Page 13 of Untamed Crow

"You're real," I say. "Not some fairytale bad boy who's actually sweet underneath it all. You're... complicated. Dangerous but protective. Violent but controlled. Real."

He goes still, his expression hard to read in the soft kitchen light. "Most women would prefer the fairytale version. The kind where the bad boy gives up his wicked ways for love."

"I'm not most women." The words come out stronger than I intended. "And I wouldn't want you to change who you are. What I saw tonight... yes, it was violent. Yes, it should probably scare me more than it does. But it was also you protecting us, protecting me. That's who you are - someone who will do whatever it takes to keep safe what's his."

"You sound very sure about who I am."

"Because I pay attention," I admit.

The coffee maker beeps, making me jump. I turn to grab mugs, needing a moment to collect myself. My hands are steadier now as I pour, but my heart is racing.

"Black, right?" I ask, remembering how he takes his coffee from the times he's stopped by the store.

"You know how I take my coffee?"

I glance over my shoulder to find him watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

"I told you. I notice things," I say, then add more quietly, "About you."

He moves into the kitchen, closing the distance between us. When I turn with the mugs, he's right there, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

"What else do you notice, Emma?"

The way he says my name makes me tremble.

"I notice how you always park your bike where you can see it through the store window. How you run your hand through your hair when you're thinking hard about something. How you're gentler with kids than anyone would expect."

His breath comes out harsh. "Keep going."

"I notice how you take your coffee breaks at my store even though The Grind has better coffee. How you always check the exits when you enter a room. The way your hands are calloused from working on bikes but so careful when you handle old books."

"Dangerous things to notice about a man like me," he says, voice rough.

"There’s more," I whisper. "The dangerous things. The way you move like you're always ready for a fight. The gun you never go without. How your eyes squint when club business comes up. The tattoos that peek out from under your shirts - the ones that tell stories you never talk about."

"And yet you invited me in," he says, taking the mugs from my hands and setting them on the counter. "After watching me shoot a man tonight. After seeing exactly what kind of violence I'm capable of."

"Yes."

"Why?"

I could lie, could say it's because I was scared to be alone. But I'm tired of dancing around this thing between us. Tired of pretending I don't feel what I feel.

"It’s like I said before… You're real," I say again, holding his gaze. "Because in all those romance novels on my shelf, the bad boy is just playing a part. He's dangerous until he falls in love, then he changes, becomes someone else. But you... you are who you are.The violence, the loyalty, the protective instincts - it's all part of you. And I'm tired of fairytales. I want something real."

"You have no idea what you're saying," he growls, taking a step back. "No idea what you're asking for."

Something snaps inside me. I punch his chest, not hard enough to hurt but enough to show my frustration.

"I hate that! I hate how you act like I don't understand, like I can't make my own decisions. Like you don't respect me enough to-"

His hands shoot out, grabbing my wrists. Not roughly, but firmly enough to stop my next punch.

"Don't," he says, voice tight. "Don't ever think I don't respect you. This isn't about respect, Emma. This is about putting yourself in danger. We're in the middle of a fucking war. The Outlaws already tried to hurt us tonight - and that was just because they saw me alone. If they knew you meant something to me..."

He trails off, his grip on my wrists loosening but not letting go. "Is that what I'd be?" I ask quietly. "A weakness?"

Crow's eyes close briefly, like he's in pain. When they open again, they're dark with emotion.

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