Ravenlight (The Ravenlight Cycles Book 1) Page 4

  I couldn’t answer. Before me sat this gorgeous hunk, asking for something so simple, yet so complicated—a kiss. This has got to be a dream.

  “I’m sorry. I guess this is a lot for you to take in.” He sighed and pushed me from the circle of his arms. “I shouldn’t have asked. Sometimes I jump ahead without thinking.”

  “Yes,” I whispered at the same time the last word left his mouth. Flinging my arms around his neck, I pressed myself into him, needing to feel his body on mine. I shouldn’t do this. But my heart ignored my rational brain.

  Slowly removing his hands from the tops of my hips, he stood. With an unblinking stare, he clasped the sides of my head and rubbed his thumbs along the cheekbones in gentle circles. His eyes searched mine, as if giving me time to adjust or change my mind.

  My ragged breathing was the only sound in the small room. Desire, like hungry electricity, tingled across my mouth in anticipation of his lips.

  Dipping his neck, he pushed his face to mine and trailed his fingers along my upper arms.

  A shiver ran through my legs, and I stifled a whimper. My grip tightened around his neck. Why does he feel so good?

  He dug his hands into my hair.

  At the press of his hot skin, invisible sparks of heat flew across my mouth

  Urgent yet tender, he coaxed my lips open, and his tongue dove inside, velvety and hot, teasing and stroking.

  “Oh, Spirits above.” A low moan escaped his mouth. “You taste so sweet.”

  I’d never been kissed this way, like I was the only person in the world who mattered or who meant something. I wanted more. With each plunge of his exploring tongue, I opened wider, giving him access to everything I had, letting him in.

  Whoa. It’s too risky letting him get this close to my heart. He’s a stranger.

  But he wasn’t a stranger. He was Revan—my best friend and protector. He said he only had twenty-four hours in this form, and I already found myself wishing he’d remain human forever.

  I ran my fingers down his back, enjoying the sinewy muscles and bumps of his spine.

  His strong hand wrapped around the side of my throat while the other trailed my side, sending spikes of pleasure to my lower belly.

  If he’s cursed, maybe there’s a way to break it. At that moment, I realized I’d do anything to free him, because it would even the score. It would be my pro quo to his quid.

  Why? Because he’d rescued me not just from serious injury or death but from a life of abuse and poverty. He and his brother’s sacrifice had given a desperate little girl a second chance at life with a loving aunt and quiet home, eliminating the constant threat of the mean man.

  I had a debt to pay. Why not enjoy myself while figuring out a way to make up for what he’d given me over the years? Attraction was not the same as love, and I already knew I had no room in my heart for anyone else, so I’d enjoy this—whatever it was—and then part ways.

  Sliding my hands up his back, I clung to him and stopped thinking.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Pecos “Revan” Chogan

  Her skin was smooth like expensive silk, and her delicate scent as sweet as honey.

  Intense desire shook me to my core, begging me to take more, to taste more, to feel more. Deep inside my skin, the raven yearned to take over, to feel her fingers caress his feathers once again.

  Down. It’s my turn now. You get her for twenty-seven days at a time.

  I stroked her satiny cheeks and explored her mouth, teasing and nipping the warm, wet recesses.

  A deep moan escaped her lips.

  Cupping her butt, I yanked her closer. I’d denied myself for so long, but tonight made the untold passage of time worth the wait.

  “Revan?” she breathed between kisses.

  My lips floated across her jawline to settle on her throat, tasting the salty sweetness of her smooth skin. “Yes?”

  “Why were you cursed?”

  The question froze me for a moment, and I pulled back, shame flooding my heart. I collapsed onto her bed, pulling her to sit beside me.

  “Many, many moons ago, it was customary to take slaves when a tribe won a battle.” I swallowed and turned my head to stare at the floor. If I tell her what happened, she will hate me. But what choice did I have? I couldn’t lie to my Sophie.

  “Go on.” Her fingers slid into my hand and laced themselves through my fingers, giving a gentle squeeze.

