Ravenlight (The Ravenlight Cycles Book 1) Page 3

  She could be the one to break the curse, an inner voice murmured. I shut it away, afraid of its seduction. As much as I’d love to shed this body, I couldn’t place my hope and rescue in Sophie—it was too dangerous.

  But I can sate my curiosity when my body shifts to the man I used to be.

  Yes, I would do this. Ten years was a long time to watch someone grow into a strong person, and I yearned for her to see me as more than a bird-brained fool. I craved her touch on my human flesh and yearned for her whispers to fall against the shell of my ear.

  Quick as an arrow, I shot to her windowsill.

  She laid in bed, covers pulled to her chin, eyes fluttering. Moonbeams slanted across a bare shoulder peeking from beneath the comforter, its creamy color glowing in the soft illumination.

  Careful to keep my movements quiet, I flew the short distance inside her room and landed on the floor between the window and her bed.

  Only a few more minutes until Ravenlight, then I’ll be able to gaze upon her beauty with human eyes.

  “Revan?” Her chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm, eyes still shut. She shifted, outstretching a hand, as if reaching for me in her dreams.

  Yes, my dear Sophie. I am here for you.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sophie Brannigan

  A noise, soft and creaking, sent alarm through my veins. It’s Daddy. He’s waking from his nap. Need to hide. Shooting to a sitting position, I stared through the darkness, urging my eyes to adjust to the absence of light.

  My writing desk sat a few feet away, reminding me where I was—who I was.

  I’m not that eight-year-old starving girl any longer. I’m with Aunt Merle. Pulse slowing, I drew a deep breath.

  An unfamiliar scent tickled my nose—earthy and masculine. Unfamiliar, yet perhaps something about it tugged at my brain. That day when I fell bloomed in my mind. Why was that hateful memory still haunting me?

  I shivered, trying to expel it from my mind, but the rich smell awoke something inside my heart. I’d imagined an angel gliding under my body to break my fall. Hadn’t the same scent wafted toward me that day?

  Maybe.

  The pale-yellow curtains flapped gently with the breeze through the open window. Movement to the right jerked my attention to the corner.

  Stupid. I left the window open.

  Unseen eyes seemed to follow me.

  “Who’s there?” Squinting, I stared at the dark spot and clenched the covers like a shield. “I’m calling the police.” I tried to make my words sure and brave as my fingers inched toward the nightstand, searching for the smoothed edges of my phone.

  “Wait,” a deep voice said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  Blood whooshed in my ears, and my heart raced. It pounded so fiercely I was terrified it would explode in my ribcage.

  “Get out of here.” I firmed my tone and tensed my body. “We don’t have anything valuable.”

  The door. I mentally measured the distance between the bed and escape. Ten feet? Pretty sure I can make it before he can do anything.

  “Sophie.” He stepped out of the darkness and into the moonlight streaming through the window. “Please give me a moment to explain.”

  I inhaled, prepared to leap from the bed, but something about him held me back.

  Tall and muscled, his chest was bare and smooth, the skin dark and glowing. Around each bicep hung leather bands with dangling black feathers. Straight, long midnight hair framed his face. Where moonshine landed, deep blue highlights shone from its glossy strands.

  The saliva in my mouth dried. He was striking—not at all what I expected a burglar to look like.

  When my gaze met his, a tingle of electricity surged through my bones. Their yellow-brown color reminded me of something, yet I couldn’t place what.

  “I promise.” Small white teeth appeared in a wide smile. He raised a hand, as if in surrender. “I’m not here to harm you.”

  Stop looking at him like he’s a tasty cupcake and think, brain. Right. He was a trespassing criminal, hot or not.

  “How’d you get in here?” Hoping I could distract him with conversation, I scooted my hips closer to the edge of the bed.

  “Through the window, as usual.”

  The words stopped me cold. Usual? Had I gotten it wrong? Was he not a burglar but a creepy peeping Tom?

  And here I am, alone in my room. If he makes any sudden moves, I’m yelling at the top of my lungs.

