Ravenlight (The Ravenlight Cycles Book 1) Page 6

  A loud sigh escaped my lips.

  “What is wrong with you, man?” Tate, the second oldest of my brothers, asked from his nearby bed. “Shall we all suffer because you can’t settle your mind—and body?”

  Rolling over, I gave him a grimace but kept silent. I wasn’t about to discuss my heart with him.

  The fire burned lower, but a piece of wood popped, and a few embers floated into the sky.

  Imala lay sleeping, dead to the world, the spoon half-finished and resting on the ground near her head.

  The rest of my tribe were still gone, which wasn’t unusual. They were partying in the city, enjoying their time of freedom.

  To prepare, every month, before shifting into our bird forms, we’d pile our belongings into a watertight chest and bury it underground, protecting our treasured items and clothing for the next Ravenlight.

  It was a dismal way of life, always hoping and wishing for the next month, just for a few precious hours of liberation. Yet wasn’t that the purpose of punishment—to take away joy and remind a person of their crimes?

  “Imala told me your Sophie is honorable, and she promised to attempt the dream walk.”

  “She”—pointing to Imala, my finger shook—“is a meddlesome, irritating woman.”

  Tate propped himself on an elbow, rested the side of his head in the palm of his hand, and shrugged. “Perhaps.” His eyes sparkled in the dim firelight. “But you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “I will not ask her to risk her life for me.” My breathing accelerated, and I threw the thin blanket from my body and sat upright.

  A furrow appeared between Imala’s brows. She rolled over and muttered something under her breath.

  “The way I heard it”—Tate covered a yawn—“she wasn’t asked, she offered. Stop being so prideful, little brother. If the rest of us could find our own little Sophies, maybe we could also find some sort of life in this new world.” Turning, he burrowed his slim body into a blanket. After a few seconds, his breathing steadied.

  Thrusting myself onto my bed again, I imagined her soft, sweet mouth, hazel eyes, and silky skin lying in the empty space next to me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sophie Brannigan

  My alarm blared thirty minutes before six o’clock, around the time the sun’s golden rays peeked above the horizon.

  I threw the comforter off my body and raced to the shower for a quick scrub, then wrapped myself in a towel and padded to my closet. My fingers brushed the fabric of a neon-pink maxi dress. Nah, too bright.

  Another dress draped from its hanger, and I paused. Hmm. I’ve been dying to wear this somewhere. I pulled it out. Its satiny texture was smooth and cool. The style leaned a bit on the formal side but not quite showy enough to truly be called a gown—more of a mix between casual and chic.

  I walked to the mirror and held it up. I’d bought it from the local thrift store a few months ago on a whim, enjoying the gothic vibe and the way it contrasted with my skin. Plus, along the bodice, delicate feathers lined the hem. Maybe I’d subconsciously picked it because they’d reminded me of Revan.

  I’m not really wearing this today, am I? My stomach flipped and churned.

  Shaking my head, I hung the dress in the closet. I should wear something sensible and safe. Yet, another part of me yearned to show off my feminine side, to see Revan’s reaction when his gaze landed on it. Remembering his firm body next to mine and those sensual lips on my skin finalized the decision. I snatched it off its hanger again and dropped the towel.

  Five minutes later, the silky material kissed my skin, its soft texture a cool embrace against the Texas heat.

  Applying dark eyeliner and lip gloss, I brushed my hair and let it fall around my shoulders like a curtain. A pair of simple, black flats completed the ensemble.

  “Not bad, Sophie. Not bad at all.” I gave a nod in the mirror.

  After ensuring my phone and car keys were in my purse, I headed down the stairs, praying Aunt Merle was still sleeping. It was Saturday, after all.

  The bang of a pot mocked my hope. No such luck.

  Taking a deep breath, I debated running straight to the exit and sneaking out.

  “Sophie, what in God’s name are you doing up at this hour?” her voice called, even though I hadn’t rounded the corner yet. When the woman wasn’t sawing logs, she was like a bat with sonar hearing.

