by T. S. Joyce
He looked at the ground with the most confused expression she’d ever seen on a man. He shook his head hard. “No. No, I’m Rike Blackwood. Rike.”
God, she couldn’t believe she was going to do this. Couldn’t believe she was going to give up her treasure, her most sacred possession, to a man who didn’t deserve it. But seeing him so changed had shocked her back into reality. He wasn’t this bright memory anymore. He was here, the real man, the real mistake. He’d kept her heart all these years, and he didn’t even remember her.
Bailey lifted the locket from around her neck and held it between them. It spun on the twisted chain and glinted in the sunlight. This was the moment she would never forget—the moment she was finally letting him go. “I can’t talk to you. I’m high ranking in the Wulfe Clan. I have a good life. If you have questions, this locket is the only answer you’ll get from me.”
He held out his big, rough palm, a study in opposites from her small soft one. Pursing her lips, she placed the spinning locket there and then wrapped his fingers around it just for the chance to touch him because, God, she’d dreamed of that touch for years. How many times had he held her hand when they were kids and made her feel like everything was going to be okay, even when he’d been the one falling apart?
“Goodbye, Brandon,” she murmured, forcing a smile.
And then she walked away easy, just like he’d done all those years ago.
Chapter Three
She didn’t even look back—that fair-skinned wolf with the bright green eyes that stopped Rike’s heart.
Brandon Blackwood. She got his last name right, just not the first. But that name—Brandon—it tickled old memories. It scratched at things his crow had locked away a long time ago from another life.
He stood there with a pan of fresh bread rolls cradled in one arm and the gold necklace in his other fist. The wolf-girl disappeared around the corner and, carefully, Rike settled the pan on his knee as he squatted down. He pried the locket open with the edge of his short thumbnail.
He panicked at what he found inside. The tiny pictures made him want to retch. They made his crow scratch at his skin in fury. It was an instant war in his head. The crow was blocking…something.
There were two tiny oval-shaped pictures. Old and worn around the edges, the two pictures were of a young blond girl’s smiling profile. The wind whipped the blond waves across half her face, but she was smiling at a boy. And the boy on the left side of the locket looked right back at him. Dark, dancing eyes, black hair, olive skin and a smile he didn’t recognize because they didn’t exist for a man like him.
They were sitting in a wheat field, the grass tickling their collar bones. The kids were maybe ten years old.
He didn’t remember himself at that age. He didn’t remember anything, but every once in a while, he had a dream of a girl laughing on a swing. Rike closed his eyes and reached for it. And it was there now, easy to access, crisp, clear, like a show on television. The girl was screaming, but it wasn’t a scared sound. It was…happy. A hand, no tattoos on it, same skin color as his, same shape, same scarred-up knuckles, was pushing her on the swing. There was a low chuckle, but it was a child’s laugh.
The crow inside of him revolted, and Rike pitched forward, dry-heaving on the ground.
Something was wrong. Nah, fuck that, he’d always known something was wrong. His head had never been right. He was missing big chunks of his life. Years of memories were missing. Crow. Wolf. Wulfe. Wolf. Wulfe. Brandon. Bai…Baaaaaailey.
His body shook like an earthquake, and he fought. Fought the crow slamming the door on him. Fought the crow taking him. He needed to stay for Vina. For Ram. For Red Dead Mayhem. He needed to help. He needed to stay for Bailey.
Bailey.
“Gaaaaah!” he screamed through clenched teeth as the crow shredded out of him.
Everything went dark except one thing. The locket. His vision was shattering inward as the crow took over his body and pushed Rike out.
The locket. Please keep it.
And right before he stretched his wings to take off, he gripped the gold chain in his black talons. That was a moment of such potent relief.
The animal was letting him keep something.
Dad. Lucian. You old bastard. What did you do?
Chapter Four
Interviews were starting.
Bailey stood behind the buffet table with the other four members of Donna’s team, prepared to refill anything that needed it. The rest were prepping more food in the community center kitchen.
