My Hero, Lincoln : Chosen Book 19

by J. D. Light

  "Like as sperm donors, or––"

  His laugh cut me off. It wasn't mean or cruel. He wasn't making fun of me, but there was something off about the sound. "Of course not. They will only be special if you give birth to them."

  He reached out and rubbed my stomach and I forced myself not to flinch away from his touch. There was definitely something off about the man. And what the fuck was he talking about?

  "Give… birth?" I whispered, glancing over at the two guys I'd been talking to before the alpha had made himself known.

  The big guy was frowning, but didn't seem to be shocked by what the tiger alpha had said. The kid was biting his lip, nearly gnawing the thing off as he watched the alpha continue to appraise my person.

  "You're a big guy," the alpha said gripping the wrist of my free arm and lifting it to run his hand up the inside of my arm, over my tattoos until he squeezed my bicep. "I bet you'd have strong, healthy children. I think I'm going to choose you for my streak."

  Even with him talking about me having children and looking me over, I didn't feel like there was anything sexual in the way he was doing it. He didn't want me that way, but it sounded like he was hoping someone would. Someone who would possibly impregnate me.

  "Okay," I said, hoping my agreeable attitude would possibly get us freed. "Will you let us go?"

  "No," he said sadly, almost sounding like a child. "Then I can't have you. Heath is going to give the streak a chosen for our help." He smiled, leaning in like he was imparting a secret. "I'm going to choose you."

  I blinked as the man stood abruptly, moving toward and then up the stairs without so much as a backward glance. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I did know that that alpha had something seriously wrong going on in his brain.

  Chapter Four

  I yawned, rolling out of bed, frowning at the clock on the nightstand when I realized it was well after ten in the morning and I hadn't heard Crawford come in from work the night before. Had I really slept through that? I must have been tired.

  Making my way to the bathroom, I glanced at the closed door to the bedroom that used to be John Russell's and frowned, thinking about that abusive bastard for the first time in a long time.

  I hadn't gone to his funeral. I'd wanted to go to see if Crawford had come home. To check on him and be there for him in case he needed someone, but that had been the week my roommate had borrowed my car to go visit his family in Kentucky, so I couldn't make it.

  Fortunately, he had gone, and that had been where my brother found him. I would always think my brother was amazing if for no other reason than he hadn't asked for an explanation as to why Crawford had disappeared, or why he'd never contacted him. He'd just hugged the guy who'd been his best friend for years and welcomed him home.

  Within a week, I'd already begged my brother for his number and called him and spent the next four years falling in love with the guy.

  After relieving my bladder, I went to move past the bedroom door again, frowning when it finally registered just how quiet the house was. There was nothing. Not even the quiet sound of breathing.

  Frowning, I reached out and tested the door, not really surprised to find it unlocked as the knob twisted in my hand and I pushed it open. It didn't take long for my eyes to adjust to the low light and when they did, I found an empty, perfectly made bed and no Crawford.

  Had he not come home last night?

  My stomach sank and my chest constricted as I thought about him going home with someone else. He was a gorgeous man who worked at a bar. Sure, we'd messed around, but we hadn't established anything when he left for work the day before.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, slowly closing the door and then leaning against the wood.

  I shook my head. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't go home with someone else without clearing the air with me first. He wasn't the type of man to play with someone's emotions or lead them on only to toss them aside. If he didn't want to be with me, he would have spent his entire shift thinking of the best way to let me down easy, and then he would have rushed home and blurted it out almost immediately.

  So, where is he?

  I flopped down on the couch, pulling up Crawford's number on my phone. When it went straight to voicemail, I tried again, wondering if he was possibly trying to call me at the same time, but it went to voicemail again.

  By the fourth time, my heart was starting to race and my leg was bouncing up and down as I tried to think where he could have gone that might make it to where he didn't have any cell reception, but I couldn't even think of where he would be besides in his bed six hours after he was scheduled to be home, even more where he would be that reception would suck.