  With a deep breath, I steeled myself for her revulsion. This is what I get for letting my brothers goad me into appearing in her room. “After our tribe beat back our rivals, captured prisoners were instructed to remain inside their dwelling until we could assign tasks the next morning. Most slaves honored the tradition of servitude for one year and a day as the repercussion of losing a battle, so we weren’t too concerned with escape.” Agony tore through my mind with the memories. “While we celebrated victory late into the night, a monstrous blaze broke out in their tent, killing them before they could be rescued.”

  The memory of that fateful scene—the tortured screams and sickening scent of human flesh burning alive—haunted my dreams every night.

  “That’s horrible.” She pushed herself into my side and squeezed my torso.

  Grateful and surprised at her gentle tone, I snaked an arm around her shoulders, reveling in her tender flesh against mine. Her slight frame snuggled against my bigger body and reminded me how feminine and soft she was, how much I loved protecting her—in either form.

  “Yes, it was.” Rubbing my chin, I pressed on, even though everything within begged me to stop. “We’d celebrated too much and moved too slow. In that time, there was no immediate water to throw on the inferno.”

  Those charred, blackened bodies of women and children will never leave my thoughts no matter which shape I wear.

  “It was an accident though, right?” Her hazel eyes searched mine, and her tempting lips turned downward. “So, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “They were in our charge, so their safety was my—our—responsibility.”

  “I can’t imagine what you felt.” The palm of her hand glided down my side, skating over my ribs and sending desire burning through my bones.

  The contact was almost more than I could bear. I don’t want to talk about this right now, not when I’ve finally gotten what I’ve craved for so long.

  Her face studied me, a line between her brow deepening.

  I knew she wouldn’t relent until I spilled my wickedness into the night.

  Drawing a deep breath, I steadied my thoughts. “In the morning light, we tied feathers to their bodies and did the best we could with the death ritual. A voice shrieked on the wind, and their shaman materialized before us—his face twisted with loss and rage.” I leaned my cheek against hers, and a dark chuckle rose inside knowing this was the exact gesture I performed in raven form. “He was furious at our lack of care. Rightfully so, too. Prisoners of war were to be cherished and honored, not left to suffer and die.”

  Throwing myself to lie on her bed, I stared at the ceiling. “We were unworthy warriors who deserved his decree.”

  “What exactly did he say?” She twisted on the bed to stare at me, tucking a leg under her hip.

  “That for twenty-seven days of the month, we would become our tribe’s emblem. Only true sacrifice would free us from our raven forms.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Someone must choose to join the spirit realm and dream walk—offering their soul in exchange for the cleansing of death.”

  “That’s a lot to ask of someone.” She stiffened beside me. Her eyebrows lowered, as if trying to hide pain. We might’ve shared an intimate moment, but I knew my Sophie; she didn’t let just anyone inside—and for good reason, considering how she’d grown up.

  Even though sorrow tightened my chest, I sat upright and gathered her to me, reveling in the ability to hold her in my arms. My tense muscles relaxed, and I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in her sweet, floral scent.
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br />   “Has anyone ever attempted to set you free?” She chewed a fingernail, her serious eyes scouring my face.

  “I’ve never asked. For the past few years, I’ve rarely left your side.”

  “But—” Her lips pursed, and she shook her head, sending long, wavy locks swinging across her shoulders. “—that sounds like its own kind of prison. I never asked you to do that for—”

  I rested a finger against her warm lips, fighting an urge to lean in and take another taste. “If I can be close to you, I’ll take either form.”

  A shy smile curved her mouth, and her breath tickled my skin.

  I lowered my hand. Another intense impulse to claim her mouth beat inside, demanding I give in to this primal drive, but I needed to take it slow. To her logical brain, this was a lot to take in—much less believe.

  Perhaps if I introduced her to the others, it would be easier to accept. “Would you like to meet my tribe?”

  “Right now?” She looked around, as if expecting them to appear in the middle of the room.

  A rumble of quiet laughter shook my chest. “Yes. I have twenty-two hours and forty-five minutes left.” I grinned and took her hand, pulling her toward the door. “Let’s use some of those minutes to get you acquainted with my family. You can hear the truth from the lips of others.”

