Reaper: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 2) (18 page)

“We adopt out as many as we can,” Ingrid tossed handfuls of feed out. The birds scrambled over each other, chittering in excitement as they snuffled around for delicious morsels. “It’s an ongoing battle, though. Most people would rather have a cat or dog than birds. The ones we can’t adopt out we keep here. That’s where a lot of these guys come from.”

She pointed to two beautiful lorikeets sitting patiently on a branch behind the fray. “See those two? That’s Leopold and Loeb. They’ve been here three years now. They’re kind of the grandparents of the aviary.”

I helped Ingrid feed all the birds, and check on some of the tests she was running. We then returned to the research centre, where Ingrid led a group of children from a local special-needs school through the different parts of the centre. I helped her hold diagrams and explain the different body parts of a bird and what the researchers and handlers were doing.

Seeing the kids’ faces when they got up close to the birds in the aviaries made my chest ache. They asked wonderful questions and seemed to genuinely care about the welfare of the creatures. Leopold and Loeb were in fine form, making telephone noises and shouting “Turn that TV down!” and “It’s your turn to take the rubbish out!” to each other.

“You’re doing a wonderful thing here,” I said to Ingrid as we climbed into the car. “I wish I could do something like this one day. I’ve been talking about it for years, but until I’m free, I’m no use to anyone.”

“What are you talking about?” She stared at me. “This is all because of you, Cole.”

“What?”

“Come on, don’t play dumb. We used to talk all the time when I was in Morchard’s aviary. You told me all about what you wanted to do when you were free, how you would create a sanctuary where birds and Bran could go to have injuries treated and live without fear of being shot or eaten or stuffed and mounted on a shelf. When you’d come and visit your mother and me in the aviary, you were so kind. When I got out, I knew I wanted to do something to help other birds, the way you had helped me.”

“You did all this … because of me?” My chest tightened again. I couldn’t believe what she was saying.

Ingrid nodded. “You don’t think anything you do has an impact on people, because you’re a slave. But you’re wrong about that, Cole. What you do matters a great deal. I bet your woman back in Crookshollow would agree.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I left her to come here. I didn’t even say goodbye.” I choked on the words, angry at myself for being so callous.

“She’ll understand. If she loves you, she’ll understand.”

I hoped so. I hoped with all my heart.

We drove out to the spot we’d dropped Byron off. A raven fluttered down from a nearby oak, and settled on the roof of the car. It tapped with window with its beak. I rolled down the glass, and the raven flew inside, hopping madly on the seat beside me.

“So you didn’t have any luck?” I patted it on the head. The raven bit my finger.

“Way to state the obvious, Sherlock.” Byron changed back into his human form. His face was flushed with annoyance.

“Shut up, and put your seat belt on.”

“Yeah,” Ingrid called from the front seat. “If I get pulled over, you’ll be paying the fine for indecent exposure.”

“That’s highly unfair. I am exceptionally decent.” Byron flexed his bicep. Ingrid giggled. I snorted. We may still have been slaves, but at least my brother was still exactly the same.

I
pulled
the covers up to my head, sinking back into the soft bed. It was just as nice as the one Victor Morchard had given me, but at least this time I wasn’t a prisoner.

I was, however, alone. For the third night in a row. And I wasn’t doing very well.

I’d put on a great show for the others, cooking up a storm and getting all the sample packages out to venues around Loamshire. But inside, I was slowly crumbling without Cole. I was afraid all the time, afraid that those birds would hurt someone, afraid the Morchards would come after me, afraid that I would have to live with this broken heart for the rest of my life. And I hated myself for missing Cole like this, when he’d left me, when he’d proven he was no better than Ethan.

Don’t think about it.
I told myself, turning over and cupping my hands under my cheek.
Think about how wonderful it will be when your shop is back up-and-running, and all those catering orders are coming in, and you can throw yourself back into work and forget Cole ever existed …

That didn’t seem possible, but a girl could dream.

I fluffed the pillows again, and flopped over on my side. After five minutes of staring at Cole’s empty side of the bed, I flopped on to my back. Chairman Meow got up from the end of the bed (in his cat form, otherwise it would just be weird), gave me a filthy look, and slunk off to sleep elsewhere.

I stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, thoughts of Cole spinning around in my head. I was just drifting into uneasy sleep when something startled me. A noise in the hall. I lifted my head and glanced at the door. It was open a crack, and a light shone in from the hallway … a strange, white light that didn’t look as though it came from the dim bulbs of the sconces.

Is something going on?

Another noise. A foot falling on the carpet. I wanted to call out to whoever it was, but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a dry croak.
Why couldn’t I speak? Was I having a lucid dream?

The door opened slowly, letting in more of that ethereal white light. A shadowy figure slunk through the door and approached the bed. I tried to scream out, but my voice still wouldn’t co-operate.

The figure held a finger up to his lips.

He knelt on the bed and crawled across the bed towards me, the warmth of his body radiating against mine. I still couldn’t see his face.

He leaned closer, his smell wafting over me. Aftershave and sweat and something deep and woody. A familiar smell.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Cole.

His head moved in front of me, and the light fell just right and I could make out his features. That strong nose, stubble-covered jaw. The smirking grin and those dark, deep eyes that searched my soul.
It was him.
I knew I should feel scared, but I didn’t. My whole body tingled with arousal.

Belinda, I’ve missed you.
It was his voice all right, but he didn’t speak. The words just appeared in my mind, as though they’d already been spoken.

How can you miss me? You ran away from me.
I still couldn’t speak, so I just thought what I wanted to say. Somehow I knew that he’d hear me.

I did that for your own good. But I couldn’t stay away. I need you, Belinda.

Come back. I need you too.

No, you don’t. You’re so strong. You can do anything you set your mind to. You’re amazing.

You barely know me.
I fought against a flood of emotion swelling in my chest.

I don’t need to have known you for years to sense the amazing person you are. That’s why I had to leave. You deserve so much better than me, a mere slave. I need to be the man you deserve.

His words took my words away. I wanted to tell him how wrong he was, how much I didn’t care that he was a servant, that all I wanted was him, no matter what. But I couldn’t even form the thoughts.
Cole, I—

He kissed me. My body surged with energy, as though I’d been plugged into a socket and switched on. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his body closer, pressing his warmth against mine.

Cole’s hands cupped my face, his fingers entwining through my hair has he kissed with increased fervour. His tongue lapped hungrily against mine, devouring me as only he could.

I sank into his warmth, losing myself in his incredible touch. His hands stroked my shoulders, cupped my breasts, every touch a line of fire across my skin.

Everything happened in a fuzzy, dreamlike sequence. I don’t recall how my clothes came off, or his. But suddenly we were rolling across the bed, our naked bodies tangling together in a mess of limbs. His hands seemed to be everywhere, on my hips, his fingers running down my spine, stroking my cheeks, tangled in my hair, circling my nipples ...

Nightingale,
the whispered word fell into my head as he pressed his lips hard against mine. He pushed my thighs apart and slid between my legs, his cock hard against my thigh.

I lifted my knees and angled my pelvis as he slid into me, crying out as he filled me with a single thrust. He rode me with a languid intensity, each exquisite stroke causing him to groan with effort. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, wanting to take all of him, to be filled with him completely. We moved together, our bodies joined as one, our thoughts mingling in a strange and beautiful symphony.

The pressure inside me built and built, each stroke touching me just the way I wanted to be touched. My body tightened, my muscles clenching as it braced for release. Cole kept up that same relentless rhythm, his face contorted with ecstasy. Inside me, his cock twitched and tightened. He was close, too.

Cole …
I moaned his name inside my mind as my orgasm exploded inside me, spreading out from my core in waves of delicious heat. My whole body juddered, and I lost all sense of the room, the sight of Cole above me, even the body I occupied. It was as though I wasn’t in my body any longer. I floated in an ocean of ecstasy.

One thought pushed through the others, emblazoning itself across my mind.

Belinda, I love you ...

Cole’s body tensed, and he cried out as he came inside me. Together we floated on that ocean, our thoughts and bodies linked as one ...

I bolted upright, my hand reaching for my heart. I gasped for air, my chest heavy, as though something had been crushing it. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. Light streamed in the window from the moon outside, but there was no ethereal white light coming from the hallway. There was no beautiful man in my bed. I was all alone.

