Flock (The Ravenhood)

I’m so high from just two hits I swear I can see space. A deep rumble comes from his throat as he lets out an annoyed exhale.

To my surprise, the door opens, and in my spacesuit, I take a wobbly step inside. His voice covers me in goosebumps as he speaks when I move to walk past. “Don’t make me regret this.”

I present his joint back to him with pinched fingers, and he takes it. “I won’t, but don’t let me hit this again.” I make it halfway to the door leading to the bay on the other side when he stops me.

“Cecelia.” I could live every day of my life listening to the curl of his faint accent around my name. I glance back and see the warning in his eyes. I spent half my shift being lectured to about tangling up with these men, and it did nothing but intensify my curiosity. “I’ll say this once. It’s not smart, you being here.”

“I know.”

“Can’t know much.”

“Oh, mais j’en sais déjà beaucoup, Français.” Oh, but I know a lot, Frenchman.

I may have taken French in high school, but I’m far from conversational. However, the payoff of those classes is well worth it to see the mild twitch of his lips and muted surprise in his eyes.

“Je ne parle pas français.” I don’t speak French.

He smirks, and I could die. It’s utterly perfect coming out of his full lips. The indifferent ire in his eyes licks me with every second that passes before I break our stare due to the intensity alone. Turning back to the garage, I stumble a little as I make my way toward the door seeing the guys huddled at the far end in the last bay, shooting pool on an old coin table. Sean finally spots me, his warm grin lighting me up. “See you in there?” I look back at Dominic, whose eyes are on me, his take on me impossible to read.

All I get is a nod.

AFTER EATING MY WEIGHT IN pizza, no doubt due to the buzz, I steal another look at Dominic, who went straight to work on a Chevy after entering the garage. His shirt has ridden up, giving me the perfect view of the ripples in his stomach along with a hint of his V while he lays on a roller on his back. The bay I assumed was for commercial use turned out to be an after-hours lounge set up with leather couches that surround the ancient, ratty green pool table.

Tonight’s gathering consists of Sean, myself, Russell, and Jeremy, whom I’ve learned also works at the garage with Dominic. I sit tucked into the corner of a long, beat-up, pleather couch next to Sean as Jeremy and Russell shoot a game. Southern rock croons softly in the background at Sean’s insistence. He’s to the left of me, his muscular thigh touching mine, arm draped behind me along the back of the couch. Between the heat of his body, his smell, and the sight of Dominic’s bare midriff just feet away, I’m having a horrible time keeping my hormones and accompanying imagination in check. But my pheromones must be working overtime because I can’t seem to escape the stares of the men I’m keeping company with either. I don’t flatter myself they’re interested, but just as curious about me as I am them and their collective raven tattoos.

Sean had said they were a promise, but I can’t imagine what that means.

I’ve timed my glances at Dominic, feeling a little like a creeper with the amount of attention I’m giving him. He’s the quietest, making him the most enigmatic of the four.

Much like Sean, it’s just not natural for a man to be so fucking enticing. As many times as I’ve glanced over, I haven’t managed to find a single thing my eyes disagree with.

“So, you hate the plant, huh, Pup?” Sean drawls as I watch Dominic sift through his toolbox.

“Stop calling me that,” I say, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Nope, the nickname stays.”

“It’s just…so fucking boring,” I sigh. “Good thing I’m a creative daydreamer.” I dart my eyes away from Dominic, just as his cold gaze lands on me from where he lays beneath the truck.

I look over at Sean still perched next to me. “But, I do like my supervisor.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I have little time to appreciate the tension from our exchanged look when the door opens on the opposite side of the garage. Tyler stands in the threshold with a twelve-pack in his arms. “’Sup, fuckers?” His gaze zeroes on me, and his smile grows as I lift my hand in a little wave. He strides past the bays, lifting his chin in greeting.

“Hey, beautiful, you slummin’ it again tonight?” He pulls a joint from Jeremy’s fingers and takes a hit as Russell grabs the beer and adds it to a large cooler to ice it down.

“Not at all. And for the record, I grew up in a small ass house, not with a silver spoon in my mouth.”

Tyler’s eyes shine with interest as he moves to steal Sean’s place next to me.

“No room,” Sean says with an edge to his voice. A protective edge, and I can’t help the increase in my pulse because of it.

“You forget, I’m the problem solver,” Tyler lifts me easily and places me in Sean’s lap, and I sink into it.

I feel right at home with these guys, as if I’ve known them for far longer than two days. It’s the oddest thing. The only thing that feels out of place is the sensation coming from the man a few feet away. I’m overdue for a look when I let my eyes wander and see he’s watching Sean’s hands, his fingers, and how they’re casually curling around me.