For the Hope of a Crow

by T. S. Joyce

  “Why would I pay full price for half the shirt?” she asked as he ushered her toward a dressing room. “And why are all the clothes you picked out black? That’s my least favorite color.”

  There was a growl behind her, and then the rattle of a hanger before he clapped a hot pink V-neck Harley shirt with the logo across the front in black glitter onto her pile.

  “Well, the festive color is an improvement.”

  “Start with these. I’m going to find more,” Ramsey said.

  “Okay,” she said. But then as he turned back at the door of the dressing room, she called out, “Wait! Do you want me to do a fashion show?”

  “A fashion what?” he asked, looking nonplussed.

  “You know…do you want me to show you the clothes?”

  “Yeah. Fine. Fine, show me the clothes.”

  “And also, I’m still hungry.”

  Ramsey’s face lit up, and he nodded. “I’m on it. Try those on.” He walked away and Vina tucked her chin to her chest and stared. Whoo, that boy was fine from behind, too. Lick. He probably squatted a lot of weights. His open-sleeve tank clung to him just right to emphasize his V-shape.

  Suddenly, Ramsey turned around. Vina jerked and looked away quick.

  “Busted,” he said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said and tried to shut the door in a rush behind her. Only the clothes got stuck in the door, and it bounced back open. She muttered, “holy balls,” before she got the door shut again. Was that Ramsey laughing? Whatever. At least he couldn’t see her cheeks turn the color of the neon shirt she held clutched to her bosom.

  She pulled on a pair of skin-tight bejeweled jeans that had rips at the knees and barely scraped over her curvy thighs, but huh… She twisted left and right in the mirror. They actually fit when she got them in place. Nice and stretchy. The waist was snug, but her booty cheeks did look round and lifted in these. And the sparkles on the tooshie sure were nice. Good length to put over a pair of red pumps. A shoe box came sailing over the dressing room door and hit her in the arm. “Ow,” she muttered, rubbing her elbow and staring at the clumpy black boots that had fallen out of the box.

  This was the worst date ever.

  Growling internally, she pulled on the boots, settled the bootcut hem of the jeans over them, and then pulled on the pink, super-fitted shirt and… Oh my gosh. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her mom would fall on her knees asking God why he let the devil have her daughter if she saw her in this get-up.

  She should take it off right this instant.

  But…her boobs looked awesome in the shirt. And the V-neck came down just low enough to show the crack between her teats. She did resemble an hourglass figure in this outfit. Her legs looked longer thanks to the thick-soled riding boots, and the sparkles on her booty glistened attractively in the fluorescent lighting. Like a fish lure. Heeeere, Ramsey Ramsey Ramseeeeey.

  The door opened, and in walked her fix. She jumped and yelped then yanked her ripped pink pants from the floor and clutched them to her chest.

  Ramsey shut the door behind him and started hanging up about three thousand more items of clothing.

  Without turning, he reached over, yanked her pants away from her, and threw them on the ground. Then he turned to her. His eyes had been dead, but when they lighted on her, a spark of something flashed through them. As he dragged his fiery gaze down her body and back up, slowly, she felt as if he was physically touching her. His eyes went to such a dark and hungry blue, her stomach did a flip-flop.

  “Holy fuck. That outfit is a yes.”

  “It is?”

  He arched his blond brows as he nodded. “Oh, yeah. You look hot.”

  “I do?” she said at an uncomfortable volume.

  Ramsey laughed. “Yeah. You really do. Try the black jeans on next.”

  “Okay.” This was kinda fun. Like trying on costumes. She stood there with a big, dumb grin on her face as she waited for him to exit the dressing room.

  “We ain’t gettin’ any younger,” he assured her, crossing his arms.

  “You’re going to stay in here while I change?” she whispered.

  “Yep.”

  “But…”

  “But what? I’m a dude. I like tits. You have really nice ones. Take your shirt off.”

  Vina scoffed. “Not likely, you perverted…perverted…prick biscuit.”