  “Listen, bud. You can leave the same way you came, or I’m going to scream.” I eyed the smooth, brass doorknob, wondering how quickly I could cross the space and escape before he made a grab.

  “Sophie,” he whispered, his deep voice pebbling my arms with goosebumps. “You know me.”

  The air seemed too thin in the room. No matter how fast and deep I inhaled, I couldn’t draw enough breath into my lungs. I scoured his tall, dark form again, beholding simple dark pants and a broad chest.

  He tilted his head, slanting his face into the bright moon, revealing strong cheekbones and a chiseled jawline.

  Something about the way he tilted his head did seem familiar. He was young, around my age. Had I seen him at school? No, I would’ve remembered someone like him. He was handsome, yes, but that’s not what called to me. Perhaps it was the dark intensity pouring from his gaze, or the way he held his enormous, muscular body with pride and certainty, his stance sure and commanding.

  “If I know you, how come I don’t recall your name?” He was probably messing with me, hoping I’d let down my guard so he could pounce. My gaze explored his body again. Hmm, being pounced by him might not be such a bad thing, because he was certainly attractive.

  Yeah, and so was the serial killer Ted Bundy. Focus brain, focus. I lifted my gaze to his face, determined to keep my wits about me.

  “I’m Pecos Chogan, but I prefer Revan.” His eyes pierced mine, hot and serious, almost as if begging me to believe him.

  The breath whooshed from me. “What?” How could his name be the same as my bird? It couldn’t; it was too coincidental. Not only was he a peeping Tom, he was also a listening Larry. Okay, I made that up, but I couldn’t think coherently.

  Panic swelled like an erupting volcano, and I threw myself out of bed and sprinted for the door. This dude’s insane. It figures, the sexiest man I’ve ever seen would have to be a raving lunatic. I would’ve laughed if I didn’t feel like peeing my pants from fright.

  With my fingers outstretched inches from the knob, pressure settled around my waist and pulled me backward into something hard and warm. That earthy, spicy scent flooded my nose.

  I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand clamped across my lips.

  “Please.” Hot breath blew against my neck. “I’m not here to harm you. I really am Revan—your Revan.”

  Stuck in my small room with a possible lunatic, I did what any sane person would do—I sank my teeth into his fingers.

  He cursed but didn’t remove his hand. Instead, his chest shook, and laughter rumbled against my spine. “Oh, you’ve always been a warrior, even when you were little.” He shifted the arm around my stomach, as if to get a better grasp.

  I jabbed an elbow into his side, and he grunted, but his grip only tightened.

  The contact of his flesh on mine and the heat from his body radiating in waves made my insides quiver.

  “Remember in school when that girl Lauren put chewing gum in your hair? You returned the favor the next day with superglue on her chair. Later, when the bell rang and the kids poured outside, I swooped in, snatched the bow from her head and relieved myself at the same time.”

  The memory, crystal clear in my mind, froze my struggles. My bird had done those things, and I’d laughed, replaying the memory while riding the bus to Aunt Merle’s. How could this man have known what happened that day? Is it possible what he says is true? Ridiculous, yet something about him beckoned and entranced me.

  Slowly, he lowered his hand and loosened his hold around my middle.
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  “But that’s impossible,” I whispered. With a careful turn, I stared at his face, trying to hide my fear. It wasn’t just fright rooting the soles of my feet to the hardwood floor. Something in his gentle demeanor, how his fingers ghosted across my upper arms, lowered my defenses. Crazy or not, for some reason, his words have a ring of truth.

  “Is it impossible?” A slow, genuine smile lit his face and my heart stalled. “Who determines possibility? What is real, what is not? How does one make the distinction?”

  “Real things are stuff you can touch and feel.” I bit my lip, fighting against nervousness. An urge to flee rose inside, but his words piqued my curiosity. He certainly didn’t sound like a creeper.

  “So”—his uninjured fingers curled around my wrist and lifted my hand to his chest right above his heart—“you can feel this, so it’s real, yes?”

