No one spoke. They just froze and watched as Raven caught air and kicked back. She was flying. Her horns had to be heavy, but they didn’t seem to have any effect on her bucking. She went for fifteen seconds, easy, and when she slowed, she trotted out to the middle of the arena, doing little bunny bucks of her back end. She didn’t like the rope, and he got it. That flank rope was designed to agitate.
“We gotta get it off her boys!” Dead called.
So he and Two Shots and Quickdraw hopped into the arena with the beast.
She stood still, looking from him to the others and back to him. The tattoos showed. God, the tattoos. They were a few shades darker than her short black fur, and when she turned, sweat glistening off her hide. He could just make out the lines. They weren’t the same shape as her human form. No, in this form, they looked like black lace across her flank.
The boys worked as a team. She charged Quickdraw first because he was the closest, so Two Shots ran in front of her face while Quickdraw ran. Dead swerved in and pulled the release on the flank strap, which fell to the earth.
Raven spun and charged Dead.
There wasn’t enough time to get away. Not enough time.
Two Shots and Quickdraw were yelling something, Cheyenne too, but he couldn’t make it out through the roar in his ears. He turned to run, but he wouldn’t be fast enough.
Gasping, he turned and tensed his legs. He had no other choice but to jump over her, hoping her tossing head wouldn’t hook him with one of her horns.
“It’s okay.” He didn’t know why he told her that right now, but it felt important. This wasn’t Raven. This animal had nothing to do with the sweet girl he’d fallen for.
It’s okay. Those were the words she’d first uttered to him in the rodeo arena. The words that made him stop to think about what he was doing.
The monstrous, pitch-black animal locked her legs against her forward motion, her glossy black hooves digging into the arena dirt as she halted.
She stopped inches from his boots, her head at his chest. Three breaths was all she blew before she morphed into her human skin with a barrage of pops. A black cloud of smoke enveloped her but slowly cleared to reveal his Raven—pale-skinned, tattooed, wild-haired, round-eyed Raven, panting as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
And there was a loaded moment when no one said anything. One loaded piece of time when everyone stared at her with what-the-hell-just-happened looks on their faces.
And then Dead let off a whoop, and the others went off at the same time.
“That was awesome!” Dead told her as the others were cheering and freaking out around them. He fell to his knees in the dirt in front of her and yanked off his shirt. He pulled it down over her head and dragged her against his chest. Even Cheyenne was screaming something about “the coolest thing she’d ever seen!”
“You never have to be sorry, Raven. You shouldn’t be sorry for her.”
“For her,” she repeated shakily as she sat there, melted against Dead’s rocking body.
“Oh, yeah, your cow is totally separate from you. She’s not Raven. She’s Other.”
“Other, other,” she chanted, her body shaking with adrenaline.
Dead rubbed warmth into her arms. “What’s her name?”
Raven shrugged, her eyes round with shock. “I don’t know.”
“Her name is Lace then,” Dead murmured, still on a high from the look of her tattooed hide.
“Hagan’s Lace,” Quickdraw murmured from beside them. “I’d bet my truck you could give some of those Hagan bulls a run for their money.”
“She’s really okay?” she asked, and he could tell she still had that lingering insecurity and needed reassurance. Sweet Raven.
“She’s a badass,” Dead rumbled, squeezing her shoulders.
“Hagan’s Lace,” she repeated in a whisper. The black was fading from her eyes as she searched Dead’s face. “I like that.”
Chapter Thirteen
“What kind of grown man drinks Capri Suns?” Two Shots asked Dead.
Dead didn’t answer. He just looked Two Shots dead in the eyes as he drained the package of sugary beverage.
He sighed loudly and pointed to Raven sitting on the fence next to him. “You can’t question my manhood, Moo Shots. I got a Hagan riding shotgun.” He grinned. “Shotgun is what I named my dick.”
“Dude!” Two Shots groused as Raven and Cheyenne cackled.
Even Quickdraw pursed his lips against a smile, and that one never smiled.
Raven was settling into man-banter better. She had Dead to thank for that. He was the king of the one-liners. She appreciated his talent in verbal sparring. Like right now? She was barely even blushing.
Cheyenne was standing below them, typing away on her phone. “What are you up to, boss lady?” Dead asked. “You been ignoring all this intelligent conversation to stare at your phone. You know, cell phones can become an addiction. Do we need to have an intervention?”
Cheyenne didn’t even look up from it as she muttered, “Your conversations are never intelligent, and I can multitask. I’ve heard every dumb thing you boys have said. I’m editing pictures and talking to Tommy.”
“Tommy who?” Two Shots asked. “We know, like, eight Tommys.”
“Tommy Hane. You know, I’m just texting with the organizer of the whole Pro Bull Shifter Riding Circuit. No big deal.”
“My baby’s a businesswoman,” Two Shot’s said proudly from where he was leaning on the fence next to his mate.
Cheyenne snickered. “All three of y’all are about to be real happy I’m working right now.”
“Oh, yeah?”