  Ramsey narrowed his eyes. “I’m way worse than a perverted prick biscuit, Vina,” he murmured as he closed the distance between them. “But this is what you signed up for, right?” He gripped her waist and pushed her back against the mirror, pressing his body to hers. “You’re so wholesome and innocent, it makes me want to corrupt you.” Ramsey’s fierce gaze dipped to her lips in the moment right before he gripped the back of her neck and kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss either. His lips were hard and unmoving, and his grasp on her neck was firm.

  Vina wanted to simultaneously slap him and hold him tighter.

  Whatever had happened in his life to make him like this, she pitied him. And she wanted to erase the rough kiss. Wanted to change the moment. Wanted it to hurt less.

  So she slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. She owned the dressing room kiss. Perhaps he’d done this to prove he was a monster, but that was okay. She already knew he was.

  Angling her face, she sucked gently on his bottom lip. Ramsey went rigid in her arms but allowed it for a few seconds before he pulled back by an inch. The frown on his features was deep and troubled. “What are you doing?”

  “What are you doing? You broke your own rule, Ram” she whispered. “No affection, remember?”

  Ramsey’s nostrils flared as he angled his face away from hers, eyes locked on her own, a storm brewing in those dark blue eyes of his. There they stayed, sizing each other up, until he lifted her palm to his chest, rested it right over his heart, and let her feel it racing a mile a minute. And then he dropped her hand and left the dressing room. “I’ll be right outside the door. Do your…fashion show.”

  He left her there, her back pressed against the mirror, her heartrate matching his, struggling to remember any kiss before this one.

  Because something had happened. Some spark had ignited in her chest and confused and excited her. Her hands shook as she reached for the black ripped-up jeans.

  That man—that wild, broken, monster of a man—had called to something inside of her. He’d woken something up. Her animal was paying attention now, and she gave a private smile because this wasn’t how she’d expected any of this to go.

  This is what you signed up for, right?

  No.

  This was better.

  Chapter Nine

  “You said you were going to buy me one outfit, but I have three full bags of clothes.”

  “So?” Ramsey asked, stuffing the bags into the leather storage compartments on the sides of his bike.

  “So this is basically a new wardrobe, and it’s mostly in my least favorite color.”

  “But how does wearing them make you feel?”

  Vina stared down at her new leather riding jacket and skinny jeans and boots. “Like a bad-A.”

  “Like a badass?”

  “Yep.”

  Ramsey chuckled. “I’m gonna get you to cuss like a sailor, too. Just wait.”

  “Why do you want to corrupt me?”

  “Because you’re so good and innocent and pure, and I like destroying innocent things.”

  “Monster.”

  “Atta girl, now you’re starting to get it. Tonight, I’m gonna scare you off even more. Ready for it?”

  “For what?”

  “Club party. You’ll be the guest of honor.” Ramsey gallantly offered his hand to help her on the bike, but she wasn’t fooled. This man was no gentleman.

  Vina hesitated just a second before she slipped her palm against his and swung her leg over the bike. “When I was a kid, I got made fun of in school a little bit. I didn’t care, but I lea
rned tough lessons. One was if someone is nice to you, and it doesn’t make sense that they are nice to you, be wary.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying if you’re bringing me into your clubhouse to tease me, or trick me in any way, I’ll let my animal out, and she will stomp the shit out of everyone you care about.”

  What was that look in his eyes? Pride? Strange. “That’s sexy.”

  Frustrating man. “What, the fact that you got me to cuss?”

  “No,” he said, placing the helmet over her head. “The fight I just saw in you. I’ve never seen a moose shifted, but I have a feeling yours is not one to piss off.”

  “No, she’s not.” If he even knew half of it. Maybe she should tell him. Here was his test since he’d been testing her all day. “When I was a kid, I had a temper problem.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, mounting the motorcycle and settling in front of her. “Did you beat up the other little kids?” There was teasing in his voice, and she hated it.

  “Yes.”

