Chapter 2 - Crow
I guide Emma into the ballroom, hyperaware of the silk of her dress beneath my palm and the way she fits perfectly against my side. The space is crowded with civilians dressed in their Friday best, but my eyes scan the room out of habit, checking exit points and potential threats.
"Crow Harrison, as I live and breathe!"
I suppress a groan as Jessica, Emma's best friend, approaches us with a knowing grin. She's been trying to play matchmaker for months, not so subtly pointing out how perfect Emma and I would be together. As if I needed anyone to tell me that.
"Jessica," I nod, keeping my tone neutral. Emma shifts slightly beside me, and I fight the urge to pull her closer.
"I was just telling everyone how you're the best mechanic in Cedar Falls," she continues. "Remember that time you fixed my transmission for free?"
"Club takes care of its friends," I reply automatically, though the truth is I only did it because she's Emma's friend.
The club's friendship with Emma might have started through Wrath, but she's earned her place in our circle. Everyone loves her, and even Butcher's stepchild lights up when she brings him children's books from her store.
"Speaking of the club," Jessica lowers her voice, "is it true what they're saying about the Outlaws?"
I feel Emma tense beside me. My jaw tightens. "Not the place for that conversation."
Jessica takes the hint, raising her hands in surrender. "Right, sorry. I'll leave you two to enjoy your evening." She disappears into the crowd, leaving us in a moment of awkward silence.
"I'm sorry about her," Emma says softly, turning to face me. "She can be a bit..."
"Much?" I finish, allowing myself a small smile.
The lights catch the subtle highlights in her hair, making me wonder how long it took her to style it so perfectly.
She laughs, "Exactly."
The DJ switches to a slower song, and couples start moving to the dance floor. I debate with myself for a moment before deciding to take a chance.
"Dance with me?" I hold out my hand, watching surprise flicker across her face.
"You dance?"
"I'm full of surprises."
She places her hand in mine, and I lead her to the dance floor, keeping a respectful distance as I position us among the other couples. One hand settles on her waist while the other keeps hold of hers. The scent of her perfume - something floral and subtle - catches my attention.
"You look nice tonight," I say, keeping my tone casual despite how the sight of her in that dress has been driving me crazy all evening.
A blush spreads across her cheeks. "Thank you. So do you. I don't think I've ever seen you in a suit before."
I chuckle, guiding her through a slow turn. "Don't get used to it. Cut and jeans are more my style."
"It suits you, though," she says, immediately blushing deeper at her unintentional pun.
I'm extremely aware of her hand in mine, the way her dress rustles with each step, how perfectly she fits against me. But I keep my thoughts in check. She's Wrath's best friend, and tonight, I'm just her backup date.
The song changes to something faster, but we keep swaying slowly. I should be more alert, more aware of our surroundings. The Outlaws could have eyes anywhere. But with Emma this close, smelling like flowers and looking like a dream, it's hard to focus on anything else.
"Thank you for coming tonight," she says softly, looking up at me through her lashes. "I know it's not exactly your scene."
"Anytime," I reply, meaning it more than I should. "Besides, couldn't let you face all these people alone."
She smiles, and for a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if this was real - if I was really her date, not just a stand-in for my brother. But that's a dangerous path to go down. Emma deserves better than a man whose life is constantly on the line, whose hands are stained with the kind of work the club requires.
So, I just keep dancing, holding her close but not too close, savoring these moments while trying not to want more.
"Is this odd to you?"
The question pulls me from my thoughts. "What's odd?" I ask, though I know exactly what she means.
"All of this," Emma gestures slightly with our joined hands. "The dancing, the suit, being surrounded by people who probably think bikers only exist in movies."
I can't help but smirk at that last part. If these people knew half of what goes down in Cedar Falls...
"I've been in stranger situations, doll."
She arches her eyebrow. "Care to share?"
"Most aren't suitable for polite company," I tease, enjoying the way her cheeks flush. Truth is, being here with her isn't odd at all - it's everything I've wanted for longer than I care to admit.
A group of her former classmates passes by, their whispers not quite subtle enough. I catch fragments about "dangerous looking" and "Emma's date?" but ignore them. I'm used to those reactions.
