She’d watched all her friends sustain these long-term relationships and settle down. They all seemed so happy. She’d been the third wheel for so long she didn’t even remember what it was like to be in an even-numbered crowd.
How many dates had she been on with herself? Mom and Dad had worried about her being lonely when they were alive, and at the time she’d huffed a breath and gotten an attitude and told them to stop worrying, she was fine. Better than fine. Happier alone.
She’d been so full of shit.
Now they were gone and she was back in this big, empty house, it hit her daily how truly alone she was. She didn’t like it—the silence. And blaring music through the house only helped so much. There were only so many dance-parties for one and talking to herself she could do before she felt the weight of the loneliness.
She needed a change. And for one short day, she’d thought Ethan could be that change, the adventure that broke up the monotonous life she’d fallen into.
But as the pizza she’d cooked grew colder and colder, she realized he wasn’t.
Ethan wasn’t dependable. He wasn’t steady or interested. He wasn’t even human. And what did it say about her that she was sitting here pining for a man who wasn’t chasing her back?
Her cell phone rang, and she startled in her rush to check if it was Ethan. She fumbled the phone and dropped it on the old scuffed-up floorboards of the porch. It clattered a couple of feet before it landed face up. Nope, she definitely didn’t recognize the number. She nearly spilled her can of cherry coke when stooping down to pick up her phone. God, a clumsier person had never been born.
She wasn’t into answering numbers she didn’t recognize, so she let it ring out and go to her voicemail, which made her smile because it said, “Heeeeeey there, campers! It’s me, Leah-Leah-Bo-Bea, Banana-Fanna-Fo-Feah, Me-My-Mo-Meaaaaah…Leeaaaaaaah. If you’ve made it past the annoying part of my message, you might actually know me and not be some sales person hocking bullshit loans to the elderly or trying to get me to reveal my social security number, which is 696-69-6969, LOL, JK, that means laugh out loud just kidding. So if you are an actual person who knows me and didn’t scam my number off some list, then leave a message and I’ll probably get back to you within the next three weeks, as soon as I learn how to use my phone to dial out, because it’s a little new, and I’m pretty bad at technology, so if you actually don’t get a call back from me, it’s probably not because I don’t like you, it’s probably because— beeeeeeeeeeeeep.”
Her message had been too long so it ended with a long, loud beep at the end. So far, only three people had been patient enough to leave her a message, but she was an optimist. Maybe this was Ethan calling from a payphone or something.
Oh, it was ringing again. For a second, she considered picking it up, but she was a lone, single girl and was nice and careful. And if she didn’t have the contact saved, she didn’t know the person.
A text lit up the screen.
Help him.
Fallen Tree Inn
469 Dodge Way
Room 108
Hurry.
What the hell?
Help who? But deep inside, her instincts were screaming she knew the answer to that.
Help Ethan.
She flew into action, grabbed her key from the hook just inside the door, and sprinted to her dad’s old truck. Aw, fuck it, that old beast was her truck now. She’d traded in her little Jetta, and now this was her only ride.
Heart pounding against her sternum, she threw open the door and typed the address into the GPS in her phone. She spun out, shooting gravel behind her tires as she tried to gain traction. The trip to the hotel was the second longest of her life. That message was scary to a girl who’d shown up to the hospital too late to say goodbye to her parents.
She didn’t know why, but Ethan felt really big right now. She’d never attached to someone so quickly. Sure, she’d been watching him for a few weeks in the restaurant, but this was more than some little crush. He felt…important.
Maybe he hadn’t stood her up.
Maybe he’d got hurt, or worse.
Flashing red and blue police lights nearly blinded her as she turned into the parking lot of the old inn.
“Oh, no, oh, no,” she murmured, jerking the truck to a stop without even finding a parking spot.
She barely had turned it off before she was sliding from the rig and sprinting for the hotel room where the onlookers and police were gathered around. She already knew it was room 108 before she saw the dilapidated numbers. She just had this feeling.
