Novak Raven (Harper's Mountains Book 4) (15 page)

Avery’s face hurt from smiling so much. The shifters of Raven’s Hollow didn’t show affection like this. There had always been a coldness, a distance that had made her uncomfortable, but here, it was accepted to hug, kiss, and show adoration.

Up at the shop, Weston disappeared inside and brought her a dry T-shirt in the right size. Her shorts were soaking still, but they would dry soon enough. The Bloodrunners changed into dry shirts without a single care about nudity, but when Avery hesitated, Weston pulled her to the other side of the truck and told her, “It’s okay, you can change over here.”

Relieved, she peeled off her wet tank top and slipped her T-shirt over her head. And when she peeked through the neck hole, she snorted. Weston was staring wide-eyed at her bra-clad boobs.

Busted, he offered her a wicked grin and said, “I was staring at your heartbeat.”

Avery’s shoes squished with every step as she walked beside Weston toward the garage, but even though she was a little uncomfortable, nothing could ruin this moment. While the others loaded up on ATV’s and strapped coolers and supplies to the backs of the biggest ones with bungie cords, Weston showed her how to turn her camo print ATV on and get it into gear. Apparently they would be riding in “high” to get where they were going.

A rush of nervousness took her, but Weston rested his hands over hers on the handlebars. “You’ll do fine. Follow in my tracks. I’ll take the easiest way. And look”—he jerked his chin toward Alana, who was receiving a similar lesson from Aaron—“you aren’t the only first-timer.”

Well, that did make her feel better.

When Ryder arced his ATV in a wide circle, the others followed. Avery hit the throttle too hard and her quad lurched forward, scaring her. She skidded to a stop with the handlebar brakes. Alana had done the same thing in front of her, except she was laughing and her mate, Aaron, was looking at her like she was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Okay, making mistakes wasn’t so serious. Not with this crew.

Avery tried again, easing her thumb onto the throttle slower this time. She moved forward at a good, smooth clip, and when Weston tossed a glance over his shoulder at her, he winked and gave her that crooked smile. And her butterflies fluttered on. Grinning, she eased her quad right after his. Harper was behind her, and any other day, it would’ve bothered her to no end to expose her neck to a dominant dragon shifter like this. But she and Harper had just had a water fight, had even fought together some, and she’d never made Avery feel like she was in danger. Plus, it was really hard to see Harper as a threat when the alpha was giggling and joking with Wyatt, who was pulling up the rear.

For the next fifteen minutes, all she heard was her own giggling and the roar of her ATV motor as they sped up and down trails. Sometimes they would ride along a cliff edge adorned with towering trees, and she would have to remind herself she was a flight shifter. If the ATV rolled, she could Change. Her raven made her braver, where before, her inner animal would have burrowed deep inside of her in the face of fear.

She’d done that to her animal—trained it to be frightened and hide.

Avery made a silent oath to take better care of her raven, and herself.

She wasn’t as fast as the others, but Weston never pulled too far ahead, and Harper and Wyatt seemed perfectly content with the speed she kept them at, so she didn’t get overwhelmed like she usually would’ve. Up and up they climbed the rocky trails until they reached a flat part with a wide loop of trail around a single sourwood tree. There was a rocky ledge overlooking miles of shallow hills with buildings dotting the distant green. It was beautiful, so Avery snapped a picture with her phone while the boys unloaded the backs of the four-wheelers. She would print this photo out and write the date on the back so she could always remember today. She would keep it in the box with Weston’s letters.

The Bloodrunners built a fire in a pit that had obviously been used before, and Lexi heated up giant pancakes on an iron griddle over the flames. Ryder had been right about the booze being a substantial amount. Weston scooped a red plastic cup through a blue cooler full of a fragrant fruity concoction Ryder called Clinton’s Trashcan Punch.

One sip, and Avery’s eyes watered from the burn. “Holy moly,” she choked out as the crew laughed at her. “That’s potent.”

“Weston pulled her down onto his lap in a bag chair and took a long drink of his own. “Look,” he said, pointing up the steep hill through the trees.

“What?”

“Wait. Just watch.”

A tiny blinking light flickered through the woods. Avery gasped. “Fireflies?”

Weston kissed her shoulder, bit it gently, and nodded.

