Raven

Chapter 6

I’m ripped out of my daze when Reid clears his throat to my side. I turn my head to the left and he has this smug, amused look. I stare him down with confusion, trying to determine how I should respond to the fact that he murdered somebody right in front of me. Granted, John was probably going to kill me and if I had to choose between him or me, I'd obviously pick me. But regardless, it’s broad daylight and we are standing in sketchy alleyway with a corpse lying not even 20 feet away from us. Yet here he is, looking like this is no big deal. He's obviously some sort of insane psychopathic person who enjoys killing other people.

"You just killed that guy on a public road in broad daylight…are you insane?" I manage to ask, shaking my head in disbelief. Reid raises an eyebrow at me and walks outside of the alleyway, looking left, right, behind him, and then to the left again before turning back around.

"Do you see or hear anyone else around us? Because I don't," he shrugs before pivoting back to John’s body and approaching it.

"Maybe not presently, but they could show up at any second," I demand while cautiously walking up behind him. Reid kneels down next to the body and removes the knife from John’s neck. He wipes the blood off on the dark denim of his jeans, sharply exhaling.

"I really don't care,” he answers. “Everyone in this entire city; be it cops, judges, even the people who pick up my garbage and unclog my toilets, essentially work for me in one way or another.” I’m taken aback by this for a moment, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Who exactly are you?" I probe. He laughs before standing up and placing the captivating knife back into his right pocket. He then reaches his hand into his left pocket and pulls out his cell phone.

"You are on a need to know basis, dolcezza. Right now you aren't in the know," he mutters while texting away.

"I know your name is Reid." I smirk at him. He looks up from his cell phone and locks eyes with me, that same look of amusement emanating from his dark irises.

"Yeah, my name is Reid. That doesn’t say much since I go hand in hand with a decent chunk of the North American population. You'll have to do better than that, amore," he grins. I nervously glance from his face and to the surrounding brick alleyway, realizing that he is absolutely right. Reid isn't a terribly uncommon name, and the only other information I have is that he’s affiliated with some organization called Luna Rossa. Unfortunately, I have no idea who the hell Luna Rossa is, so that information leaves me nowhere with any value. I guess it’s time to change the subject.

"Well…since I am an uninvited guest in your territory, why aren't you going to kill me?" I question.

"Should I kill you?" he asks with a flirty smile. I roll my eyes and grit my teeth in response, wondering if he is seriously asking me to vote on my own death sentence. I notice his gaze flicker up and down my body yet again and my fear morphs into irritation.

What is with this guy and constantly checking me out? First in the bathroom, and now here.

"Just so you’re aware, it’s extremely hard to think about anything important with you standing here in your bra," he offers. My eyes shoot wide open and I look down my body, realizing that I'm standing here barefoot in nothing but my bra and a tight skirt. I completely forgot that I took my shirt off when I thought I would have to quickly shift, so Reid just got a free peep show at some of the goodies. My face flushes red and I start nervously glancing around on the ground to find something to cover myself up with.

"Can you please find some chivalry within that one-tracked brain of yours and stop staring?” I bitterly point out. “Also, didn't you just say a few days ago that I’m not your type, mutt?" I scramble around in the squalor of the alleyway, trying to locate a random article of clothing that most likely belonged to a hobo.

"Well, I’m a straight guy. Seeing any type of female appendages will naturally make my mind wander, whether you are my type or not," he huffs to himself, clearly entertained at the sight of me flustered and irritated. I shoot daggers at him with my eyes. Reid grins, reaching his hands down to the bottom of his shirt and lifting it over his head. He takes it in his palm and extends it outward to me. My eyes widen even more as I attempt to rip them away from his perfectly sculpted body that is sporadically covered with more tattoos.

I want to look away so badly, but I can't.

He's got a variety of designs and Italian words scattered across his chest, stomach, and sides in addition to all the other ones he's got on his arms. I really don't know what it is about tattoos in general, but I find them to be extremely attractive. Maybe it’s because they symbolize a certain level of commitment; that the person who gets them can make a choice and stick to it. I admire that quality of dedication because it’s something I can never bring myself to do. I can’t even fully devote myself to my own cluster, let alone a permanent mark on my skin. Regardless, he is hands down the most attractive man I’ve ever seen or met. Reid is probably the first guy that I have genuinely wanted to reach out and touch without feeling like I am on the brink of having an anxiety attack by the simple thought of it. I can feel his muscles rippling underneath my fingertips and I’m not even touching him. He clearly notices me checking him out and simply stares at me with a sultry, cocky grin. Once I’m able to avert my eyes, I clear my throat and shake my head at him.

"I’m not going to take that shirt from you,” I backtrack, trying to cover my ass from my little staring session. “I can't go back home smelling like a wolf and your clothes reek of dog.” Reid rolls his eyes and offers me his shirt again.

"For f***s sake, don’t be stubborn. You’re going to attract far more attention to yourself if you try to walk home topless, so just take the damn shirt." I deliberate my options for a moment, knowing that I don’t have very many of them. I can either scrounge around the filth for something to wear, walk around shirtless even longer as I try to locate my original shirt, or I can just bite the bullet and take his. I finally concede to his offer and apprehensively reach my hand out to grab the clothing from him.

"Fine, I’ll take the shirt,” I snap. “But can you at least tell me what in the hell dolcezza means since you keep calling me that?" My fingertips accidentally brush against his palm and I rip the shirt away from him. The sheer sensation of another human’s skin on mine makes my nerves crawl and shudder.