  The pulse beat fast and strong under my palm. I didn’t answer. Words locked at the back of my throat, and I was frozen with confusion. He smelled like woodsmoke, sweat, and soil—the earthy scent intoxicating and wild. Only inches from him, I noticed small blue and black beads scattered throughout his hair, clicking softly with each movement of his head.

  “When you stroked my raven form, your touch felt real to me.”

  I stiffened, reminded of his ridiculous claim of being my bird. Can’t buy into this nonsense. He’s a nutjob.

  “You’re crazy. Get out before—”

  “And”—a light-hearted chuckle fluttered near my ear—“that candy worm tasted real.”

  Shocked, I stood there under his tender touch. How could he have gotten this information? Was he telling the truth? He could’ve been watching. Yeah, but unlikely. Since I occupied the second floor of the house and fed Revan inside my room, a person couldn’t see that high unless they were on the roof, and the ledge under my window was only an inch or two wide.

  No way someone could’ve stood there.

  “I don’t understand.” Pushing against his impressive chest, I stepped backward.

  “And this.” One hand shot toward my chest, and he grabbed my necklace. “I brought this to you that day all those years ago in exchange for the cookie you’d shared.”

  “How…” My eyes drifted toward his outstretched hand. The lump of turquoise, which I’d turned into a pendant a couple years ago, was pinched between the pads of his fingers. This is impossible, yet here he stands, spilling secrets no one else knows.

  “Admittedly, it’s an unlikely tale.” He dropped his arms to the side. Twisting toward the bed, he pointed to the mattress. “May I sit? It’s been a while since I’ve stood on real legs again, and I need a few more moments to adjust.”

  Nodding, I approached the door, letting prudence keep my options open, just in case.

  Strong deft fingers massaged his other hand. A purple bruise, in the perfect oval of bite marks, ringed the fleshy meat under his thumb. Beads of blood pooled in a couple areas.

  Small spikes of guilt rose within me, like a hundred needles. He hasn’t done anything to hurt me so maybe I should hear him out. And I couldn’t deny I was intrigued.

  “Wait a second.” With a quick step, I leaned into the tiny adjoining bathroom, keeping my gaze on him, and rummaged in the medicine cabinet for the first-aid kit. “We need to clean that.” I pointed to the wound and stopped in front of him.

  With a curt nod, he proffered the hand.

  I switched on the bedside lamp. When his unblinking stare bored into mine, shyness overtook me.

  Some unknown emotion flashed in the dark depths of his pupils.

  Sweat broke out over my body. He’s gorgeous with those proud cheekbones and wide-set eyes. Intensity rolled off him in waves, and the weight of his stare was like a hand stroking my skin.

  Breaking my gaze from his, I tore open an antiseptic wipe, then rubbed the small square on the wound, keeping my wandering gaze focused on my task.

  His palm was warm, and the backs of his knuckles rough.

  An urge to slide my fingertips along his inner forearm struck me. Calm it down. Possible insane person—hello? He didn’t give that vibe, though. I tried to trust my inner instincts and concentrated on the bite, using it as a focal point for my thoughts. I knelt between his legs to get a better angle.

  “I like the way my gift rests above your heart”—his forefinger pointed to my necklace—“as if it guards you.”

  With my free hand, I caressed the pendant’s lumpy form. “I have always thought of it as an amulet of protection.”

  His stomach, firm and muscled, revealed a light trail of hair merging into a V. It disappeared into the band of his pants. He cleared his throat, causing me to jump an inch. His lips quivered, and amusement danced in his eyes.

  Fire rushed through my blood and into my cheeks. Get it together. “So…” Desperate for a distraction, besides this magnificent male straddling me between his taut thighs, I grabbed another antiseptic pad and pushed my face closer to his hand, determined to stare at the angry bruise and not his toned body. “If you’re my bird, why is this the first time you’ve ever shown yourself?”

  Only the sound of the cloth rubbing his skin and chirping crickets outside disturbed the silence.

  Pursing my lips, I gently breathed on the cleansed wound and squeezed antibiotic ointment on the area.

  “I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “Well.” A soft snort blew through my nose. “Too late.” Still, I didn’t really believe him, did I? A bird who could change into a man. It sounded foolish, yet here he sat, knowing things he shouldn’t.