I touched my lips, still feeling the warmth of his mouth lingering there.

It was just a dream. But it had felt so
real
. My body still tingled where Cole had touched me. My sex clenched from his presence. My core throbbed with the remnants of my orgasm.

Cole had been
here.
I’d felt him. But how? He didn’t have the power to do that kind of thing, did he? That was some kind of … astral projection? It couldn’t be. Cole was still tethered to Libby, he couldn’t use that kind of power to do something like this without her willing him.

Knowing I would never be able to go back to sleep, I turned on the bedside lamp. Two black feathers rested on the duvet in front of me.

Cole.

I picked them up and cradled them in my hand, tears of joy streaming down my face. I don’t know how he’d done it, but he was giving me a sign. He was telling me he would come back for me. He was mine.

He loved me. Cole
loved
me. And that love could give me the strength I needed to do what I had to do.

W
hoa
.

How the hell had that happened?

I flew out of the blankets, flapping around the hanging light, not sure which way was up or down. I regained my bearings, swooped back down again, and forced myself to change back to my human form.

Human again, I leaned back against the couch, hand on my heart, feeling it pound against my chest. My body flushed with warmth – Belinda’s warmth. I lifted my fingers to my lips and inhaled, my mind reeling as her familiar scent filled my nostrils.

Somehow, I’d managed to travel to her. It wasn’t just a dream. We’d touched each other. We’d made love. We’d spoken to each other, our words landing in each other’s heads without us needing to speak them. We’d shared a connection so intense, so visceral and real, I couldn’t believe it was just a dream.

I’d told her I loved her, again.

The weight of it gripped my heart, squeezing my chest tight. I’d never said that to anyone before. Well, I’d told my parents I loved them, but they’d died. They left me, and I’d never wanted to say it to anyone else. It wasn’t right, not when I didn’t have control over my own fate.

But I’d said it to Belinda. And I’d meant it. And I didn’t want to take it back. I wanted to shout it from the treetops, over and over again.

I stared down at my body, at the bright ink decorating my chest and arms. I’d got those tattoos in an attempt to claim back something for myself, to demonstrate that even though I was a slave, I had my own mind and my own body.

I still did, and both my mind and my body were screaming at me that I needed to go to Belinda. I needed to claim my girl.

I stared down at the ring on my finger, drawing in all Belinda’s warmth that still clung to my skin. I pulled it inside of myself, wrapping it up into a ball of hope and love and rage. Then I
pushed,
aiming that ball of emotion at the black ring that bound me.

My ears rang with a loud buzz. My hands started to shake uncontrollably. Pain arced through my body, sending me flying off the couch. I crashed into the coffee table, sending books and glasses and figurines flying. Faintly, beyond the ringing in my ears, I heard glass smashing.

The pain pushed against me, driving me back, threatening to keep me at bay. “Arrrgh!” I cried out as I gripped my right wrist with my left hand, driving my hand down, down, down, fighting against an invisible force.

My whole body trembled. Sweat poured down my face. The force drove me back, my hand rising a few inches towards my face, my index and middle fingers pointed towards my eyes, threatening to injure me for my disobedience.

“You don’t own me,” I grunted, pouring on a burst of strength. I slammed my hand down on the shattered glass. Pain screamed up my arm, and a bright white light exploded in front of me. An invisible force sent me flying back across the room. My back slammed against the kitchen island, sending a shower of crockery down on my head. I yelped as a coffee cup smashed into my temple.

My hand burned with excruciating pain, like a thousand needles stabbing it at once. My whole body shuddered with intense nausea. I gritted my teeth, and yanked my hand from the ground, bringing it in front of my face.

It was in a bad state, glass sherds poking from the skin of my palm, my fingers covered with painful burns. A blackened stain covered my index finger from the tip right to the web.

But the ring – the black ring that bound me to my master – was no longer a thick black band, but a thin sliver of dull grey encircling my finger.

“Oh,” I wheezed, my vision going blurry. The pain was taking over. I pitched forward, the bile rising in my throat.

I’ve weakened it. I’m so close.