  Besides buried in a hole.

  I shook my head, swallowing. He was not dead in a hole somewhere. He was fine. There was another explanation.

  When the front door swung open, I jumped to my feet, ready to throw myself in Crawford's arms, but it wasn't my mate who walked through the door, it was my brother.

  "You won't believe what I just heard," he said, eyes wide as I dropped to the couch, slumping dejectedly.

  "Alpha Vance is losing his shit!" He looked around, frowning. "Crawford still in bed?" He didn't wait for an answer before he strode over and plopped onto the couch next to me. "He about killed one of his guards earlier today."

  "What? Why?" I asked, my gaze swinging around to his. "Where did you hear that?"

  "Turner was at the bakery when I stopped in to grab a bagel and he was freaked. Said he's not going back to the streak house. Apparently, he'd been getting worse and worse for months now."

  Turner was an old friend of mine from high school who'd started as Alpha Vance's assistant almost as soon as we graduated. He was usually sass and snark and gossip with little fear and even less give-a-shit. If he was running scared, then something was definitely wrong.

  "Did he say what was going on?"

  Decker shook his head, rolling his eyes. "He's obsessed with getting some chosen in the streak. Apparently, he thinks it's going to fix every problem the streak has."

  I shook my head, wondering when the alpha––a man I'd always respected––had started believing in quick fixes and treating surface damage when it was evident to anyone paying attention, that the streak needed structural repair.

  Maybe it was time for the alpha to step down. It sounded like he might be a bit unhinged. And if he was that obsessed with finding chosen, what lengths would he go to to get…

  My heartrate shot up and a sense of dread moved over my body. "Deck!" I said suddenly, making my brother jump. "Did you ever tell Crawford about the mark on his shoulder?"

  He cringed before shaking his head. "No."

  "Damn it, Decker!" I stood from the couch, my hands going directly to the hair on my head, rubbing my fingers over the top

  "What?" He eyed my obvious frustration leerily. "How do you tell someone something like that?"

  "Deck," I whispered, turning to him. The look on my face must have been enough to alert him that something was wrong, because he immediately turned his attention to the stairs, looking up to the top. "Did you tell anyone else?"

  "Did Crawford make it home last night?" he asked, moving toward the bottom of the stairs, clearly trying to listen for noise on the second floor.

  "No. He wasn't in his room when I checked in earlier.

  "Fuck." He closed his eyes, letting his head drop forward. "I told the alpha. About a month ago. He made an inquiry about anyone in the streak knowing any chosen. I didn't even think about it. I told him. He didn't seem like he was off his rocker then."

  "Shit!" I dropped my hands and strode toward the stairs, stopping at the bottom to look at my brother.

  He was cringing like he expected me to be mad at him, but I'd have done the same thing in his shoes. I reached out and grabbed his shoulder, ignoring the flinch.

  "Okay, you go back and talk to Turner. See if you can find out something about what the alpha's plans were once he
got them, or where he would put a chosen if he found one."

  "Where are you going?" he asked, grabbing my arm when I went to pass him, already making a mental list of all the things I needed to do.

  "I'm going to streak land."

  "No." Decker shook his head, trying to tug me back down. "If he's as messed up as they say he is, I don't want you going anywhere near the alpha alone," he growled.

  I respected my brother. I really did. And though he drove me completely crazy with his overbearing bullshit, I loved him and knew it came from a place of love and concern. But on this, even he had to realize he had absolutely no say.

  "I have to, Deck. He's my mate." I said simply, peeling his fingers off of my arm and giving them a squeeze. "Alpha Vance barely leaves streak land anymore. If he has Crawford, he's going to be there. There is no way my tiger is going to be able to sit back and be idle when my mate might be in trouble."

  "Fuck!" He closed his eyes, letting his head drop forward before swallowing. "Okay, but wait for me to call you before you do anything stupid."

  "Okay," I said, probably a little too high in tone to be convincing.

  "You are the worst fucking liar."

