Novak Raven (Harper's Mountains Book 4) (8 page)

Like Weston could hear her dreary thoughts, he slid his hand comfortingly over her leg and squeezed it.

“I’m really sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t know. I thought I hid your letters well, but maybe my parents gave them to the council while I was at school or…I don’t know. My dad is desperate to raise his rank, and he’s been talking about gunning for a council seat for years, but I had no idea I was a part of any of that. I just thought I was allowed to have a friend to talk to outside of Raven’s Hollow. I thought you were just for me, but apparently I was wrong. Every time I think of you being hurt in all of this, I get this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.”

“Avery, it’s okay—”

“I kept writing to you,” she blurted out before she could change her mind.

“What?” His frown was back, and his eyes sparked with confusion.

“It felt good to write everything going on in my life down on paper, and when we parted ways, I still craved that connection. I still wanted to feel like I had a friend, so I wrote to you like nothing ever happened. Like the meeting went well. I know it’s stupid, I do, and I never intended to send them. It just”—she shrugged her shoulders up to her ears—“felt good to not be alone.”

“Fuck.” Weston shook his head for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, afraid she’d offended him.

“Don’t apologize to me anymore, okay? I don’t want you saying sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I fucked up. I should’ve trusted you over what I was being told—”

“You were just a kid—”

“I was old enough, Avery! I was old enough to question what people were telling me. Yeah, my mom was right, and the council had bad motives, but you didn’t have anything to do with that. I’d been writing to you for years, I’d built up trust with you, and the second someone told me you betrayed me, I believed them. Just like that.” Weston looked sick in the dim light. “I used to give Ryder so much hell for how loyal he was. I did. But I should’ve tried to be more like him instead. I was the wrong one. I was the one who should’ve stuck with you. I’m the one who should be apologizing, so don’t say that word anymore to me, Avery, okay? You don’t have to say sorry anymore.”

But it wasn’t that easy. She’d been trained to duck her head and apologize for everything. She was twenty-four years old and likely that habit would be one she carried until the day she died. Why? Because she’d been methodically convinced that she was only as good as her ability to secure a high-ranking mate. “Can I ask you a strange question?”

“Sure.”

“What would it mean to you to be the highest ranking man in Raven’s Hollow?”

“Nothing,” he said decisively. “I would rather be the lowest ranking member of the Bloodrunners than the highest ranking member anywhere else.”

A smile stretched her lips. That right there told her so much about Weston. He wasn’t about power, or what others thought about him. He was a decent man who was happy with a simple existence. Who was happy growing his business and taking care of his friends instead of chasing ranks.

“I’m sorry, Avery,” he said suddenly. “Do you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Silly man. She was the one created to hurt him. He’d only reacted to her assumed betrayal like anyone would.

“Can you just say it out loud?” he asked so softly she almost missed it over the roar of his truck engine.

Avery slipped her hand over his on top of her leg and squeezed it gently. “Weston Novak, I forgive you.” She leaned her head back on the seat and gave a private smile to the woods outside her window. He was the first man who had ever apologized to her, but he had been forgiven from the day they’d met all those years ago. Why? Because he’d been so kind to her in the letters. He’d saved her when she was a kid in so many more ways than he would ever understand. When the loneliness of Raven’s Hollow had threatened to swallow her up, she’d read his letters and imagined herself in Damon’s Mountains with him. Weston didn’t know it, but he had always been her beautiful escape.

Using his words and giving him the same sanctuary he’d offered her, Avery murmured, “And now you don’t have to say sorry anymore either.”

Weston’s heartrate was kicked up too high. He inhaled sharply to try to ease the tension in his chest and turned up the volume on the radio a couple notches so she wouldn’t hear him freaking out. Avery was in his truck, smelling like that fucking delicious cherry lip gloss and some floral shampoo she’d used on her hair. Even her skin smelled good and so…Avery.

