Untamed Crow (Iron & Blood MC Book 4)

Chapter 1 - Emma

I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time, smoothing down my navy cocktail dress.

My hands are shaking slightly as I adjust a stray curl that's escaped from my updo. The butterflies in my stomach have been intensifying with each passing minute, knowing that Crow is on his way here.

I still can't believe I actually called him yesterday. After Wrath told me he couldn't make it to my high school reunion because of a date, I surprised myself by immediately thinking of his brother. The words tumbled out before I could stop them: "What about Crow? Do you think he'd mind being my plus one?"

The knowing chuckle in Wrath's voice made my cheeks burn. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

And so I did. The memory of his deep, gravelly voice answering the phone still sends shivers down my spine. "For you, Emma? I'll be there."

Now, standing in the women's bathroom of the Cedar Falls Country Club, I'm second-guessing everything. It's funny how life works out sometimes.

Years ago, I went on a single date with Wrath—a blind date set up by a mutual friend. While there wasn't any romantic chemistry, we clicked as friends immediately. That's how I ended up spending so much time at their house and garage and how I met Crow.

My phone buzzes with a text from Jessica, my best friend since sophomore year: "Stop hiding in the bathroom! Your hot biker is going to be here any minute!"

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. She's right - I need to get out there. But the news reports about the escalating tension between the Iron & Blood MC and the Outlaws keep playing in my mind.

Last month's incident with Butcher's family was all over the local news, even if the details were sketchy. I know I should feel guilty about asking Crow to come alone tonight, but the selfish part of me is just grateful he said yes.

The ballroom is already half-full when I emerge, the familiar faces of my former classmates mixing with their dates and spouses. The DJ is playing something from our senior year, and the nostalgia hits me hard. Ten years. How did that happen?

"There you are!" Jessica appears at my side, pressing a glass of wine into my hand. "I was about to send a search party."

"Sorry," I mumble, taking a generous sip. "Just needed a minute."

She gives me a knowing look. "You're nervous about him coming, aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Emma, honey, you've been making googly eyes at that man every time we've gone to their house for BBQ. Even during game nights, you always somehow end up sitting next to him."

I feel the heat rising in my cheeks again. "I have not-"

"Please," she cuts me off with a laugh. "You practically melt every time he calls you 'doll' in that gravelly voice of his."

She's not wrong. Every casual touch, every lingering look across the room, every time he's fixed my car for free – it all adds up to this ridiculous crush I can't seem to shake.

"Oh my god," I groan, taking another sip of wine. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?"

"No, you're not," Jessica says firmly. "You're just a woman who knows what she wants. And tonight might be your chance to finally do something about it."

My phone buzzes again - this time it's a text from Crow: "10 minutes away, doll."

My heart starts racing all over again. Ten minutes until I see him in something other than his work clothes or MC gear. Ten minutes until I have him all to myself for an entire evening.

"He's almost here," I whisper to Jessica, gripping my wine glass tighter.

She grins and gives me a quick hug. "Remember - you're Emma freaking Clark, successful business owner and total catch. Now go get your man."

As she disappears into the crowd, I move toward the entrance, my heels clicking against the polished floor. Through the large windows, I can see the sun setting over Cedar Falls, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. Somewhere out there, Crow is making his way to me, probably breaking every MC safety protocol just to be my date tonight.

Please let this night be worth the risk, I think, touching the small crystal pendant at my throat for luck. Please let this be the beginning of something real.

The click of the front doors opening makes my heart skip a beat, but it's just another classmate arriving with his wife. I check my phone again - seven minutes since his last text. The urge to pace is overwhelming, but I force myself to stay still, not wanting to ruin these heels before he even arrives.

Through the window, I catch glimpses of arriving cars, their headlights cutting through the growing dusk. No motorcycles yet. My mind wanders to all the times I've watched him work on his Harley at the garage, his strong arms covered in grease, those mysterious tattoos peeking out from under his shirt...

"Emma Clark! Is that you?"

