these guys are bullies … Honestly, I'm still somewhat confused about what they are and what they want from me.
Maybe I need a timeout.
“I’m going to go get dressed.” I back away from Hunter and Zay and pick up my clothes from off the pool table. “Where can I do that?” I don’t direct the question to any of them in particular since I'm still not sure whose house I'm in.
Silence stretches for a moment, then Jax motions for me to follow him. “Come on; I’ll find a room for you.” He starts down the hallway.
I hurry after him, squeezing between Zay and Hunter on my way.
“You sure you’re okay, little raven?” Hunter calls out after me with a hint of worry lacing his tone.
“Yep,” I assure him without a glance back. Then I rush down the hallway, telling myself that I am okay.
That I always am.
But what happened today on the bridge proves that, deep down, I’m really not.
Eleven
Raven
Jax makes no effort to speak to me, and I let the silence be, not really in the mood to talk anyway. The memory of being locked in that closet was a total buzzkill, a reminder of how ugly my life is and how ugly it will always be.
And I deserve ugly for what I did to them.
“You’re being quiet,” Jax remarks, finally breaking the silence as he leads me down yet another wide hallway lined with doors and paintings.
“I normally am. Today was just a weird day.” I eye the paintings on the wall. “Did Hunter paint all of these?”
Jax glances at me warily. “He told you he paints?”
I nod in confusion. “Was he lying?”
He shakes his head, his intense gaze fixed on me. “No. He just normally doesn’t tell total strangers he does.”
“Really? Because, to me, he seems like the kind of guy who tells everyone everything.”
The corners of Jax’s lips tip into a shadow of a smile. “Sometimes he does have a big mouth, but he never talks about personal stuff, whether it’s his or mine or Zay’s.”
Hmm… I wonder if he’d still be saying that if he knew what Hunter told me about Zay and the raven.
He comes to a stop in front of a closed door and adds, “Something you should take note of.”
“I’m not a gossiper.” I stop beside him, holding my clothes against my chest. “In fact, I’m a great secret keeper. Not that it matters since I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be in your group.”
He doesn’t react at all, simply staring at me. Either he’s the most unemotional person ever or he’s very … controlled I guess is the right word.
“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” he finally says as he extends his hand toward the doorknob. “But you might want to hear what we have to say before you make this decision, because Honeyton isn’t just some small town. It has a darker, dangerous side to it.”
“Yeah, but I’m not part of that darker side.”
“But your uncle’s the sheriff.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Because his job is to keep an eye on that darker, dangerous side of town. Unless he lets it buy him off. But that still comes with risks.” He pushes open the door as my lips part with a ton of questions. “That’s all I’m going to say for now. I’ll explain more after you get dressed.” He backs away from me. “When you’re done, head in here.” He stops in front of a door three doors down, pushes it open, and then walks inside without saying anything else.
His ability to dismiss things is impressive. I almost envy him because of it. But I also don’t know much about him either. Maybe there’s a deeper reason for why he hardly reacts to anything.
Frowning, I turn back to the open door and tentatively step inside, a bit apprehensive about entering an unknown room. But relief instantly trickles through me.
It's just a bedroom. A stunning bedroom with deep violet walls, a black ceiling, and antique light fixtures. A fireplace is on the far back wall, along with a curtain covered window, and in the center of it all is a massive four-poster bed covered with a purple velvet blanket.
Shutting the door, I cross the room, set my clothes down on the bed, and then head over to the window to peer outside so I can try to figure out where the hell I am. As soon as I draw the curtain back, my jaw nearly smacks