Chapter Eleven #2
Behind me, sounds erupted that I would never be able to unhear. Wet tearing. Bone breaking. Ken screaming then not screaming anymore because the screaming cut off with a gurgle that made my stomach turn inside out.
“Don’t look,” the biker said, but I’d already turned my head.
The wolf stood over what was left of Ken. Blood matted its fur and dripped from its muzzle. What lay on my floor wasn’t recognizable as human anymore. Just pieces. Red and broken and very, very dead.
My knees gave out. The biker caught me before I hit the ground, lowering me.
“Deep breaths,” he said. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
I tried. The air got halfway to my lungs before everything started spinning. The room tilted sideways, and darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.
“He’s going into shock,” someone else said. Deeper voice. “Diesel, get the pup.”
Paws thundered across the floor. Then something warm and furry landed in my lap. Noodles. She licked my face with her tiny tongue, whining and pawing at my shirt.
“Hey, baby,” I whispered. My voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. “You okay?”
She barked once and burrowed into me. The weight of her was grounding. Real. Something to focus on that wasn’t the carnage behind me or the massive wolf that was slowly shrinking back into a man.
Bones cracked again. Fur receded. When I finally looked up, Crowbar was crouched in front of me, human again and completely naked.
“Spencer.” He reached for me slowly, like I might bolt. “You with me?”
“You’re a werewolf.” The words came out flat. Stating a fact, not asking a question.
“Wolf shifter.”
“And you just killed Ken.”
“Yeah.”
“In my apartment.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I pulled Noodles closer. She licked my chin, and I buried my face in her fur. “Okay. That’s… Okay.”
Nothing about this was okay. Ken was dead on my floor.
Crowbar had shifted into a wolf and torn him apart like tissue paper.
Wolf shifters were real. My boyfriend was one of them.
And somehow none of that was hitting the way it should have because I couldn’t stop thinking about how Ken would never hurt me again.
Never grab my arm. Never show up at my door. Never count down restraining orders or kidnap me at gunpoint. He was dead and I was alive and Crowbar was kneeling in front of me covered in blood, waiting for me to say something.
“Is he really dead?” I asked.
“Yeah, sweetheart. He’s dead.”
“Good.” I meant it. “That’s good.”
Crowbar’s expression softened. He reached out again, and this time I didn’t pull away. His hand cupped the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone.
“You’re okay,” he said. “You’re safe now.”
“You’re naked.”
“Happens when I shift.”
“Noted.” My brain was processing information in the wrong order. Werewolf. Dead body. Naked boyfriend. The list kept rearranging itself, and nothing made sense.
Noodles squirmed in my arms and licked Crowbar’s hand. He scratched behind her ears, and she leaned into the touch like this was completely normal. Maybe for her it was. Maybe she’d always known what he was.
“You can turn into a wolf,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“That’s why you call yourself Crowbar. It’s not your real name.”
“It’s my road name. What the pack calls me.”
“Pack.” The word clicked into place. “The other guys. Preacher. Diesel. All of them.”
“All of us.”
Behind Crowbar, the three bikers stood near the door. Watching. Waiting. Diesel was smiling, and it wasn’t the kind of smile that made fun. It was warm. Almost proud.
“Welcome to the pack, kid,” he said.
Riot nodded. “About time Crowbar found his mate.”
“Mate?” I looked at Crowbar. “Is that what I am?”
“Yeah.” His thumb was still moving across my cheekbone. “My wolf chose you.”
“Your wolf.” I glanced at Noodles in my lap then back at Crowbar. “Does that mean she’s going to turn into a wolf too?”
“She’s a dog, Spencer.”
“Right. Yes. Obviously.” Everything was upside down and backwards, and I was sitting on my floor with a puppy in my arms while my werewolf boyfriend knelt in front of me. “This is a lot.”
“I know.”
“Ken’s dead.”
“Yeah.”
“You killed him.”
“Would do it again.” No hesitation. No apology. Just fact.
My arm throbbed. The pain had faded to background noise during the fight, but now it roared back, making me wince. Crowbar noticed immediately.
“Let me see.”
He examined my arm with gentle hands, checking the sling and the swelling underneath. His touch was careful. When he pressed against the muscle, I sucked air through my teeth.
“Tore it worse,” he said. “Need to get you back to urgent care.”
“Can’t afford another visit.”
“Not arguing about this.”
Riot snorted. “Told you he’d be stubborn.”
“Runs in the family apparently,” Diesel said.
“I’m not family,” I said.
