Free Watcher: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 1) by Steffanie Holmes

looked at me – the kind of guy her mother warned her about, the kind that racked up criminal misdemeanours the way other men collected hedge funds. The bad boy who would rock her world and leave her heartbroken.
    She probably wasn’t wrong.
    As much as I wanted to throw her up against the wall and fuck her brains out, that wasn’t what she needed. Whatever had happened to her, one thing was clear: she’d been hurt real bad, and she was still recovering. She didn’t need me making things worse for her just because I found her so fucking adorable.
    I needed to exercise some self-control. I’d already broken my number-one rule with her – don’t get attached. You can’t fall in love until you are free – and I hadn’t even fucked her yet.
    And you won’t. I scolded myself before I could put that delectable thought into action. I was currently running for my life, I couldn’t afford to get distracted. And from the looks of her empty flat, she really couldn’t afford to have me distract her. For once, I needed to stop thinking with my cock and think with my head.
    But she was so damn cute. If I could manage to get through a day without pouncing on her, it would be a miracle in the order of the loaves and fishes.
    I lifted my armpits and sniffed. Yuck. I smelled like blood and sweat and wet grass and peanut butter. I walked into the small bathroom and turned the shower on, fiddling with the temperamental taps until I got a good, hot blast. I stood under the water and let the hot stream pummel my skin, and I tried desperately hard to ignore my cock, which had stiffened at the memory of Belinda’s reddening face and cute arse sliding around in those shorts.
    This is going to be an interesting couple of days.
    The ring on my finger tightened, sending a sharp stab of pain down my side, instantly obliterating any amorous thoughts. The pain was getting worse the longer I stayed away. In a couple of days it would be unbearable, which might not matter, because on Sunday, the bond between myself and Morchard would be severed, and a new bond would form with Sir Thomas Gillespie. I would be bound to my father’s murderer, unless I could find a way to rid myself of the curse.
    I have to talk to Mikael.
    One thing was working in my favour. I was now hiding out only a few doors down from the pub where he worked, and although Victor probably knew I was alive (for he’d still be picking up the signature of my ring), he would assume I was far away by now. They were probably looking for me in Yorkshire by now.
    I hoped like hell that news of my death had reached Thomas Gillespie. Then at least Victor would have more problems to deal with than a Bran that ran away. Gillespie wouldn’t take kindly to being informed he had purchased a Bran that had gone AWOL, especially as Victor had probably spent all his money by now. I would have to get Mikael to make inquiries for me, but either way, I would probably be fine here in Crookshollow for a few days, until I could figure out my next move.
    Besides, I told myself as I rinsed off. I need to stay here to protect Belinda. I couldn’t just leave her on her own before I made sure Pax and Poe wouldn’t come after her for any reason.
    She asked me to stay. She needed me. She said so. I was doing a good thing by being here.
    Wasn’t I?

7
    Belinda
    J ust around the corner from Bewitching Bites was a charity shop. Outside was a bin where you could toss old clothes you didn’t want any more, which they either tried to sell or took along to a homeless shelter. I’d never really owned many clothes anyway, and Ethan had taken most of my nice items. (Why? I don’t know. Maybe he thought he could sell them. Maybe he was fuelling his secret cross-dressing fetish. Maybe he just wanted to completely screw me over.) So for the last few months I’d been raiding this particular bin every time I needed something new. I’d even nicked off with some dish towels and a tablecloth. I felt pretty awful