“No,” he said in that deep, rich voice of his. “I changed my mind about you.” He cast her a quick glance and smiled sadly. “I think we both got played. I think we both got hurt, and that shit ends now. Fuck the council, fuck the ravens, and fuck your parents. You’ll show them.”
Weston gunned it onto the asphalt, one hand draped easily over the steering wheel, one elbow resting on the console, the epitome of relaxed and confident male. Weston knew his place in this world. He was a raven shifter who had somehow clawed his way to the top of the food chain.
The last thing he said bothered her, though. You’ll show them. She was a fraud. “Do you know about the woman’s role in raven culture? Did your mother explain?”
Weston’s lips pursed into a thin line. “She told me a little.”
“Females aren’t allowed to have jobs. Not after your mom left. They didn’t want the flock scattering into the wind, so the rules changed. The goal is to keep females completely financially dependent on the males. They keep us so desperate for the things we need to survive that we’ll stay submissive and agree to marriage contracts.”
“Out of desperation.” Weston’s words were tainted with the hard edge of disgust.
“Out of desperation,” she agreed. “It’s hard to leave because we’re taught we can’t make it out in the real world without our mighty men to provide for us. We’re taught that our one duty, our one reason for existence, is to provide heirs and secure our place and rank in the community.” Ashamed, she lowered her voice. “So you see, I didn’t show them anything. I failed. I couldn’t provide for myself, and now you are coming to my rescue, a male raven, just like they said I needed.”
“Bullshit,” he drawled. “I didn’t give you the job, Avery. You fought for it. You earned it. Hell, I didn’t even want to give it to you, and you got it by being a stubborn pain in the ass. And you’ve worked hard and caught on quickly, and in a week, you’ll have that first paycheck and be on your way. Bullshit, you aren’t showing them. I’m calling it in two months. You’ll be on your own two feet creating a life despite your fucked-up peoples’ horse-shittery.”
“Our.”
“What?”
“Our people.”
“Oooh no.” Weston shook his head hard. “Ravens aren’t my people. The Gray Backs are my people. The Bloodrunners are my people. Your animal doesn’t matter, Avery.”
“She does.”
“She doesn’t! You know that saying, blood is thicker than water? That works for some people, but you can’t choose your blood family. Some people just get dealt a shitty hand and are born into families who aren’t good people. You can make your own family, though. You can surround yourself with good people. And you will. I know you will.”
Shocked, Avery whispered, “You seem so certain. That makes one of us.”
Weston’s smile was crooked and easy when he took his eyes off the road just long enough to look at her. “You’ll be fine. You have a badass brawler raven inside of you, woman.”
Avery blinked hard in surprise. Aviana must’ve told him that little gem. “A brawler raven that never served me any good in Raven’s Hollow.”
“Screw Raven’s Hollow, Ave. Your raven will serve you well enough out here.”
The nickname made her sit straight up against the fabric seat. She’d never had a nickname before. Well, one that wasn’t a cuss word. “How do you know?”
Weston’s smile grew wicked. “Because you went to a bar tonight and held your own with dragons and grizzlies.”
Avery gulped. “Dragons plural?” she squeaked out.
Weston shot her an incredulous look. “Yeah, Harper and Kane.”
“Kane’s a dragon?” she said too loudly.
Weston chuckled. “He’s the last Blackwing Dragon. We call him Dark Kane. I shit you not, I watched that man almost kill Ryder’s asshole dad with his bare hands in front of an entire bar of people. He’s not a shifter you fuck with…” Weston’s voice darkened as he added, “But he seemed to like you just fine.”
She remembered how nervous Kane had seemed outside of the bar and how he’d told her he liked to hide, too. So even big, lethal, terrifying shifters had insecurities. The last Blackwing Dragon had bought her drinks and been nice to her. Come to think of it, the Bloodrunners had all been nice to her. Sure, they could rip her from limb to limb with zero effort, but not once had they given into the urge to put a smaller shifter in its place. Not once had they treated her like she was less-than. The more time she spent with shifters outside of Raven’s Hollow, the more she thought the council was expertly manipulating all the ravens who lived in their community just to create fear. But why? To keep the ravens in line? To keep them too scared to ask questions? To keep the females dependent?
They were wrong about so much.
Avery gave her attention to the thick greenery blurring by her window, just on the edge of the headlight illumination. “I think you were lucky to be raised in the Gray Backs.” She couldn’t even imagine Weston as one of the chauvinistic jerks in Raven’s Hollow. Instead, he’d been raised by a strong woman, while surrounded by other strong women. Hell, Weston’s alpha was a woman. Before Harper established the Bloodrunners, Avery had never met a female alpha. They existed, and she’d heard stories of them, but she’d never seen that dynamic for herself.