He was smoke and mirrors, but the real Barret, the complicated parts of him, were ready for violence. A part of him seemed to need it. He was a dangerous man to mess with, one who didn’t back down an inch, and though she realized it and saw him for what he was, she’d been on the other end of that tonight. She’d been curled in a ball, bleeding, hurt, defenseless when her falcon abandoned her, but Barret hadn’t left her. He’d stood over her, ready to face down every monster in his crew to keep her body safe.
He might be dangerous to others who crossed him. But down to her soul, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She was safe. God, that feeling of safety was so hard for her to accept, but right now, in his strong arms, the warmth of it blanketed and soothed her. With Barret, she was safe from his crew, safe from the falcons that would come for her someday, safe from loneliness.
She was beginning to understand his walls, and the thing about that was…the more she studied them, the more transparent they became.
It wasn’t L-O-V-E yet, but she’d just arrived at the letter V.
Chapter Eight
“Okay, our options are limited,” Barret announced in a business voice as he strode back into the bedroom looking like a tall glass of lemonade on a southern August night.
She was trying to focus on the problem of dinner, but he was sans shirt, wearing only jeans that sat low enough to expose the muscular V-muscles over his hips. Eight. She counted eight abs by twos, and each set was perfectly symmetrical, sitting in the shadow of his perfectly defined pecs and perfectly drawn-up nipples. In this light, from where she sat on his bed cuddling a pillow in her lap, she could see his tattoo clearly.
Her heart sank as she realized what the bird was.
It was a falcon. One like her but with brown feathers with tan stripes, patterned like the Welkin Raiders. There were tattooed marks beneath one of the talons. Small, straight lines neatly placed one after the other. The deaths of his crew? His people? Had he really marked the losses and blows he’d been dealt?
Barret covered the tattoo encircling his shoulder with his hand, and when she dragged her attention to his face, his expression was somber. He shook his head. “I don’t like when you look at that part of me.”
“You mean the most important part? The part that made you the man you are?”
He huffed a humorless laugh, then shook his head hard. “Don’t like it,” he murmured in a strange voice. “Food. I’m gonna get us food. Stop looking, Eden.” His head ticked, a slight jerk to the right, and he murmured, “Fuck.” Stooping, he yanked a shirt off the floor and then pulled it over his head in a rush as he left the room.
She should tell him what she was.
It felt wrong to hide her shifter animal, but now she was scared. Not of Barret, but of losing him. He didn’t even want her to look at his falcon tattoo. How would he react if he knew he’d just slept with one?
Eden wasn’t a part of the falcons. Never had been. Mom had kept her safe and tucked away in Damon’s Mountains. She told her horrible stories about the falcons and their war. Eden had never met her grandfather, or any other falcons other than Mom, but would Barret forgive her for the bird inside of her?
She was too cowardly to find out because she wanted to keep him. And she didn’t care what that said about her. They were growing something big—something important. She would tell him when she was sure he was in this and wouldn’t run.
Eden took one of his oversize T-shirts from the bottom drawer and pulled it on as she padded into the kitchen where he was gathering piles of random food onto a tray—cheese crackers, squeeze cheese, peanut butter, lunch meat, strawberries, blackberries, granola bars, two chocolate chip muffins, one jar of olives, and a jar of raspberry jelly. He shoved a bowl filled with crunched-up chocolate bar pieces into the microwave.
“The meat is on the ground and covered in dirt. I blame that on that Jax-hole grizzly. Freaking dinner-ruiner.”
It was a subject change to escape the deep conversation they’d been having in the bedroom. “Barret,” she said softly.
“I mean, I would still eat it, but for you, Mud ala Grass Clippings isn’t the best flavor,” he said without turning around.
God, she wanted to hug him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him from behind. She hated him being so bright and cheerful, knowing he was purposefully hiding that tattoo from her and hurting in ways she couldn’t understand because he’d erected yet another wall. She wanted to hold him until the obvious tension in every muscle in his back eased. Until he relaxed against her and spilled his secrets, just so she could shoulder the burdens with him, but he wouldn’t do that. He was like one of those flowers that bloomed only once every several years. Patience was required.
