In the first show of emotion from him this entire conversation, Azrael twists his mouth into a sneer, and henarrows his gaze on me. “So you’re just giving up without a fight?”
“I never said that. I just said I wasn’t running.” The power that lives behind my breastbone tries to creep up and turn my eyes the eerie neon-green of my shifter side. I manage to squash it down because I don’t need to clue them in on how weird I am.
A normal shifter’s eyes turn an amber color when they shift or have strong emotions that awaken their primal side. Unlike everyone else, my eyes flare a neon green, which gave the kids I grew up with even more ammunition to make my life hell.
All shifters get their animals at eighteen, but different types of shifters have different rituals to bring the animals forth. Wolves use a wolfsbane potion, bears use an oleander brew, and white tigers, like my old streak, rely on magic-infused tiger lilies to unlock shifting.
Even if I wanted to just roll over and die without a fight, my innate magic wouldn’t let me.
I know I’m more powerful than the average shifter, but I have no idea what these guys are or how I’d stack up in a fight. I guess I’m about to find out.
Hal grins at my words, Rook raises a blond brow, and Azrael continues to stare me down with his liquid gold gaze.
Azrael seems to come to some decision as he locks eyes with me. “No, we won’t be killing you tonight, little bird.”
I’m not sure if he meant that to be reassuring, but the “tonight” part doesn’t really fill me with confidence.
Well, if they want to try to kill me, then they will. There’s not a whole lot I can do about it. I might as well continue bike shopping while I’m here.
“If killing me isn’t on tonight’s bingo card, is it cool if I keep shopping for my first bike? I’d like to find one before they close.”
I internally cringe at asking for permission. I’m a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need permission for anything.But I’m also a pathological people pleaser, which always seems to win out.
After Azrael dips his chin in acknowledgement, I very ungracefully get off the bike I’ve been straddling this whole time. Making my way over to a black bike with green stripes, I inspect it for a moment as I hear three sets of footsteps go out the back of the dealership.
Another set of footsteps sound behind me.
I side-eye Hal as he comes up beside me. “You gonna try to tell me I should just be a passenger or ride a bicycle instead? Because, if so, save it.”
I’m at my limit of guys telling me what a woman can and can’t do today. And every day, honestly.
Hal’s eyebrows jump up in surprise. “No, I wasn’t gonna tell you that. Who the fuck said that to you? Because that’s bullshit.”
A small smile tips the corners of my mouth at how offended he is. “Dave did. Along with insinuating I would need a man to pay for my bike for me.”
I know the salesman doesn’t know how hard I’ve worked these past six months to be entirely self-sufficient. But his jab that I need someone else to provide for me hit a particularly sore spot.
“What the fuck? That’s not even remotely okay. Even if we didn’t have an existing problem with the management of this dealership, we sure as hell would now.” Hal rakes a hand through his hair agitatedly.
“Oh. What were you coming over to say, then?”
“The CBR300R’s thumper engine, while charming as hell, is kinda underpowered for its class.” Hal turns to face me and gives me a small but genuine smile. “You could do better for a first bike.”
I pivot to face him and have to crane my neck back to make eye contact with him this close. He has to be at least six-foot-four. His perfectly fitted suit does little to disguise his broad shoulders, trim waist, and muscular chest.
Realizing I’ve been staring at his built frame for way too long, I guiltily meet his amused gaze. Flustered, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”
I wince, knowing better than to blurt things without thinking it through.
Hal doesn’t rage or yell like I’m used to. Instead, he snorts. “You didn’t, but I’m generous like that, wild girl.”
A startled laugh makes its way out of my mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever been described as wild in my entire life.” Goody Two-shoes, try-hard, and teacher’s pet are more like it. Wild, not so much.
Wren was always the wild one. She never gave a fuck what anyone thought about her choices, at least not before she married.
At thoughts of Wren’s husband, a familiar anger courses through me, along with a grief so deep I feel like I’m drowning in it most days.
But I can’t drown in it. I owe it to Wren to figure out some way to live the life she always wanted for me.