“He’s a crow! He’s a fucking crow!” a man in a uniform with a nametag exclaimed. “I can’t have one of them shifters in my hotel. He’ll ruin me!”
Two police officers were doing their best to hold him back, so Leah snuck right through the hole they made.
“Hey!” one of the officers yelled.
“Hay is for horses!” That’s what Dad always said.
The room was empty except for a man in a tan uniform squatted down in a corner with a tiny net on a wooden handle. A few yards away from him, perched by the television, was an enormous crow with a ring of white around its neck like a hangman’s noose.
She huffed a shocked breath. His feathers were glossy black and matched his eyes. He was the size of an eagle, his head turned to the side, attention on her.
He was beautiful, if that term could be coined for a creature that hummed with power.
“I’m animal control officer, Heinz—”
“Like the ketchup?” she asked.
“Caw, caw, caw,” the crow cried, it’s glossy black beak wide and his head thrown back. Was he…was he laughing?
“First off, mister, that net you’re holding looks like the same one the teenage workers at the pet shop use to scoop out the pet fish I keep forgetting to feed, and you’ll maybe catch, like, three feathers in that thing before he pecks your eyeballs out. Haven’t you ever seen crows on movies? They’re really good at two things. Sitting there all ominous-like, and pecking people’s eyes out. And B. He’s not an animal, so your services aren’t needed, spank you.”
“Spank me?” he muttered in a confused tone as she pushed him out the door and into the complaining officer’s arms.
“Lady, we need the room vacated by that…” said Officer Cruge by his nametag.
“That what? Shifter?” Leah flailed her arms in the air and rolled her eyes heavenward. Softly and dramatically, she said, “Oh nooo, a shifter. The same kind that’s been all over the news for weeks. He’s sitting in the hotel room not doing anything or bothering anyone—aaaah!”
“He broke the bathroom mirror and destroyed the whole room!” the night shift employee of the motel called over the crowd.
“Well okay, okay …” she said, digging into her pockets. She pulled out a treasure trove. “I have fifty-seven dollars and thirty-four cents from my shift today, three bottle caps that I picked up off the sidewalk because they are shiny blue and that’s my favorite color and they reminded me of Christmas ornaments and Christmas is my favorite holid—”
“Lady!” Officer Cruge said.
“And three Cheez-its and a marble this little boy gave me a couple days ago, and also one and a half sticks of gum because my mouth is pretty small so I only chew a half a piece at a time, which is great because then a pack of gum lasts twice as—”
“We’re gonna go,” Office Cruge said. “You’re obviously his mate and have this under control. You owe the motel the full cost of that mirror and any damage to the room. If you don’t pay it, we’ll be back.”
Leah snorted. “Can you say it like Arnold, though?”
“What?” Cruge asked, his hands on his hips. Or maybe they were on his baton and his gun.
“Can you say, ‘I’ll be back’ again but with the accent?”
The man looked exhausted as he sighed. “Good luck with that one, ma’am.” He gestured to the crow. “Get him out of here.”
“And go where?”
/>
“I don’t care. Just get the shifter out of town. We like things quiet around here.”
Leah whispered, “We promise to be quiet as little mouses.” She cleared her throat delicately and corrected herself. “Mice.”
The man gave her one slow blink and then turned and gestured toward the bystanders. “Nothing else to see here. Everyone leave the premises. Let’s let everyone here get back to sleep.”
Leah leaned out the doorway and waved to all the people hanging from their open room doors, watching. “Nighty night, wood sprites, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
“We don’t have bed bugs!” Mr. Night Shift yelled. “I want you out of here now. Right now.” The officers were pushing him back toward the well-lit office across the parking lot, but the red-faced man wasn’t making their progress easy.
