Page 40 of Odin
A twisted grin morphs Crow’s face into something a little terrifying.
Great. It’s not Crow. It’s his other personality, Raven. The guy likes nothing more than being a royal prick most of the time. It’s funny, until he starts delivering hard truths to you in ways you might not be ready to hear. Raven used to thrive on violence, but he’s toned down lately. The sarcasm though? That’s here to stay.
“You crashed your bike on a nice day with no other cars involved, fell hard for a girl half your age, and now you’re starting a family with her. If that doesn’t scream starting over, I don’t know what does.”
“How the fuck do you know that she’s pregnant?” I hiss. At least he had the decency to keep his voice down.
“Tarynn. Willow told her, and she said that it was fine if she told me.”
“Yeah, told Crow. She doesn’t know about you.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t go blabbing it around. That would be insensitive, even for me. It’s your news. But seriously. Are you going to buy a convertible?”
“Just because I crashed my bike like a dumbass doesn’t mean that I need to go out and buy a flashy car.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! I crashed the bike because I wasn’t paying attention. I was thinking about something else.”
“Going and having a romantic evening with your son’s ex-fiancé?”
“You know, you could help get this bike off of me.”
“I plan on doing just that, right after Tyrant checks you out and decides that it’s the best option before we load you off to Archer’s.”
“Fuck that. I’m not going.”
Raven’s laugh is absolutely chilling. “I bet you fifty bucks that you’re going to have zero say in it in ten seconds.”
“What are you…” I can’t finish the sentence.
I was able to focus on his smug mug just fine, but now it’s swimming again. The streetlights are strobing on and off in bright flashes, except I’m pretty sure they aren’t. Everything is hot. Too hot. My skin is too tight again. Too wet. Too cold. The black blanket covers me again, smothering all of it out, and this time, I don’t think it’s going to lift.
Chapter 14
Willow
I’m not saying that the ruined dinner with the empty places, serving dishes heaped high with food gone stone cold, and burned down candles resembles a sad dinner gone wrong from a sappy romcom, but shit. I’m notnotsaying it either.
I’m not mad.
Something must have happened.
Odin would never no-show me and not call.
I don’t want to sit here and worry, so I clear the dishes away from the table, popping the lemon chicken breasts and pasta into the fridge, there’s no way I’m wasting good food.
There’s not much left of the taper candles, but I blow them out anyway. The smoke undulates above the table, dancing under the brass chandelier above the round oak table.
I have a sink full of dishes to do, but I’m going to make some calls first. The dishes are busy work to occupy hands and minds that don’t want to be still.
I try calling Odin first, but there’s no answer. I didn’t really expect one. If he had his phone with him, I know he would have called to say he’d be late, or that he was going to have to cancel. Our discussion tonight was important, but it’s not like we can’t have the conversation another time. There are plenty ofthings that could have come up that he would have had to deal with, and not necessarily because he wanted to.
I have the number for the clubhouse, because Odin insisted I put it into my phone in case of an emergency. I don’t really want to call there and be a bother, but I bring up the contact and try it anyway.
There’s no answer there either.
Worry tightens like a steel collar around my throat. If the whole club is busy, it might be nothing, but it could also be a lot of things. I don’t want to start guessing. I’m a child who lost her father. My mind often skips to the worst case scenario no matter how hard I try to keep it from going there.