“You know,” she said, relaxing back against him. “We don’t have fireflies in Raven’s Hollow. And when I first moved here a month and a half ago, I would see them through the woods when I drove at night, or when I was sleeping in my car.” She pointed excitedly as another firefly sparked to the right.

“Mmm hmm,” Weston said in a happy, deep murmur.

“Anyway, I was so stressed out about what I was going to do, where I was going to find a job, how long I would be able to make my money stretch, that I didn’t really have the mental capacity left to really look around at how beautiful this place is. I get to see fireflies. And I’m on the side of a beautiful mountain overlooking the Smokies. With
you
.” She leaned to the side so she could better see him. “This is amazing.”

“Uh, I think you forgot to say you get to hang out with the coolest fucking crew on the planet,” Ryder added from across the fire where he was dumping syrup over a plate of pancakes.

“That, too.”

Ryder snorted. “
That, too
, like we’re an afterthought. “You mean
that first
!” He shook his head like he was offended. “We’re awesome.”

“Lexi, did you hear?” Avery asked softly.

“Hear what?” she asked, handing Avery a plate of three pancakes.

“I got promoted to eleventh best friend.”

Lexi handed her the butter next. “Above the worm?”

“His name is Bart,” Ryder said around a giant mouthful of pancake. “He’s my spirit animal.”

Lexi rolled her eyes and flipped the pancakes on the griddle with a plastic spatula. “Last week he said his spirit animal was the pterodactyl.”

“No,” Weston drawled. “No. You can’t pick an animal that is extinct.”

“I didn’t pick it. The pterodactyl picked me.”

A chunk of pancake flew from Wyatt’s general direction and hit Ryder in the face. Harper laughed when the redheaded jokester didn’t miss a beat, just plucked the morsel off his lap and popped it in his mouth.

“Look at that,” Alana mused, staring over the ridge at the sunset. The sky sure was putting on a show with pretty pinks and yellows. “This is what it will look like at our wedding,” she said to Aaron. “Two weeks from today, at this same time, I’ll be taking your last name. Alana Keller.”

“Has a ring to it, baby,” the blond-haired grizzly shifter said, pulling her chair closer to his. “I can’t fuckin’ wait to put my name on you.”

“What kind of wedding do you want, Harper?” Alana asked, her attention back to cutting the food on her paper plate.

“I know the answer to this one,” Wyatt said. “Ivory dress in a big chapel, all of Damon’s Mountains invited. Reception in her mountains.”

“So a big wedding,” Lexi said.

“Huge,” Harper confirmed through a grin. “I want it to be a massive party when we finally do it. Booze, fireworks, the whole nine yards. What about you?” the alpha asked Lexi.

“Oooh, no,” Lexi muttered. “Don’t even get me started on weddings.”

Avery giggled, “Why not?”

“Ryder already has a wedding idea book.”

“Picture if you will,” Ryder said theatrically. “Doves flying overhead the entire ceremony—”

“So bird shit everywhere,” Wyatt murmured through a grin.

“A harpist playing our song.”

“Which is?” Harper asked.

Lexi piped up, “Oh it’s super romantic. It’s that song about humping like they do on the discovery channel.”

Weston had been mid-drink and spit his Clinton’s Trashcan Punch with his laughter.

Ryder didn’t look amused. He arched his red eyebrow primly. “Can I finish now?”

Lexi was trying to hide a smile, her pretty green eyes sparking with humor. “Go ahead, Groomzilla.”

“Thank you. Flowers everywhere, but like, poison ivy around the cake so if any little fuckers get to eating the icing too soon and ruin my pictures, they’ll swell up and itch like hell. Beef jerky fountain, balloon animals, a wild-west theme with Lexi wearing one of those tit-baring corset dresses with the lace. We ride in on a pair of pure white stallions…”

“What kind would you want?” Weston asked Avery quietly in her ear.

“Me?” she asked as Ryder droned on about how he wanted armored medieval knights jousting behind the altar.

“Yeah.” It was dark enough that the flickering orange of the fire showed up across the chiseled planes of Weston’s face. He sure looked handsome in the firelight glow.

