Novak Raven (Harper's Mountains Book 4) (7 page)

But instead of making fun, he squared up to her, rested his hands on her waist, and dragged her body to his. And slowly, so slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips onto hers. Fireworks were going off in her belly as she slid her arms around his neck and parted her lips for his searching tongue. He stayed gentle, drawing out the kiss as his mouth moved smoothly against hers in rhythmic strokes that turned the fireworks to an erupting volcano. This was it—the best kiss she’d ever had, and it was with the Novak Raven. It was with her Weston. Her inner raven was practically crowing with happiness inside of her.

The rain was falling harder, soaking her hair and clothes, but she didn’t care about that. She didn’t care about anything but how Weston was gripping the fabric of her dress as if he wanted more. And the way his lips were turning urgent against hers, the way his body felt, the way his erection pressed onto her belly, she’d done that—drawn this reaction from him. Her, the broken raven.

Weston thrust his tongue into her mouth one last time, then jerked away. “I’m sorry. This is… It’s just I saw your tits, and I really like your tits, and your other parts, too, but your tits are fuckin’ phenomenal. Just…” He held his cupped hands out over her chest. “Perfect.”

Clearly, Weston was a boob-man.

He cleared his throat and frowned. “And also you’re nice, sweet, and pretty.”

But boobs had topped his list. Despite the gravity of her dire situation, she laughed. It wasn’t a soft polite one either, but a surprised, from-the-core bellowing laugh that drew her up short. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide her giggles. She should not be laughing right now, not with all the bad shit she’d just found out about her life, but Weston was chuckling, too, and all that did was make her laugh harder.

Eyes dancing and dimple deep in his cheek, Weston took his camouflage baseball cap off and put it on backward. He twisted around and looked through the woods in the direction of the road. “I feel…” He inhaled deeply and sighed. “I feel too damn much right now, honestly, but I need to get you warm and dry and fed, okay?”

“Wes, I’m not your responsibility.”

“No, but it would make me feel…good…to take care of you.” His smile slipped into a frown. Looking confused as hell, he rested his hands on his hips. “Right. You don’t have a bra on, and I can see through your dress. Your nipples are perfect, and we should go.” In a rush he pulled off his long-sleeve flannel shirt and wadded it up into a ball, then handed it to her, his eyes averted.

Stunned, Avery took it gently from his offered hand and cradled it to her chest. It smelled like his cologne.

With a quick dick adjustment, he spun on his heel and strode off through the wilderness, leaving Avery to stare down in surprise at her chest. Sure enough, her nipples were drawn up against the soaking white fabric of her cotton dress.

She’d just found out her entire life was a complete lie, and in the same five minutes got the kiss she’d always dreamed about from the man who had stolen her heart all those years ago with nothing more than written words on a page. Maybe the council had something to do with her feelings, she didn’t know. But they didn’t have everything to do with them. This right here—this moment they’d shared together—was important.

Shaking her head at the strange turn her life had taken, Avery followed Weston’s receding figure through the woods and to her car.

She’d never seen Weston stammer or struggle for words, but he had just had the cutest man-freak-out she’d ever witnessed, and all caused by her.

She had no idea why, but she, Avery Foley—relative nobody, bait, and broken raven—had somehow managed to fluster Weston Novak.

By the time Avery reached the road, Weston had the hood of her car popped open and resting on the prop. He was talking low into his phone, shielding the little device from the rain by using the hood as an umbrella. His black T-shirt was plastered to him like a second skin, and his back muscles rippled as he poked and prodded around the innards of her car.

It was raining in earnest now. Avery didn’t normally like the feel of chilled skin and damp clothes, but standing here on the side of the road, watching Weston try to save her, was kind of beautiful.

Weston’s dark eyebrows were lowered in concentration, and his lips were so sensual as he spoke into the cell. His baseball cap was wet, there was a constant
drip-drip
of rainwater falling from the bill to trickle down his back, and his boots were covered in mud.

He’d come for her.

He’d left his birthday celebration and followed her, tracked her through the woods, and without a single plea from her, was taking the reins of her chaotic life for a minute so she could rest her weary mind. And damn, it felt so good not to have to worry about anything for tonight, because every instinct in her said Weston would take care of her. Perhaps not for always, and perhaps only as friends, but that was better than nothing.

His triceps flexed as he pushed on something inside of her car, and when he muttered a curse, she asked, “Can I do anything?”

“Nah, and neither can I tonight. Your battery is older than dinosaur shit, your belt is shot, and your engine didn’t even try to turn over for me. Maybe it’s just the battery, but I don’t like how it died mid-ride on you.”

“Oh.” She wrung her hands and tried to imagine how much all of this would cost to repair at an auto shop. How discouraging that her first paycheck and probably more would already be blown.

“I can get it running again, but I need parts and can’t get them until tomorrow. I’ll call the police station and tell them we’ll tow it to Harper’s Mountains in the morning so they won’t give you a ticket tonight. You can ride with me.”

