by T. S. Joyce
“A shunning?”
“Yeah. A community-wide shunning. People talked about me as I passed, but not to me. My parents could talk to me to raise me, but no extras were allowed. Affection was a ‘hell no,’ and my parents didn’t fight the order at all because they were good little ravens, too. I learned real quick to submit and pretend my raven didn’t want to attack everyone around me for what they were doing. And the more I pretended to be submissive, the smaller my raven became. The sadder she was. I looked at the ground, ducked my gaze and spoke softly, and apologized for everything until the shunning was lifted. And it took two fucking years, Weston. Two years desperate to be seen. To fit in. I hated myself, hated my raven. I just wanted to be like everyone else, so I became like everyone else.” Her face crumpled, but she blinked hard, refusing to cry again. “The shunning was lifted, but I would forget myself sometimes, and my dad would bring me to the council for every little thing I did wrong, and they would put me in The Box.”
Weston was leaning heavily against the wall, legs locked, shaking his head in disgust. He asked in a hoarse voice, “What’s The Box?”
“It was a tiny white room under the Council House with a bucket to piss in and nothing else. And I would go crazy in there, stuck in my own fucking mind, unable to see sunlight, feeling like I’d been buried alive, praying to God someone remembered to let me out. I memorized your letters. I would recite them when I thought I would go mad, just so I wouldn’t feel alone.”
“Fuck, Ave,” he uttered in a heart-wrenching tone. His eyes were black now and as deep as wells. He’d locked his giant hands on his knees like he would retch right here on the bedroom floor.
“So you see, Weston, I hunch my shoulders, say sorry, and look at the ground because I’ve been trained to crave invisibility. Invisibility hurts less.” She approached him slowly, and he straightened his spine, allowing her to place herself between his legs. She rested her palms against his stony chest, and in a ragged whisper she said, “Now don’t make me talk about this stuff anymore. It doesn’t make me feel better to say it out loud. It makes me feel weak all over again.”
Weston nodded, eyes locked on hers. “Okay, Ave. I won’t ask anymore.”
She smiled sadly and left him there. Remembering made her raven want to rip out of her body. It had always been like that. The pain of the Change was her animal’s punishment for what she’d done to her feathered side. This wasn’t like earlier in the woods when she hadn’t been able to shift. Right now, power was pulsing against her middle, making her want to double over with the bone-deep ache of resisting the Change until she made it outside the cabin.
The Great Mistake. Weak, weak, weak. Avery gritted her teeth and pulled her T-shirt over her head, left it in a pile on the porch as she strode for the yard. Her bra was next, but fuck her pants. They would slide off during the Change.
“Ave,” Weston said from behind her.
She turned just in time for his lips to collide against hers. This kiss was urgent and desperate, unlike their others. It was numbing. It was sucking darkness away from her and filling her with something else. Something better.
He bit her lip, drawing a moan from her, then Weston disengaged and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were tightly closed, his breath shaking hard. “You don’t have to be invisible here.” And then he eased back by inches, just far enough to pull off his shirt.
Without another word, he jerked his chin toward the woods. His eyes were dark as night, probably the same color as hers, and damn it felt good not to hide from him. He wanted to Change with her. She had kept her Changes private, because she hated the way other ravens cowered away from her, but Weston was strong, dominant, and he didn’t care that she was powerful, too.
When Avery’s lip trembled, she bit it hard. There was no room for falling apart again in the night shadows of Harper’s Mountains. She turned and bolted for the tree line, closed her eyes, stretched her arms out, and then gave her body to the raven.
As she soared up and up, she could hear him, the Novak Raven, beating his powerful wings behind her, and then eventually beside her.
Her raven was huge, but Weston’s was even bigger.
If she could smile in this form, she would.
Their monsters matched.
Rain-dampened black feathers covered his body, and his dark eye was on her as they coasted above the canopy. Always on her.
Lightning flashed behind him, and he opened his glossy beak and let off an echoing, “Caw!” as the thunder boomed.
She answered because it felt right to use her voice around him. Only him. Below them, Harper’s Mountains were illuminated by the storm, and she was taken with this moment. She was here, in the lair of the dragon, with the man she never thought she would talk to again. And he was pushing Avery to own her shit, own her past, unlike the men of The Hollow.
She’d been wrong to question whether the council had anything to do with her feelings for Weston Novak. She wasn’t nothing. The council was. This deep, warm emotion pooling in her chest had nothing to do with their manipulation. It was her choosing to love the man, as she’d loved the boy. She’d told Weston his letters had been her happiness, but that wasn’t the whole truth.
Weston was her happiness.
In a way, he always had been.
Chapter Thirteen
This had been the most exhilarating Change Avery ever had. It was the middle of the night, and she should’ve been exhausted, but she’d stretched her wings and pushed her endurance for an hour, or maybe more. She’d had the big meal Lexi had made and felt so energized that she had kept up with Weston, whose wingspan was wider.
