“Um …” I paused. Why are you even entertaining this? He’s a naked biker dude covered in tattoos who probably has a drug problem, and he’s just fed you this cockamamie story about being a shapeshifting raven, and you’re thinking about letting him say in your house? “Yeah, sure. You can stay.”
Apparently, I had a weak spot for naked biker corvids.
Cole’s whole face lit up. “You have no idea what this means, seriously. It’s incredible. I will repay you, somehow.”
I looked away, my cheeks flushing with colour as I imagined one way he might repay me. Damnit, why did I have to turn into such a mess around this guy?
Cole’s husky voice reverberated through my body. “From the looks of your red cheeks, you’ve already thought of a way. I’ll be right here if you ever want to tell me about it …”
My blush deepened. I glanced at the microwave clock. It read 2:15am. I had to get up in an hour and fifteen minutes. “I’m too tired to think about any more of this tonight,” I said, and as the words left my mouth, I knew it was true. Weariness crawled through my limbs, and my whole body felt heavy. Suddenly, nothing sounded better than crawling back into bed and consigning myself to a deep sleep.
“Of course.” Cole nodded, serious again. “We should both sleep, Nightingale. I can tell you more in the morning.”
“Nightingale?”
“After Florence Nightingale,” he grinned, pointing at his leg. “She used to nurse soldiers back to health during the Crimean War. Many a soldier found her sweet voice their only solace.”
“Oh,” I felt my cheeks reddening again. “Er … thanks.”
“Well, you haven’t told me your name yet, so I had to make one up.”
“Oh,” I stared at the floor, not wanting to meet those devilish eyes again. “It’s Belinda. Belinda Wu.”
“Belinda,” he rolled my name over his tongue in a way that made me wish he were screaming it in ecstasy. “You are an angel, you know that?”
I’m a pushover, is what I am. I found an old, threadbare blanket at the back of my cupboard (evidently, Ethan hadn’t thought it worth stealing), and Cole piled up a couple of cushions to use as a pillow. I offered him an old t-shirt of Ethan’s to wear, but when he tried to pull it over his head, it tore across his broad shoulders. “Don’t worry about it,” he grinned, tossing the scraps of fabric into the corner. “I’ll just sleep naked.”
I gulped. With only my thin bedroom wall separating me from hot, naked Cole, how was I ever going to get any sleep?
As I suspected, after turning out the lights and flopping my weary body back into bed, I found that I now couldn’t sleep. I lay on top of the blankets, my eyes squeezed shut, but my ears tingling as I listened in the darkness for the sounds of Cole breathing heavily.
I couldn’t believe he was here, in my flat. He was the first guy who had ever seen my shabby upstairs rooms, once storage and an office for the shop, but now the only accommodation I could afford. In fact, he was the first person ever – with the exception of Chairman Meow – who had seen the full extent of what Ethan had left me with.
What did he think of me, this mousy Asian girl with the bare, cold flat who had rescued him? Probably not much. He may be in trouble now, but he had a life that was filled with magic and intrigue and probably hot raven shapeshifter chicks. I must seem boring beyond belief to him, and he hadn’t even experienced my fourteen-hour work days—
Hang on a second.
As my mobile phone buzzed to life, signalling that it was time to get up and bake bread, an idea floated into my sleep-deprived brain. It was a crazy idea, one that I could only consider after hours of wakefulness and the newfound knowledge that human/animal shapeshifters actually existed. I turned it over and over in my mind, searching for flaws, but I couldn’t find any. Cole had a problem, I had a problem, and this crazy idea would solve both.
Don’t do it. A voice inside my head warned. Don’t get involved. He’s clearly running from something. Think of how scary something has to be to make a guy that strong run away? You only want to help him because it will keep him near you a little longer, and you’re lonely and desperate and thinking that if only you could find a man like James Bond—
Shut up, I commanded. For once, the voice obeyed.
