Flock (The Ravenhood Book 1)

by Kate Stewart

The only love I’ve ever known or craved is the kind that keeps me sick, sick with longing, sick with lust, sick with need, sick with grief. The distorted kind that leaves scars and jaded hearts.

pronounced Adam’s apple, broad shoulders, and lower, and lower. A large tattoo covers the majority of his left arm, the dark black tip of a wing and feathers starting just above his elbow, and looks like it ends at the base of his neck. “That’s not my name.”

“Miss me, Pup?”

“So is he. And he doesn’t apologize for it, so you shouldn’t either.”

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. And when he slowly lifts his gaze to mine—static.

I smile and wave goodnight, and see his gaze drift from Dominic to me before he feigns a smile back at me. I’ve seen enough genuine smiles from Sean at this point to know the difference. He’s pissed.

just an invisible line, a measure people made up, right? You know that. And while it’s good for reference, it’s also a major stress trigger, because you’re letting it control you.” I can’t even deny it. The idea of dinner with Roman is ruining my time with Sean. “Okay, sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t give it power. Now is now, later will eventually be now. Don’t be a slave to the insanity of keeping time and keeping up. Now is the only thing you have control over, and even so, it’s an illusion.”

“It means I belong to myself, Cecelia, at all times. And I choose carefully who to spend my now with. I’m selfish with my time, and sometimes about the things I want.”

“Fuck it.”

“We have all the time in the world, right?” He nods into my shoulder, a haunted hint shadowing his eyes when they meet mine. “Right.”

He’s made every man preceding him a liar, and shamed them within just weeks of having his attention, his affection.

“I can’t imagine why she’s so happy.” “It’s a decision,” he says easily. “A decision.” I consider his statement and see he’s

We slowed down, unable to stop, reaching for the other minutes later. I called his name repeatedly out of fear of the chest he was cracking wide open, of what he was able to see. His kiss, his touch, the slow thrust of his hips soothing me with soft words of “I know, baby, I’m with you.”

It’s as if he has to exhaust himself before he hits his pillow.

“I’m a psychiatrist’s wet dream.”

“Eyes on me, Pup,” he spits with disgust.

I expect passion and butterflies, and one or two fairy tale moments. When we fight, I want it to hurt. When we fuck, I want to feel it with every fiber of my being. When a man confesses his love to me, I expect him to mean it. I don’t want to question the words’ authenticity. I want to be claimed and owned and ruled and possessed by love. Is that expecting too much?

“Jealousy isn’t limited or nullified by age, babe. And you’ve been hurt. You told me you have from the start. You’re being cautious. You don’t want to be fucked over again. Nothing wrong with that. I get it. And I’m not mad you asked about it.”

“Cecelia, you wound me. Why’d you have to be so pretty?” For a second, I see something I’ve never seen in his expression—an unmistakable flash of fear in his eyes. “Sean, what’s wrong?”

“You want me to take pride in my job? Pay me. You want my tone to be respectful? Be a respectable employer. You want me to respect my name? Be a respectable man.”

All I can do is give him the same honesty. “Yes, of course I am. We . . . I was hoping . . . I don’t know.” “That’s right, we don’t, so let’s not go around getting offended and slinging drama where it isn’t needed. You want to trust me, but you’re not letting yourself, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I can tell you every day you’re safe with me, but unless you believe it, it’s pointless. And for the record, I caught feelings the minute I laid eyes on you.” I go slack as he brushes a finger over my lips. “You’re beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted, sensitive, and more,” he drops his forehead to my shoulder and groans, “and pissed off.”

“You’re perfect,”

waist. “I know what I’m holding, I know her worth,” he whispers, his words so intimate that for a second I think I’ve imagined them. “I’m not a teenage boy with his first hard-on. And even when I was, I’ve never tried to prove myself to anyone by using my dick as an exclamation point.

“My rainy days are yours, Dominic. If you want them.” “It rains a lot here,” he says after a few long beats. “Fine with me. But my sunny days belong to Sean.”