by T. S. Joyce
As long as he lived, however short that might be, he would never show affection to another woman. Women were poison. Poison to the mind, making him feel weak and inadequate, when he was the biggest, baddest crow in existence. Or he had been before Tenlee. He’d been on a path to be leader of the entire shifter culture. And now he was losing his own Clan by way of slow insanity. Women were poison to the body. All it took was sex one time that wasn’t just fucking, but making love, and a man’s body got addicted to that feeling. Coming was better if it was inside a girl who had his heart. But what happened when that wasn’t there anymore? Strong men went to their knees.
Gritting his teeth, Ramsey opened the folder just to take his mind off the debilitating tantrum his body was throwing.
Vina Fiona Marsh. Pretty name for a pretty lady. One who didn’t match him in any way, but if he was a different man, one out of the MC life, one with a steady cubicle job, weekends off, and a 401k, maybe he could’ve taken this matchmaking thing more seriously. She was clearly a nice girl who didn’t have any idea what a bad boy really meant. He would get a sweet little thing like her killed in no time flat.
She didn’t belong. Stuck out.
She was tall and curvy with long sandy-colored hair that she’d curled up real nice. Loose-fitting white T-shirt and acid-wash shorts cuffed up high on her long legs. No visible tattoos. No rebellion at all from what he could tell. Even her sneakers had been pristine white. Made him want to make her filthy.
Wait…what?
No. He didn’t need to make her filthy. He needed to leave the moose alone. There weren’t many of them, but they were notorious for being extremely aggressive in their animal form. It’s why they made good parents. They were one of the most protective parent shifters in existence. Fuck with their offspring and, simply put, you would die under a couple of massive hooves. Horrible way to go.
Interesting girl. Good girl in her human body, but her moose would be a monster.
He liked people who were walking contradictions. For some reason he didn’t understand, Ramsey had always been drawn to the unexpected.
That girl might be a mess, but he bet she would be so much fun to ruin.
God, his crow was a demon.
Ramsey began to read her file.
Moose shifter, thirty-three years old, only interested in crows. Parents were still paired up. Her favorite color was sparkles? What the fuck? She worked at the community center in Darby, planning events for the town. Had moved there three years ago in hopes of finding a crow mate.
Huh. What made a girl pack up and move from—he scanned the application—Michigan to come to the small town of Darby just on the off-chance she would find a crow mate? Clearly, she didn’t care about love matches. She only saw one animal she wanted, and that was that.
God, this woman was something else.
She’d written an essay at the back. Ramsey ripped it off the other pages, leaving one corner shredded from where the staple had been.
Dear Sarah,
I don’t really know what else to do. I hoped I would find my mate the natural way, but it’s not happening, and every day is like Groundhog’s Day. Have you seen that movie? I wake up, get ready, put on my make-up and dress cute because maybe today will be the day. But it never is. I go to work, I work hard, keep busy, keep my heart open in case I meet one of them in town. One of the crows. And I have over the last year. They come here on their motorcycles, loud music blaring from some of the bikes. They go to a couple of the bars sometimes. I always hear them, and sometimes I go where they are, just on the off-chance that one will see me, and that will be that. He will pick me. I feel as if a crow is my fate, but lately, I’m starting to question whether I’m just one of those crazy girls who believes in something so thoroughly that I don’t realize when my wishes have turned into something impossible. I’m lonely. I haven’t been able to make friends here because none of the shifters here know I exist. They are in some kind of war. I can feel the tension. It’s always been there. I’ve seen fights at The Gutshot that would make a normal girl nauseous. Violence is the epitome of the culture here, and I’m a rogue. No point in announcing myself until I have a shot at what I came here for. I want a crow. Even if he’s flawed, I want a man to bond to my animal and actually choose me…not just pretend to in the beginning and then leave me when I’m invested. It’s always the same. So here I am, eating a TV dinner on my couch, watching bad television by myself, and preparing mentally to have tomorrow be just the same as today, and yesterday, and the day before.
I need something new.