"They're talking about us," she says softly, a hint of worry in her voice.
"Let them talk." I spin her slowly, bringing her back perhaps a little closer than before. "Though I gotta admit, the suit feels like a costume."
She studies me for a moment, her brown eyes thoughtful. "You didn't have to dress up, you know. I would have been fine with you coming as yourself."
That's always been Emma's way - accepting people as they are. It's one of the things that drew me to her in the first place.
"Wanted to do this right," I say simply. The music shifts again, but we keep our slow pace. "Besides, you went through all this trouble to look even more beautiful. Least I could do was try to keep up."
The compliment slips out before I can stop it, but her pleased smile makes it worth it. Still, I need to be careful. Getting too comfortable, letting my guard down - that's not an option. Not with the club situation being what it is.
As if reading my thoughts, her expression turns serious. "Are you worried? About being here alone?"
I consider lying, but she deserves better than that. "Always gotta be careful these days. But I've got my piece, and the prospects do drive-byes every hour."
Her eyes widen slightly. "You didn't have to-"
"Yes, I did," I cut her off gently. "Club rules aside, I wouldn't risk anything happening to you."
I've said too much, revealed too much of my hand. But before either of us can address it, a tap on my shoulder breaks the moment.
"Mind if I interrupt?" Some clean-cut guy in an expensive suit stands there, looking at Emma with obvious interest. "We shared AP Chemistry, remember? Tyler Matthews?"
I feel Emma's hand tighten slightly in mine, but I keep my face neutral, waiting for her response. This is her night, her reunion. If she wants to dance with other people...
"Sorry, Tyler," she says, pressing slightly closer to me. "I'm actually good here."
The guy looks between us, clearly trying to figure out what someone like Emma is doing with someone like me. Join the club, buddy.
"Maybe later then," he says, retreating with a forced smile.
I wait until he's out of earshot before asking, "You sure? Don't want to keep you from catching up with old friends."
Emma looks up at me and smiles, "I'm exactly where I want to be."
The simple honesty in her voice hits me hard. I adjust my hold on her waist, thumb brushing against the silk of her dress.
"Good," I say roughly. "Because I'm not done dancing with you yet."
She smiles, relaxing into my arms as we continue moving to the music. Around us, people keep stealing glances, probably wondering what the bookstore owner is doing with a member of the Iron & Blood MC. But for once, I don't mind the attention.
Let them look. Let them see how lucky I am to have this moment, even if it's just for tonight.
Their hushed laughter reaches us before they do - four guys in expensive suits, clearly having enjoyed the open bar. Emma's hand tightens on my shoulder as they approach, but I keep us dancing, my expression neutral.
"Well, look what we have here," the tallest one says, his words slightly slurred. "Didn't know this was a costume party. Nice outfit, biker."
I ignore them, focusing instead on Emma's worried expression.
"It's okay, doll," I murmur, just for her ears.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," the guy persists, stepping closer. "What's a dirty biker doing at Cedar Falls High reunion?"
Emma starts to turn toward them, but I keep her in our dance position. Getting into it with drunk civilians isn't worth the trouble it would cause the club. Besides, I've been called worse by better men.
"He's my date," Emma says firmly, though I can feel her trembling slightly. "And you need to back off, Mark."
Ah, so she knows them. Mark - the loud one - laughs. "Come on, Emma. You can't be serious. This guy? What happened to that lawyer you were dating last year?"
"Careful," I warn quietly, finally acknowledging them. My tone makes two of them step back, but Mark and his main wingman hold their ground.
"Or what?" Mark challenges, alcohol making him brave. "You'll call your little gang?"
The music continues playing, other couples dancing around us, oblivious to the tension building in our corner. I'm still moving Emma in slow circles, but my muscles are coiled tight, ready.
"Mark," Emma's voice is sharp now. "You're drunk. Walk away."
"Just looking out for you, Em," he slurs, reaching for her arm. "This isn't the kind of guy you should be with."
Before his hand can make contact, I smoothly spin Emma behind me, breaking our dance position.
"That would be a mistake," I say.
