Ride Hard (Raven Riders #1)(5)

Eyes on the photographs, she hugged herself. “I . . . I do.” Something about the way she said the words made Dare think she didn’t often put herself out there by contradicting people, which made him even more curious about why she was doing it now. “Kindness isn’t common, in my experience. Which means it’s something to acknowledge.” She brought her gaze back to his.

What the hell had happened to her to lead her to that conclusion? Not that he disagreed. Her words resonated inside Dare for a reason. He’d seen so damn much ugliness in his life. But why had she? And who the hell did he have to beat the shit out of for teaching her that particular lesson? “Well, you’re welcome,” he managed, and then he heaved a breath. “Listen, we can be a rowdy bunch, especially when we’re blowing off steam like tonight. And we aren’t angels by any stretch of the imagination. But there isn’t a single man here who wouldn’t help you. So if you need something, all you have to do is ask.”

“ASK,” HAVEN REPEATED. “Right.” Only, while her ears heard the words, the racing of her heart and the prickling on her scalp told her she wouldn’t be putting that advice into action any time soon. Assuming she even believed it.

She peered up at Dare. The man was intimidation personified. Tall. Shoulder-length dark brown hair. Muscular, but lean, like a back-alley brawler. Piercing eyes so dark they were almost black, so penetrating she felt like he could look inside her and read all her deepest fears. A scar cut a wide swath through his left eyebrow, and the crookedness of his nose said it had been broken at least once. There was a ruggedness about his face that bordered on harsh and an arrogance to the way his body moved that said he feared absolutely no one. Unlike her. Tattoos on his arms and peeking out of the neck of his black T-shirt added to the roughness of his appearance, as did the well-worn denim cutoff jacket he wore that was all decked out in black leather patches, symbols, and words.

Haven had grown up with men who looked every bit as intimidating, harsh, and rough as Dare. Men who got off on asserting their power, on toying with people’s fears, on exploiting people’s weaknesses.

Except . . .

Except Dare’s words belied the image. Didn’t they?

A lifetime of living around men, not all of whom had good intentions, had honed Haven’s instincts. Being shy meant she was an observer, and that had helped her learn to read which men she had to be vigilant around and which she could trust not to jump her when they thought her father wasn’t looking. It was in their eyes. In the way they treated those less powerful than them. In how they acted when her father wasn’t in the room.

Still, Haven was just starting to get a read on Dare. The fact that he’d backed off from touching her before was a good sign, but only time would tell for sure. Butterflies whipped through her belly at the thought of believing him, trusting him, actually putting herself out there enough to put his words to the test. Oh, God, why had she come downstairs? Why had she thought she could actually handle a party full of strangers? Even standing on the outside looking in to the room where most of the people were hanging out had had her feeling like all the oxygen had suddenly disappeared, until she’d been gasping, suffocating, panicking.

“Haven?”

Dare’s deep voice snapped her from her thoughts. “I’m sorry,” she rushed out, sure she’d missed something important. Muscle memory had her bracing for a blow—verbal or physical. She had experience with both.

His face was suddenly in her line of vision, revealing that he’d leaned down to make her look at him. Tension roared through her, as did the desire to put more space between them. But she forced her feet to remain planted. Showing fear in the face of aggression usually just encouraged even more of it. Back in Georgia, she’d learned never to give her father or his men the satisfaction of her fear when they got in her face about something. Pretending to be unaffected usually made her less interesting to harass.

“You don’t owe me that, either,” he said, a gruffness to his tone she didn’t know how to read.

“Sorry,” she repeated, wincing when she realized she’d done again what he told her not to do. She shook her head at herself, frustration rolling through her. Pull it together, Haven.

Dare winked. “Old habits die hard, huh?”

She met his gaze as surprise flowed through her. Surprise that he’d responded with a wry humor instead of irritation. Or worse. “Uh, yeah. Guess so.”

He just nodded as his eyes searched hers. She could barely breathe with him so close, so observant, so . . . overwhelming. Finally, he relented, straightening to his full height and putting space between them again. “That’s okay. But I need to ask something of you, Haven.”

Her stomach dropped to the floor. Here it came. She knew there’d be a catch. “What?” she said, her tone breathy with rising dread. Her brain screamed at her to get the heck out of there. But how could she? She literally lived under Dare’s roof right now and had not a cent to her name. Not to mention that she wouldn’t begin to know where to go or who to trust with her father hunting her.

“I need you to try to judge me on my actions and my words, not on the actions and words of the people who came before me in your life.”

The words were so different from what she’d expected that at first they wouldn’t sink in.

“Think you can try to do that for me?” His dark eyes blazed down at her with an emotion she couldn’t name or begin to understand.