Oh, she could ask Mom or Damon Daye exactly what happened to the Four Deadlies Crew all those years ago. Mom kept watch on the falcons from the outside, and Damon watched all shifters. But it didn’t feel right to steal Barret’s story. It would mean more to them both if he gave it to her freely when he was ready.
Eden hopped up on the counter. “Favorite color?”
“Red like that bra you wore at the grocery store.”
Eden laughed. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Are we playing twenty questions?”
“Yeah, I figured I should get to know the man I’m sleeping with.”
“Mmm, you mean fucking. You’ll know when I’m sleeping with you. Tonight, I was too rough. I’m always too rough.”
“I’m not fragile,” she said low, gripping the edge of the counter on either side of her legs.
“Aren’t you?” Barret turned around, and his eyes were too bright, as if his panther was right under his surface. He was still upset about her staring at the tattoo. “You’re submissive.”
“But tough. I had to be where I’m from. Submissive doesn’t mean weak in Damon’s Mountains. Crews need submissives just like we need dominants. I helped balance the Ashe Crew for my whole life.”
“Fine-boned snowy owl, I could eat you in one bite.”
“You have eaten me, and I’m still here,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. Yep, she was definitely ignoring the snowy owl comment.
He laughed, a genuine one, and yanked the melted chocolate from the microwave, then settled between her legs, setting the tray of random snacks beside her. He dipped a strawberry in the melted dark chocolate and fed it to her without missing a beat, then ate what she didn’t bite off. “My favorite color used to be gray.”
“Gray? That’s hella boring.”
He snickered and dipped a blackberry in the chocolate. “You say boring, but I liked gray because it was the color of storm clouds. When I was a kid, I had a step-mom, Marney. She was amazing. Fuck.” His head jerked over and over, like he was stuck in a twitch. In a strained voice he said, “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’ll keep this safe, right Eden?”
Eden cupped his cheeks, and the twitching stopped. Face angled to the side, he flicked his gaze to hers. He looked lost, and it pulled at her heart. “I’ll keep everything you give me safe,” she promised in a clear tone so he could hear the honest inflections of every word.
“Marney liked stormy days best. She would take me to this coffee shop in town, early in the morning on rainy days, because she said it had the best window for watching raindrop races. We would sit in her favorite place, this booth in the corner right by the big picture window on the front wall of this little café. I would drink hot chocolate, and she would drink coffee black, and we would watch the raindrop races. Fuck. Fuck.” Twitch. Twitch.
Eden leaned forward and kissed his lips quick, held his cheeks in place until he relaxed and stopped the jerky movement. He let off a shaky breath. “I don’t scratch at these memories for a reason. I know you want answers, but I can’t give them to you.”
“Can I have one?”
Barret wouldn’t meet her eyes, but after a minute, he nodded once. “One.”
“What kind of shifter was Marney?” Oh, she had an idea, but she was hoping and pr
aying she was wrong.
“Falcon,” he croaked out. “She’s the one in the tattoo. Fuck.” His shoulders jerked up to his ears, and before he turned away, she could see the bone-deep pain in his eyes. The sadness. It gutted her.
Oh she could guess exactly what happened. Marney was a female falcon who had escaped her people, and been looking for sanctuary. She’d fallen for Barret’s father, but her love had gotten the entire Four Deadlies Crew murdered. All but her stepson.
Chills rippled across Eden’s skin. She hated the falcons. Hated what she was, hated the blood that ran through her veins, hated everything about her lineage on her mother’s side. She’d wished so many times over the years to be like the other kids in the Ashe Crew—to Change with them and walk among them on the ground in the woods, not flying above, alone. She’d hated her white feathers, because they kept her in even more danger from the falcons. She’d wished her uniqueness away in weak moments, but right now, she would do just about anything to go back and be born a fearsome grizzly shifter like her dad. There was honor among the grizzlies, and none among the falcons. Mom had said that a dozen times when she explained why they lived in a grizzly crew instead of with other flight shifters.