The temperature seems to drop several degrees as I stare him down.
Mark's friend tugs at his sleeve. "Come on, man. It's not worth it."
For a moment, I think Mark's going to be stupid enough to throw a punch. I can feel Emma's presence behind me, her hand now gripping the back of my suit. The prospect of violence doesn't bother me - I've handled worse - but I know it would upset her.
Finally, Mark's liquid courage fails him. Something in my expression must remind him that "dirty bikers" aren't just for show.
"Whatever," he mumbles, backing away. "Your funeral, Emma."
We watch them stumble off toward the bar. Only when they're well away do I turn back to Emma, checking her face.
"You okay?"
She nods, but I can see she's shaken. "I'm so sorry about that. Mark was always an entitled jerk, but I never thought..."
"Hey," I cup her elbow gently, guiding her back into dance position. "Not your fault. Some people just can't handle their liquor."
She lets me pull her close again, closer than before, her hand sliding back to my shoulder. "Thank you for not... you know."
"Starting a brawl at your reunion?" I smile slightly. "Tempting, but figured you wouldn't appreciate it."
That gets a small laugh out of her.
"My hero," she says, the words teasing but her eyes sincere.
The lawyer's comment nags at me as we resume our slow dance. I'd heard about him through Wrath - some hotshot named James who lasted about six months. The breakup happened months ago, and by then, Emma was already hiding out in her bookstore more than usual.
"That asshole Mark," I say, trying to keep my tone light. "He's got some nerve bringing up your ex."
"Yeah, well, high school reunions bring out the worst in people, I guess."
"Can I ask you something?" I keep my voice low, private. The curiosity has been eating at me for months.
She hums in response, probably guessing where this is going.
"What really happened with the lawyer? Never got the full story."
Emma tenses slightly in my arms, but doesn't pull away. "Why do you want to know?"
"Curiosity," I admit. "Wrath never gave me details, just said it ended badly."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I almost regret asking. But then she sighs, her fingers fidgeting with the collar of my suit.
"He cheated," she says finally, her voice small. "With his secretary. Such a cliché, right?"
My jaw clenches, anger flaring hot and sudden. "Fucking idiot."
"No, I..." she shakes her head, not meeting my eyes. "I get it, actually. I mean, what kind of man wants to date a 29-year-old virgin who'd rather read romance novels than go to clubs?"
I nearly stumble in our dance, her words hitting me like a physical blow. Virgin? Emma's a virgin? The knowledge sends a surge of possessive desire through me that I immediately try to suppress. The thought of being her first, of claiming every inch of her untouched skin... Christ.
"Emma," I say roughly, once I trust my voice again. "That's bullshit and you know it."
She tries to look away, but I tilt her chin up, making her meet my eyes.
"It's true though. I'm not... I'm not exactly experienced. And James said waiting was juvenile, that I was living in some romance novel fantasy."
"James is a piece of shit who didn't deserve you," I cut her off, struggling to keep my voice down. The urge to hunt down this lawyer and show him exactly what happens to men who hurt what's mine is almost overwhelming. "There's nothing wrong with waiting, with wanting something real instead of meaningless hookups."
Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "You're just saying that because you're my friend."
Friend. The word feels wrong, inadequate, especially now knowing she's never been touched, never been properly loved. The primal part of me wants to take her away from here, show her exactly how a real man treats a woman like her.
"I'm saying it because it's true. Any man worth a damn would consider himself lucky to be with you, experience or not."
She searches my face, looking for something - sincerity maybe, or deception. "Even you?"
"Especially me," I murmur before I can stop myself. The truth of it hits too close to home. "But that's not... we shouldn't..."
"Right," she says quickly, dropping her gaze. "Of course. Sorry, I didn't mean to make things awkward."
"Hey," I pull her slightly closer, needing to erase that dejected look from her face. "Nothing's awkward. I'm right where I want to be, dancing with the prettiest girl in the room."
She gives me a small smile, and I force myself to focus on the present - on being her date for tonight, on keeping her safe. But the knowledge of her innocence, combined with the way she feels in my arms... it's going to haunt my dreams for weeks to come.