“Spry little thing,” she muttered, closing the door gently behind her. She felt she needed to narrate her actions out loud so it wouldn’t be so scary. “Turning around. Looking at the room you destroyed. Wishing I brought my pocket knife. Wondering if I left the door unlocked to the truck because I left my keys in there. Thinking I really didn’t, and possibly my keys are locked in. Admiring your feathers and razor-sharp beak. Hoping you don’t hurt me.” She frowned at the floor, completely covered in black ink drawings and paintings. “Wondering if you’re an artist of some sort?”
The crow cocked his head and kept staring at her so she pulled out her phone. “Googling the name you signed at the bottom of this one,” she muttered, moving her foot off the last word. Ethan Blackwood. “Hot name for a hot”—she gave him a lopsided smile—“crow-man. I like your noose,” she said, pointing to his ring of white feathers. “Very edgy. I think I like bad boys. Bad, unavailable boys who turn into birds when they—here! Ethan Blackwood, renowned artist with paintings for sale in three galleries. Believed to be the well-known street artist, Raven, named for the crow-like symbols he uses as a signature on his murals. Ethan! That’s totally you, isn’t it? Look!” She turned her phone to him and showed him a mural done in bright blues and purples in the same style as the dozens of paintings scattered around the room. There was a paint-splattered raven right in the middle of the intricate designs. It was…beautiful.
“Caw, caw, caw, caw, caw!”
Leah hunched under the deafening volume of his cries.
“Right, right, you probably don’t need to stare at your own paintings. Well, okay, I took two art classes in community college and I’m pretty good at deciphering stuff, so prepare yourself, I’m about to completely figure you out.”
She picked up the first painting that had been under her foot and now sported one size-seven boot print in the bottom corner. Whoops. It was of a man with his back to her wearing a threadbare plaid shirt. His head was in his hands, shadows all around him.
“You hate grocery shopping and people get on your nerves.”
The crow snorted. Confirmation. “See, I told you I was good at this.”
The next was of a white wolf and a crow. “Animal lover, you went to a wolf sanctuary when you were seven and you’ve been obsessed ever since. Your bed sheets were of wolves until you went to college. You slept with a stuffed animal named Pickles until you had a girlfriend in college who teased you for it. Pickles is now in a storage shed somewhere collecting dust, and you still think of him when it’s stormy out. Sometimes you turn on your phone just to listen to wolf-howl music until you go to sleep.”
Another snort and some rustling, but she was on a roll. He had so many layers!
Leah stacked them neatly one-by-one. “Favorite food is cheese,” she said, pointing to a painting of a puddle. “Favorite holiday is Halloween,” she murmured, pointing to a murder of crows flying around a forest. “That’s a problem because Halloween scares me, and now I’m second-guessing how compatible we are, Ethan Blackwood. She pointed to a painting of two hands clasping each other, both dripping red. She observed, “Not a fan of pigeon poop. This one over here with the scary-looking man means you will be sent a bushel of money soon. And this one of the bodies means that true and sincere friendship is coming your way. I’m going to be perfectly honest, though,” she admitted, straightening her spine and turning to him. “The last two were just fortunes I got from the fortune cookies at that Chinese food place next door to the Hamburger Shack. I’m really hungry, and now my focus is off, so I’ll probably just list some more fortunes.”
The crow disappeared in a plume of black smoke, and when the smog thinned, there sat Ethan.
He wore a smirk on his lips, and his long hair on top had fallen forward and covered half his face. He sat on the edge of the TV stand, feet on the ground, arms locked against the surface, hands gripping the edge, glorious gladiator dick hanging out.
“That’s a…” Leah gulped. “You have a… There’s your wiener. Big wiener.”
Ethan chuckled and dipped his gaze to the floor, shook his head. “What happened in this room is supposed to bother you, Leah.”
“Well, I am bothered. Really bothered. The Chinese food place closes in half an hour, and I don’t think we can make it there in time.”
Ethan inhaled deeply and scanned the room, his attention pausing on the overturned table and chairs, the broken lights above, the shattered mirror she could see in the bathroom from where she stood. “You’ve successfully not nailed the meaning of every single painting you have looked at.”