Avery fed him a giant bite of pancake, then took a long drink to stall. She’d never thought about that before. The idea of marriage to any of the ravens of The Hollow had put her off imagining any romance on the big day.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Ave. Just blurt it out. If you were getting married tomorrow, how would you want it to be?”

“Well tomorrow would be less than two weeks before Alana and Aaron’s big day.”

“So?”

“So I wouldn’t want to take away from that in any way. I guess something small and intimate, with just me and…”
You
. Avery cleared her throat and dipped her gaze to the red drink cupped in her hands. “Just me and the groom, and maybe he would take me to eat after. Somewhere fancy. And I would wear a pretty dress, and he would wear a dark suit, and maybe we would stay at a bed and breakfast or something that night for a honeymoon.” She laughed nervously. “Sounds lame, huh?”

“No,” Weston murmured, lifting her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss there, just between her knuckles. “Sounds perfect.”

Avery smiled at him gratefully for being so nice to her and relaxed back against him, rested her cheek on his, and listened to Ryder talk about the life-sized painting of him and Lexi on a pirate ship that he wanted to commission for their engagement photo.

Weston had only asked because she was the only woman here who had been left out of the wedding conversation. He was just trying to make her feel included, but now that she thought about it, yeah—a small, intimate ceremony was the new dream.

But only if it was with him.

Today had been the best day of Avery’s life.

She cast another glance over at Weston who was laying under her car, changing the oil. He’d been working on her Civic for the last hour, telling her stories she’d missed out on in the years they hadn’t written each other. Most of them were about his Gray Back Crew and how much trouble he and his friends got into when they were kids. She liked those best—the ones that included Wyatt, Ryder, Aaron, and Harper. She felt like she was getting to know them better. She enjoyed imagining she’d grown up alongside of them in Damon’s Mountains with the normal childhood they’d had.

She liked knowing that, for other people, good childhoods had existed. Maybe it should’ve made her jealous, but it really didn’t. Instead, it made her happy.

She rolled over onto her side on the blanket he’d laid out for her beside the Civic. From here, she had a perfect view of the sexy southern half of him from the top of his abdominals down, and that man had blessed her greatly by taking off his shirt before sliding under the car.

“What was your mom like?” she asked.

“Uuuh, let’s see. She was quiet, strict. She was a worrier. I was her only raven boy, and Da was so protective of me it definitely rubbed off on her. I got away with less than the other kids in the trailer park, but I didn’t mind. I knew it was just because they loved me. She was really good at cooking. Still, when I go home to visit for holidays, I just eat the entire time I’m there. I’ve tried to make some of her recipes over the years, but my cooking can’t touch hers.”

Avery smiled and gave a soft laugh. “It’s because she cooked with love.”

“That’s what Da says, too.”

“I think I will pee my pants if I ever meet Beaston.”

“Oh, you will meet my Da, and no, you won’t pee your pants. For one, I’ve watched you grow tougher every day. You showed no fear around the Bloodrunners today, and I was so fucking proud of how well you fit in. You held your chin up more when you talked to them and spoke your mind when you wanted.”

“The alcohol can be blamed for that.”

“Bullcrap, you’re coming into your own. It’s pretty fuckin’ awesome to watch. Two, my Da isn’t that bad.”

“To you. You grew up with him, and you’re his son. He had no reason to maul you. I was made to betray you.”

“But you didn’t. You made me happy instead.” When Weston twisted sideways and peeked out from under the car, the light he’d hung from the undercarriage illuminated his half-smile. “Besides, I told you, I already explained you had nothing to do with whatever the council was planning. My Da has no problem with you anymore. He told me to take good care of you.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, in his own way. His exact words were, ‘If she makes sense to you, don’t let nothin’ ever hurt her, or it’ll hurt you worse.’”

Avery propped her cheek on her elbow and fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket. She was going to write that quote down on a scrap of paper and keep it in her treasure box. “I think maybe I won’t be as scared when I meet him now. Weston?”

“Yep,” he gritted out, struggling to tighten something under her car.

“Will you sleep beside me tonight?”

He let off a little growl that sounded much more feral than a raven shifter should’ve managed and slid out from under the car. “You don’t know what you’re asking, Ave. Trust me when I say you don’t want that.”