  Here we go. “Mornin’, Aunt Merle.” I stood between the landing and front door, my small, threadbare purse dangling from a shoulder.

  “My, my. Don’t you look lovely.”

  “Thanks.” I fidgeted with the purse’s strap, unwilling to meet her gaze.

  Flour covered the kitchen table. Several doughy biscuits sat on a baking pan, ready for the oven.

  “Where you off to so early on a Saturday morning, honey?” She clapped her hands, creating a fine poof of flour, then wiped them on a towel. Her bright eyes speared me like two lasers.

  “Uh.” I hadn’t even thought of a decent lie. “To work.”

  She cackled. With a quick scoop, she jammed the pan into the waiting oven. “Try again.”

  “Aunt Merle. Eighteen, remember? An adult in the eyes of the law.” I stepped closer to the door, eager to leave her sharp tongue and even sharper stare.

  “True.” She untied the apron, laid it over the back of a chair, and approached me. “But I’m not asking as your aunt, I’m asking as a friend.” Her hand swept the air a few feet from my dress and an eyebrow rose. “Is there someone you haven’t told me about?”

  “N-no, there isn’t.” My words were too quick, but I stumbled ahead. “I’m heading to the shop and wanted to try out this dress, that’s all.”

  A heavy bang on the front door shattered my concentration.

  I grabbed my chest. Fire rushed through my body, and my cheeks felt like two bright beacons.

  “Uh-huh.” Her attention focused on the closed door. A sly grin tipped a corner of her mouth. “Well, ain’t ya gonna answer it?”

  Closing my eyes for a second, I took a deep, calming breath then turned.

  Aunt Merle’s footsteps pattered behind me.

  I stopped with a fist on the knob. “Do I smell something burning?” I sniffed, hoping to distract her.

  “Oh no, girl. I wanna see this mystery person, now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this made up before and pretty as a picture.”

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Jeez, did the man intend to knock the door off its hinges? Wasting no more time, I jerked it open and sucked in a breath.

  Before me, Revan Chogan was breathtaking with his glossy midnight hair and proud face. Those golden-brown eyes swept me from head to toe, while mine did the same to him.

  No longer half naked, his broad chest sported a navy-blue plain t-shirt stretched across the hard planes of his pecs. An old pair of faded black jeans covered his legs, and brown leather slip-ons cradled his feet.

  My stare traveled up his body again, enjoying the skin-tight denim accentuating the muscled thighs and taut butt. Now seen in the daylight, the beads decorating his hair were bright. A faint whiff of woodsmoke and earth tickled my nose. There was something else, too—a hint of masculine cologne. He was incredibly hot in street clothes, yet I found I didn’t mind his normal attire either. Possibly even preferred it.

  He cleared his throat. “You look…” Spine straight, his gaze caressed the curves of my exposed shoulders. “Beautiful.”

  “You look different.” I bit my lip. “But in a good way. I mean, I like your clothes, but I also really like it when you don’t wear clothes.”

  Oh, God. Kill me now.

  He chuckled and stepped closer, propping a hand on the doorjamb next to my ear.

  “Wait.” Rubbing a temple, I gulped air. “That didn’t sound right. I mean—”

  Aunt Merle clucked her tongue and broke my nervous ramble. “Lordy Lou, what have we here?” With a hip, she shoved me out of the way and raised a hand to pat a runaway
curl. She might’ve been pushing forty, but Aunt Merle loved men—just not enough to let them inhibit her bachelorette life. I always wondered if her insistence on being alone had something to do with raising her sister’s child.

  “Stop it,” I whispered, wishing a hole would open in the floor underneath my feet.

  Her hand shooed me away, and she stroked her neck, the back of her head lifting then lowering with a measured, slow movement—as if beholding his entire body.

  Since I couldn’t see her face, I watched Revan and shook my head, equal flashes of mortification and amusement swimming in my veins.

  “Good morning, ma’am.” Those normally somber eyes burned across my face then landed on her and glinted with mirth.

  His voice sent a shiver through my limbs and wrapped around my heart like a silken string, tying around it with a neat bow.

