Page 12 of Untamed Crow

We pull up to my small house far too soon. The porch light is on - I always leave it burning when I know I'll be home late. It looks so normal, so peaceful. Like nothing has changed.

But everything has changed.

Crow kills the engine but doesn't move, his body still tense under my hands. I realize I'm still clinging to him and force myself to let go, sliding off the bike on unsteady legs.

"You okay?" he asks roughly, not looking at me.

"I'm fine," I say automatically, then amend, "I will be fine."

Now he does turn, swinging off the bike to face me. His eyes are still hard, scanning the street before settling on my face. "Emma..."

"Don't," I stop him, knowing what he's going to say. "Don't apologize again. Don't tell me I shouldn't have seen that or that you understand if I never want to see you again."

He takes a step closer, then seems to catch himself. "You deserve better than this life. Better than watching men get shot on your night out."

"Maybe," I acknowledge, wrapping his jacket tighter around me. I should give it back, but I'm not ready to let go of his warmth just yet. "But I knew who you were when I asked you to be my date tonight. What you are, what the club is - I've known for years."

"Knowing is different than seeing," he says quietly.

"Yes, it is." I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. "But seeing you tonight, how you protected us... it didn't scare me the way it should have. What scares me is how safe I felt, even with everything happening. How right it felt to be holding onto you, trusting you to handle it."

A motorcycle roars past - not an Outlaw, just some random rider - but it breaks the moment. Crow immediately moves to put himself between me and the street, his hand going to his gun.

"It's just a random rider," I say softly, touching his arm without thinking. His muscles are coiled tight under my fingers.

He nods but doesn't relax completely. "Should get inside, doll. It's not safe out here."

"Come in with me?" The words slip out before I can stop them. When his eyes snap to mine, I add quickly, "Just... I don't think I want to be alone right now."

Something dark and hungry flashes across his face before he controls it. "Emma..."

"Please?" I fumble with my keys, suddenly nervous. "I could make coffee, or I have beer if you prefer. And you should probably wait to hear from the club about... about what happened."

He studies me for a long moment, and I can see him wrestling with the decision. Finally, he sighs. "Coffee would be good."

Relief floods through me as I lead him up the steps. My hands are still shaking slightly as I unlock the door, but I manage it on the second try. The familiar scent of books and cinnamon greets us as we step inside - I live above my bookstore, and the smells always drift up.

"Nice place," Crow says, looking around my small living room. His large frame makes everything seem smaller somehow.

"Thanks." I flip on lights as I move toward the kitchen, desperate for something normal to do. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll just..."

I gesture vaguely at the coffee maker, then realize I'm still wearing his jacket. "Oh, here, let me-"

"Keep it," he says roughly. "For now."

The possessive note in his voice makes my cheeks heat. I busy myself with the coffee maker, hyperaware of him moving around my living room. Through the kitchen doorway, I can see him examining my overflowing bookshelf, his gun a dark shape against his shirt.

"You really do read a lot of romance," he comments, picking up one of the paperbacks.

I nearly drop the coffee scoop. "I... yes. It's kind of my thing. Occupational hazard of owning a bookstore, I guess."

He hums, replacing the book. "Any of them about bad boys on motorcycles?"

"A few," I admit. "Though none quite like you."

His eyes find mine across the room. "What do you mean by that?"

The coffee maker gurgles to life behind me, but I barely notice.

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