“But that’s why we’re out here in the middle of the night, right? You’re avoiding your visions? You’re avoiding sleep? You can’t just go forever without resting your body, Weston. It’s not good for you.”

Weston’s jaw was clenched hard as he stood and wiped his filthy hands on a cloth. His eyes were black as he ghosted her a glance.

With a deep frown, Avery sat up and asked, “Why is your raven so worked up?”

“I had a vision about you last night.” Weston rushed the words, as if he wanted to say them before he changed his mind.

Avery was shocked into silence. “A bad one?” she whispered.

“Yeah. No.” He upended a container of oil under the hood of her car and locked his other arm against the edge while it emptied. “I was awake when it happened, and it was a vision of the past, not your future.”

Dread dumped into her system, freezing her into place like an ice sculpture. “What did you see?”

“You in The Box, and you were—”

“That’s enough. I don’t need to know anymore.”

“You didn’t tell me it was that bad.”

“No one ever laid a hand on me—”

“You were clawing at the fucking walls, Ave! Your nails were bleeding, and you were freezing and skinny and reciting my letters—”

“I said that’s enough! Please,” she begged in a whisper. “Please stop. It doesn’t help me. Can’t you see I’m better when I don’t think about The Hollow? My raven is stronger here. I’m happy here. Let me keep my happy.”

Weston tossed the empty oil container to the ground and reached for the next and unscrewed the cap slowly. “I couldn’t help you, and it did something awful to me, Ave. Really consider what you are asking when you want me to sleep beside you because you would’ve been really upset if you dealt with me right after coming out of that vision.”

And there it was. He didn’t believe her strong enough to handle the darkness inside of him, and her panic over him talking about his vision had proved him right. She wasn’t yet, but she really,
really
wanted to be.

Ashamed, she asked, “Will you at least lay beside me until I fall asleep?”

One corner of Weston’s lip curved up, but the smile didn’t reach his tired eyes. “Always,” he murmured.

Always
. He would always give in and lay her to sleep, but letting his body go unconscious beside her was something different. It was too much for now. It was trusting her to  handle the hardest part of his life and, in this moment, she swore to herself she would work harder to own her past so she could be stronger in the future. For Weston, but also for herself.

Avery would make this easier for him. She had to because she loved him, and she wanted to help shoulder his burdens, the way he was shouldering hers. Weston knew what The Box had been like. There was no downplaying the confinement since he’d seen it with his own eyes and soul.

He’d seen her darkest moments, and someday soon, she wanted to be tough enough to see his.

Weston finished refilling her car with oil, lowered the hood, and backed her Civic off the blocks. He’d replaced the battery, did God-knows-what when he was digging around under the hood and in the steering column, and had given it a full tune-up, including new windshield wipers. Avery was officially convinced there was nothing Weston couldn’t do. Her car started and idled better than it had done in years.

“I’m so attracted to you right now,” she murmured as he offered her a hand up.

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “You like me sweaty and covered in dirt and oil?”

He’d tossed his baseball cap so his dark facial scruff matched those raven black eyes of his. The dimple was showing again. As she dragged her attention down his muscular throat to the tattoos and piercings that covered his ripped chest, she murmured, “Hell yeah, I like you dirty.” And muscly, and tattooed, sweet, funny, quiet, and mysterious. She’d been imagining all day what they’d done in the woods. She was already wet and ready for him. Even Avery could smell the pheromones she was putting off.

And then he touched her—just a brush of his fingertips down the side of her neck. She rolled her eyes closed at how good it felt. His other hand gripped her waist, pulled her closer until her breasts pressed against his hard chest. His mouth brushed hers, and Avery angled her head, parted her lips so he could push his tongue inside. The second he deepened their kiss, she let off a happy hum. God, she loved this. Loved the taste of him, loved the way his body fit perfectly to hers, loved the way he gripped her shirt in his hands like he couldn’t help himself.

He made her feel beautiful with a touch.

He made her forget all the bad stuff…with a touch.

He healed the cracks in her broken heart, fusing them together one by one…with a touch.

Avery slipped her arms around his neck and pushed up on her tiptoes, desperate to be closer to him. Weston pulled her so hard against his body, there was no end to her, no beginning to him, but still, she wasn’t close enough. This was an addiction. Weston was her drug, and she could never get enough of the high he gave her.

