynn's voice was grave and serious, making me antsy.

  "Which means," Bennett said, from the corner, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. Far more serious than usual. "We need another convention so we can take the majority of the cult out at the same time, but we have to do something before they come find us."

  "And," Ward added. "Now that we have someone at the FBI analyzing the chemical in that grenade, we can hopefully find a way to vaccinate against it or something. But until then, we have to be careful of getting our own large groups together at one time."

  "True." Foster said, nodding. "Also, I don't want to freak anyone out especially since all the chosen we know are already mated," Foster said, standing up, and walking close to the big TV we had hooked up to Green's computer so everyone could see. "But Kinsey contacted me this morning about human disappearances that have been happening all over the country.

  "At first, he ignored it because it didn't seem like part of our jurisdiction, but––Green, will you pull that picture up?" A picture of a young man, probably in his late teens, popped up on the screen.

  At first there was nothing odd about the picture. Just some young man possibly on his way to school. Backpack slung over his shoulder, waving at whoever was taking the picture with an indulgent smile on his face, as he prepared to climb into a car. But when Green zoomed in, the mark on his shoulder where the backpack had caused the sleeve of his t-shirt to ride up was undeniably interesting.

  "After Kinsey saw this picture, he started doing some digging. Calling loved ones of the missing people, asking about any identifying marks. Turns out eighteen of the twenty-three missing under similar circumstances had chosen marks." Foster tossed a stack of pictures on the table.

  When they were fanned out, it was clear it was pictures of people in their late teens and early twenties, both girls and boys. If Foster's information was correct, all chosen.

  "Fuck," someone whispered in the back of the room.

  "Pretty much, yeah."

  Ward growled, eyes narrowed on all the pictures. "Have any of them been recovered?"

  "Not one." Foster looked at the picture of the boy on the screen, his forehead creased. "That boy, right there, had his whole life to look forward too. Possibly a mate out there, waiting for him to come into their life, and parents and friends that are worried to death for him."

  "How long ago did he disappear?" Bennett's voice sounded so angry. Completely unlike his usual.

  "Almost three months ago. On May 10th." Foster sighed. "He was supposed to go to a friend's after a party. The next day, the mother hadn't heard from him. So, she called to check with the friend. He said he hadn't seen the boy since they arrived at the party the night before. He'd tried calling him a couple times to check on him, but he'd never gotten through.

  "The mom traced his phone to a spot by the creek that ran through the back of the property they were partying on. There were animal tracks, but no sign of blood.

  "The story rings the same for all of the victims. Animal tracks of some sort, but no sign of blood."

  "Do you think it's some kind of trafficking?" Thompsyn growled, quietly. "Or, are we thinking breeders?"

  The giant bear's belly was still mostly flat. Maybe the beginnings of a bump. But his pregnancy had been confirmed by the same elder who'd confirmed Ridley's. They hadn't had an ultrasound yet to check the size of the baby, but the elder thought he would probably be due around the middle of February, and Bennett had practically floated everywhere he went for the last two weeks.

  "Maybe both," Flynn said, shaking his head. "You could make more at one time selling them, but if you breed them, you could make money off of their special offspring."

  "Thankfully, mated chosen can't conceive with any other shifter, so taking one of ours won't do them any good. It still stands to reason that we have to watch them. Especially after what happened with the cheetah." Foster took one last look at the pictures of the young chosen and swept them back into a pile. "Since it's possible we've made an enemy, the easiest way to get to us is through our mates."

  Chapter Two

  "Maybe you should call the police, Mars. He's already practically assaulted you. Now he shows up here, every single day?" Bentley sounded agitated, and I really didn't blame him.

  The creep had grabbed my wrist one day, practically jerking off the cuff I always wore to cover my birthmark. He'd stared at the thing with a crazed looking gaze that immediately made me cringe and want to run.

  He'd come every day since then, sitting out at one of the tables in the covered picnic area we usually parked our truck near.

  He'd seemed a little too interested in the raised skin of my wrist. And I'd practically had to wrestle my arm free so I could put the leather cuff back in place.

  It wasn't like my birthmark was all that unsightly. It was just weird. There were far too many questions to be asked about why my brother and I had identical marks on our wrists. Each looking like they were burnt there by a branding iron or something. And truthfully, that wasn't something I would put past my mother.

  After a while, I'd just gotten sick of answering questions about them. And my past life was one of such scrutiny, if someone thought my brother and I, or even one of our parents burnt matching symbols into our wrists, the media would turn my entire life upside down.

  "I don't know, Bent. It's not like it's my first weirdo. I guess I'm just not used to dealing with it without someone around to act as security." I sighed, wishing so many things about my past life could be different.