Ravensong (Green Creek 2)

He fucked like a man used to furtive gasps in back rooms or rest stops. I choked on his cock, his grip tight in my hair. He told me my mouth was pretty, that I looked so good on my knees. He wouldn’t kiss me, but I didn’t mind. He pressed me facedown against the mattress, grunting as he fucked me.

When he finished, he slumped onto the bed next to me, mumbling how he just wanted to close his eyes for a while.

I got up and picked up the condom he’d let fall to the floor. I flushed it and then stared at myself in the mirror for a long time. There were teeth marks on my neck, a bruise sucked into my chest.

I turned off the light and collapsed next to him.

And now a knock, knock, knock at my door.

The nameless man snored. He looked rougher in the morning light. Tired, and older. He hadn’t even taken off his wedding ring.

“Yeah,” I said, voice like gravel. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

I pushed myself off the bed, finding yesterday’s jeans on the floor. I pulled them up, not bothering to button them. They hung low on my hips. I shuffled to the door, wondering how much coffee I had left. I hadn’t been shopping in days.

I opened the door.

Mark’s nostrils flared.

His gaze skittered over the marks on my neck and chest.

I leaned against the doorway.

“Who?” he asked in a barely contained growl.

“You don’t call, you don’t write,” I said, rubbing a hand over my face. “What’s it been? Five months? Six?” Six months. Fifteen days. Depending upon what time it was, eight or nine hours.

“Who is he?”

I grinned lazily at him as I scratched my bare hip. “Don’t know. Got his name, but you know how it goes.”

His eyes flashed orange. “Who the fuck is he?” He took a step toward me.

You can’t trust them, Gordo. You can never trust a wolf. They don’t love you. They need you. They use you.

I stood up straight. The raven shifted. Roses bloomed. The thorns tightened. “Whoever the fuck he is is no goddamn concern of yours. You think you can show up here? After months of radio silence? Fuck off, Mark.”

His jaw tightened. “I didn’t have a choice. Thomas—”

I laughed. It wasn’t a very nice sound. “Yeah. Thomas. Tell me, Mark. Just how is our dear Alpha? Because I haven’t heard from him in years. Tell me. How’s the family? Good? Got the kiddos, right? Building a pack all over again.”

“It’s not like that.”

“The fuck it isn’t.”

“Things have changed. He’s—”

“I don’t care.”

“You can shit all over me all you want. But you don’t get to talk about him like that.” He was pissed. Good. “Regardless of how angry you are, he’s still your Alpha.”

I shook my head slowly. “No. No, he’s not.”

Mark took a step back, startled.

I gave him a mean smile. “Think about it, Mark. You’re here. You can smell me. Underneath the spunk and sweat, I’m still dirt and leaves and rain. But that’s it. Maybe you’re too close, maybe you’re overwhelmed by the very sight of me, but I haven’t been pack for a long time. Those bonds are broken. I was left here. Because I was human. Because I was a liability—”

He said, “It’s not like that” and “Gordo” and “I promise you, okay? I would never—”