She’d been driving him wild for a straight week as she’d worked quietly at Big Flight. He’d been watching her. Why? Because he couldn’t help himself. She was beautiful, and already so different from the first day she’d come in for an interview in that ugly sweater. At first, he’d convinced himself she just looked different because Ryder had peer-pressured her into wearing a tank top and shorts with her sneakers. How wrong he’d been.

Avery had been broken by her people.

Each day, she’d gained confidence. She’d stopped wearing her hair in a tight bun and let it flow down her back in soft waves. She smiled more and met customers’ direct gazes. She’d stopped dropping that pretty chin of hers around Ryder, but she’d kept the habit around Weston. That was his fault.

Ma was right. Weston could feel it in the air. Avery did have a more dominant raven inside of her, but her people had cowed her. They’d bent her and pushed her until she’d gone to her knees and forgot how to stand back up. And damn, there was something so rewarding about getting a front row seat to watch her learn to stand again.

He would have to be careful not to coddle her. It wouldn’t help a woman like Avery if he just came to her rescue like his inner animal was crowing to do. She needed to gain confidence on her own that she was a capable woman.

Already, Weston admired her so much just from what he’d learned tonight. She’d left Raven’s Hollow, and he had a feeling it had been much harder to do than she was letting on.

Weston squeezed her thigh again just to reassure himself she was still here, still solid under his palm. Fuck, he loved touching her. He was gonna keep that to himself, though, because the rest of the crew wouldn’t understand the history here. They wouldn’t understand how much Avery had meant to Weston growing up. How she’d been a first in so many ways. First friend outside of Damon’s Mountains, first crush, first lo— Weston shook his head hard because he couldn’t afford to go there again. That word had dragged him to his knees, too, and he wanted to remember how to stand up along with Avery.

There was a reason he hadn’t wanted a serious girlfriend over the years. There was a reason he slept with girls and ended relationships after three dates. There was a reason he’d been terrified of giving his heart to someone else. Because Avery had taken up so much real estate in his chest at fourteen and fifteen, she’d left a mountain-sized hole when they’d parted ways. She’d been a grenade, and no normal woman stood a chance of filling that void. It was too deep and too wide, and Weston didn’t give trust easily. He never had.

And now she was back, her fingers linking with his, and he needed to figure out what this meant. What she meant. What it meant to feel this good just touching her leg. What it meant that his heart was pounding so hard, and why his dick had been at full-blown boner-status since the day she’d walked into Big Flight. He’d have to figure out what it meant that every instinct in his body wanted to go to Raven’s Hollow and throttle everyone who had ever hurt her. The urge for violence to avenge her pain was dizzying.

Avery Foley was big. She was crawl-in-his-heart-and-make-a-home-there-for-always big. That kiss out in the woods had done something to his chest—something terrifying and elating all at once. She’d warmed him. More than that, it was like he’d been struck by lightning the second she’d leaned in and kissed him hard. Her lips had set him on fire from his toes up.

And if he went at this full-speed-ahead like his raven wanted, it wouldn’t be like when they were kids. He was a man who had watched the Bloodrunners settle down with mates, one-by-one. And somewhere along the way, he’d begun to want that, too. He’d begun to crave something more than his solitary existence. His raven was ready for more.

And now, Avery had come in right when he was softening to the idea of taking a mate. Was this the Fates toying with him?

“You’re still a quiet man, like when you were a boy,” Avery said.

Weston cast her a quick glance as he turned onto the gravel road that led to Harper’s Mountains. “You only met me once, and that wasn’t the best impression to go by. How do you know I’m quiet?”

She was resting her cheek on the back of the seat, her full lips curved up just for him, her eyes so bright nestled in all those dark lashes. Like a psychopath, he wanted to trace her freckles with the tip of his finger.

“I could tell from the way you wrote. You didn’t give me extra words. Not ever. You only wrote the important stuff. I could always hear your voice when I read your letters.”

“You remembered my voice?”