Desperate to turn her dark thoughts around, she said, “My favorite color is purple, but I don’t have any cool stories to go with it. I just like grapes.”
Barret snorted, and the heavy look in his eyes lifted. “Maybe Jaxon was right.”
“About what?”
“About you being boring.”
He laughed and jerked out of swatting range. She’d wanted to really smack him, and with the miss, she got off-balance and lurched forward off the counter. Right before she caught the ground with her face, Barret pulled her up.
Now, he was laughing really hard. “And clumsy.”
Eden glared and gave a sarcastic, “My hero,” before she yanked out of his arms and dipped a blackberry in chocolate and ate it. And then she ate another and another. “I hope these are your favorite snack,” she said around a full mouth. “I’m going to eat them all.”
“Those are my least favorite snack,” he said with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.
She tried strawberries next, but he only shook his head. It wasn’t lunch meat, chocolate chip muffins, or granola bars either.
“My stomach hurts,” she whined, wrapping her arms around her middle.
Barret belted out a laugh and grabbed the cheese crackers off the counter. And then he did something appallingly disgusting.
“Are you seriously dipping cheese crackers in peanut butter?”
“Stop judging me,” he said, crunching away on a bite. “I’m an emotional eater, and I discovered this while watching reruns of old cooking shows.”
Voice pitched high, she asked, “You were watching them cook real food, and you were making this monstrosity?”
Smiling, he dipped the next one in peanut butter, then raspberry jelly. Gag.
“Barret, don’t put that in your mouth.”
Crunch.
“Oooh, my tummy really hurts,” she muttered. “And you’re gross.”
“Try it.”
“No!”
“Try it, Eden. Stop being boring. Here, I’ll cook it for you.” He dipped the cracker in PB&J and shoved it at her. “Let me feed you like a helpless baby bird, just like Jaxon Wormy Toot Toot, or whatever you called him. It’ll be romantic. We’ll be so cute and gross everyone out with how good we are at romance.”
Eden scrunched up her face. “Jaxon had grapes to eat, not gross stuff.”
“Eat it, and I’ll let you suck my dick.”
She was trying so hard not to laugh right now. “That’s literally the worst negotiation I’ve ever heard.”
Barret was cracking up, but trying to keep a straight face as he hovered the horrid little hors d’oeuvres in front of her face, flying it like a plane, just like parents did with toddlers.
She ate it, but to spite him, she bit the shit out of his finger.
“Didn’t hurt! Turned me on instead,” he punched out through his laughter.
“Oh, my God, you really have a boner,” she exclaimed, pointing at the front of his jeans where, indeed, there was a big bulge.
“Uhhh, everything you do turns me on.”
“Challenge considered. Challenge accepted.” Eden raised the squeeze cheese to her mouth and hesitated, arching her eyebrow primly. And then she squirted the liquid cheddar in her maw and smiled really big.
“You look so fucking sexy with yellow teeth. Let’s cheese-kiss.”
“Ew,” she said, snickering. She tried to swallow as fast as she could before he got the brilliant idea to actually kiss her.
“Dick’s still hard,” he announced. “Let’s go swimming.”
“Swimming? Where? And it’s too cold out, so no thanks. I need to get back to Lynn anyway.”
“Lynn survived just fine for like a dozen months before you came along. She’s okay. She’ll be just as steadily crazy when you go back to her in the morning. Tonight, you’re mine, and I want to go swimming.” He hooked his hands on his hips. “Naked. Bring the cheese.”
“I’ve never been skinny-dipping.”
“Ever in your life?” He sounded so judgmental.
“No. Well, the other kids in Damon’s Mountains would sneak out of their houses at night and go skinny dipping at Bear Trap Falls, but not me. I was a good girl.”
“What the hell do you see in me then, Goody Goody? I break all the damn rules, and just so you know, I’m gonna try to turn you bad, too. Challenge considered and accepted and all that.”
“I already am bad.” She pulled up the hem of his T-shirt to show him she was wearing zero panties.
The smile fell from his face, and his expression went slack as he stared between her legs. “I just went dumb, so if you want any more intelligent conversation from me tonight, you’re shit out of luck, woman. Spread your legs wider so I can play gynecologist.”
