Omega Hunter

“There’s a diner. Good enough?” he called back over his shoulder.

“Yes. I think I could eat roadkill right now,” she yelled back, her voice carrying along the wind as it blew across them on the bike.

He laughed. It wasn’t surprising. Though he didn’t know a lot about bear shifters, other than that they existed, he was assuming that they were pretty much the same as wolves. If so, having to stay in bear form for an extended period of time to rev up her metabolism and heal would result in a need for more fuel—more food.

“Let’s get you some breakfast,” he told her, pulling into the diner and parking near the door.

He noticed that she chose a table near the back and sat so that she was facing the door. It must be hell having to look over your shoulder like this. He’d like to say he could protect her if they came for her and he’d give it his all, but if more than one bear shifter turned up, he’d stand little chance against them as a single wolf, and he was more than a day’s ride away from his pack. The best he could hope for was to help her stay hidden until she could get back on the road and further away from them.

He watched as she studied the menu and pursed her lips. He’d seen that look before. It was the look of someone who was hungry but lacked the means to satisfy the pangs. If she were in better health, she’d most likely go feral and help herself to a nice size deer or two in the woods, but she was still weak, still healing.

“Order what you need. It’s my treat,” he told her.

“No. I’ve already taken advantage. I’ll get something small, something I can afford.”

“Order what you need,” he repeated. “You can’t heal without enough food, and you’re in no condition to hunt. I’m not hurting for money, so it’s not going to break me. Hold onto what cash you have.”

“Thank you. When I get settled, on my feet, I’ll find a way to pay you back,” she said, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Let’s not worry about all that. Order what you want. I plan to, and I can’t be sitting here eating a heaping plateful while you’re over there nibbling on a slice of bacon.

Between the two of them, they ordered two full stacks of pancakes, a plate of bacon, pork sausages, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and buttered toast with jam. She probably ate more than he did, and he had to wonder where she was putting it. She was curvy but somehow slender It seemed like a lot of food. He didn’t know if this was typical for a bear shifter or it was just her condition that made her so ravenous; maybe both.

“You know, I don’t even know your name,” he said.

“Autumn,” she replied. “You are Malcolm, right?”

“Yes. How did you know that?” he asked.

“I heard you tell the campground clerk.”

“Ah. Of course,” he laughed, stabbing another bite of sausage with his fork.

“Do you know if the garage got my bike? If they know anything about it yet?”

“I know they picked it up. We’ll swing by there after breakfast and see if they’ve been able to look at it yet.”

“Thanks. I don’t know how to thank you for all this.”

“Just get better and get on your way. Don’t worry about anything else.”

She nodded and finished her food before they headed out to the garage to see what was up with the bike. The owner was hesitant to let her in once he got a good whiff of her, but Malcolm talked him into it, letting him know she was injured and harmless—just a girl trying to put a lot of space between herself and some bad people.

“I thought the frame was cracked, but once we got it in and really looked at it, it isn’t. I can get it back to where it should be, but it ain’t gonna be cheap.”

“How much we talking?”

“Probably almost three grand, man.”

Malcolm saw her head drop out of the corner of his eye. He looked over at the bike and then back at the mechanic.

“How much just to get it rideable, without worrying how it looks?”

“Well, assuming you don’t care if it ain’t painted and nothing turns up more damaged than what I can see once I take it apart, I can probably just beat most of it back into shape. We’re still looking at six or seven hundred.”

“You got anything laying around for less that she can ride?”

“Nah, man. Oh, wait. I do have an old Vespa out back, but she ain’t gonna get nowhere quick on that thing.”

“Alright. Do what you can with the bike. Don’t worry about the spit and polish, just get it upright. I’ll cover it.”