  He twisted in the seat and stared at her over his shoulder. “When did you stop being aggressive?”

  “In animal form?”

  “Yeah.”

  She shrugged and settled her hands on his hips. “Never.”

  His brows lowered slightly, but he didn’t give her grief for it. His expression didn’t turn worried like Jonathan’s had when she’d first tried to explain her moose.

  Points for Ramsey.

  And then he did one better. Before he took off, he pulled her right hand tighter around his middle and patted it. It was a silent “that’s okay” that she’d never gotten from a man before. “That damage is acceptable,” he seemed to say. Or perhaps he was just making sure she didn’t fall off, but she was going to pretend the former because his acceptance was a very big deal to a girl like her. One who had grown up different, always making sure her human side was proper and docile to make up for the times she was a rampaging animal.

  Her stomach growled, but Ramsey really did have her. Just a mile down the road, he pulled into a small dirt parking lot with a trio of food trucks, neon blue tables between them.

  It was busy with a half dozen motorcycles parked on the edge of the dirt lot and twice that many cars. The tables were all full but one.

  “You want to go grab that one, and I’ll order for us?” he asked.

  Vina unclipped the helmet from her head and got off the Harley. She was getting smoother at it already. “Uh, don’t you want to know what I want?”

  “No.” Ramsey grinned. “I would rather figure it out on my own.”

  Huh. “Okay, I’ll get our table,” she said softly. She liked saying “our,” but she would keep that little gem to herself.

  He took a step toward her, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her again. But he stopped short and said, “You’re different.”

  As he turned and walked away, she couldn’t for the life of her tell if he meant that as a good or a bad thing.

  Well, Ramsey sure was surprising her, too. Vina made her way to the table, helmet swinging against her thigh. He might be rough around the edges, but Ramsey had been nice for the most part today. And he’d bought her a lot of clothes and hadn’t asked her to go halfsies on dinner either. Maybe it was because he knew her purse was still at the center, or perhaps he was a secret gentlemen. This man sure was interesting to try to figure out.

  At the table next to hers, there were six giant men in leather vests and riding gear. She felt watched, and when she looked over at them, a couple were staring at her while the others watched Ramsey ordering at a food truck.

  “Hi,” she said, feeling friendly as frick. She even wiggled her fingers in a wave.

  The man closest to her had his back to her but he was turned around, and his eyes were too bright a green to be human. His nostrils flared as he scented the air. “You smell like fur,” he rumbled.

  Red flags went off. She didn’t talk about what she was. Not with humans, not with other shifters. Especially not with strangers and out in public. “Bad form,” she murmured.

  “You Ramsey’s new old lady?” the giant, bearded gorilla of a man asked.

  “Oh, I’m not that old. Only thirty-three.”

  The man chuckled and said, “Old lady means his girl. Are you Ramsey’s girl?”

  I wish. “Uuuuh, we are just hanging out.”

  “We figured,” one of them said around a bite of a taco. “That old crow is a dead end. He can’t be with a new old lady.”

  Vina sat up straighter. “Why not?”

  “Because he’s bonded. Some bitch named Tenlee has his crow, and good luck prying a crow off a mate.”

  Vina’s blood went cold. A mate? Ramsey had a mate?

  Now Ramsey was twisted around, glaring at the men at the table beside her. He looked scary, and the table next to her went to quietly chewing their food. She could’ve cut the tension with a butter knife.

  “Best advice,” the one closest to her said so softly she almost missed it. “Run. Ramsey’s whole Clan is headed for Hell. Run if you want to live.”

  Red flags, alarm bells, chills, all of it. Ramsey was coming this way, and the air felt too thick. A mate? He had a mate? And what did they mean about running from Ramsey to survive him? Headed for Hell? She’d thought she’d been there for years. What was happening here?

  He set a buffet of food in front of them. He’d stacked a tray, and there was so much. he was looking at her with such an unamused look she was desperate to kill the silence. “Were you a waiter at a restaurant or something?”