I got up and tiptoed through to the kitchen, past a snoring Cole. He had rolled on to his side, facing the back of the couch, the blanket balled up under his arms, revealing his muscular back and tight, toned arse. Intricate tattoos covered every inch of it, and I thought I even recognised Bianca’s handiwork on the carefully rendered skeletal wings that swept down his back. A second raven sat on top of a grinning skull on one cheek, and the bird bent down to fish around in the eye socket. My fingers itched to touch his skin, to run my hands over the ink.
That’s enough of that. I tore my eyes away. No more drooling over the hot naked Bran on your couch. You have a job to do, and so does he. I grabbed a pot and wooden spoon from the stack by the sink, stood over the couch, and clanged the top of the pot with the spoon.
CLANG CLANG CLANG!
“What the fuck are you doing?” Cole yelled, scrambling away from me. The blanket caught beneath him, and he toppled off the couch, landing in a heap on the floor. He scrambled to sit up again and untangle his body from the blankets.
“It’s time to get up.”
“The sun isn’t even in the fucking sky yet!”
“Ah, yes, but that means there’s still a couple of hours before my first customer walks in the door.” I explained, grinning despite myself. This was a completely cheeky, very un-Belindalike idea. I couldn’t believe I was doing it. “I’ve decided that I’m happy to help you, and you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. But I am not a homeless bird shelter. You don’t get this hospitality for nothing.”
“You call this hospitality?” Cole growled, holding his hands over his ears. I grinned and clanged the pot a few more times.
“If you’re staying here, you need to pull your weight.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Take your hands off your ears and put some clothes on. I need you downstairs. You have some bread to knead.”
“I don’t have any clothes, and I don’t knead bread.” He folded his arms. “I’ve never baked anything before. I’m really more of a messenger, and a ferrier of souls to the underworld. If you need any messages delivered or souls ferried …”
“I use email for messages, and I’m fresh out of souls for the time being,” I said, studying his face to see how serious he was about the soul thing. That didn’t sound like something I wanted to know about. “And don’t worry. I have an assistant who doesn’t know how to bake anything, either. In fact, I can already tell you’ll be a big improvement over him, on account that you have at least successfully held down a job.” And you’re not too bad to look at, I added silently.
Cole laughed, a little uneasily. “You are serious, aren’t you? You actually want me to help you in the bakery?”
“Why not? It’s not as if your master is going to think to look for you here.” I pointed to the bathroom. “Go have a shower, and I’ll find you some clothes. I assume you don’t want me to take you to the vet after all?”
Cole met my eyes with an intense gaze. For a moment I thought he was going to refuse. But then he sighed and stood up, wincing as he tried to put weight on his leg. “We can skip the vet visit. And you’re right. I owe you for fixing me up and letting me hide out here. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
6
Cole
You are a fuck up.
Not only did you not manage to sneak out of here, but now she’s involved up to her pretty little ears. It’s not just about saving your own arse anymore; you’ve got Belinda to think about.
Beautiful Belinda Wu, who claimed to know martial arts but didn’t look as though she could stand to squash a spider. She checked over my leg again, sprayed it with some antiseptic, and gave me a roll of sandwich wrap to keep it dr
y in the shower. I watched her shuffle out of the room, her cute arse wiggling in her shorts as she loped down the stairs. She was unusually vigorous for someone who’d been woken up only two hours previously by a raven turning into a man, and then having her 3:30am alarm go off, and she hadn’t had any coffee yet. I guessed the life of a baker really only suited morning people.
Belinda was clearly one of those women who had no idea how attractive she was. She hid behind a curtain of black hair, and could barely look at me when I was sitting there naked. When she was tending my wound she would only look directly at my leg. But I could see she was curious. Perhaps it was my ink, I wondered if she’d ever been with a guy who had tats before. Somehow I doubted it.
I knew what Belinda saw when she looked at me – the kind of guy her mother warned her about, the kind that racked up criminal misdemeanours the way other men collected hedge funds. The bad boy who would rock her world and leave her heartbroken.
She probably wasn’t wrong.