  “Well, Sophie certainly never mentioned you before.”

  “That’s because”—I attempted to shove her aside without being too obvious—“we just met. Well, sort of.”

  “Sort of?” She clucked her tongue. “And do you have a name, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?”

  Oh, God, please strike me down right now and put me out of my misery.

  Name? I hadn’t even thought this far. I couldn’t tell her it was Revan because, well, duh. “It’s Pecos,” I gushed.

  “Revan, ma’am.”

  My jaw dropped, and my eyes widened.

  Furrowing his forehead, he flashed his gaze to mine. He tilted his head and twisted his lips to the side, as if thinking.

  “You two should get your stories straight before you try to pull one over on me.” She twisted her neck and gave me a stern glance, eyes scouring mine. “Which is it?”

  “Pecos. It’s Pecos.” I had to throw her off track. She’d never believe his story, and Revan wasn’t that common, so it would be more than coincidence I happened to hang out with a guy who bore the same name as my bird.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” His shoulder lifted, tightening the shirt to across his hard chest.

  She and I both stared.

  Pulling at her collar, she fanned air into her face.

  I tried to suppress a giggle. Wow, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her this worked up over a guy.

  “Excuse me one moment, Pecos.” Flashing a bright smile his way, she gripped my elbow and yanked me a few feet out of sight of the door and around the living room wall. “Sophie.” A finger pointed in Revan’s general direction. “I don’t know who he really is, but something’s off about him—and I don’t mean solely in the looks department.”

  “Aunt Merle, he’s—”

  “He’s gorgeous, but where did you meet him, and where did he come from? And what’s with him trying to say his name is the same as your bird? That’s weird.” She tapped the tip of a ragged nail against her chin. “He’s not a stalker, is he?”

  “No.” At least, not in the sense she’s thinking. A genuine laugh escaped my mouth. “He’s not from around here, but we met years ago.” How much to say without sounding like a loon? “Briefly, though. It’s hard to explain.”

  “Well, make sure you use protection, you hear me?”

  “Aunt Merle!” I gasped, fire burning across my neck.

  “I was your age once, and I know how these things progress. You’re both young and beautiful, and one thing leads to another.” She flicked a corner of the curtains and stared through the crack. “My, he’s got a certain charisma, doesn’t he? And that body—what is he, a weightlifter?”

  No, he’s a raven. I bit the inside of my lip to stifle laughter. “He’s, uh, into nature. He likes doing things with his hands.”

  “I bet he does,” she mumbled, putting the curtain back in place. “Speaking of Revan, where is he? He isn’t flitting around like normal, waiting for you to wake up.”

  Oh, he’s here alright. “Who knows?”

  I felt bad for lying to the only family member who’d taken me in and always been there for me, but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell I’d get her to buy into who he really was.

  “Hmm.” She placed a kiss on my cheek. “Well, be careful, and, if you need anything, you call me straight away, ya hear?” Holding me at arm’s length, she smiled, a roadmap of fine wrinkles creasing the corners of her eyes.

  “Of course.” I leaned into her hug. “And trust me, he’s safer than anyone else.” Squeezing her arm, I disentangled from her grasp, stepped onto the porch, and pulled the door shut.

  Revan offered the palm of his hand, and I took it. Curling his fingers around my flesh, he let me lead him down the steps to the car.

  “Uh.” Stopping at the vehicle, he frowned. “I’ve never ridden in one of these things before.” His shoulders straightened, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

  I hadn’t stopped to think about this. He’d lived most of his life as a bird, and before that, he was the product of a world without electronics and gadgets—a simpler, more wholesome time.

  This is a bad idea.

  “Oh.” What should I do? Forget what I’d planned? I’d imagined showing him what it was like to live in this form as a reminder of how it felt to be human. Maybe it would sway him into accepting what I was willing to sacrifice—my soul for his freedom.

  Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he shifted his feet closer to the car and trailed a thumb along the handle. “So many machines now.” The words were soft, almost as if speaking to himself. “The world moves onward, with or without my people.”