  ***

  I didn't regret not listing to my brother. I usually thrived on not listening to that idiot. Though, maybe I could have at least called him––possibly sent a text––to let him know where I was, and where to find my body when I was murdered by a big-ass sadistic bastard.

  Pain exploded in my face before dulling into the throb of the same constant ache I'd been feeling for the last hour and a half. That was how long Boyer had been beating the ever loving shit out of me since he caught me trying to break the lock on the shackle securing my mate to the floor.

  "Boyer!" One of the new guys yelled and for a blessed moment, no new blows were rendered. "Stop fucking playing around. Kill him already."

  "No," I heard Crawford cry and I would have smiled at him to reassure him if my body wasn't so busy trying to heal my broken jaw.

  "Am I telling you how to stand there and do nothing, Garrett?" Boyer growled, jostling my broken body with a foot. "No, now do your job and I'll do mine."

  The next hit was to my stomach and I coughed a little more blood, adding to the mess on my shirt. My exhausted body couldn't even curl in on itself, so I just flopped to the floor completely limp.

  I must have passed out, because I woke to somebody picking me up and nearly cried in relief when I heard Crawford's soothing voice telling me not to move.

  I groaned, popping my jaw as I felt the bone deep ache of a bone healing.

  There were a few of those aches, actually, and I hoped everything was where it was supposed to be or else I'd need to have a healer rebreak every single one.

  I opened my eyes slowly, and my mate's gorgeous face came into focus. "Oh, Crawford," I said around a lump. "Thank God. Are you okay?"

  Shaking his head, he positioned me more securely in his arms and stood, smiling sadly at me. "Yeah, Linc, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

  We were moving, but I wasn't really sure where we were headed. All I cared about was that my mate was whole and healthy and in my arms… I guessed I was in his, but at least he was okay.

  I smiled, trying not to wince at the pain in my face.

  As we exited the old bunker, the darkness told me I'd been in there longer than I'd thought getting the shit beaten out of me, but I just sighed happily and laid my head against Crawford's shoulder.

  "Dude! Are you okay?"

  I opened my eyes to find an adorably wide-eyed beanpole staring down at me, and I recognized him as one of the chosen who'd been chained to the wall when I'd first entered the underground haven for hotheaded hillbillies hiding out from hydrogen bombs.

  He was cute as shit and I couldn't stop the giggle that fell out of my mouth. "I'm good, dude."

  When I glanced up at Crawford, he was trying to hide his smirk, probably wanting to pinch this kid's cheeks as much as I did.

  "I'm Beckett, this is my best friend, Enid. We're from Memphis." He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb and I followed the action to find a dark-headed guy who looked to be about twenty-years-old, watching me.

  "Thanks for trying to save us," he said gruffly, looking about ready to puke as he continued to peruse my face.

  "I must look really bad if you're looking at me like that," I said, once again trying to smile.

  "Huh?" His eyes widened and he shook his head, blinking. "No, no." He cringed, looking away. "I just can't quit seeing the way he was beating you. I thought he was going to kill you."

  "So did I," Crawford said, his voice sounding choked.

  I reached up, running my hand over his cheek to sooth him.

  "Wow," Beckett said, eyes wide on something over Crawford's head and I pushed myself up to see, already starting to feel a bit more mobile.

  It wasn't a tiger or even a unicorn that those bright green eyes were focused on. It was a man. A man in tactical gear. When the man turned slowly in our direction, sniffing the air slightly, Beckett gasped and started flapping his arms like a baby bird trying to fly.

  "What do I do? What do I do?" He spun in a circle and his companion chuckled.

  "I can push you out of a tree and see if you take flight," Enid said, raising an eyebrow.

  That earned him a couple of smacks and then he disappeared completely behind his friend as the tactical guy came to stand among the group.

  "Hi," he said, trying to see around Enid to where Beckett was trying to become a growth on his friend's back.

  Enid nodded, not bothering to offer his hand. "Hi."