As much as I wanted to throw her up against the wall and fuck her brains out, that wasn’t what she needed. Whatever had happened to her, one thing was clear: she’d been hurt real bad, and she was still recovering. She didn’t need me making things worse for her just because I found her so fucking adorable.
I needed to exercise some self-control. I’d already broken my number-one rule with her – don’t get attached. You can’t fall in love until you are free – and I hadn’t even fucked her yet.
And you won’t. I scolded myself before I could put that delectable thought into action. I was currently running for my life, I couldn’t afford to get distracted. And from the looks of her empty flat, she really couldn’t afford to have me distract her. For once, I needed to stop thinking with my cock and think with my head.
But she was so damn cute. If I could manage to get through a day without pouncing on her, it would be a miracle in the order of the loaves and fishes.
I lifted my armpits and sniffed. Yuck. I smelled like blood and sweat and wet grass and peanut butter. I walked into the small bathroom and turned the shower on, fiddling with the temperamental taps until I got a good, hot blast. I stood under the water and let the hot stream pummel my skin, and I tried desperately hard to ignore my cock, which had stiffened at the memory of Belinda’s reddening face and cute arse sliding around in those shorts.
This is going to be an interesting couple of days.
The ring on my finger tightened, sending a sharp stab of pain down my side, instantly obliterating any amorous thoughts. The pain was getting worse the longer I stayed away. In a couple of days it would be unbearable, which might not matter, because on Sunday, the bond between myself and Morchard would be severed, and a new bond would form with Sir Thomas Gillespie. I would be bound to my father’s murderer, unless I could find a way to rid myself of the curse.
I have to talk to Mikael.
One thing was working in my favour. I was now hiding out only a few doors down from the pub where he worked, and although Victor probably knew I was alive (for he’d still be picking up the signature of my ring), he would assume I was far away by now. They were probably looking for me in Yorkshire by now.
I hoped like hell that news of my death had reached Thomas Gillespie. Then at least Victor would have more problems to deal with than a Bran that ran away. Gillespie wouldn’t take kindly to being informed he had purchased a Bran that had gone AWOL, especially as Victor had probably spent all his money by now. I would have to get Mikael to make inquiries for me, but either way, I would probably be fine here in Crookshollow for a few days, until I could figure out my next move.
Besides, I told myself as I rinsed off. I need to stay here to protect Belinda. I couldn’t just leave her on her own before I made sure Pax and Poe wouldn’t come after her for any reason.
She asked me to stay. She needed me. She said so. I was doing a good thing by being here.
Wasn’t I?
7
Belinda
Just around the corner from Bewitching Bites was a charity shop. Outside was a bin where you could toss old clothes you didn’t want any more, which they either tried to sell or took along to a homeless shelter. I’d never really owned many clothes anyway, and Ethan had taken most of my nice items. (Why? I don’t know. Maybe he thought he could sell them. Maybe he was fuelling his secret cross-dressing fetish. Maybe he just wanted to completely screw me over.) So for the last few months I’d been raiding this particular bin every time I needed something new. I’d even nicked off with some dish towels and a tablecloth. I felt pretty awful about it, because I was in essence stealing from the poor, but I was pretty bloody poor myself. I hoped it wasn’t a hanging offence.
A quick rummage around revealed an old Iron Maiden t-shirt with a massive hole under the armpit, and a pair of black trousers with some strange stains on the knee. Both looked as if they might fit Cole. I grabbed my booty and rushed back up to my shop. When I got upstairs, I heard the water running in the shower, and Chairman Meow was prowling around the bathroom door.
“Cole!” I called out, picking up the cat. He sniffed the clothes, made a disgusted face, and nuzzled my chin.
“Your soap smells like unicorn farts.” Cole yelled through the door.
“If only I’d known that earlier, I would’ve bottled it and made my fortune. I’m putting some clothes outside the door,” I dumped the pants and shirt in a pile. “Put them on and meet me downstairs when you’re done.”