When she slipped her tongue shallowly past his lips, Weston let off the sexiest sound. He leaned forward, lifted the backs of her knees around his waist, and slammed her backward against the car, ground his hips onto her slowly and bit her bottom lip hard. She was gone. Weston wasn’t a naturally gentle lover, and that was okay. More than okay. She loved him wild, adored his dominance. He was good at telling her what he wanted without words, and right now, he wanted her more than anything. Her inner raven drew up like a goddess.

Weston pushed his hard dick against her again and touched her sensitive clit perfectly. She’d thought her first few times would be bad, or awkward, until she learned how to use her body, but nope. No problems here. Weston was good at taking control and teaching her as they went. He didn’t coddle her or question her. He just trusted her to rise up to the occasion like the damn phoenix he believed her to be.

Weston lurched backward, taking her with him, then strode up the stairs to his porch. His cabin and Ryder’s shared a roof but were separated by a dog run right through the middle. He set her on her feet at the front door and kissed her for a minute longer, tongue stroking hers rhythmically, driving her body mad.

“I have to tell you something,” he murmured, his voice deep and sultry.

She nipped his lip. “Tell me anything.”

His dark brows drew down, and he gave a nervous glance at the door behind her. “My house… It’s different.”

“Is it messy? I don’t care if it’s messy.”

“No, no. It’s more like a…den. Like how I grew up. I haven’t ever let anyone in here.” He shrugged. “I keep my dens private.”

But he was letting her see it? As he pushed the door open, her heart tethered to him even more.

Inside didn’t look like inside at all. It looked like outside. Avery gasped and padded to the center of the room, spun slowly to take it in. He’d covered the walls with strips of bark and nailed young sapling trees in an overlay that stretched from the scratched wood floors to the wooden ceilings.

Weston flicked on a deer antler lamp, but the light was muted by a cloth covering the shade. The entire cabin was one big open room with a kitchen to the right of the living room and a queen-sized bed under exposed oak beams on the left. Even his bedding was brown and deep forest green, and the kitchen counters were made of gnarled wood that looked hand carved and polished.

“It looks like a treehouse,” she whispered reverently. Avery ran her fingers over the smooth wood of the foot of the bed. “Did you make this?”

“I made everything in here,” he said low. “I like working with wood. I like creating things. I like giving wood function.” He ran his hand over his hair and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It probably sounds dumb, but I like spending time in my shop alone. I like the sound of silence. I work through my shit better without all the…” He waved his hand over his head. “Noise.”

Full of emotion, she smiled. She knew he hadn’t shared this part of himself with anyone but her. “Will you show me your shop sometime?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Whenever you want. It’s out back.” Weston looked around the room, hand resting on the back of his neck. “Do you like it?”

“Come here,” she murmured, heart thumping so hard at how fucking cute he was. Big, dominant, tatted-up monster, and he was worried about what she thought of his den? Weston had so many layers, and the more she learned of him, the more she loved him.

He strode closer, and she turned him slowly and pushed him down on the edge of the bed. He chuckled, and his eyes sparked with desire as she pulled her T-shirt over her head.

“I love your den so much it’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah?” Weston sounded distracted and was staring at her black satin bra.

“It feels homey, like the woods do.” Avery shimmied out of her jean shorts, and clad in only her lingerie, she climbed up onto his lap. Straddling him, she pushed up on her knees, so she was just above eye-level. She kissed his smiling lips. His hands were rough, gripping her hips, and maybe she wouldn’t have liked that with anyone else. But with him, it was just so perfect, so Weston.

She rolled her hips forward, building her own excitement because his dick was so hard, so thick under his jeans, and she remembered exactly how he felt inside of her. She was still a little sore from last night, but her arousal was bigger than that. Weston wrapped his arms around her back and crushed her to him, rocking his dick against her.

Tonight, he was hers. She wasn’t nervous like their first time. She wasn’t hesitating to touch him. She didn’t have to. He would let her do what she wanted, so she dragged her fingertips down the strong curves of his arms. Someday she would trace every tattoo on his body, but tonight…tonight she just wanted to feel his skin. She wanted to familiarize herself with every inch of his body.