I turn to find Sarah Wilson - now Peterson according to her name tag - approaching with a wide smile. We shared AP English senior year but haven't spoken since graduation.

"Sarah, hi," I manage, trying to keep one eye on the entrance while making polite conversation.

"You look amazing! I heard you opened your own bookstore downtown. That's so brave in this economy!"

I nod, automatically falling into my usual spiel about Page & Pen, but my attention is divided. A deep rumble echoes from outside - the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle. My pulse quickens.

"Actually, Sarah, would you excuse me? I need to..." I gesture vaguely toward the entrance, already moving away.

The rumble grows louder, then cuts off. Through the glass doors, I can see a familiar silhouette dismounting his bike. Even from here, I can tell he's wearing a suit under his leather cut. The sight of Crow - my rough, tattooed biker - dressed up for me weakens my knees.

I grip my wine glass tighter, watching as he removes his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair. Even from this distance, I can see the way his suit stretches across his broad shoulders as he shrugs off his cut. My throat goes dry when he tucks it into his saddlebag - he's leaving his club identity behind for me tonight.

"Oh my," Sarah whispers beside me - I hadn't realized she followed me. "Is that your date?"

Before I can answer, Jessica materializes at my other side. "That's Crow Harrison," she announces proudly, as if she had something to do with it. "Emma's man."

"He's not my-" I start to protest, but the words die in my throat as Crow turns toward the entrance.

Even through the glass, I can feel the intensity of his gaze as it locks onto me.

"Girl," Sarah breathes, "the way he's looking at you right now? He's definitely your man."

I barely hear her. The world has narrowed to just this moment, just him walking toward the doors with that confident stride that's always made my heart race. The suit is black, perfectly tailored to his muscular frame, with a deep burgundy shirt underneath. No tie - thank god. I don't think I could handle Crow in a tie.

"We'll just..." Jessica's voice seems to come from far away. "...leave you to it."

I feel them retreat more than see them, unable to tear my eyes away from him. The doors open, and suddenly, there's nothing between us but twenty feet of polished floor and years of unspoken attraction.

He pauses just inside, his eyes traveling slowly down my body and back up. The heat in his gaze makes me feel like I'm burning from the inside out. I watch as he takes in the dress I spent three hours picking out, the heels that make my legs look endless, the way I've styled my usually wild curls into something elegant.

A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth - that dangerous smile that's always made me wonder what it would feel like pressed against my lips. He starts walking again, each step deliberate, predatory. My pulse pounds in my ears.

"Doll," he says when he reaches me, his voice even deeper than usual. "You look..."

He trails off, shaking his head slightly as if words aren't enough. Up close, I can see the fresh cut above his eyebrow - probably from the ongoing club war - and the shadow of stubble along his jaw. The contrast between the dangerous biker I know and this suited version before me is dizzying.

"You clean up pretty well yourself," I manage to say, proud that my voice only shakes a little.

His smile widens, showing a hint of dimple. "Had to make sure I didn't embarrass my date."

Date. The word sends a thrill through me. "Thank you for coming. I know with everything going on with the club..."

"Emma." He steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be tonight."

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight.

Maybe it's the way he's looking at me, like I'm something precious and wild all at once. Maybe it's the confidence the wine has given me, or the romance of the setting, or simply that we've finally run out of reasons to pretend.

"Crow," I start, not sure what I'm going to say but knowing I need to say something.

"Later," he promises, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back. The heat of his palm burns through the thin fabric of my dress. "Right now, I believe I owe my date a proper hello."

He leans down, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he's going to kiss me. Instead, his lips brush my cheek, lingering just a fraction longer than strictly necessary.

"Shall we?" he asks, gesturing toward the ballroom where my past awaits.

I nod, not trusting my voice. As we walk in together, his hand still warm on my back, I can feel the eyes of my former classmates on us. Let them look, I think. Let them see this beautiful, dangerous man who chose to be here with me.

Tonight feels like a beginning. And if the way Crow keeps looking at me is any indication, it's going to be one hell of a ride.