  “We don’t have to go anywhere.” I shoved the car keys into my purse. “This was a bad idea.”

  “What?” He shook his head, the black straight locks of hair sweeping across his shoulders. Those mesmerizing irises sharpened. “No. Take me to see the world through your eyes.” He pulled open the door and paused. “I’m sick to death of experiencing life through the limited impressions of a bird, anyhow.”

  I got in and started the engine, excitement fluttering in my stomach. “If everything gets to be too much, let me know, okay?”

  “This whole world is too much.” He leaned his head against the side window, and a far-off stare roamed the forest across the road. “But it warms my heart sitting next to you—here, in my natural form. If you want to climb atop the mound of refuse at the trash dump, I’ll follow.”

  A soft chuckle shook my chest. “I think we’ll skip the dump ground.” I shifted the car into Reverse and backed onto the road. “But, after the shop, I do plan on taking you into the city.”

  “You hate the city.” A hand flitted through his long hair, smoothing a few flyaway strands.

  “That’s true, but this is a special occasion.”

  That day, years ago, tumbling from the building, the scream in my throat so loud it sounded like someone else, slammed at the front of my mind, but I pushed it down. After the fall, Aunt Merle had taken me to a counselor for a while, and it had helped, but that dark hole of pain in my soul would never go away. Not today. I’m focusing on this man next to me, and I’m going to show him why I want to save him.

  Revan’s presence comforted me though, even before I knew who—what—he truly was. In a way, he didn’t just rescue me from a drunken, abusive father, but saved me every day by being there for me, whether it was at school or at home.

  “There’s no need for you to go into that accursed jungle of ugly buildings and noisy trucks on my account.” He twisted his mouth to the side. One large hand gripped my upper arm. “I know it brings you unpleasant memories. Everything you’ve ever told me through the years, I’ve remembered.” He tapped his temple.

  With gravel and rock crunching underneath the tires, I set the car’s speed at thirty-five miles an hour and threw a furtive glance his way. He knew so much about me, yet I knew next to nothing of him or his tribe.

  “Tell me about your family.” My attention jumped between his chiseled jaw to the road ahead. “Has anyone else ever tried to lift the shaman’s curse?”

  “No.” He fiddled wi
th the seatbelt strapped across his chest, shifting his hips and shrugging against the restraint. “You’re the first person from this time period who knows our plight.” Sighing, he dropped his hands into his lap and watched the passing trees and fields through the windshield. “The whole tribe isn’t blood-related. When we were children, it was common practice for the women in the camp to raise us, each taking turns to care for one another’s offspring while the others focused on chores. Thus, we became brothers and sisters, even if not by the same parents.”

  “It took a village, huh?” Is that where that saying came from?

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  Something about his tone and posture bothered me, like trying to capture the rays of the sun and failing. He looked uncomfortable. Luckily, Milford Creek, a tiny town an hour south of Fort Worth, was far enough to be rural, yet some days it still felt too close to the city.

  The quaint giftshop owned by Miss Lottie—a sweet, older woman with hands stiff from arthritis—specializing in handmade goods had been my part-time job for two years. Most weekends and some weeknights, I worked in the back, creating new soap recipes, pouring candles, and mixing lotions. During slow times, I even dabbled in putting together simple jewelry pieces—like earrings and necklaces—from semi-precious stones and metals. Miss Lottie had taught me everything, and I’d even tweaked some of her recipes to include more modern ingredients or vegan-friendly products. She’d always treated me like one of her grandkids, and I was thankful every day for the extra money the part-time job provided.

  I put the car in Park, stepped out, and unlocked the front door.

  Revan followed. “It’s quiet this time of the morning. I like it.”

  “Yeah, that’s one of the perks of living in a small town.”

  The shop didn’t open for a few more hours, and I was off this weekend, but I needed to grab last week’s paycheck for the city excursion. When I jerked open the door, the little golden bell rang. Soft floral scents mixed with spicier, musky fragrances and gave the interior a calming effect.