She didn’t belong here.
An hour and a half in, and Cheyenne told them it was time for Dead to do his interviews.
“But we still have a line,” Raven murmured, gesturing to the fifteen or so fans still waiting to talk to Dead.
“Yeah, I don’t give a shit about the interviews. These ladies have been waiting a while,” Dead rumbled between jokes with a blond-haired beauty with a megawatt smile.
Cheyenne’s dark eyebrows drew down. “Buuuut, you always tell me to let you know when you can stop signing. You hate doing this stuff.”
“Well, tonight I want to get through the line,” he said with a shrug.
Cheyenne’s frown morphed into a grin. Pointing at Raven, she said, “You did this.”
“What? What did I do?”
“You’re doing magic. Dead is always a shit about the work after an event. Good job, gold star,” she said as she walked away. “A plus! I’ll push Dead’s interviews back to last.”
The line went fast, and Raven started organizing the small amount of remaining swag into one box as Dead went to talk to Quickdraw, who was also getting ready to leave. Her ears picked up just about anything so she could hear their conversation just fine.
Dead asked, “Did you see him?”
“God, you’re like a mother hen,” Quickdraw muttered. “He’ll be fine. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, I accidentally tried to kill a rider and hurt Two instead.”
“Who’s the girl?” Quickdraw asked low.
“Met her tonight. Name’s Raven.”
“Shifter?” Quickdraw was looking mighty busy stacking his leftover magnets just so.
“What’s it to you?” Dead asked, his voice darkening.
Quickdraw straightened up and looked down his nose at Dead. Then he looked at Raven. Then back at Dead. “A human won’t survive you, asshole. My concern is for her. Not you.”
“Cow shifter,” Raven said, and damn her voice for shaking. “Purebred longhorn.”
“The fuck?” Dead asked, twisting toward her in a blur. He and Quickdraw wore matching shocked expressions. It would’ve been funny if it really really wasn’t funny.
Every shifter reacted the same way when they found out what she was. She didn’t make any sense.
“Well, hell then,” Quickdraw muttered, clapping Dead on the back. “I’m not worried about her anymore. I’m worried about you.”
Time for a subject change. “That was interesting,” she told him.
Dead blinked hard and closed the space between them. “You mispronounced ‘fun.’” He took the box from her hands. “A longhorn? For real?”
She snorted and nodded her head, looked at the ground so he wouldn’t see the heat in her cheeks. The last thing on earth she liked talking about was her inner animal. “It was really nice to meet you.”
“You, too. But if you’re saying your goodbyes, it ain’t time for that yet. We still have interviews.”
“In front of cameras? No.”
He hooked his hands on his hips and searched her eyes. As much as she wished she wasn’t so affected by the bright green in his eyes, the perfect shade of brown of his hair, his tan skin, or muscles curving against his T-shirt… As much as she wished she wasn’t awed by the curve of his smile, the white of his teeth, or the thickness of his manly beard… As much as she wished she wasn’t struck by his powerful stance or his ability to look her right in the eye and hold her gaze…she absolutely was. “Please don’t ask me to do the interviews.”
“I won’t make you do the cameras. I think you don’t like that attention.”
“Nope. Not at all. Not even one percent.”
He dropped his gaze to her arm. “But you tattooed your skin. If you don’t want people looking at you, why did you decorate yourself like this?”
“I did that for me. I wanted to like what I saw when I looked in the mirror, and I think tattoos are beautiful.”
“Hmm,” he said softly with a nod of his head. “Well, I think they’re beautiful now, too. Maybe someday you can tell me what they all mean.”
She didn’t know why that made her sad. Perhaps it was the realization that tonight would end soon. “Yeah. Maybe someday. Hey, Dead?” she asked as he turned to walk away.
“Yeah?”
She bit her lip and looked at where the line of fans had been. “I was supposed to be one of those girls tonight.”
He shook his head. “What girls?”
“The ones standing in line to spend a couple minutes with you. Maybe get something signed, but really I just wanted to ask you a question.”
The toe of his boot hit a clump of dirt as he adjusted his weight and settled the box under one arm. “What question did you want to ask?”
Be brave. “Your mom is human.”
She could hear him swallow hard, and his voice lost some of its luster. “Yeah.”
Be brave, be brave, be brave. She forced her gaze from his boots to look him in the eyes when she asked, “So how did you learn how to be a bull?”
The muscles in his face relaxed, and he just stared at her like he was looking right into her soul. “Who’re your parents, Raven?”
“That’s not why I came he—”
“Who?” he asked again.
Raven shrugged. “I’m adopted.”
“By humans?”
She nodded.
“Shit, girl.” He scratched the corner of his lip and got a faraway look before he repeated that softer. “Shit, girl.”
“I’m just… I guess I’m just…”
“Trying to learn.”
“Y-yes. Trying to learn.”
“How to be goddamn longhorn.”
“You ever feel stuck between two worlds?” she asked on a breath.
He dragged those darkening eyes down her throat to her chest, then to her arms, stomach, legs…motorcycle boots. “Sometimes. Most the time, no. I picked. I chose the bull when I was twelve. I don’t call myself half-human. I’m shifter, that’s it.” He jerked his chin up toward the rodeo arena