“But you have tours tomorrow,” she said. “Weston, I appreciate you helping me, but I won’t risk your new business for this.”

Weston jerked his gaze to hers, and a flash of surprise was there in his eyes. Then they softened, and he let off a slight smile just before he gave his attention back to lowering the hood of her car. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll take care of it after the tours are done for the day.”

“Okay.” She wanted to say so much more than that. She wanted to tell him how much this all meant to her, how relieved she was that he wasn’t mad at her anymore. She wanted to tell him if he ever needed anything—anything at all—she would gladly do it. But he was locked onto her with his gaze again, and her words got all caught up in her throat. His eyes were the pitch black that hers turned when her raven was riled up, and his lips were pursed, as though he was trying to figure her out.

He looked beautiful here in the soft glow of the streetlight behind him. Beautiful? That was an impossible word for a man who was strapped with muscles and covered in tattoos, but he was. He was her beautiful raven man. This moment right here felt like she was falling. Not sinking in the mud that had taken over her life, but the feeling she got when she dove from a great height and spread her wings at the last minute, when her stomach dipped to the ground and made her want to laugh and yell with happiness. She had always been intrigued and a little intimidated by Weston Novak, but now she was falling hard for him.

Instead of telling him all of her mushy thoughts, she parted her lips and said, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, a slight frown furrowing his brows.

For the kiss and for coming after me. For holding me when I found out my life was a lie. For telling me everything will be okay. For all the letters that saved me when I was a kid. For being you.

He wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment, though, so instead she said the only other words that felt right. “Thank you for everything.”

When one corner of his lip turned up, her breath stuttered in her chest. So damn stunning.

Weston jerked his chin toward his truck parked at an angle on the side of the deserted road. “Get in and turn on the heat. I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Okay,” she murmured, her legs and arms feeling numb with what had transpired in the woods. She’d thought her life was over, thought the darkness was swallowing her up, but Weston had come in and, like a beacon of light, absorbed the darkness and took the impossible weight off her heart.

And now the rough, quiet, dangerous Novak Raven was being so tender with her. Avery made her way through the mud to the passenger’s side of his truck and climbed in. It had been lifted a few inches and sat on fat mud tires, so she had to use the rails and scramble a bit to reach the seat, but when she was finally in, she turned on the car to get the heat going, as much for her as for Weston, so he could be comfortable when he got inside.

She canted her head and watched him pull her bedding and her suitcase from her car. He even slung her purse over his massive shoulder and made his way to her with long, confident strides. Something had changed in him. And when she looked down to turn the radio dial, the word
Home
was running across the screen with a phone number underneath, like he’d just ended the call. Home. His home? He must’ve called his father.

She frowned. No. He must’ve called his mother, Aviana Novak, because she was the one who would know the most about Avery. Chills rippled up her skin. She’d grown up idolizing Aviana, and whatever her heroine had said to Weston had made a difference in his opinion of her.

She’d never talked to Aviana except for the one meeting they had when she was young, and she remembered she wasn’t like the raven women she’d imagined. Aviana had sat straight and proud and had been angry, with her mother perhaps. Made sense now if Aviana had found out about the council’s treachery. Avery hated the idea that the council had read Weston’s letters. What must it have been like for Aviana to realize her own people were after her son? Avery felt sick just thinking about being a part of the council’s plan—whatever it was.

Weston shoved her things in the back seat and jogged around the front of the truck. Raindrops fell in a constant downpour in the high beams, and his ripped torso was illuminated as he passed through. When he climbed into his truck and pulled the belt over his lap, she asked him before she lost her nerve. “Did your mother change your mind about me?”

“No,” he said in that deep, rich voice of his. “
I
changed my mind about you.” He cast her a quick glance and smiled sadly. “I think we both got played. I think we both got hurt, and that shit ends now. Fuck the council, fuck the ravens, and fuck your parents. You’ll show them.”

Weston gunned it onto the asphalt, one hand draped easily over the steering wheel, one elbow resting on the console, the epitome of relaxed and confident male. Weston knew his place in this world. He was a raven shifter who had somehow clawed his way to the top of the food chain.

The last thing he said bothered her, though.
You’ll show them
. She was a fraud. “Do you know about the woman’s role in raven culture? Did your mother explain?”

Weston’s lips pursed into a thin line. “She told me a little.”

“Females aren’t allowed to have jobs. Not after your mom left. They didn’t want the flock scattering into the wind, so the rules changed. The goal is to keep females completely financially dependent on the males. They keep us so desperate for the things we need to survive that we’ll stay submissive and agree to marriage contracts.”

“Out of desperation.” Weston’s words were tainted with the hard edge of disgust.