The door to Ingrid’s room flew open. Byron stormed out. “What the hell happened?” He grabbed me under my arms and pulled me back on the couch. I tried to say something, but all that came out was a faint groan. My stomach clenched. I started to retch.

“Christ, roll him over,” Ingrid grabbed my shoulder and wrenched my head over the side of the couch, just as I threw up all over her rug. My stomach clenched again, driving out all of its contents. My eyes stung with tears, but not as bad as the sting of that glass in my hand.

Byron grabbed my chin and wrenched my head back and forth. My tongue was glued to the top of my mouth. “Cole!” He slapped my cheek. “What happened? What did you do?”

“Stop …” I croaked. “Stop … fucking slapping me.”

Byron dropped my chin and stood back. “He’s fine,” he told Ingrid, who leaned against the door frame, wearing only a fluffy pink towel wrapped around her shapely torso, and a worried expression.

“He doesn’t look fine.” Ingrid knelt down beside me, wiping my hair out of my eyes. She pressed her hand against my forehead. “Cole, you’re burning up. What happened? Are you sick?”

“I—” I coughed violently. “I tried to—”

I raised my hand into the light. The ring on my finger still glowed faintly.

“I was so close,” I mumbled, tapping the surface of the ring. It felt rough, as though it had been rubbed by something abrasive. I’d damaged it. I’d actually managed to draw up that power from within myself and cause harm to the ring.

Somehow, my connection with Belinda had given me the strength to start breaking down the bond that held me.

They do say love can set you free. I didn’t know it was meant literally.

* * *

W
e stayed
with Ingrid for five days. Every night I visited with Belinda, entering her bed and making love to her, sending all of my deepest thoughts and darkest secrets deep into her mind. We shared everything, every word, every thought, every secret desire. When I emerged from the strange dreams, my ring always seemed a little thinner, a little duller than the day before.

Every morning Byron and I went out to the forest, trying to find the meditative state Ingrid had talked about, that inner power that could release us from the bond. I mainly went for Byron, because he needed my support.

Despite the fact his finger had turned completely black and simply walking around seemed to cause him excruciating pain, Byron seemed reluctant to leave Ingrid and enter the forest each day. It might have had to do with the fact that he wasn’t sleeping on the couch with me, where she’d originally told him to, but in her room. Not that they were doing much sleeping.

I couldn’t begrudge Byron his burgeoning relationship. It was nice to see him so happy, despite our current situation. It made him much more pleasant to be around.

We hadn’t got on this well in all the years we’d lived at Morchard Castle. Byron’s taunting and bullying had got steadily worse since our father had died. When mother died, I hadn’t been able to forgive him for deserting her, for ignoring me when I told him how much she needed him. Our relationship had been strained ever since, tainted by that history. But being here with him was almost … fun.

I wanted so badly to believe that Ingrid’s solution could work for both of us, but every time I went into the forest and sat in the tress, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t connect my mind to that inner, primal bird. Byron clearly couldn’t, either.

“Maybe you can’t do it because you can’t free your mind from its current preoccupations.” Ingrid said when I told her about my troubles. “I was able to do it because I’d lost everything when I left – I’d given up my home, my family, my whole life to be free. Maybe your love for Belinda is keeping you tethered.”

“I’m so close. How do I un-tether?”

“I don’t know, Cole. I’m not an expert at this.” Ingrid pointed down at my ring, which was no longer black but a kind of mid-grey. “It looks like you’ve got some sort of progress. Unlike poor Byron. His finger just keeps getting blacker.”

“I think Byron’s inability to focus on meditation has more to do with a certain distraction.”

She smiled. “It’s nice that you came to find me, Cole. Really it is.”

Byron and I went back to the forest, folding our clothes neatly and hiding them in the hollow trunk of a rotting oak, before forcing a shift and flying up to roost in the highest branches. Byron settled on a thick branch, spreading his wings out to catch the sun, and I landed on a thinner branch a few feet away, so that I could observe him and see if I could figure out what he was doing wrong.

He sat still, his bill tucked under his wing, his eyes closed. Other birds flew past us in the trees, a brave starling even calling out a taunt to him before zipping away. But Byron didn’t look up, didn’t move, gave no acknowledgement that he even registered the outside world. He definitely had this meditation thing down better than I did. So why wasn’t he making any progress?