  “Wait,” she hissed, tugging out of my grip. “Aunt Merle will see you, and I’m not prepared to tell her your story. I’m not even fully convinced I believe it.”

  “Oh, we’ll be able to walk right past her.” I pointed to Sophie’s phone. “It’s two minutes past ten, and she never misses the local news.”

  She pocketed the cellphone, crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

  “Because both of you leave the curtains open most nights.”

  Goosepimples pebbled her skin, raising the tiny hairs on her arms. “You don’t watch me when I, uh, change, do you?” She cleared her throat. Even in the murky room, her porcelain skin flushed.

  “No, not once.” I offered her my hand. “I would not invade your privacy like that.”

  “Okay.” Exhaling a pent-up breath, she slipped her fingers into my palm, and I hugged her to my chest. She gazed at me, closed her eyes, and tipped her chin upward as if waiting for my mouth to descend upon hers.

  Slow, remember? Using a thumb, I traced the swell of her bottom lip and enjoyed the way her breath caught at the stroke of my finger.

  Ah, the pleasure of such a small touch is addicting. “Come. The night will not wait for us.”

  She gave a resolute nod before turning toward the door.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sophie Brannigan

  With a firm grip, Revan led me out of the room, his movements stealthy and silent.

  As his foot hovered over the first stair, I gave his hand a jerk. “Skip that one—it squeaks. She’ll hear it for sure.”

  He glanced at me from over his shoulder, his gold-and-chocolate-colored eyes intense with longing. Instead of a verbal response, he squeezed my hand and skipped the potential offending step. Two stairs from the floor, he stilled and cocked his head.

  Glossy blue-black hair brushed the backs of his shoulder blades, and I fantasized running my fingers through his silky locks again.

  Instead, I waited and listened, barely daring to breathe.

  If Aunt Merle caught me sneaking out of the house with a stranger—in her mind, at least—there’s no telling what she’d do. Call the police, poke out his eyes, or grab her shotgun and use him as target practice.

  Murmuring drifted to my ears.

  “And tonight, a local farmer weighs in on the effects of the drought on this year’s crops,” a woman’s voice drawled.

  “Thanks, Sarah,” said a deeper, male tone. “Stay tuned to channel seven for all the latest news and events happening in Milford Creek, Texas.”

  A light snore sounded from the direction of the blaring television.

  Revan grinned at me. He had a beautiful smile. One corner of his mouth, a little lower than the other, gave him a boyish appearance, contrasting with his heated stare.

  I returned the grin.

  Standing next to the wall, he bent his head to peek into the other room. After two seconds of observation, he twisted in my direction. “She sleeps soundly.”

  “Yeah.” A soft snicker escaped. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Tugging me behind him, he quickly pulled me through the foyer and toward the front door.

  In the living room, a cheery commercial played. The silhouette of Aunt Merle’s curly head leaned against the couch. One long, loud snort echoed through the room and threatened to shake the pictures off the wall.

  “Here,” I whispered. Shouldering him aside, I gripped the doorknob and lifted, knowing this motion would keep the door from squeaking on its hinges when opened.

  He followed me onto the porch.

  I closed the wooden barrier, then stuck my ear to the crack of the frame, reassuring myself she still slept. Another muffled snore and I sighed in relief.

  Warmth landed on my shoulder and nudged me to turn. Revan slipped his hand against mine and jerked his head toward one of the enormous twisted oak trees across the road.

  The large, dark forest lay on the other side, stretching for miles into the countryside. Aunt Merle owned most of this land. I’d never been allowed to enter its depths as a child though, because she’d said mountain lions roamed the area. Plus, there was always the possibility of rattlesnakes and coyote packs.

  After descending the front steps, my feet crunched across the gravel walkway. The moon’s glow bathed everything in soft light, lending an otherworldly quality to the foliage and flowers lining the picket fence.

  With a slight squeal, the gate gave way under his touch.