“Out of desperation,” she agreed. “It’s hard to leave because we’re taught we can’t make it out in the real world without our mighty men to provide for us. We’re taught that our one duty, our one reason for existence, is to provide heirs and secure our place and rank in the community.” Ashamed, she lowered her voice. “So you see, I didn’t show them anything. I failed. I couldn’t provide for myself, and now you are coming to my rescue, a male raven, just like they said I needed.”

“Bullshit,” he drawled. “I didn’t give you the job, Avery. You fought for it. You earned it. Hell, I didn’t even want to give it to you, and you got it by being a stubborn pain in the ass. And you’ve worked hard and caught on quickly, and in a week, you’ll have that first paycheck and be on your way. Bullshit, you aren’t showing them. I’m calling it in two months. You’ll be on your own two feet creating a life despite your fucked-up peoples’ horse-shittery.”

“Our.”

“What?”

“Our people.”

“Oooh no.” Weston shook his head hard. “Ravens aren’t my people. The Gray Backs are my people. The Bloodrunners are my people. Your animal doesn’t matter, Avery.”

“She does.”

“She doesn’t! You know that saying, blood is thicker than water? That works for some people, but you can’t choose your blood family. Some people just get dealt a shitty hand and are born into families who aren’t good people. You can make your own family, though. You can surround yourself with good people. And you will. I know you will.”

Shocked, Avery whispered, “You seem so certain. That makes one of us.”

Weston’s smile was crooked and easy when he took his eyes off the road just long enough to look at her. “You’ll be fine. You have a badass brawler raven inside of you, woman.”

Avery blinked hard in surprise. Aviana must’ve told him that little gem. “A brawler raven that never served me any good in Raven’s Hollow.”

“Screw Raven’s Hollow, Ave. Your raven will serve you well enough out here.”

The nickname made her sit straight up against the fabric seat. She’d never had a nickname before. Well, one that wasn’t a cuss word. “How do you know?”

Weston’s smile grew wicked. “Because you went to a bar tonight and held your own with dragons and grizzlies.”

Avery gulped. “Dragons plural?” she squeaked out.

Weston shot her an incredulous look. “Yeah, Harper and Kane.”

“Kane’s a dragon?” she said too loudly.

Weston chuckled. “He’s the last Blackwing Dragon. We call him Dark Kane. I shit you not, I watched that man almost kill Ryder’s asshole dad with his bare hands in front of an entire bar of people. He’s not a shifter you fuck with…” Weston’s voice darkened as he added, “But he seemed to like you just fine.”

She remembered how nervous Kane had seemed outside of the bar and how he’d told her he liked to hide, too. So even big, lethal, terrifying shifters had insecurities. The last Blackwing Dragon had bought her drinks and been nice to her. Come to think of it, the Bloodrunners had all been nice to her. Sure, they could rip her from limb to limb with zero effort, but not once had they given into the urge to put a smaller shifter in its place. Not once had they treated her like she was less-than. The more time she spent with shifters outside of Raven’s Hollow, the more she thought the council was expertly manipulating all the ravens who lived in their community just to create fear. But why? To keep the ravens in line? To keep them too scared to ask questions? To keep the females dependent?

They were wrong about so much.

Avery gave her attention to the thick greenery blurring by her window, just on the edge of the headlight illumination. “I think you were lucky to be raised in the Gray Backs.” She couldn’t even imagine Weston as one of the chauvinistic jerks in Raven’s Hollow. Instead, he’d been raised by a strong woman, while surrounded by other strong women. Hell, Weston’s alpha was a woman. Before Harper established the Bloodrunners, Avery had never met a female alpha. They existed, and she’d heard stories of them, but she’d never seen that dynamic for herself.

The road wound through the Smoky Mountains, edged by a river on one side and jutting cliffs covered in blankets of ivy on the other. In some places, long vines hung from the towering trees like green snakes. Some vines were even long enough to brush the top of the truck.

Mom lied.

Avery winced away from the thought she’d been avoiding. From the betrayal. She just wanted to look at the scenery, really see how beautiful this place was, instead of give into all the dark truths of her life scratching at her heart. Crossing her arms over her chest like armor, she tried and failed to keep the stupid wisps of disappointment at bay. She was born to tempt the Novak Raven? That was insane. And horrible.  Her parents had raised her not as a person, but as a means to an end. As a weapon. As a harpoon, aimed straight for the shifter they wanted to drag in close.

And for what? Maybe the flock was getting low on genetics. A lot of the marriage contracts looked at that now. Benjamin had to get the council’s approval on her lineage before he was allowed to submit a marriage contract to her father. Maybe that was it. Maybe they needed a new genetic line in Raven’s Hollow. Maybe they wanted the son of Beaston and Aviana to start a new line of War Birds, or perhaps they would get him there and pair him with a submissive female and breed the dominance out of the Novak line. Whatever their reasons, she hated them. Weston had been lucky to live a life outside of The Hollow, and they had tried to use her to draw him close. She felt fiercely protective over his freedom, as she was of her own.