  A slim hand connected to a slim arm slid between Enid's arm and side, reminding me of those helping hands videos where someone pokes their head through a sweatshirt and someone else pokes their arms through, and arms does head's make-up or feeds them or something. Only this time it was for a handshake.

  "Hi," Beckett squeaked, making Enid sigh and roll his eyes.

  "I'm Grayson," tactical guy said, frowning at the hand before taking it. He held it longer than absolutely necessary and I could see how uncomfortable Enid was becoming as the center of that strange sandwich.

  "I'm gonna need to question each of you if that's okay," Grayson said, finally releasing Beckett's hand and stepping back.

  "You can talk to them first," Enid said, nodding at us as he tried to wrestle Beckett out from behind him like the kid was a June bug stuck to his shirt. "He looks like he probably should get home to some ice.

  Every once in a while, you'd see a skinny arm or leg poke out from behind the guy before it would disappear again and then he couldn't seem to get ahold of anything.

  We gave our statements and then gave Grayson our address, telling him to drop the other two at our house when he was done talking to them. Apparently, neither of them had a place to go in Memphis. They'd been kicked out of the place they were staying right before they were grabbed.

  They both tried to protest when we offered to let them stay with us, but we'd finally managed to talk them into it.

  It was well past ten when we got home, so I called Decker and listened to him bitch about me being an idiot who could have gotten himself killed, before telling him to shut his asshole and climbing into Crawford's bed.

  Crawford froze for a moment when I plastered myself to his side before sighing and squeezing me in tighter.

  "I'm a chosen," he said into the darkness after a few moments of silence.

  "I know." I ran my hand up and down his chest soothingly, hoping to soothe what had to be some pretty chaotic thoughts.

  I had no idea how I'd have handled finding out, especially in the way he had.

  "Did you know I can have babies?" he whispered, his throat sounding loud in the stillness of the bedroom when he swallowed.

  "Yeah."

  He turned his face toward mine in the dark, his eyes searching for purchase on mine in the low light. "So, it doesn't bother you? Doesn't make you think I'm a freak"

&
nbsp; I smiled, leaning forward to put my lips to his. "No." I licked his lower lip before sucking it into my mouth. "It makes you even more special than you already were."

  ***

  My entire body was a jittery mess by the time Crawford sleepily made his way down the stairs at eleven o'clock the next morning.

  I was nervous, I hadn't eaten… because I was nervous, and I'd had three cups of coffee. Basically, I was about to vibrate right off the stool I was sitting on, and by the way Crawford, narrowed his eyes on me as soon as he walked into the room, he knew it.

  We'd literally fallen asleep kissing. Slow leisurely kisses that didn't turn into anything else, because we were both too exhausted for anything else. In the end, I think we basically just fell asleep, sharing a pillow with our lips barely touching.

  "What's wrong, Linc?" he asked, cupping the back of my neck as he went by and giving it a little squeeze.

  He went directly to the coffee pot––where I'd brewed yet another pot of coffee––pouring himself some… before setting it aside and bending down to reach under the sink. He came up with a spray bottle and some paper towels and proceeded to clean up my spilled coffee, sugar and cream mess.

  Somehow, that calmed some of my nerves and I tilted my head to the side, sighing.

  "I need to tell you something" I blurted, and he froze, his hand hanging over the trash can where he was about to drop the soiled paper towels, eyes wide.

  He swallowed, letting them fall before walking over to where he'd left his coffee, stopping to put the spray bottle away, then picking up his cup and walking over to sit on the stool next to mine.

  "Do I need to sit down for this?" When I nodded, his eyebrows shot up and he opened and shut his mouth a few times before getting a handle on things and moving to the stool across the bar from mine.

  I opened my mouth to tell him we were mates, but my throat practically closed, another round of nerves hitting me hard. We'd known each other for years and until I'd attacked him in the shower, he'd never shown and signs that he might want me at all. And absolutely zero signs that he ever wanted to be in a relationship with anyone.