"An omega we brought in six months ago; she's aptly named but her full name—and I did not tell you this—is Clementine."
"Aw, that's cute," I said, smiling.
"I know where the supplies will be," he told me, gesturing towards the door. "I'll show you."
"Priest," I murmured, my fingers on the handle. "Can I come shopping with you?"
"What? I—if you want," he laughed, right behind me as I pushed the door open and sucked down a lungful of fresh air. Strangely, it wasn't as reassuring as the scent of the chapel. "It won't be very exciting, but you're welcome to tag along."
A smile crossed my face, deep and real. "Thanks."
"Just tell Prodigy, in case he panics that you've gone missing—or your sister comes out of her nest."
Ah. The last thing I wanted was for Astrid to freak out when she couldn't find me.
Priest threw me a strange look as he led me to the clubhouse. "But be warned; it won't be a badass ride on the back of my bike. You'll have to take a hit to your pride and come with me inthatmonstrosity."
He pointed to a rusted old van with flaking red paint.
My eyebrows shot up. "Uhh…"
"Tell me about it," he laughed. "But the shopping won't fit in my saddlebags."
"Does it even run?" I asked dubiously, taking the steps up to the clubhouse's front door and becoming strangely aware of my ease of speaking to Priest.
"It might break down halfway to the supermarket," he remarked.
I froze on the threshold, giving him a wide-eyed stare.
"Kidding," he said.
But I didn't fully believe him.
11
Priest
"Tell me this rust bucket has a name," Luna said with a low laugh that made my jeans uncomfortably tight. Fuck, she was beautiful, and especially because this was the first time I'd seen her relax. Her brown eyes were brighter, like sunlit quartz, and the haggard quality to her face had begun to fade. I knew it would return, but I was glad to give her an hour of peace.
I'd never been more grateful that I was the nominated food shopper of the club.
"She," I replied, emphasising the word and alright fighting laughter, "is calledPamela."
"Pamela," Luna repeated, blinking.
I couldn't stop grinning, but I forced my eyes to the road in front of us even if I wanted to stare at the beautiful woman beside me all damn day. "I'm told when Winner first got her, shewas a bright, sexy red colour, hence the name. They’re his words, not mine."
I stopped at a red light and caught her confused frown. Adorable.
"The colour of Pamela Andersen's swimsuit in Baywatch," I explained, a deep laugh rumbling through my body at her eye-roll. "I know, it's ridiculous."
"I thought a biker would call her Butcher or Shotgun or something cool."
"Nope," I chucked. "Pamela."
Pamela grumbled at me putting my foot down when the light turned green, and with a little coaxing, I drove across the city to our nearest supermarket. There'd been a closer shop a couple years ago, but lawless alphas burned it to the ground in protest of omegas employed there. I wondered if the Hunters had incited it.
"Does your bike have a name?" Luna asked, watching me from the corner of her eye.