“Thank you,” she said magnanimously. “I try.”
“I was just in crow form, and you didn’t skip a beat.”
“Well, I saw you on TV. I mean…you were beating up the Alpha of your old Clan, and you looked really scary with all the cussing and the violence and all, but when you flew away, I thought you were super cute. Birds are my favorite. I used to have a little green parakeet—”
“You thought I was super cute when I turned into a giant crow and flew out the window?”
“Yep. And sometimes I get super mad, too. Once I even punched a wall when Brad Farland left me for this six-grader named Bethany. She was a whole year younger than me and it was super-scandalous. I mean, when I punched it, the wall didn’t break like you did to all this stuff in here, but I was preeeeeetty badass. I made a dent. I got grounded for three days. Not to toot my own horn, but toot toot. I broke my hand and had to go to the emergency room and wore a cast for a couple months, but whatever.”
Ethan’s chuckle was deep and resonated through her. “What is wrong with you?” he asked.
Leah scrunched up her face and shrugged. “Probably almost everything. If you’re going to try and figure me out, you should know other people have tried and failed. I don’t make sense.”
The smile fell from Ethan’s lips. “Neither do I.”
She looked down at the piles and piles of disturbing paintings. And for a moment she wanted to ask him a serious question. She wanted to know what it all really meant. Why was he such a tortured soul? But he shook his head as if he knew what she was about to say, so she asked instead, “Can I hug you now?”
Genuine confusion swam in his black eyes. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because hugging is my favorite thing, and I never get to hug people. Something happened tonight that I don’t understand, but if hugging makes me feel better when I’m down, maybe it’ll make you feel better, too. Plus my boobs are really squishy, and you look at them a lot. Even if you aren’t a mushy man, you don’t have to call it hugging. You can call it ‘smushing our boobs together.’”
“Boys don’t have boobs.” But his smile was steady now, and his dancing dark eyes stayed on her.
“Technicalities.”
The table creaked as he gripped the edge even harder. He dipped his chin to his chest and looked at the ground, then he nodded. “A hug is fine. A fast one. For getting the police to go away. If it’s your favorite thing, I guess it can be your reward for helping me.”
That stung a little, the way he’d said that. “I don’t need charity hugs,” she murmured. ?
??I helped with the police because I wanted to, not because I wanted something in return.”
He frowned. “Everyone wants something in return.”
“Not me. And I sure don’t want you to force yourself to hug me as some kind of repayment. I’ve had enough of not being worth peoples’ time for a lifetime.” With a sad smile, she gave him a little salute and made her way to the door. “Goodnight, Ethan Blackwood.”
There was a popping sound as she reached for the door handle, and then suddenly, Ethan was blocking her and the black smoke was back, engulfing them. It didn’t smell or feel like anything, though. It was like fog, and he’d been so fast it startled her. Ethan was capable of much more than she’d even guessed.
Maybe shifters were magic, not science.
Leah stood there frozen since that’s what prey did when they were trapped.
Ethan towered over her, his hair fallen forward, his nostrils flaring with his breath, his muscles flexed with every heave of his shoulders. Perfect pecs, perfect abs, his long dick at half-mast. He was raw power and belonged on some fitness magazine with millions of followers on social media, yet here he was, standing in front of plain-Jane, little old her, searching her face like he wanted to kiss her. Or maybe kill her. It was a toss-up with his eyes the color of a demon’s.
“I think you’re beautiful,” she murmured.
He huffed a humorless sound and then grabbed her hand and pressed it against the right side of his abs.
“Uh, still beautiful,” she drawled, her eyes so big they were drying out. She needed to remember how to blink, but blinking meant she would have to close her eyes and not look at his sexy man nipples and the line between his sexy pecs and—
“Can you feel it?” His face was so somber. So serious.
Softening her touch, she ran her fingertips across a lump under his skin. Over and over, she rubbed it. “What is it?”