Page 2 of Heron's Flame

On the roof of the clubhouse, a few crows belted out throaty caws.Stunning. Beautiful.

I agree.

She popped a hip, placing her hand on the indentation at her waist. “Are you gonna stare at me all day, Crow Boy?”

Crow Boy. I almost laughed. How fucking ridiculous and true.

The crows chittered above us.

“No,” I managed to reply, “but since I like what I see, I just might consider it.”

Her brows lifted. I caught her by surprise. Twice.

“Who are you? One of those Devil’s Murder bikers?”

Not yet, but I would be. I didn’t doubt it. “In a year. I’m a new prospect.”

She snorted. “A prospect? What are you considering?”

She didn’t know much about how a club ran by that question. No worries. I could teach her anything she wanted to learn.

“Right now?” I answered truthfully. “You, baby.”

“Oh, I don’t date bad boys.”

Yeah, she did. Little liar. I watched her tongue flick out and lick her bottom lip. She sized me up, dragging those bright blue eyes down my body before slowly rising higher, and didn’t appear disappointed. Good. I liked bold women. It saved a lot of time.

“I’m not a bad boy, remember? You said so a minute ago. I’m a crow boy.”

Her lips twitched. “I guess I did.”

Goddamn. When her humor bled through, it nearly blinded me. She lit up like a firecracker. Or an ember ready to burst into flames.

“What’s your name, Spark?”

“Spark?”

Yeah, I could feel her interest and a hint of lust mixed with a bit of sass and defiance. “I’ll explain in a minute. Your name,” I repeated.

“Rebecca, but I go by Rebel.”

Rebel. It suited her.

“What’s yours?”

“Heron.”

She blinked. “That’s unique. Why did you call me Spark?”

“You remind me of my favorite pepper.” Or a firepit glowing late into the evening, throwing off radiant sparks of light. Fireworks on the Fourth of July. Or a dozen other experiences that always ended with flickering flames and waves of heat. Her blue gaze warmed me like I stood right in front of an inferno.

Fuck. Where did those thoughts come from? I never dreamed of fire—just her.

And the crows.

She squinted before huffing, tossing her long blonde braids over her shoulders. “You’re comparing me to a damn food item.”

“Yeah, ’cause you’re a little sweet and a whole lot of hellfire.”Too fucking cheesy. What the hell was I thinking?

---