  Once the click of the latch sounded behind me, I breathed easier, knowing we were well out of earshot of my kooky—yet well-meaning—aunt.

  “There”—he pointed toward the base of the darkened trees—“is where one of my sisters awaits. She’d very much like to meet you.” He slowed his steps to walk beside me. “In person. Finally.”

  I should’ve been nervous about setting foot in a big, creepy forest with someone I’d just met, but I’d known him for ten years—albeit in a different form. He was the friend who’d always stayed at my side. He and I shared a connection.

  What happens when that bond is severed? I banished the voice to the back of my mind. Another voice, soft like my mother’s, whispered, Live in the moment, Sophie. Enjoy this, whatever it is, for as long as you can.

  Thick darkness seemed to rise from the ground like support for the forest’s canopy. Weak moonbeams pierced the branches in a few spots, and a slight breeze ruffled the treetops. In the distance, bullfrogs croaked a low, throaty song.

  My steps faltered, and I swallowed. “Is this where you, uh…” I edged closer to his silhouette and tried to peer through the curtain of black in front of my eyes. “Where you live?”

  “Watch your step.” He curled a hand around my elbow and steered me a few feet from an old log I would’ve tripped over without his help. “Yes, but in the trees.”

  “Oh, of course.” Swallowing a laugh at the ludicrous situation, envisioning a flock of sleeping birds gathered in the branches, I kept my mouth shut and let him lead me through the tricky undergrowth.

  After a handful of minutes, a faint light shone, revealing the gnarled trunks of oaks. Twenty feet closer and a clearing lay ahead. Water gurgled in the distance, the tinkle of the falling liquid a soothing melody. The song of the bullfrogs increased in treble, undulating up and down in a cacophony of croaks.

  Finally, I stumbled into a large clearing. Bright, cheery light thrown by a campfire beat back the darkness.

  The silhouette of a woman stood before the blaze, one hand on her hip.

  Revan pulled me closer to the large fire and stopped, drawing me under an arm.

  A few wisps of smoke drifted on the wind and
into my nose. The moon seemed to hang so low that I could reach up and stick my finger into the gray depths of its craters.

  “It’s about time you made it back,” the woman grunted, stirring a pot hanging above the flames. “Thought maybe you fell off the roof and finally broke your fool neck.”

  The scent of boiling vegetables and meat competed with the fresh outdoor air and savory woodsmoke.

  “You know me better than that, Imala.” Revan laid a hand at the small of my back and guided me to a rock, gesturing me to sit. “If I broke anything, it would’ve been the house.”

  “That is true, you big bear.” Her cold eyes swept over me with hard scrutiny. “So, this is the little girl we saved that day, hmm?” She laid the spoon on a nearby platter and wiped her hands on her skirt. “Not so little anymore. My neck was stiff for days after you nearly broke my wings.”

  It felt like she was waiting for me to respond, but what did one say after learning bird-people had saved them? My mind still tried to wrap itself around the idea.

  “Be nice, Imala.” Revan lowered himself to sit on the rock beside me, his leg touching mine, his body warmth nearly as hot as the fire. He turned to me, mirth dancing across his face. “Ignore my older sister. In bird form, she’s pleasant, but every month when she’s back to her own body, she’s like an old dog with an infected tooth—mean and sullen.”

  A smile beamed from his mouth, and my heart tried to jump out of my chest and into his hands.

  I giggled, unable to stop the mental image of an old hound snarling and snapping at everyone and everything.

  Imala’s hair, braided into several bands, fell black and thick from the crown of her head. Small, delicate feathers hung from the end of each braid. Her clothing, a dark leather like Revan’s, revealed ample cleavage. A small bone-handled skinning knife hung from her waist.

  “And you”—her finger pointed in his direction—“are a hopeless romantic thinking this girl can save you. She couldn’t even save herself.”

  I stiffened. Though Imala’s words were true, they sparked an inner anger. “I was eight. What was I supposed to do?” Closing my eyes, I tried to shut out the memory of the fall, of the utter helplessness and lack of solidity around my body—of my father abandoning me to my fate.