All three of them looked at me like I’d said something ridiculous. Preacher stepped forward and crouched beside Crowbar.
“You’re his mate,” he said. “That makes you pack. Pack is family. Therefore, you’re family. Math checks out.”
I’d failed math but believed him.
* * * *
I sat up when Crowbar closed the bedroom door.
Trent had taken Noodles for the night, promising to spoil her rotten with treats and belly rubs. Leaving just the two of us in a room that suddenly felt smaller than it had an hour ago.
Crowbar stood with his back to the door, watching me.
“How’s the arm?” Crowbar asked.
“Fine.” A lie. The urgent care doctor had given me stronger pain medication and a lecture about rest that I’d only half listened to. My brain had been too busy processing werewolves and mates and the fact that Ken was actually, permanently dead.
My life had become completely unhinged.
Crowbar crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Close enough that I could feel his body heat, but not touching yet. Waiting for permission I couldn’t give when every nerve was firing, skin buzzing with fear and relief and a raw, aching want that made my teeth hurt.
“Let me see,” he said.
Rolling my eyes, I shifted so he could examine the sling. His fingers were gentle as they checked the fabric and made sure nothing was cutting into my shoulder. Warmth radiated from his palm through the material and into my skin.
“Feels okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Not lying to me?”
“Maybe a little.”
A low sound rumbled in his chest. His hand came up to cup my jaw, thumb stroking along my cheekbone. The touch was deliberate, possessive. Like he knew exactly how badly I needed to be handled. Maybe I would break. Maybe I already had.
“You’re mine now,” he said. The words weren’t gentle. They were a brand, hot and final, settling in my bones.
My throat went tight. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His breath was warm against my lips. “My wolf claimed you. That means you’re pack. Means you’re protected. Means nobody touches you without going through me first.”
The words hit like a key turning in a rusted lock. Something inside me groaned open—something I’d boarded up so long ago I’d stopped hearing it rattle. Ken had never kept me safe. He’d just kept me. Crowbar wasn’t offering ownership. He was offering a shield.
“I’m yours,” I breathed.
“Fuck yes, you are.” His mouth crashed into mine, not gentle.
His tongue pushed past my lips, claiming space, tasting like dark coffee and the sharp bite of wintergreen gum.
I could feel the scrape of his stubble, the heat of him, the way his body leaned into mine like he was trying to crawl inside my skin.
I grabbed a fistful of his shirt with my good hand and yanked him closer. Needed the weight of him, the solid press of muscle and bone. Needed to feel the truth of it: Ken was gone. This was real. This was mine.
Crowbar’s hand found the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair.
Not rough, but not gentle either—just holding me in place while his mouth worked over mine, slow and thorough, like he was memorizing the shape of me.
His other hand slid down to my hip, thumb digging into the dip just above my waistband, and I arched into the touch without thinking.
Heat flared low in my gut, spreading through my veins like wildfire. My pulse hammered in my throat, my wrists, between my legs. The mix of adrenaline and want left me dizzy, my skin too tight, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts against his lips.
I broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, my lungs burning. “Fuck me. Right now.”
Crowbar’s pupils blew wide. “Yeah?” His voice was gravel, raw. “You sure?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.” I yanked at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the fabric. The sling made me clumsy, but I didn’t care—just needed him naked. Now.
He didn’t make me ask twice. One sharp tug and the cotton was over his head, gone.
Tattoos coiled across his collarbones, down his biceps—black ink like shadows on skin.
I wanted to lick every line, but later. Right now, I needed him pressed against me, needed to feel the heat of him, the weight, the proof that I was still here, still breathing, still his.
Crowbar’s hands went to my shirt, peeling it up slow. “Arm stays still.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know.”
“Say it.”
“I solemnly swear not to move my arm.”
His thumb brushed my nipple, just once, and I jerked. “Good boy.”
My cock throbbed, leaking against my zipper. Crowbar’s gaze dropped, dark and hungry. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Look at you.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He did. Hard. His tongue shoved into my mouth, claiming, and I bit down on his lip just to hear him groan. Then he was lifting me, settling me over his thighs, careful of my shoulder. I rocked down, grinding against the thick ridge in his jeans, and fire shot up my spine.
“More,” I gasped against his mouth. “Need more.”
“Easy,” Crowbar growled against my mouth, his breath warm. “We’ve got all night.”
“Don’t want all night. Want you now.” My voice came out rough, desperate.
“You’ve got me.” His fingers dug into my hips, pinning me in place. “But I’m gonna take my time with you. Gonna make sure you remember this.”