There was a bustle going on near the table, a camera man reviewing something with a few reporters around him.
“I can’t believe you caught that,” murmured Sara Struthers from Channel Nine News.
Goody for canine hearing. She was going to hear a billion annoying conversations today. At least it would keep her from getting bored. Brandon, or Rike, or whatever he was calling himself nowadays, had never come back in. She knew because she’d looked for him. Stupid self, forget about him.
“What’s it holding? A necklace?” Sara Struthers asked.
Wait, what? Clearing her throat, Bailey pushed past two of the somber caterers and grabbed a tray of stuffed jalapeños. “Would you like one?” she asked politely, sneaking a peek at the video everyone was watching.
There was Brandon…err…Rike squatted down in the parking lot. Oh no.
“Jalapeño?” she asked louder as someone tried to step in front of her.
“He’s screaming in pain. Listen to him,” Sara said, excitement building in her voice.
Bailey’s stomach turned. She could hear it. He was fighting a Change. Oh no, oh no. She spoke up louder, “Would anyone like something to eat?”
She would still be able to see the footage if Sara would stay out of the way, but she was crowding Bailey. Stifling a snarl, she weaseled into the open space and probably gave a psychotic smile. “Jalapeño? It has cream cheese and bacon.”
The crow ripped out of Brandon…Rike. And God, it looked so painful. The massive jet-black bird stared down at the necklace he’d dropped, the rolls he was supposed to bring in decorating the cracked concrete of the parking lot. She knew he would take the gold. He was a crow, and the necklace was shiny. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. And he did take it. Bunched his muscles, clamped his black, glossy talons around it, and then that crow, the size of an eagle, flew away with her necklace dangling down in his grasp, the locket glinting in the sun.
They would air this. Ramsey was over there in his first interview, and Rike’s privacy had just been completely violated. The snarl she’d been keeping in her throat escaped. The camera man looked up at her with a frown. Shit, shit, shit. She couldn’t just walk away and let him keep that footage.
“Are you…are you a shifter?” he asked.
The others turned toward her, paying too much attention now. She looked from their suspicious faces to the camera and back. “You came here to interview Ramsey Hunt,” she gritted out.
“So?” the camera man said.
She shoved the plate of food into Sara’s hands. “So that ain’t Ramsey.” She yanked the camera out of his hands and pulled the memory card from it.
“Hey!” he yelled, reaching for her.
Desperation still didn’t make the human fast enough, though. She crushed it to dust in her palm and handed him the camera back. “Be a decent person. How would you like to be filmed naked and have it aired on national TV?”
“It’s not the same,” he yelled, checking his camera.
“Wrong! It’s exactly the same. That is the most vulnerable moment for a shifter, and you took that video without his permission. Shame on you.”
His voice shaking with rage, he growled, “I’m getting you fired.”
Bailey leaned forward just enough for him to hear the feral snarl to her words as she said, “Worth it.”
People were yelling now, yelling about what she’d done, picking up the shards of the memory card and cursing at he
r, but she made her way around the table and took her place beside the other caterers.
The camera man marched toward the kitchen, probably to find Donna and, yep, rent was due, she was out of groceries, and her phone was about to get shut off, but she was definitely going to get fired today.
Freaking Rike.
But when she looked over at the interview station to see how Ramsey was doing, he wasn’t paying attention to the woman asking him questions. He was staring right at Bailey. The blond King of Crows canted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. And then he did something that shocked her. He gave her a nod of respect. Before she could stop herself, she gave him one back.
Bad dog.
The Wulfe Clan hated crows. Hated them. Hated them even more for what they were doing for the public. The crows had a target directly on their backs for outing shifters to the world.
Bailey ripped her gaze away from the Alpha of Red Dead Mayhem. At least if she got fired, she could escape these too-interesting crows.
Getting fired was one thing.
But getting shunned from her Clan would ruin her entire life.