Flashes of lightning illuminated the Smoky Mountains, but nothing below looked familiar anymore. She would’ve panicked except that Weston was here with her, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt he could find 1010 again.
Beak open and panting, she landed on the thick lower branch of a White Pine for a rest. Weston landed beside her and sidestepped closer and closer until his wing touched hers. Turning his head, he preened his rain-glossed feathers, then shockingly, gave her feathers the same attention. He cleaned her, rubbed both sides of his beak against hers like he was sharpening a knife, and then went back to taking care of her wet feathers.
Huh. The Novak Raven was affectionate in his animal form.
Tentatively, at first, Avery cleaned him as he was doing for her. And eventually, when she got used to his bigger feathers, she closed her eyes and went off feel, memorizing his body by touch. This right here was magic.
Suddenly, Weston dove off the branch and stretched out his wings, talons angled for the ground. He shifted to his human form in an instant. Is that what she looked like? Probably not. She wasn’t that graceful, but she tried.
Avery mis-timed her shift and stumbled, but Weston was there, strong arms around her before she hit the mossy earth.
She giggled and straightened up to her full height, no hunching. “You’re so tall, and your shoulders are so wide. And your nipple piercings are staring me right in the face. I want to kiss them. Everything is awesome.” Her excitement and relief over that Change had apparently made her lose control of her words.
Her cheeks flushed under the soft rain, but Weston only laughed. Not at her either. It was that echoing laughter that said he was as elated as she was right now. He slid his arms around her shoulders and hugged her against his bare chest. Avery inhaled deeply to commit his scent to memory. He smelled differently right after a Change—another thing she selfishly hoped she was the only one to ever notice about him.
“Why did you Change back?” she asked. “We aren’t to the cabin yet.”
“Because I wanted to hug you,” he murmured against her ear.
Avery closed her eyes with how good that felt and squeezed his waist harder. Weston’s thick erection was pressing hard onto her belly. Her breasts tingled, and her nipples drew up against him. Heart fluttering in her chest, she braved a look up at him. Should she tell him?
>
Weston leaned down and kissed her, pushed his tongue past her lips, and stroked into her mouth slowly, rhythmically. She should definitely tell him. But what if he freaked out? She didn’t want him to back off her and make excuses to slow down. Not when she wanted this, right here, right now, with him.
She’d waited so long for this moment.
Weston’s fingertips trailed from her waist up her arm to her neck, where he cupped the back and dragged her closer. He plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth and, holy heaven, her lady parts were revving up like an engine. A needy sound came from her, and she would’ve been embarrassed except Weston reacted immediately by pressing his hips forward. And then he was kissing down her neck and down, down until he reached her breast. The second his lips encircled her nipple, she was gone. She moaned and gripped his hair, rolled her head back and closed her eyes against the rain. His mouth was so warm on her sensitive skin, his tongue so perfect as he lapped and sucked.
What if he figured out she hadn’t done this before because she was bad at it?
Stop it. Don’t think too hard. Just enjoy this moment. Weston will take care of you.
When Weston sucked hard, drawing her nipple up against his tongue, she gasped at how good it felt. He eased to the other and gave it the same attention as he massaged the first in his oversize hand. She’d been too curvy for the boys in The Hollow, too unappealing. They liked normal ravens who were pin-thin and fine-boned, but she had boobs and a butt and right now, Weston was laying waste to her insecurities.
“You like the way I look?”
Weston chuckled against her skin and bit her rib cage playfully. “Woman, you’re perfect.” He cupped her breasts and mushed them together, and she laughed at the look of pure adulterated bliss on his face. Wes and tits went together like chocolate and strawberries.
“I’m gonna fuck these,” he growled out.
Wait, what? Was that physically possible? She stared down at her cleavage. She was going to have to do some research on that, but maybe for her first time… “Can we keep it simple right now?”
Weston stood, and his lips collided with hers. One of his arms slid around her back, and one down her belly, lower, lower. Her stomach quivered when he touched her sex. Weston wasn’t shy about it either. He cupped her and dragged his finger along her entrance. He smiled against her lips. “So fucking wet.”
Okay, that part she knew about from the romance books she’d been reading. Wet was good. Way to go, body!
Weston’s grip on her waist tightened as he eased her backward. Her shoulder blades hit the rough bark of a tree, and at that exact moment, Weston pushed his finger inside of her. “If you don’t want this to go further, tell me now,” he murmured in that sexy, rich voice that vibrated against her skin. His short beard rasped against her neck as he sucked her skin hard there. Avery writhed against his hand as he pushed his finger deeper into her and hit something sensitive. Oh, that was fucking great!
“Ave,” he rasped, rolling his hips. “Yes or no.”
“W-what?”
“How far do you want to take this tonight. I’m good with whatever you want.”
Consent, yes. He was asking for consent. Sweet mate. Mate? His finger slid into her again, and the pressure was already so bright. “Yes,” she cried out.
Weston froze. “Yes, stop?”
“No! Keep going. God, Weston, keep going. Everything, I want everything.”
