Page 17 of Crow Me A River

Her voice was beautiful. Not just carry a tune or sound decent enough after a few drinks beautiful. She had the kind of voice that made you stop whatever the hell you were doing and listen. There was something raw about it that matched the guitar perfectly, and Vin couldn't help wondering how someone who could sound like that had ended up hidden away in a shack in the middle of nowhere.

Bruce started to say something, but Vin shot him a look.

“Don’t.”

Bruce’s mouth snapped shut.

Vin turned his attention back to the shack, surprised when the music suddenly changed. The slower sound disappeared as Misty picked up the tempo, adding more attitude to the guitar. Her voice changed right along with it, becoming stronger and a little rougher around the edges.

A grin slowly spread across his face. Yeah, he liked this one too.

Bruce’s tail began moving to the beat before the rest of him joined in, his head bobbing as he listened.

Vin glanced down at him. “Are you dancing?”

“No.” Bruce continued bobbing his head. “I’m appreciating the fucking arts.”

Vin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the grin that tipped his lips. Fucking cat.

They continued to listen until the song came to an end, but before Vin could decide whether he should finally get his ass up and leave, Misty started playing another one.

Bruce glanced up at him. “You know, if you’re interested, you might want to stake your claim before one of those feathered fuckers does.”

Vin’s grin disappeared. “I’m not staking a claim on anyone.” He replied quickly, a little too quickly.

“Uh-huh.” Bruce said, then added a snort.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Vin glared at him liking this damn cat less and less.

“Nothing.” Bruce looked toward the shack again. “Just seems like an awful lot of sitting in the woods in the middle of the night for a woman you barely know.”

“I’m making sure she’s safe.”

“Of course you are.”

Vin glared at him, but Bruce was already back to appreciating the fucking arts.

Shaking his head, Vin turned his attention back toward the shack, but Bruce’s words stuck with him. His gaze slowly moved to the porch and the pile of shit scattered across it. He hadn’t known what any of it was when he first saw it, but after Bruce’s drunken explanation at the bar, he'd figured it out pretty damn quick.

Courting gifts.

Judging by the amount of shiny shit covering Misty’s porch, she had plenty of male Crows interested in her.

Vin stared at it longer than he should have, his jaw tightening as his Jaguar began pacing restlessly inside him.

He wasn’t staking a claim on anyone, dammit.

Yeah, try telling that to your fucking Jaguar, a voice in the back of his head whispered.

CHAPTER 8

Misty stood staring at Vin and Bruce sleeping beneath a tree not far from her shack. She’d gotten maybe an hour of sleep before her bladder forced her up. After taking care of business, she’d been heading back inside when the sound of snoring stopped her. Curious, she followed the noise and found the two of them camped out beneath the tree.

Bruce was sprawled on his back with all four paws sticking straight up in the air, snoring loud enough to scare anything with decent hearing out of the woods. How in the hell that much noise came out of one cat was beyond her.

Rolling her eyes at Bruce, Misty couldn’t help but grin. Her gaze moved to Vin, and the grin slowly faded.

Why was he still here?