Chapter Five
“Are you one of them?” Donna asked.
Bailey just shook her head and stared at the little scuff mark on the floor. She didn’t have to answer that question.
“Bailey, you damaged property. This is a huge paying job for me. And you did it in front of a lot of powerful people.”
“Are you firing me?”
“Firing you? Hell no. But you probably need to take the rest of the day off.”
Bailey jerked her attention to Donna. Her blue eyes were kind behind her horn-rimmed glasses. “You’re not firing me?” she asked.
“No. And even if you are one of those shifters?” Donna lowered her voice. “I still wouldn’t fire you. You’ve been a good helper for me these last couple of years. Just…stop destroying other people’s stuff. Meet me back at the store early tomorrow morning for prep. These other yahoos do half the work you do in twice the time. If that Joe-what’s-his-face-camera-guy is still angry, I’ll handle it. Just let their anger blow over for today so I can try and keep this job. It’ll keep the shop running for two months if we can just get through it.”
“Okay. Thank you. Donna, seriously, thank you,” she murmured, hugging her up tight. It was the first time she’d ever embraced her boss, but hang it, she was so relieved right now! She was gonna make rent and pay her phone bill and buy groceries and she wouldn’t have to tuck her tail between her legs and ask her dad for help. She hadn’t done that since high school, and she sure wasn’t ready to start up now as a grown woman.
As a thank you, she was going to head right to the Hot Buns Catering kitchen and start prep for tomorrow. That way Donna could just go home and not have to work anymore tonight. Bailey was going to make up for what she’d done.
No, she didn’t regret her actions, but she knew the precarious spot she’d put Donna in. The small-town catering business barely broke even most months, and Donna could’ve protected her livelihood and fired her, but she’d taken a chance to keep her instead. Even knowing Bailey was probably a shifter.
Good woman. Good human.
She made her way toward the exit near the interview stations, pulling off her apron as she went. But when she walked past the couch Ramsey was sitting on in front of a lit-up backdrop, she stopped out of curiosity.
There was a tall woman hugging a clipboard and watching from behind a line of people. She looked like she was about to cry. What was wrong with her?
A reporter was sitting in the chair beside Ramsey, talking into a microphone. “You’re aware of your reputation and that the public is calling for you and others like you to be gathered in the same places so police can keep an eye on you, right? The human public is discussing separating the males from the females until they can assess the problem and keep you from procreating too quickly.”
“I’m aware.” Ramsey sighed and looked tired already, and it was only one interview in. His eyes were pitch black, and there were a dozen cameras trained on him.
The tension roiling off him was thick as mud and filling the room. The hairs stood up on her arms so Bailey backed up a step.
“Assess the problem,” Ramsey repeated to the reporter, running his hand down his beard. “The problem being that I was born different than you?” He looked into the camera. “You’ll sanction my mate being taken away from me? For what? So we don’t procreate? Procreate,” he repeated, his left eye twitching. Venom filled his voice. “I would love to see someone come and try to take my mate away from me. I would love to see an army try. I fuckin’ dare you.” He pointed at the tall woman with the clipboard. “That beauty is mine. She picked me and has my protection. How would you feel if someone threatened to come take away your wife? Your friends? Your offspring? I don’t really care if the public doesn’t understand us. I care about that woman’s happiness. I care about my Clan’s happiness. Outside of that?” Ramsey leaned back into the couch cushions and stretched out a long, powerful leg. “I don’t give a single fuck what you humans think of us.”
Well, this is going great, Bailey thought sarcastically. No doubt the Wulfe Clan was sitting around the TV in their clubhouse getting rattled by every word Ramsey said. The crows weren’t a careful lot by nature. They were vengeful and loud and didn’t care if their animals were caught. Even now, there was no fear or remorse from the Alpha of Red Dead Mayhem. He’d basically just told the human public they could go fuck themselves. And while she appreciated a tough Alpha, Ramsey was going to make this worse for everyone.