I went down to the bakery and fired up the ovens. As the room heated up, I took off my sweater, so that I was working in just a threadbare white tank top and some unflattering men’s shorts. I put a hairnet on and got to work mixing the dough for the bread into the large, old-fashioned mixer. I’d brought the thing for a steal on eBay when the bakery first opened, thinking that I’d be able to afford to replace it with something new and shiny by the end of the first year. The great cosmic mixer joke was on me. I was stuck with the ancient mixer for the rest of my life.
Cole sauntered down the stairs, one hand holding up the pants, the other running through his wet hair. He winced a little as he stood on his injured leg. In the light, the black stubble on his chin and cheeks stood out even more. He looked rugged, dangerous. And he smelled like my soap. God, he was sexy. How was I going to survive being in the tiny kitchen with him?
“These are way too big,” he growled, pulling at the clothes. “And they smell like feet.”
“Hey, naked raven beggars can’t be choosers. As soon as the shops open, I’ll go out and buy you some real clothes.” I pointed to the bags of flour that were standing beside the mixer. “Open one of those, dump the flour in the mixer, and you can use the cord to tie up your pants.”
“I look like an idiot.”
“No, you look like a metalhead who’s just had his wallet stolen. But there’s only one person who’s going to see you back here, and that’s me. And I happen to think that t-shirt is an improvement. Now, first things first.” I waved a hairnet under his nose. “You can’t do anything in here without one of these.”
Surprisingly, Cole obeyed, tugging the net over his long tresses and pulling the elastic tight. Strangely, he managed to look even hotter with his hair off his face. His sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes stood out. “What next?” He grinned.
I explained to him how to make the bread, and then pulled one of last night’s cakes out of the fridge and started making chocolate ganache. Cole had to slip past me in the narrow kitchen in order to get to the mixer. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, telling myself I needed to make sure he did things properly, but knowing secretly that I was perving at the way his shoulders bulged as he picked up that heavy flour sack as if it were a pillowcase. As he tore open the sack and leaned over the mixer to dump the flour inside, his pants slipped down his hips, revealing a stripe of his bare butt and the edge of that raven and skull tattoo. I felt my cheeks redden, but I couldn’t turn away.
Cole whirled around, dropping the emp
ty sack and grabbing his pants. “Are you sure you want me to use this?” He held up the string from the sack as he leaned on his good leg. “You were looking mighty pleased with the view only a few minutes ago.”
I turned away, my cheeks burning. I can’t believe he saw me. “You’re disgusting. This is a kitchen.”
“You love it.”
“Make sure you wash your hands after touching yourself like that.” I yelled over my shoulder.
“As you wish.” Cole slid back behind me to get to the sink, his body grazing mine, making tiny bumps appear across my skin. As he moved past me, he pinched my arse. My whole body shuddered at his touch. What is with me today? At this rate we’re never going to get the bread ready.
“What next?” Cole grinned.
“Add that yeast, and twenty-two litres of water. Then turn the mixer on. You’ll need to mix it for about ten minutes, and watch it to make sure all the flour on the sides gets scraped in. After that, call me over and I’ll show you how to knead it.”
He gave me a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain!”
I tore my gaze away from Cole and forced myself to focus on the cakes and slices. As I carefully drizzled melted chocolate over the caramel squares, I heard pots crashing and Cole swearing behind me. I will not look, I told myself. As fun as Cole was, the clock was ticking and I had to get everything done, or I wouldn’t make rent.
I heard the mixer flick on, and listened to the familiar THWACK THWACK as the dough came together and bounced against the sides of the bowl. I slid the caramel squares into the fridge to set, and went to work on the carrot cake and the lemon scones.
“All done.” Cole called out behind me. I heard the mixer shut off and whir in protest as it wound down. I turned around, and almost choked.
Cole looked like a ghost. His entire body, from his head to his feet, was coated in white flour. There was also flour all over the mixer, across the benches, over the stacks of pans and pots, and in a giant arc across the floor.
Watcher: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 1) Page 6