Something real and healthy. If this doesn’t work, and you tell me you can’t find me a crow, then I’m quitting this wish.
Thanks for trying. I know it’s not easy finding matches for my animal.
Vina
The letter was dated two years ago. So she’d just been sitting here doing the same thing for two years, waiting for this matchmaker woman, Sarah, to find a crow?
Ramsey crumpled up the paper in a rush and chucked it at the trashcan in the corner. Missed, thanks to his body seizing mid-throw. It bounced off the wall and laid in a little taunting ball right be the door.
Whatever.
He wasn’t it for Vina.
He wasn’t it for anyone.
His crow had already made his choice.
Chapter Four
Ramsey jogged down the stairs, pink sparkly folder in hand, because he’d built himself up into a right rage by the time he’d gotten out of that quick five-minute readthrough. Fuck Rike for meddling in his life.
Downstairs, the Clan was gathering in the meeting room, the boys trickling in one-by-one, but Rike was behind the bar talking low to Ethan, which only pissed off Ramsey more. There was his Second and Third, probably talking about him.
“What is your job in this Clan?” Ramsey gritted out as he reached the bar.
“Uuuuuh,” Ethan murmured.
“To support you?” Rike said.
“Then what the fuck are you actually doing?” Ramsey yelled, tossing the pink folder at Rike.
“Ow!” Rike said, red creeping up his neck. The pointy corner had hit him right in the nipple, and he winced and rubbed it as the papers rained out onto the floor behind the bar. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He looked down at the papers, and his expression changed immediately from what the hell to oh, shit. “I can explain.”
“Can you? Can you explain why you would fill out a matchmaking application with my personal information on it without my knowledge or consent?”
“I was just trying to help?”
“Like you helped by sending that Crow Chaser to me last night? When you know I’ve chosen a mate? I don’t get you, Rike! All I need you to do is be there and make things easier while I figure out how to get over this broken bond. You’re making it worse!”
“Ramsey,” Ethan murmured, looking around the room at everyone gathering around them in silence. “Maybe we should talk about this outside.”
“Don’t you fucking do it,” Ramsey snarled. “Don’t treat me like I need to be controlled. I’ll burn you to the ground. You think I’m naïve, don’t you? You think I don’t see you gunning for Alpha?”
“Are you fucking serious?” Ethan yelled. “I don’t want your rank, Ramsey! I want you to be okay.”
“I want you to have his rank,” Otis said from the corner, lifting two fingers. “If it’s time for the vote, I vote Ethan challenges you. You’re losing your mind, Ram. It ain’t your fault, it’s on your crow, but we all feel it. You’re dragging us all down with you.”
“Yeah,” Dante agreed from the open doorway of the meeting room in the next room over from the bar. “We should be burying the Two Claws Clan in the woods, but instead, you sent them a herd of cattle and helped them save their ranch. That ain’t how we do retaliation. You’ve lost your edge.”
Ethan was staring at the ground, shaking his head. His nostrils flared, and his long hair twitched with the movement. “I don’t want this
. I don’t want a vote. Nae from me.”
“Nae,” Rike said, glaring from Otis to Dante and back. “It’s a dick-move to quit on your Alpha. You ride or die in this Clan.”
“You really just mean die,” Terrence said. “We rode for a long time, no questions asked, but we’re watching an Alpha go weak. Ram, you can’t hold this Clan forever.”
Ram straightened his spine and lifted his chin. “But I’ll hold it today. Dante, Otis, and Terrence, outside.”
“What?” Otis said. And now he showed panic because Ramsey was a fighter. He’d grown up on it, thrived on it, knew exactly what his body could do. He’d made it into a weapon. He hadn’t gotten Alpha rank by default. Ramsey had fought and bled his way to the top.
“You can take my challenge,” he murmured, pointing to the door, “or you can walk.”
There were three beats of silence, and then Terrence, a low-ranking member muttered, “Fuck this,” and stormed out of the clubhouse.
“Pussy,” Rike called after him.