“He’s going to Change,” Rike whispered from behind her.
Bailey startled hard and twisted toward him. Irritated that he’d snuck up on her, she muttered, “Well, he’s a crow, so I’m sure he’ll do it on camera and make an even bigger mess for the rest of us.”
“Like I did?”
Bailey crossed her arms. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
“I heard what you did for me.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Lie.”
Gritting her teeth hard, she shook her head and glared at Ramsey just so she didn’t have to get lost in Rike and all his hotness. Annoying. “Even if I did smash that memory drive, it wasn’t for you. It was for shifter-kind.”
“Still lying, Bailey.”
Oh, the sound of her name on his lips. It sounded so familiar, but not. She’d only heard it from the mouth of a kid with a voice not yet deep. Now it was grittier. Sexy the way he enunciated her name.
“Did you ask my name from someone?” she asked nonchalantly without turning around.
“No. I remembered…something. The crow doesn’t like remembering so I’m stuck again. Here.”
She turned to find him holding out the locket. “I gave it to you.”
“Giving a crow a trinket like this will mean more than you want it to. Best you keep it, Little Wolf.”
Her heart was drumming against her ribcage so hard right now. Little Wolf. That’s what he used to call her. He’d been there after she’d been Changed. Watched her struggle with the animal. He’d been her best friend, and then he’d been…more.
“Noted. No trinkets for crows.” She took the locket, shoved it in her pocket, straightened her spine, and lifted her chin. “Have a nice life.”
As she walked by, he murmured, “So many goodbyes. I never saw a wolf who ran more than you do.”
He might as well have called her a coward, and that pissed her off. “You almost got me fired today because you have no control. And your Alpha has no control, and that lady over there? Her eyes are glowing damn near orange. You aren’t careful enough, and we will all pay for your mistakes.” She huffed a breath. “But then again, I’m used to it. Been paying for your mistakes for years. So yeah,” she whispered angrily, “I’m running. Doesn’t make me a coward. Makes me smart. Your whole Clan’s going to Hell, Rike. I’m not going down with you.”
“Mmm,”
he rumbled, lifting his chin higher. “See you tomorrow, Bailey.”
She tried to growl softly, just to feel better, but it came out a whine instead. Bad Wolf. The animal inside of her had this undeniable urge to be near that monster of a man. She still saw the crow as hers, even after all this time.
Hell, Wolf. We can’t let him drag us to Hell.
Chapter Six
So pretty. Well…maybe Bailey wasn’t pretty by classical standards. Her skin was white as a sheet, and her eyes were a strange green that probably made it hard for submissive personalities to hold her gaze for long. She was five-three in sneakers, petite but curvy and, fuuuuck, he bet she would be fun in bed. Little predator shifter with a bite. He liked a little pain when he fucked. He was a big man, though. He would hurt someone so small. Hell, who was he kidding? He hurt every girl who ever fell for him. He wasn’t the type to bond, wasn’t the type to stick around. Like Lucian Blackwood. And hell no, he didn’t call him “Dad.” Real dads earned that title. That man had been his personal demon since birth. Rike frowned. At least he thought so. He didn’t have many memories from before age sixteen.
Let her save you.
“What?” he asked the woman standing beside him.
“I didn’t say anything,” she said.
Rike stared at her for three seconds too long if her uncomfortable demeanor said anything. And then he shook his head hard and tried to focus on Ramsey’s shit-show of an interview. It had been a woman’s voice in his head. Just a whisper. A voice he didn’t recognize. Fuck, Ramsey’s broken mating bond must still be putting poison into the Clan bonds. Was Rike going to go crazy next? Maybe he already was.
Maybe the wolf girl was a figment of his imagination.
Ramsey stood suddenly and towered over the reporter. “How about fuck you and your whole family. The fastest way to piss me off is to threaten Vina—”
“Ramsey,” Vina called, pushing through the crowd. “It’s okay, Ram.”