Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(41)

“It’s ten o’clock. Are you going to work?”

“Hmmmmmrrrrrrr.”

“I’m the wolf, not you. You sound stupid when you growl.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“Then call in sick. Are you always this helpless?”

She sat up in a grumpy rush, her hair swirling around her head like she’d been caught in a windstorm. “I barely slept last night.”

“I know. You’re incredibly loud when you toss and turn. Are you going to work or what? I’d like to go back to sleep.”

“Then go. I’ll find my way there. Why’d you get up if you’re just going to go back to bed?”

“Coffee. I planned on staying up, but I’m still exhausted. Quit asking questions and figure yourself out.”

She slapped the soft, luxurious down comforter. “Go away.” She thumped her head back into the pillow. Awkwardness could definitely wait.

His dark chuckling trailed him out of the room. “If you’re going, hurry up. There’re no buses this far. I have to drive you.”

Charity lay still for a moment. She did really hate that admin job. She’d lied to Roger when she said they let her do her schoolwork. She was kept busy enough to be marginally useful and bored at the same time. It also paid minimum wage in a place where the cost of living was high, which was the pits.

She rolled out of bed and stood with all the energy of a zombie that had been blasted in the chest with a shotgun. Wait…were there zombies?

Trudging out, she heard the TV blaring in the front room.

Devon sat on the leather couch with his feet propped on the coffee table next to a steaming cup of coffee. He flicked his phone with his right thumb while pointing the remote at the TV with his left hand.

“Multitasking, huh?” she asked, flopping down in a recliner at the far end of the room.

He didn’t answer.

“So…how often do you work?” Charity asked.

“Until the job’s done.”

“But you have time for school?”

“Yes. So does Andy, who isn’t nearly as smart as you.” He dropped his phone, changed a channel randomly, and focused on her. His eyes were intense and businesslike. “Roger makes sure we balance school and our duty. It’s in the pack’s best interest for us to graduate. It’ll provide the organization as a whole with great skills and connections within the Brink. Sometimes it can be…stressful, but it’s still doable.”

“What’s the pay scale like?”

“It depends on rank and involvement. Since you’re…an exceptional case, I’m not sure. What’re you making now?”

“Minimum wage, fifteen hours a week.”

Devon’s jaw dropped at the same time as the remote. “And you wonder why you don’t have any money. Why didn’t you get a real job?”

Charity could feel her body stiffening defensively. “I don’t have any prior experience. Or interview clothes.”

“Hell, a fast food chain would’ve paid better. Anyway, you’ll make a lot more than that, I can assure you. With insurance.”

“Which I’ll probably need.”

Devon leveled his gaze on her. “I would like to say you won’t, and that I will make sure you’re safe, but in our life, there are no guarantees.”

Charity waved him away. She’d never had any guarantees.

She chewed her lip—she did really hate that admin job. And being poor. She hated being broke all the time.

What was a little danger, really? She’d be with a pack of wolves, not alone like last time. She’d have experienced people to help her. Besides, if those creatures were still looking for her, she’d be sucked back into this mess anyway. She might as well get paid for it. And with a trial period, like Devon said, she could get out of it if she wanted to.

Why is this decision so easy to make? That can’t bode well. Nothing in my life comes easily.

“Do you have a house phone?” she asked, not wanting to think any more on the subject. She’d just talk herself out of it.

Confusion crossed his face. “Why would I need a house phone?”

“To make calls, genius.”

He held up his cell phone. “That’s what this is for, genius.”

“Fine. Can I use it?”

His stupid jaw dropped again. “You don’t have a cell phone?”

“You know, this is why hanging out with rich people is actually kind of nice. They think everyone who isn’t a millionaire is poor. So when they treat me with astonished pity because I don’t have an electronic gadget, it’s a standard affair. But no, I don’t have a cell phone, because I hilariously decided eating and dressing myself was more appropriate. My bad.”

“Jesus, how do you stay upright with that giant chip on your shoulder?”

Charity thrust out her hand. “Can I use your damn phone?”

“Ever heard of pay as you go?” He tossed his phone at her.

“Ever heard of shut up?”

“You owe me dinner, too, remember.” He aggressively raised the remote at the TV, smirking. “I assume that means you’re calling in sick? Or quitting?”

She turned away from him and stared at the picturesque screen of the phone. Tiny squares dotted the image of a cresting wave. While she’d seen an ad or two for these phones, and spied kids in her classes going to town on them, she’d never actually used one. It wasn’t as intuitive as she’d heard others claim.