He lifted his head, and inspected his ring. It was still as tight and black as ever.

I fluttered down and landed beside him. “Don’t worry,”
I said in caw-tongue.
“You’re doing really well. I’m sure you’ll start seeing some progress soon—”

“Cole.”
Bryon said, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. About Mum. I—”

He shook his head, the fringe around his neck bouncing. He didn’t look me in the eye.

“You’re sorry for what?” Where was this coming from? Byron had never once acknowledged our mother’s death, except to taunt me. I wanted to hear this, needed to hear this.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry it didn’t seem as if I cared.”
He didn’t turn towards me.

“You didn’t care.”

“That’s not true.”
He shot back, his head whipping around and his eyes resting on mine at last. I stepped back, shocked at what I saw there. Rage, and pain. Deep-rooted, long-brewing pain. “I cared very much. I was such an idiot, I thought you were just being you, trying to get my attention so that I wouldn’t leave you, so that I’d stay behind at the castle instead of having some semblance of a life. And when I realised you were serious, I felt so helpless, so unable to comprehend losing her, I just didn’t try. I was scared of seeing her like that, I just didn’t come. I told myself I’d go tomorrow … always tomorrow. And then she was dead, and it was too late.”

“She asked for you, all the time.” I turned away, not able to look at the hurt in his eyes any longer.
“I was the one there every day with her, whenever Morchard let me get away. But all she wanted was you.”

“I failed her, and I failed you.” He croaked bitterly. “Some big brother I am.”

This conversation was veering in an unknown direction for both of us. We’d never talked like this before, with such raw emotion. Weariness overwhelmed me. I was tired of the strained relationship between Byron and I, tired of the anger I carried around over his neglect. I realised now that he loathed himself for failing our mother, even more than I did. I hadn’t quite forgiven him for it yet, but I was starting to.

“Let it go, Byron. It’s in the past. If I forgive you, and you forgive me, can you go back to busting my arse for everything?”

“You … forgive me?”
His eyes grew wide.

“Of course.” I shrugged, realising that it was true. I had forgiven him. A great weight lifted from my shoulders. “It’s what they would have wanted, Mum and Dad. They would want us to look out for each other. I’ve done a pretty crap job at that, but I’m going to try and change, starting with getting that blasted ring off your finger—”

“Well, what do we have here?”

I whirled around. Another raven had settled itself on the branch opposite us, its beady eyes trained on mine, its beak inclined towards me in a menacing manner.

“Hello, Pax.”
Byron said, straightening up, our discussion instantly forgotten. My heart plummeted to my stomach. If Pax had found us here, then that meant Morchard wasn’t finished with me. And Byron … what would he do to punish Byron if he caught him? I moved in front of Byron, placing my body between him and Pax. If he wanted Byron, he’d have to get through me first.

Tension crackled in the air between us.

“For two birds who are supposed to be in hiding, you sure do make a lot of noise.” Pax blinked slowly. “I didn’t have any trouble finding you.”

“Let’s not waste time with idle chatter,”
I croaked, my voice dripping with menace. I lifted one foot off the branch to brandish my talons. “If you’re here to fight us, let’s go. May the best bird win.”

“Relax, I’m not here to peck out your eyeballs.” He snapped his beak a couple of times. “As much as I would enjoy that. I have a message for you.”

“I don’t want to hear anything Morchard has to say.”

“This isn’t from Morchard, and you’ll want to hear it. Trust me. Sir Thomas is getting married in three days’ time. Your girl is catering the wedding. Four hundred people have been invited, all crammed into one marquee. Dignitaries, nobility, even a royal or two will be in attendance. And Morchard is planning to kill them all.”

“What?” My blood turned cold. “How?”

Pax shrugged. “I’m not privy to the details. Ever since you both left, Morchard has been even less trusting of us Bran. All I know is that I’m supposed to wait in the woods behind the marquee, and when he gives the signal I cut a wire. But I’m pretty sure whatever he’s planning has got something to do with those awful diseased ravens he’s got flying around the place.”