Page 7 of Untamed Crow

Mark's slurred voice cuts through my thoughts. He's back, even more drunk than before, and this time, he's brought five friends with him. My stomach clenches as they surround us on the dance floor.

"Mark," I warn, feeling Crow's muscles tense under my hands. "Don't."

"You know what I think?" Mark sways slightly. "I think you're just going through some bad boy phase. Trying to piss off daddy with his leather-wearing friend here."

Crow's jaw tightens, but he keeps dancing in slow circles and trying to maintain distance from the group. I can feel the barely contained power in his frame - like a predator deciding whether to strike.

"The lady asked you to leave," Crow's voice is deceptively calm, but I recognize the dangerous edge to it.

"The lady," Mark mocks, "needs to remember where she comes from. What would your parents say, Emma? Dating criminal trash?"

"That's enough!" I snap, but Mark reaches for my arm again.

This time, everything happens so fast I barely register the movement. One moment, we're dancing, and the next, Crow has released me and moved forward, grabbing Mark's wrist before it can touch me. In seconds, he has Mark's arm twisted behind his back, forcing him to his knees.

I've never seen Crow like this. There's something terrifyingly beautiful about the way he moves - precise, controlled, powerful. His face is calm, almost bored, as if subduing Mark requires no more effort than swatting a fly. Only his eyes betray the violence simmering beneath the surface.

"Told you that would be a mistake," Crow says quietly, the threat in his voice making me shiver.

Mark's friends step forward, but Crow just applies slightly more pressure, making Mark whimper pathetically.

"Stay back. Take him away from here before I decide he needs a more permanent reminder of his manners."

The way he says it - so matter-of-fact, so certain - makes it clear this isn't an empty threat. Mark's friends seem to realize this too, quickly moving to help their cursing friend to his feet and dragging him toward the other side of the ballroom.

The other dancers have created a wide circle around us, watching with a mixture of horror and fascination. I should probably be frightened by what I just witnessed, but instead I feel... safe. Protected.

Crow turns to me, his eyes still hard with contained violence. "You okay?"

I nod, unable to find my voice. He's never looked more dangerous than he does right now, in his perfectly tailored suitwith deadly grace in every movement. And God help me, but I've never wanted him more.

"Listen," he says, running a hand through his hair. "I should probably go. Cops might get called, and with everything going on with the club..." He pauses, looking uncertain for the first time tonight. "I'm sorry about ruining your reunion. Do you want to stay? I can call you a cab, or-"

"No," I cut him off quickly. "The party's over for me. I'd... I'd like to leave with you. If that's okay?"

Something flashes in his eyes - satisfaction maybe, or relief. "More than okay, doll."

His hand finds its familiar place on my lower back as he guides me toward the exit. I can feel everyone's eyes on us as we leave, but Crow seems unbothered. He keeps me close, his body slightly angled to shield me from view.

Just before we reach the doors, I hear Jessica call out, "Call me tomorrow!"

Outside, the night air is cool against my heated skin. Crow's Harley sits alone in the parking lot, gleaming under the streetlights. As we walk toward it, I realize I'm about to get my first motorcycle ride - and in this dress, no less.

But before we reach the bike, I find myself asking, "How do you do it?"

Crow glances down at me, eyebrow raised. "Do what, doll?"

"Ignore all the looks, the comments. The way people judge you without knowing anything about you." I gesture vaguely back at the country club. "It would drive me crazy."

He shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. "You get used to it. Besides, this?" He waves dismissively at the building. "This isnothing compared to what Wrath and I dealt with before Cedar Falls."

That catches my attention. In the years I've known them, neither brother has said much about their past.

"Wrath never talks about it," I admit. "Every time I ask, he just smiles and says some things are better left untouched."

Something dark passes across Crow's face, gone so quickly I might have imagined it. "My little brother's right about that. The past is the past. We're both members of Iron & Blood now, and that's all that matters."

His tone makes it clear the subject is closed, but I can't help wondering what could have been so bad that neither of them will speak of it. Before I can dwell on it too long, Crow stops beside his Harley, changing the subject.

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