Otis and Dante looked at each other somberly. “Accepted,” they both said in unison. Clan meant safety. Clan meant staying steady. Rogue crows did horrible alone. For stepping out of line, Otis and Dante were gonna take their licks like men. Thata boys.
Ramsey pulled his vest and T-shirt off as he followed the others outside. His knuckles already tingled to connect with their faces. Ethan wasn’t coming to watch the fight, though. He followed Terrence.
“What are you doing?” Ramsey asked him.
“Punishing him for talking to you like that,” Ethan murmured right before he disappeared around the corner of the clubhouse after Terrence. Lie. Ethan agreed with Terrence, and thought they should’ve killed every last Two Claw and dragged Tenlee back, but he needed the fight. That Blackwood blood in him required violence to stay sated. Rike was a Blackwood too, but he had more control over his murderous side.
Ramsey would hold the Clan as long as he could, but Ethan was going to take his throne when this busted bond got bad enough. Maybe Ethan was the best one to do it. Him or Rike. They’d been his boys since they were kids, barely out of high school. And those two would be the ones to kill him when he lost the Clan.
Everything had gotten so messed up.
Love was the worst.
Otis and Dante had removed their leather cuts and shirts. They were both big homegrown boys from Kentucky. They always backed each other up, and they always took their punishment together, too. Assholes didn’t know when to keep their mouths shut, but that was okay.
Ramsey needed this.
****
“What is happening?” Vina whispered to herself in the front seat of her Explorer. She’d sat out here for half an hour trying to get the courage to go back in there and apologize for her rash behavior. Sure, Ramsey deserved to be told off, but he clearly hadn’t been the one to submit the application, and she felt a little guilty heaping that pile on him and then bolting.
And then there had been chaos as bikers flooded the parking lot on their deafeningly loud Harley Davidson motorcycles. The only reason she even knew what the bikes were was because there were Harley logos everywhere. The noise had scared her as the big, burly men revved their bikes and rode right past her Explorer.
She’d watched in wonder as they filed into the clubhouse, right under the sign with the bloody red crow.
She did not belong here.
Why on earth had she been so convinced that a crow was meant for her moose? It seemed so silly and irrational now. It was as if she’d built it up in her head as the only thing that would make her life okay after Jonathan had left her a few years ago. He’d cheated on her, like everyone always did, and it had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. She’d just dealt with that hurt by locking her focus on the crows. But perhaps she’d just been avoiding the pain of the break-up by concentrating on something unattainable. And these crows really were that—unattainable.
Every last one of them was intimidating, and as they flooded back out of the clubhouse, she wondered for the tenth time since she’d been sitting in her ride what the hell she was doing here. How had she gotten to this moment? A matchmaker? Really? A motorcycle-riding, foul-mouthed, rebellious hellion of a man, and Alpha of the biggest, baddest Clan of crow shifters in the known world to boot? How on God’s green and blue Earth had she convinced herself she could slip right into a life she knew nothing about and bond with a crow?
And holy hell, there he was. Ramsey came out last, shirt off, jeans riding on the lowest tier of his six pack, muscles all flexed up as he talked to one of the men. His face was fierce, his eyes tar-black, and his hands were clenched in fists at his sides as he walked. Back straight, chin up, his mouth set in a thin line, Ramsey looked like a beast ready for battle. She hadn’t been intimidated by him up in his room, but watching him among his people was completely different. He was king.
A king who was apparently was about to get in a fistfight, if the two opposing titans without their shirts on were any indication. They were pacing in front of Ramsey like caged predators.
What should she do? Call the police?
No. Probably definitely not. Motorcycle clubs didn’t like involving the police in their affairs…right?
Whoa, Ramsey was hot. His blond hair was all spiked up everywhere, and his strides became quicker the closer to the two shirtless bruisers he got. There was a loose circle of bikers around them, but they weren’t cheering or jeering like she’d seen with fights on TV. They were quiet and somber, and for the most part, were motionless other than a few who shifted their weight from side-to-side.