Avery giggled a pretty sound, like a bell. He wanted to kiss her now, just to taste her happiness. “We weren’t great at talking on the phone.”

Weston chuckled and shook his head. “No, we weren’t. I still don’t like talking on the phone for long.”

“And I was awkward. I didn’t know how to talk to males. Letters were easiest.”

Weston ticked his tongue against his teeth and grimaced. “I don’t like when you call me a male. I’m not like your people.”

“What should I call you?”

“A friend.” He wanted more, but that would have to do for now. Avery was at the beginning of a long road to healing. The last thing she needed right now was a relationship. She needed to focus on herself first.

When he looked over at her again, the smile had faded from her lips. “I missed you,” she whispered, and her eyes were suddenly full of emotion. It was as if he could see her heart right there. Without thinking, Weston drew her hand to his lips and let his kiss linger on her knuckles. It felt so fucking right to touch her like this. To comfort her like this.

She dragged the back of her index finger down his jaw and giggled softly.

“You want me to shave?” he asked. Her answer mattered. Did she like beards or not? He wanted to know everything about her.

“No. I like you all manly and gruff. Tattoos and pierced nipples and muscles. You turned out differently than I imagined. The whiskers suit you. And they tickled when…” Avery ducked her gaze to her lap. “You know.”

Weston bit his bottom lip to hide the smile there. She was so fucking cute when she got random bouts of shyness. “When we kissed?”

“Yes, that,” she said breathily. “We kissed. In the woods. In the rain.”

“Technically, you kissed me.”

“But you kissed me back! I thought I made you bleed. I kissed you like a wolverine.”

Weston laughed. “You were very aggressive.” He shot her a smile and slowed down through the front gate to Harper’s Mountains. He pulled up the muddy, winding road and stopped in front of 1010, the old cabin he was convinced held magic. Avery could use some of that.

When he looked over at Avery again, her cheeks were bright red, and she wouldn’t give him more than her profile.

“I liked your kiss, Ave. I liked that you made the first move. I didn’t have to question what you wanted. I didn’t have to feel like I was pushing us too fast.”

Avery’s stomach growled. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“Don’t say that,” Weston murmured. He hated that she’d gone hungry. He hated that she’d been dealing with this all alone, sleeping in her car and worrying over where her next meal would come from. She was a lot stronger than she gave herself credit for. She’d said she was nothing, but she’d gotten herself a job and was digging out. She hadn’t even asked him for an advance on her paycheck. She was just one of those tough souls who wanted to face the storm alone. No more of that, though. Not when he could make sure she was safe and okay.

Weston moved to get out, but changed his mind. Fast, before he turned chicken-shit, he leaned back over the console and cupped the back of her neck, pulled her close. He kissed her and reveled in her taste, the softness of her lips. He basked in the quiet, helpless sound in her throat as she melted against him. Her clothes were still damp and she was shivering from cold, or adrenaline, or both maybe. As much as he wanted to, Weston couldn’t spend all night in the cab of his truck making out with her. His raven wouldn’t let him. His instincts were telling him to take care of her. Make her comfortable so she’d stay with them. So he could keep her.

Weston pecked her lips once, twice, and smiled when she sat there, lips pursed and her eyes still closed as though he’d kissed her into shock. He liked the way she smelled when he kissed her—like pheromones and happiness. He wanted to touch her. Wanted to run his hand down her neck to her tits and see if they were as soft and perfect as they’d looked out in the woods. He wanted to cup her sex and make her writhe against his hand. She was probably so wet right now. Would feel so good gripping his dick. Would feel so good pulsing around him as he made her come. Fuck, he wanted to bury himself inside her, but logic drifted through his muddled mind like a thin fog.

Feed her. Get her in dry clothes. Get her warm. Make her feel safe.

There was no room for
fuck her
on the list of immediate needs right now.

Reluctantly, he pulled away. “Avery?”

She arched her eyebrows, opened her eyes, and gave him a slow, half-drunk smile. “Hmm?”

“I missed you, too.”