  His blond brows drew down slightly. Ramsey cast a quick glance to the next table and then back to her. “That isn’t the question I thought you’d ask.”

  “You heard them?” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. Those bikers were shifters. She didn’t know what kind they were, but all shifters had heightened awareness to people like them.

  “I did,” Ramsey said with a nod as he set a plastic fork and napkin neatly in front of her.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Do you need to talk about it?”

  “Yes.”

  Ramsey shook his head and gritted his teeth so hard a muscle in his jaw twitched. He jammed a finger at the blabbermouth at the next table and said, “You’re fuckin’ dead, Wolf.”

  The man’s eyes blazed and icy blue, and his lip lifted in a snarl, exposing sharp canines. Heart pounding, Vina stood with Ramsey, readying her moose to Change. Six against two was okay. A pack of wolves didn’t scare her animal. The wolves stood too, and there was a loaded moment. Vina shot Ram a sideways glance, but he was smiling. “I dare you,” he said, eyes sparking with excitement.

  Sexy psychopath.

  A soft growl rattled the wolf’s chest, but he backed down. “I think Karma is already ruining you, King of Crows. I don’t even have to lift a fist.” He twitched his head toward the motorcycles and his Clan walked away, leaving their trays on the table.

  What the heck? As she watched them leave, she whispered, “Why would six wolves back down from you?”

  “Because I’m the bigger monster here.”

  Adrenaline crashing, she plopped down on the bench. “Ram?”

  “What?”

  “Why are you here with me if you have someone else?” she asked softly.

  She’d never seen a man’s eyes look like his—so full of turmoil and pain. He hooked his hands on his hips and looked like he wanted to retch as he stared at the ground and murmured, “Because she’d gone. I had her, but she’d gone.”

  Dear God, that sounded painfully familiar. “I thought I had someone once, too.”

  His gaze flickered to hers. His eyes had turned black as night. “And do you like talking about it?”

  “Never.”

  “Good.” He flicked his fingers toward the cardboard containers of food. “I waited tables at an Italian restaurant for a year right out of high school. You choose first. I want to know what you
like.”

  “But what if I choose the stuff you like? Then you will have to eat something that is not first-place best for you.”

  “I’ll survive.”

  “Or…we share and eat what we like the least last.”

  The corner of his mouth flickered into a ghost of a smile. He studied her face for the span of two breaths before he sat down and picked up a fork. And then he tinked it against hers in a silent cheers. Or perhaps it was a silent thank you that she hadn’t pushed him to talk about his mate. The relief in his eyes said as much.

  She dug straight into the bison hash, but he pulled it between them and got his own bite. She liked this—sharing. She hadn’t wanted to share with Jonathan, but here in the heat of the evening, with the soft murmur of talking around them and the sunset imminent on the horizon, she enjoyed sharing everything about this moment with Ram.

  “How did you become Alpha of Red Dead Mayhem?” she asked low as she watched the other MC blast out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

  “With bloodshed.”

  Vina scrunched up her face. “How many fights did it take you to get where you are?”

  “Hundreds.” He pressed his palm down flat on the table right by where she rested her left fist. His knuckles were crisscrossed with scars, and there were two new cuts on his pointer and middle.

  She reached over and felt the calloused skin there with the tip of her finger. This man had seen and done very bad things. So why on earth couldn’t she make herself move a single inch away from him?

  “You gonna run?” he asked, as if he could read her thoughts.

  “I’m not much of a runner,” she said, pressing her palm over his hand.

  His breath hitched and, slowly, he pulled his hand out from under hers. A rejection. It stung so badly it was hard to breathe, but she forced a smile. He didn’t owe her anything.

  No one did.

  “How did you get where you are?” he asked around a bite.

  “You mean how did I become this delightfully dysfunctional adult? Ha. Good grades in school, hard work, courses in public speaking and social skills, and four Home Economic classes.”

  He snorted. “We couldn’t be any different if we tried. Home Ec. Does that mean you can bake?”