His teeth were on her, biting her neck, as he pulled his finger out. Weston picked her up roughly and pressed her up against the tree, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pushed into her.
She gasped at the pain and panicked. “Too big!”
Weston pulled out of her immediately, his face looking pained to disconnect, but shit-and-balls, that wasn’t going to work. In a rush, he set her on her feet and gripped her hips. He searched her eyes. “Are you okay?”
She wanted to cry in mortification. “I’m bad at this.”
“What?”
She covered her face with her hands so he wouldn’t see her shame when she admitted, “I haven’t ever…you know.”
“This is your first time?” he asked too loud.
“Shhh!”
Weston yanked her hands away from her face. “Woman, who the fuck is going to hear you out here? Shit!” Weston pushed off the tree behind her and paced away, then back, running his hands through his hair. “I’m not the right one for your first time.”
“I disagree.”
“I’m not gentle, Ave!”
“You can be with me. I know you can.”
Wes was freaking out. His eyes were huge, and he kept shaking his head. When he paced back the other way, he went farther away from her.
A drop of warmth trickled down the inside of her thigh. When Avery looked down, a drop of crimson raced down her rain-soaked legs. Ashamed, she covered herself with her hands and hung her head.
“We should go back,” Wes said.
“I don’t want to go back yet,” she whispered.
“Well, we can’t stay out here all night.”
“That’s not what I mean. I want to finish this. With you. I’m on birth control, and we’re both consenting adults.”
“Fuck, Ave! I shouldn’t be anyone’s first.”
Eyes burning, she moved her hands and let him see the red. “Technically speaking, you already were.”
Weston approached silently and knelt in front of her, traced the smear down her leg. “Did it hurt. I mean…did I hurt you?”
“I’m fine, Weston. I don’t really want my first time to end like that, though. It’s not like I meant to reach age twenty-four with my virginity still intact. The men in Raven’s Hollow just didn’t want me like that, and my…”
“Your what?” he asked quietly, dragging his jet black gaze up to hers.
She heaved a sigh. “My heart was stuck on you.”
The hard edges faded from Weston’s face, and slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her thigh, right where the red had disappeared into the rain water. And then he kissed her hip bones, one at a time. He stood and hugged her close, didn’t say a word as the rain pattered against the leaves above them. He just stood there for a while, holding her, rubbing small circles against her spine with the tip of his finger.
“Ave, do you want me to be your first?” he finally asked against her ear.
“Yes,” she whispered. She wanted him to be her only.
Weston leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, much softer than she expected. His hands went from steel to silk as he moved against her gently. He held the back of her neck, touched her breasts, dragged his finger along her collar bone. He pulled her hair gently, angling her face back so he could dip his lips to her neck and nibble her skin there. Her insides had flared up with fire again despite the slower pace. He cupped between her legs, rubbed her gently until her legs began to go numb. She clung to him, breath coming in short pants. And when she was close—so close—he laid her down on a bed of moss and eased her legs apart. Weston settled between her thighs, so close she could feel the head of his cock at her entrance. This was it. This is what she’d waited so long for.
Weston was propped up on his arms, his muscles flexing as he looked down at her like she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. How could he do that with just a glance? How could he make her feel so pretty and worthy?
He was hesitating, so she leaned forward and sucked on his nipple. The metal of his piercing was cold against her tongue. So perfect. Weston bucked shallowly into her, then pulled out again. Avery relaxed back and smiled up at him. “I knew you could be gentle.”
“Ha!” Weston huffed out, his abs flexing with the breath. “This is torture. I want to be buried inside of you so bad right now.”
He pushed in again, a little farther before he eased out. Lowering himself to her, Weston kissed her, sucked her bottom lip and ran his hand down her ribs to her hip. Curving his body, he pushed into her again in slow torture, stretching her litt
le by little. Weston rested his forehead against hers and clenched his teeth hard. “You feel so fuckin’ good,” he ground out.
And so did he. Weston was hitting that sensitive spot again, shooting sparks of pleasure through her. Avery clutched onto his back and rolled her hips to meet him on the next stroke. Weston cupped the back of her head and sucked on her neck as he slid into her again and again. He groaned and bucked harder, but it didn’t hurt. Not anymore. Now it felt amazing. Way better than touching herself.
“Weston,” she gasped out, pulling on his lower back.
He held her tighter, let all his body weight rest on her as he stroked into her harder and faster. “Tell me you’re close. God, Ave, tell me you’re coming soon.”
At the sexy rasp of desperation in his voice, release exploded through her body in hard, quick pulses. She cried out and buried her face against his neck.
Weston slammed into her and froze, and she could feel it—that first pulse of his own release. How fucking sexy that she’d caused him to do this. He reared back and slammed into her again as his heat flowed into her. Her aftershocks lasted so long, spurred on by his own release. And when he hovered over her, twitching, chest heaving, eyes hooded and on her, and that sexy smile ghosting his lips, she giggled. She couldn’t help herself.