Half an hour ago, he’d said he was still drunk, but Ramsey was walking without swaying, and when he pointed to one of the challengers, his hand was steady, his eyes focused on his opponent. She couldn’t quite hear what he said over the sound of her ovaries going boom.
There were onlookers in the way, so without thinking, she shoved her door open and stood up on the running board of her Ford, hanging onto the door. She could see him better from this angle. He was already fighting…or more specifically, getting his ass kicked. The two behemoths were blasting his ribs, but Ramsey wasn’t defending himself. Other than his fists in front of his face, he took four hits before he backed up a couple steps. He looked crazy, eyes black as a witch’s soul, body flexed, face twisted up in an empty grin that said, Now you’re fucked.
Fast as a bullet, he blasted his fist into One’s face and ducked neatly out of the way as Two took a swing. He hit One again and as he was slammed backward with the force of Ramsey’s fist, the Alpha shoved the other in the chest so fast his hands blurred. And when Two went to the ground, Ramsey followed. He was on top, slamming blow after blow onto the man’s face, while Two just laid there, blocking as best he could.
One ripped Ramsey backward, but whatever happened, it was so fast she couldn’t understand it. Ramsey wasn’t the one who hit the ground. One did. He got up fast and landed a blow right on Ramsey’s jaw. The tension and silence seemed to thicken as Ramsey stood there frozen, eyes on the ground, blood pouring from his split lip. Another smile as he spat crimson onto the cracked asphalt. His lips twisted into a feral grimace as he dragged those demon-black eyes back to One. Fear flashed across One’s face. Two was still on the concrete, not moving, and now One was backing up toward the wall of onlookers. Ramsey straightened and stalked him, his gait graceful like a lion with the complete confidence in his ability to kill.
There was a moment in One’s expression when he looked defeated, but then he gritted his teeth as if ready to take whatever would happen. He lifted his scarred knuckles to his face, body angled, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, eyes black and focused like Ramsey’s. They were well matched, the same height, though Ramsey’s frame was packed with thicker muscle. Ramsey lifted his fists in front of his chin and angled his body, slowly circling with One. There was a low-humming, contained power that coiled tight inside of Ramsey like a cobra right before it struck… And then the
fight turned to pure, unfiltered violence. Fists hit skin and faces, ribs, guts. The two titans didn’t make a noise. There were no grunts of pain, only the sound of knuckles against bodies.
Vina’s heart was pounding out of her chest as she clutched onto the door of her car. She’d never seen anything so horrifying in all her life. Or more illuminating. If she’d had any question whether Ramsey was a match for her, well, this put that to rest. That was a big heck no. She didn’t understand what could’ve possibly happened to a man that turned him into a weapon, but she was scared to even find out. She’d been raised by a moose shifter father and a human mother, who were still together, and her childhood had been safe and quiet. But this man had been broken, put back together, broken, and put back together, over and over, changing and becoming harder and darker with each transformation until it had made him…this.
Ramsey was a monster. From the looks of it, all crows were, and he was King of Crows. That’s what the last line of his application had said. Nicknames: Ram, King of Crows. And he hadn’t asked politely for his rank. No, that much was clear from the way he beat on One relentlessly. One fell like a tree and hit the concrete, but there was no break in the assault. Ramsey was on his knees, pummeling his face with relentless blows. She couldn’t tell if the blood on his knuckles was his or belonged to One.
“Ram!” Rike yelled, his veins popping in his neck. “Enough!”
Ramsey’s reaction was instant. He left One to bleed on the concrete and lurched toward Rike. He blasted him once in the face so hard the tall, black-haired man staggered backward, then fell instantly to his knees, exposing his neck. “Mercy,” he barked out. Blood poured from his nose, streaming to the asphalt between his knees. He wouldn’t meet Ramsey’s gaze as the Alpha stood over him, shoulders heaving.
Ramsey dragged his attention to the silent murder of crow shifters who stood loosely around him. “Anyone else have anything to say?”
The others didn’t answer, only shook their heads.
Rike looked over at Vina, face covered in gore, but she couldn’t understand why his eyes were pleading with her.