Page 21 of Crow

This is how we die. Straight. Up. Mortification.

I don’t know why this never happens to Raven when he tears free. As far as I’m aware, he’s never suffered any ill effects.

I hear the rustle of bags behind me and then, the gentlest touch on my shoulder. One small, warm hand moves down my back making tight circles like my mother used to do when I was sick as a kid. Before Raven. Before she and my father both hated and feared me.

“Are you okay?” Tarynn’s gentle tone floods my ear. “Oh- oh no! This isn’t because of what I did, is it? I noticed you felt fevered and now you’re throwing up. Please tell me you aren’t going to get lockjaw or blood poisoning. I thought the fact that you had professional looking stitches was a good thing, but maybe not? Didn’t you let them give you an antibiotic shot or a- a tetanus shot, or… oh, goodness, if you die because of me, I’m never going to forgive you.”

Decay snorts from the passenger seat while Grave tries to crane his head around.

“You better not be puking on my truck, man,” he groans. “Fuck. This is why I can’t have nice things. Because one of youdouchebags gets the bright idea that as far as cages go, my truck isn’t so bad, and then someone wants a ride, which usually ends in blood, gore, bullet holes, puke, shit, or—”

“Some of the above or all of the above,” Decay finishes helpfully.

“Shut up,” I sigh, with no heat. Now that Raven’s tucked safely back in his invisible prison, I feel little better than if I’d just got jumped by twelve assholes in a back alley.

Twelve? Please. Even you would have the sense to let me out and I’d make short work of that. I’m like the love child of a cage fighting vampire and the grim reaper. Death incarnate. Twelve would be so. Much. Fun. Find me an alley. I’m starting to get ridiculously bored, and we both know that when I get bored, nothing good happens.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and spit out the foul taste.

“Do I need to go to the car wash now?” Grave whines. He can’t help it. He has impossible prick syndrome. This is the way he’s built.

Decay opens up a pack of gum and hands me a stick. “Chew that. No one wants to smell your puke breath all the way back to the clubhouse.”

I ignore Decay’s scowl and pop the gum in my mouth. It’s some tropical fruit flavor that is two degrees removed from the taste of old vomit.

I’m not focused enough to prepare myself for Tarynn. She leans over her bags. Her hand lands gently on my jaw. I freeze. The breath knocks out of my lungs in a great whoosh. I’m utterlyfrozen and defenseless as she tilts my head gently so she can see the stitches.

“Crow?” I don’t like the furrowed consternation on her face. I don’t like that her eyes are deep wells of worry and secondhand pain. For me. She looks as tired as I feel. Did she sleep last night? I don’t suppose that she did.

“I’m fine,” I say gruffly. I hold up my trembling hands to prove my point, not realizing until I do that there’s blood leaking all over the place.

“Motherfucker!” Grave shouts, punching his steering wheel like that’s going to help. “I’m taking your window punching dumb ass straight back to Archer’s. He can deal with you. After, you’re going to pay to get my truck detailed. Good thing it’s fucking leather and the carpet is black.”

Reach over the seat and grab his head in your hands. Smear all that blood on his face. Make him taste it as you ram your fist into his mouth to shut him the fuck up. Break his teeth, then take his neck and snap it.

I don’t dignify that with a response. I don’t even get that terrible burning anger that often accompanies Raven dumping that shit into my mind. “I’m fine,” I grunt. “Just small cuts. Nothing that I can’t fix up at the clubhouse.”

I brought these two with me because I outrank them. I didn’t want to involve Tyrant, my Prez, or Raiden, our VP in this. I didn’t actually know who to ask, but then I thought of Grave and his big, ugly, jacked up to the sky, ridiculous truck. I’d need something with enough seats and enough storage to get her things.

I didn’t realize she’d have so few bags.

Tarynn’s hand slides from my face to hover over mine. She’s so very careful, her fingers trembling so that I want to reach out and grab them to make them stop. Getting her covered in my blood—again—isn’t going to help anything, so I tuck my hands between my knees.

She seems to take that as a sign to sit back and get her seatbelt back on.

The rest of us don’t bother.

I’m grateful for the silence, though it probably won’t last, considering the twins don’t like keeping their ugly yaps shut for more than a minute at a time.

My head bounces against the window gently where I rest it. It hurts to think right now, but I have to go over what the fuck happened back there.

The truth is, we have to share this body and that means an uneasy truce to keep from killing it. In violent situations, Raven is always at the forefront. I can never hold him back when we’re threatened.

Butweweren’t threatened.

Raven has only ever come out inourdefense. Never for someone else.

The stillness actually lasts until we get to the clubhouse. Nowhere is a long ride in Hart, and since it’s early enough that no one is out and about yet, we’re there in fifteen minutes.

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