  “My tribe is only allowed to shift when the moon is full. For twenty-four hours, we roam Earth in our natural forms, a reminder of lost youth—yet we’re eager to experience the comforts of human touch and its pleasures again.”

  Maybe I’m the one losing my mind, because if I believe his story…

  I wrapped a bandage around his hand and slid a finger between it and his palm, ensuring it wasn’t too tight. Satisfied, I tied off the gauze. “There are more of you out there?” My glance lingered on the window at his back. What must it be like, living life as an animal and having to watch the world pass by? It sounded heartbreaking.

  “Yes. A tribe of eight. I have two sisters and four brothers.” The yellow glow of the lamp highlighted a long braid in his hair.

  “You just said there were eight of you.” Standing, I eyed him and propped a hand on my hip. Ha. I knew it—he’s lying. Five brothers and two sisters equal seven, not eight. I’m an idiot for even considering his wild tale.

  “In the beginning, that was true. But the day you fell from that building, one brother perished from cushioning your landing.”

  “Wh-what?” My vision blackened, and I swayed. I’d never liked to talk about the fall, but him saying someone sacrificed themself for me was a blow to the gut.

  “Easy.” He threw his good hand around my waist. “Don’t want you to fall again.”

  “What did you say?” I gripped his shoulder as the memory of black wings spreading underneath my body right before slamming into the ground beat at my mind. As a small child, I’d imagined a guardian angel swooping me into his arms and softening the blow. I’d never told anyone about seeing those feathers. So, how could he have known? He couldn’t, unless he was there, which means…

  In awe and wonder, I stepped closer, my hips between his strong legs. His masculine scent swirled around me. An overwhelming urge to caress his clean jawline pulled my fingers to his skin, a need riding within my blood to prove he was real and not some figment of imagination. This beautiful man is my Revan?

  His gaze locked onto my lips, possessive and fierce.

  I stroked his cheek and slid my fingertips farther up his face and into his hair. It was soft, just like Revan’s feathers.

  “For months, I’ve been in hell.” Closing his eyes, he sighed. “Always watching, always craving, always dreaming of your touch on my skin instead of that ridiculously weak body.”

  “W
eak?” Pressing my chest closer, my mouth only a few inches from his, I gripped his hair and speared his gaze with mine. “You were what kept me going afterward.” My fingers rubbed against a bead in his hair, its surface hard and smooth. “Every day, you flew to school and watched over me. The other kids bullied me until you scared them away.” I traced his neck with my other hand, sliding it up his throat, the tendons and muscles underneath the pads of my fingers firm and hot. “They used to call me—”

  “Bird whisperer.” His large hands slid to the small of my back and drew me closer.

  The beat of his heart fluttered in the hollow of his throat, drawing my gaze, a reminder Revan was a flesh and blood man holding me in his arms.

  “Yes.” I snickered, and pleasurable tingles cascaded through my veins. “I secretly loved the name because you made me feel special and protected. I’ve had a hard time connecting with people, especially after that day. Daddy proved I was nothing—worthless and disposable.”

  “You are not worthless or disposable.” A low growl vibrated from his throat. “And I’ll always protect you.”

  Outside, clouds blocked the moonlight and casted the room in complete blackness for a moment.

  He swallowed. Lowering his glance to my throat, he bit his bottom lip. “I want to kiss you, Sophie.” Hoarse, his words sounded desperate. “A real kiss just this once, with my own lips.”

  Saliva dried in my mouth. An urge to flee pounded through my limbs. Can’t let him get close. I didn’t even like it when Aunt Merle hugged me, so why was I standing here in this man’s embrace, contemplating how his lips would feel on mine? For a few seconds, my heartbeat drummed in my ears, drowning out all other sounds.

  I should say no.

  “Please?” A slight tremor ran through his arms. “I don’t know how much longer I can go watching you every day, so near yet so far.” A drop of sweat beaded on his upper lip. The tip of his tongue flicked it away, the movement slow and seductive, like a snake charmer.