Raven

Chapter 2

TWO

The girl remained in her corner, working quietly until the bell for last orders rang. She had ordered another drink, this time lemonade, and two more raw burgers. I brought them to her as discreetly as possible. Part of my caution was due to the rules Humans had imposed—insisting the burgers be served on buns with salad and chips—and partly because I didn't want to draw undue attention to her.

Humans had this peculiar discomfort when we ate raw meat in front of them. Hence the buns. It was all about their comfort, their need to pretend. As long as they left us alone, what did it matter, really?

The men who'd given me trouble earlier were still lounging at their table. Like everyone else, they began to pack up when Max rang the bell, announcing they had ten minutes to finish their drinks before being shown the door.

I couldn't help but keep my gaze fixed on the path between their table and the one where the girl sat. My blood was boiling, igniting a fire in my panther, urging him to leap out and slash some faces. I felt my claws extending, pushing through, and my panther teeth pressing against my gums. I fought to hold them back, to keep myself in check.

Those men had taken to ripping up every beer mat they could find, soaking them in what I hoped was beer, then rolling them up and hurling them at the girl.

When they’d done it a second time, I was ready to intervene. But Clayton put his hand on my shoulder. "Leave it. Not our fight," he cautioned.

"They're being dicks," I muttered, frustration seething in me.

"Yep, and they'll always be dicks. But they're Human. What do you think will happen if you go storming in there? She won't thank you for making her an even bigger target. And Max won't be able to keep your face off a punishment order. Leave it alone. Walk away if you have to. Go outside, I don't care. Just don't get involved."

I drew in a deep breath, my nostrils flaring with the effort to contain my anger. "Fine."

Clayton patted me on the back before heading back to the kitchen.

Max confronted the men, hands on her hips, exuding authority. I hung back, alert and prepared. "One more incident, and I'll have you removed," she’d warned them.

The taller man leant back, chewing nonchalantly, his grin almost a dare to Max. "So, you're a crucker, huh?" he jeered, tossing a balled-up paper onto his own table.

Max leant in, unflinching. "I own this bar. Watch your mouth," she snapped, locking eyes with him. "Do not push me. I'll throw you out so fast you'll be calling for your mothers before you hit the ground."

She collected their plates, ignoring their crude remarks, and walked to the bar.

'Crucker', a derogatory term coined by Humans to insult those accused of intimate relations with shifters in animal form, blended 'creature' and 'fucker'.

As she passed me, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the tight set of her jaw. Max might be Human, but in moments like these, I was reminded of why I respected her so much. She didn't back down, didn't let the ugliness of her own kind taint her.

I turned my attention back to the girl in the corner. She hadn't reacted to the men's taunts, hadn't even looked up from her work. But I could sense the alertness in her posture, the way her ears seemed to twitch at every sound. She was aware of everything, just choosing not to engage.

Max handed me the glasses, shooting a warning glance over her shoulder at the men. "Keep an eye on them. They're likely to cause trouble again. Send Mags over if they do." Mags, her security guy, was tough as nails. He wouldn't stand a chance against me in a fight, but I understood the strategy. These were the kind of men who would cry foul at the slightest provocation from me.

So I stayed behind the bar, watching.

The girl brought her plate and glass to the bar as she packed up, ready to leave. She placed them beside me, just as I was filling the glasswasher.

"You didn't need to bring those over. I would've come to get them," I said, adding her glass to my tray. My heart raced, though.

"I know, but I wanted to," she replied, her smile locking with mine, causing my breath to hitch. Another moment and she'd hear my heart pounding; heck, the whole place might. "I'll see you around." She slung her bag over her shoulder, her smile widening, her cheeks tinting with a rosy flush.

"Oooooo," Clayton teased from the kitchen. "Go on, my son."

Ah, hell. My cheeks flamed, probably matching hers in colour. "She was just being friendly," I mumbled, unsure who I was trying to convince more, Clayton or myself.

"She was giving you the come-on, mate. Did you see how she walked out? That sway in her hips? That was all for you, Buddy."

She was just outside the doors. I could still see her as she rummaged through her bag. When she looked back and our eyes met, I couldn't look away fast enough. It felt like she saw straight into me, stirring the panther within. Was this what it felt like to encounter another panther?

When I dared to glance back, she was gone, leaving a hollow feeling inside me.

Oh hell.

The rest of the patrons cleared out without fuss. Max busied herself with setting the place right for tomorrow, her foot nudging the mess those men had left. "Bet they don't do this at home."

"We should pack it up and send it back to them," I suggested, helping her clean up, collecting bottles, glasses, plates, and a pile of wasted food.

Max wrinkled her nose, wiping the table. "Is it me, or does it smell like piss?"

I leant in and took a whiff. Jesus. It was a struggle not to gag. Spotting a couple of glasses under the table, I picked one up and showed it to Max. "No, it's not just you."

She grimaced at the glass of cloudy yellow liquid, clearly not beer. "Disgusting little shits. Mags, if they try to come in here tomorrow, turn them away. Break their arms if you must. Little bastards."