“Ew!” She laughed and clamped her knees together. “Don’t say weird stuff.”
Barret pulled her off the counter and tossed her over his shoulder like he really was Barret the Barbarian, then strode out the front door. He lifted the bottom of her shirt and smacked her ass quick. She jerked at the sting. “Barret!”
“You’re welcome.”
Click.
“What was that noise?” she asked, trying her best to twist around.
“You are so sexy wearing my shirt,” he rumbled distractedly.
They were almost out of the circle of porch light that lit up the clearing. “Seriously, what was that clicking noise? Did you take a picture?”
“No.” Click. “I took two pictures. You have a perfect pink handprint on your ass cheek. It’s hot as fuck.”
She could hear him poking buttons on his phone, so she tried to turn around again. “You can’t send those to anyone!”
“Why the hell would I send them to anyone? These are for my personal spank bank.”
“Oh, my gosh,” she muttered.
“I’m making you an album. I named it Not Boring Eden. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Jaxon.”
Eden caught a glimpse of the album he was adding the two horrifically embarrassing butt pictures to. She wiggled down him to the ground, then snatched his phone. Okay, the butt pictures weren’t as bad as she’d expected since Barret grinned huge in both, like he was proud to have his face that close to her left cheek. The pictures were actually really funny. But what caught her attention were the other three he’d added to the Not Boring Eden album. One was of her walking away from him in the grocery store, the first time they’d met face to face. It was a little blurry, but yep, that was definitely her. Barret was walking quietly beside her now, and she looked up at him questioningly.
“I liked you since then,” he said low. He shrugged. “I take pictures of stuff that feels important so I don’t forget. I made myself forget about a lot of the stuff from when I was a kid, and I got really goo
d at deleting stuff in my head. Too good maybe?” He cleared his throat. “You pissed me off at the store, but I didn’t want to forget you.”
Eden stopped and looked at the next picture. It was her climbing the stairs up to Lynn’s tree house with bags of groceries in her hands.”
“You kept humming,” he said. “Marney used to sing.” Barret cleared his throat. “Songbird. That’s what my dad called her.”
“Barret,” she whispered, “that’s what my dad calls my mom. She sings with the Beck Brothers at this local bar sometimes. She’s got a pretty voice, and he’s always called her that.”
The corner of his lip twitched up, then fell almost immediately. “Marney had a pretty voice, too.” Twitch. “Fuck.”
Barret was trying. He was talking about Marney without her pushing. He was trying to share with her as much as he could before his panic set in. Good cat.
Eden held out the phone for him to see the next picture she was looking at. It was a sideways shot of them walking through the woods earlier tonight on their way to meet the Red Havoc Crew for dinner. She was talking, her mouth open as she formed a word, a smile on her lips and in her eyes as she looked up at Barret. He had his arm around her, holding her hand across her chest, and only part of his torso showed up in the image.
“I snuck that one because you were letting me touch you and you weren’t running away.” He dipped his gaze to her sneakers and then back up to her eyes. He said softly, “And I didn’t want to forget.”
“Do you have the rock still?” she asked suddenly. She had to know. “Do you have the rock I gave you?”
Barret frowned. “Of course.” Smoothly, he pulled it out of his pocket, showed her, then shoved it deep in his jeans again. “It’s my favorite present. I’m keeping it for always so I can think of you. Even after you go, I’ll keep it.” Twitch. “I got something for you.”
“You did?”
“Well, I made it. I don’t have a lot of money for presents for you, Eden, but I can carve things. My dad taught me how when I was a kid.” Twitch. He pulled something small from his other pocket, but kept his fist closed around it. “I wanted to give it to you right after we fucked, but it didn’t seem right to take you rough and then give you something like this. It’s just a stupid little something.” He shook his head self-deprecatingly, then shook her hand formally, squeezing something small and lightweight between their palms. And then he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss there, eyes locked on hers. When he pulled away, he said, “Even after you go, I hope you keep that and think of me.” And then he offered her a sad smile, turned, and walked toward the sound of water lapping a shore in the distance.