"Dolcezza means sweetheart in Italian." He narrows his eyes at me, silently trying to probe my thoughts with his captivating stare. He is undoubtedly trying to figure out why I’ve reacted so strangely to physical contact for the second time today. I look away and down at the ground because I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of trying to figure out something that even I don't have the answer to. Time to redirect.

"Sweetheart? Okay, first of all, you don't even know me so you don't get to call me sweetheart. Second of all...really? Sweetheart is probably one of the worst nicknames ever invented. For some reason, it makes me think of Runts candy, and I hate Runts candy. Especially those gross little bananas. I mean does anyone even enjoy those? Who woke up one day and thought; Hey, you know what everyone would love? Artificially flavored banana candy. I'll tell you who did that, the moron who invented Runts, that's who," I ramble as I slide his shirt on over the top of my body. My head pops through the hole in the top and I straighten it out, sighing before I gaze back up at him once more. He's got this highly comical face and he is biting his bottom lip, clearly trying to stifle his laugh. His dark eyes look soft right now, almost playful. My face begins to burn from the rush of embarrassment and I bite my tongue in an attempt not to smile at him, but it doesn't work. I shake my head and glance all around us to avoid making eye contact.

"Sorry about that…I tend to go off on random tangents about things that don't matter when I’m nervous. Case and point, Runts candy." I awkwardly smile, tugging on the bottom of his shirt as I’m enveloped by his scent. I really wish I didn’t enjoy his smell as much as I do.

"Well, if I'm being completely honest I have to agree with you. Banana Runts are the worst candy ever invented. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten one and enjoyed it," he jokes, grinning from ear to ear. I look up at him again, the dimples on my cheeks painfully prominent right now since I can't stop smiling.

What the f**k.

Why does he have this effect on me? I am fully aware of what he is and the nature of our relationship as shapeshifters and werewolves, but his personality doesn't seem to follow suit with how werewolves should be. Yes, he did just kill a guy, but it was justified and he probably saved my life. I also punched him in the face and he didn't shift, he didn't snap or act like he was going to hit me, he didn't do anything. It didn’t even bother him in the slightest. This man is an irregularity in an already irregular situation.

"Alright, I have to ask…” Reid changes the subject. “Why is it that I don't even know your name, but in the two brief interactions we've had, I've been required to save your ass twice? I keep finding you in the worst possible situations." I’ve obviously got no logical explanation to give him.

"Do you honestly think I've wanted any of this?” I answer. “I don't even know who these people are. I've never been stalked, hunted or obsessively followed as far as I can remember, and I would love nothing more than to blend in with everyone else and live my life in peace. But, for some reason unbeknownst to me, some of your kind seem to have a vendetta against me." I carefully select my response in an effort to avoid revealing too much information about myself to this complete stranger. He still doesn't know my name, and I intend to keep it that way. I yank the elastic band out of my hair before combing my fingers through it as I look up at the sky. "You know what, I honestly don't even know why I'm talking to you right now. You are a wolf. I don't and shouldn't trust you."

"You're not exactly a walk in the park in my eyes either, dolcezza," he huffs and I roll my eyes.

"Look, I don't have time for this. The guy you just killed was only one of the two wolves who came looking for me and I need to figure out how to handle the second one." And that is the honest to God truth. I seriously have way more pressing matters than sitting here engaging in a pissing match with Reid. Some pack somewhere wants me either dead or captured and I have no idea why. The only thing I can think of is that they have intel about me obtaining Alpha status and that they want to eliminate me before I take over Noctis. Even at that rate, why? It's not like Noctis is a particularly strong cluster at the moment, and we don't pose much of a threat to anyone. Especially not the way that Zander has been running things with intentionally making us all non-combative and weak. It’s clear that I need more information, and Zander is one of the only people who can give it to me. I haven't mentioned running into werewolves at Dixons to him because I figured it was purely coincidental and that it didn't matter. But, with the way everything has been unfolding lately, I'm inclined to say that none of this is coincidence and I can't rule anything out. It honestly doesn't seem like Reid is involved with this most recent attack, though. He just killed John with no hesitation and he clearly didn't recognize him, but why does Matteo know me? Is he involved somehow, or is this all part of some larger plot that’s far more complex and intricate than I am aware of?

"So, where is the other one?" Reid perks up a tad bit when I mention that there is a second wolf. I glance down at his fingertips as they lightly drum against his thigh.

"I knocked him out in the kitchen at my office before I took off running from this guy,” I respond. “I obviously don't know if he is still there or not.”

"Show me where he was," Reid replies in a cold tone. I can detect a hint of anger and determination in his eyes, but I can't take him to my office. There's no way I'll ever be forgiven if I willingly bring a werewolf into our zone.

"No, I’m not letting you just waltz into my territory. I know nothing about you," I counter.

"Stai davvero mettendo alla prova la mia pazienza ora, amore," he grumbles under his breath. He combs his fingers through his short black hair as we hover around the alleyway in a standoff with one another; him waiting for me to cave into his demand, and me unwilling to bend the rules. After a few moments, he takes a deep breath and shrugs.

"Fine, have it your way." He turns to the right and approaches the body of John which is still laying in the middle of the street. He slowly bends down and sniffs the freshly deceased corpse, drawing in deep breaths through his nose and out his mouth. He quickly stands back up and stretches out with his arms overhead, walking away in the direction I initially came from.

"What do you think you're doing?" I question as I briskly jog up behind him. He glances back over his shoulder at me while smirking, still trotting away without saying a word. I groan with indignation at his lack of a response, detesting the fact that I am chasing after him right now. "Are you serious? You can't just leave a body out here in the open," I exclaim while lengthening my stride to keep up with him.

"If you won't tell me where he was, I guess I'll just have to track him myself," he grins.