Together, we made quick work of the clean-up. Clayton handled the kitchen, and when I finished in the bar area, I popped in to help him with the last bit. His kitchen was spotless—he ran a tight ship and woe betide anyone who messed with it.

The floor was vacuumed, the bar area mopped, and Max was setting out new trays. All that was left was the rubbish. "Take those out, and you can call it a night," she instructed, nodding towards the bags.

"We're done here?"

"Yeah, we're done here. Grab your stuff. I'll lock up behind you."

I slung my backpack over my shoulder—a generic one with the logo of the college I attended. I wondered if the girl went there too. I couldn't recall seeing her around, but that didn't mean much. We were just two months into the new academic year. She could well be a newcomer, and with my focus split between work and studying, I hardly had time for much else.

I hoisted two rubbish bags in each hand and headed for the door, which Max held open for me. If any Humans saw her doing that, they'd spit on her. Didn't matter how convenient it was for her to help, the mere act of assisting me was a crime in their eyes.

She stepped out with me into the alleyway. "Looks like our heebie-jeebies tonight were for nothing. I'm glad to say."

I got to the bottom of the metal steps and set down the bags. I raised my head. It was dark now, not so many stars out. No real sign of the moon either, I realised. Just a light glow behind the moving clouds. "Maybe," but the feeling was still there, tugging at me. Something was off in the world and for the life of me, I couldn't put my finger on it.

It could have been those men in the bar, but the feeling would have left me. That was my thing. I felt things, felt them in a way others didn't. Even my panther was waiting for something bad to happen. Looking down the alleyway, there was nothing, just the usual gloom. "Night, Max," I said, picking up the bags and lugging them to the large industrial bins tucked behind the stairs for a fire exit.

The bins were big enough that they even came with small steps. Lots of waste from the Humans, as always. The stench that wafted out of them, though ... "Jeez. That's disgusting." Every single time. It didn't matter if I held my breath or not. It was sweet, sour, and almost dead, all in one breath. It never got any better, no matter how often I took out the crap.

I was just throwing the third bag in when a scream pierced the silence of the night, making me pause. My heart leapt into my throat and my panther snapped to attention.

"Leave me alone," a woman's voice pleaded, raw terror evident in every syllable.

"I saw the way you were looking at me. I know you want it. Fucking tease," a male voice replied, dripping with malice.

"No, I wasn't, I swear." The woman's voice quivered.

Laughter erupted, more than one man. "Oh, she swears. We'll make you fucking swear. We'll have you calling out our names and asking for more. What do you reckon, Brad?"

A scuffle echoed through the alley.

I eased down the lid, careful not to let it make a single noise when it connected with the rest of the bin. My panther prowled beneath my skin, begging to be let loose.

"I think she's a fucking whore and asking for it," another male voice chimed in.

"No, please." There was terror in that voice, terror, and something else. A low growl vibrated along my throat.

The sound of a slap echoed in the alley, sharp and cruel.

I got down the steps, my movements silent and precise. I crept around the bins, down the alley, and towards the voices. "You fuckers," I muttered as I peeked out. Shit. There was no denying who they were, the same jacket that had hung on the back of a chair in the bar...

I pulled back, pressed myself into the wall, and closed my eyes for a moment. But it wasn't just the realisation that it was them that had me doing that. It was silver. I could feel it more than I could see it, its presence thick in the air.

"Get off me." The girl pushed at them. They had her pinned against the wall. One held her in place, the others standing around, jeering. The one holding her had a silver blade to her cheek. The blade was the only thing keeping her in check. Her eyes were wide with fear. She pushed and kicked.

Without any hesitation, the Human backhanded her with a gloved hand as he slammed her back, making damn sure she knew who was in control. He slid the blade down between her breasts.

"This is not happening. Not on my watch," I growled, my voice low and dangerous. No matter what Clayton said, I wasn't about to stand by, hiding in the shadows while some woman got raped and God knows what else.

Taking a deep breath, I lunged for them, grabbing the guy in the leather jacket by the collar and yanking. "She said get off, you piece of shit," I snarled, my voice barely human.

They had silver on their side. I had the element of surprise and raw fury. I knocked the fucker off his feet, sending him sprawling.

The silver was working, though. This close, and it was like breathing in noxious gas. It was thick and strong in the air, heavier than usual, as if they'd bathed in it. I could only focus on the knife. Still, I forced my way through it. "I won't say it again," I growled, each word a razor on my throat, every breath pulling more silver into my body.

The man was quick to get on his feet. "Fuck you, animal," he spat, coming at me.

Idiot. Even with the silver, I was faster, stronger. As soon as the man was close, I pushed. This time, he didn't go down. He was lucky. If there was no silver, he'd have flown into the brick wall and not got up a second time.

"Is that all you've got?" I taunted, my eyes flashing dangerously.

Unfortunately, I didn't focus on the right one, and I didn't see the other arsehole until the last minute. Too late. A plank of wood smacked me at the back of my head, sending stars through my vision and knocking me down.

"Not so tough now, are you?" one of them sneered.

Falling to my knees, I couldn't stop the momentum of the hit as my head cracked against the wall. I caught myself. My only saving grace. It would not end like this. "Run," I said to the girl, my voice a ragged whisper. "Run ..."

I forced myself to my feet as the Human swung at me again. This time, I was ready. I caught the wood, yanking on it fiercely. The man clung on, exactly what I wanted. It pulled him closer to me, but as he slammed a knee into my middle, the wind was knocked out of me.

A primal roar tore from my throat as I gave it everything. Without fully shifting, I called upon my panther's strength. Together, we fought against the silver, against the men. My fingers morphed into claws. I slashed out, narrowly missing the man's face, but my second blow was spot on.

"You want a fight? I'll give you a fucking fight," I snarled.

The knife guy's nose shattered under the force of my fist; blood sprayed as my claws raked across his cheek. He howled in pain, stumbling back.

Another man leapt at me, the silver in his weapon agonising like ants burrowing through my skin, setting my cells ablaze. Yet, I fought on. As he rounded on me, I grabbed him, my hand closing around his throat. One squeeze, one rip was all it would take. I let him feel the tips of my claws against his flesh, letting his bravado sour.

"Not so brave now, are you?" I growled, my voice deep and menacing.

My eyes must have glowed fiercely, even my teeth elongating, pushing my mouth into a strange shape, deepening my words. "Get the fuck out of here," I growled.

With all my might, I held him in place, then landed a punch in his gut, shoving him back into his companions. "Right now. Or I swear, you'll regret it."

The one I had slashed staggered, his companion trying to assist him. They almost tripped over themselves to escape. "You'll pay for this, you piece of shit," one snarled. "Tomorrow, there'll be a hunt for you, then you'll be fucked."

"Bring it on," I spat back, blood dripping from my lips onto the ground. I struggled to catch my breath, gasping for air. My arm stung where the silver knife had sliced me, but I was okay. The adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, my panther still itching for more.

"Are you okay?" The girl's voice was low as she crouched at the wall, holding her shirt together. The sight of her injuries made my blood boil more. She had her own marks, a cut on her face and another on her forehead. Blood trickled down the side. "Do you need some help?"

I shook my head, trying to calm my racing heart. "I'm fine," I said, my voice gruff. I swallowed, trying to soften my tone. "Are you alright? Did they... did they hurt you badly?"

"I thought they were going to ... going to ..." Her voice trailed off, thick with unshed tears.

"But they didn't," I assured her, my voice gentler now. "You're safe. They're gone." I took a step towards her, then paused. "Is it okay if I come closer? I won't hurt you, I promise."

"It's alright." I managed to look at her then. My teeth had gone back to normal, my claws too, but my eyes hadn't shifted. The world still had that tilt to it. They'd be bright green now, I knew. I tried to push to my feet, my knee aching like a son of a bitch. "Are you okay?" I asked her.

She nodded, her eyes still wide with residual fear. "They ..."

"Yes." We didn't need to say it. What use was it to bring their ugly intentions into the open?

My bag strap had broken during the fight. I went to pick it up, not even remembering when it had come away. Opening it, I took out a spare shirt I had for work. It'd be too big for her, but that didn't matter. "Here," I said, offering it to her.

"It's okay. I ..." But she looked down at her chest, reality dawning on her face.

"Take it. It's yours. Yours is torn."

Maybe she hadn't realised just how much. They'd cut it down the centre, and they'd pulled at it, torn the sleeves, shredded it. She only nodded to herself and took it, her fingers trembling slightly.

It came down to her knees, but it was better than what she had. "I was so stupid," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. "I should have sensed they were there. Should have known."

"And they should have been decent Humans," I ground out, anger flaring in my chest again. "And not done what they were about to do. This wasn't your fault." I met her eyes, willing her to believe me.

"Maybe," She touched her fingers to the side of her face and winced. Her blood had already dropped onto my top, dark spots against the fabric.

"Do you want to go into the bar? I can get something to clean that up. We've got balm in the kitchen." It was usually for Clayton, given the kinds of scrapes he often got into, but it wasn't rare to see him come in covered in cuts and bruises.

She let out a shaky breath. "I think I just want to go home and get cleaned up." Moving to stand beside me, she peered down the street, unconsciously using me as a safe base. "Are you sure they're gone?"

"I'm sure," I reassured her, my voice low and steady. Humans often fled like cowards when faced with real resistance. "Can I at least walk you home? I've just finished for the day."

She hesitated, torn. I'm sure part of her wanted to decline, but another part was still on edge, half-expecting those men to return. "If it isn't too much bother," she finally conceded, her voice small.

I shrugged, an easy gesture, trying to lighten the mood. "Even if it was, I'd do it anyway." I extended my hand, a peace offering. "I'm Raven, by the way."

Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, she took my hand. Her grip was firmer than I expected, a hint of the strength she possessed. "Tia," she replied, the hint of a smile touching her lips.

As we started walking, I kept my senses on high alert, ready for any sign of trouble. But my mind was racing with questions. Who was Tia? Why hadn't I seen her around before? And most importantly, why did my panther feel so drawn to her?