Watcher: A raven paranormal romance (Crookshollow ravens Book 1) (17 page)

“Cole, I’m going to … I can’t believe this …” I was so close, so close. My core was ready to burst again.

He obliged, his fingers finding my clit again, flicking the swollen bud with them while he fucked me hard from behind. I turned my head up to look at him, and he claimed my mouth with his, our tongue entwining. I moaned against his tongue as the third orgasm rocketed through my body, my walls closing around his cock, his hardness driving deep inside of me.

A few moments later, I went slack in his arms. Cole grunted and pulled out of the kiss. “You’re so fucking hot,” he moaned. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

I wanted to see his face as he came, to feel his own pleasure after what he’d given to me. I pushed back with my hips again, meeting each of his thrusts with my body, driving him as deep as I could. Cole’s body tensed, his fingers digging into my thigh. He squeezed my nipple hard, and bit down on my neck again. I felt his cock go rigid, and with a final, desperate thrust, he came, pounding deep inside of me, a deep, guttural moan escaping from his throat.

He flopped back against the sheets, his arms around me going slack, his cock still buried inside of me. “Wow,” he said, his lips brushing my neck. He reached down and pulled out of me, tying a knot in the condom and setting it aside. He slumped back down on the bed with a contented sigh.

“Yeah, wow.” I rolled over on to my back, cupping his face with my hands, enjoying the way his hair fell over his face, matted slightly by the sweat of our bodies. Cole gazed at me with heavy-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, stroking his cheek.

“You should never ask a man that. It’s always something filthy. Especially when that man has a beautiful woman lying naked next to him. Why, what are you thinking?”

“That this is nice.”

“Nice? Nice? I give you three orgasms and all you can say is nice?” He rolled over so he was on top of me, pinning my body to the bed. He blew a raspberry on my collarbone, right over my skin. He pinned my arms with his shoulders and tickled me under my arms. I screeched as I broke down into uncontrollable spasms. “I’ll show you
nice.
”

“Cole! No, arrrggggh! I’ll behave. I promise!” I gasped.

He stopped tickling, but he didn’t climb off me. He grinned down at me, black ringlets flopping over one eye. “No, don’t do that. I like you when you’re misbehaving.”

“I like it, too.”

“You are getting under my skin, woman.” he growled.

I grinned back, my chest swelling with pleasure at his words.

You’re getting under my skin.
Cole rolled off me and pulled me to him, placing his arm over me. His warmth seeped into my skin, I realised with a sinking heart that I was allowing him to get under my skin, too. I spent so much time assuming he wasn’t interested in me, that I hadn’t really considered what would happen, how I would feel if we did fall into bed together.

Well, it had happened. And I felt happy. And
that
made me scared. Terrified. This was a guy who belonged to a very different world, one that was currently trying to kill him. As much as I told myself that this was just about sex, about me having a positive memory of a guy who wasn’t Ethan, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was falling for Cole. And that was a very,
very
bad thing to do.

W
e slept for a time
, Belinda’s face resting in the crook of my arm, her beautiful body stretched around mine like a reposing cat. There was a moment, just after we’d collapsed together, where a worried look came over her lovely face, and I thought for sure she was going to bolt. I was surprised by the depth of the ache in my chest at the idea of her leaving. I held her extra tight and whispered something filthy in her ear, and that seemed to convince her to stay.

My mind flickered in and out of consciousness, filled with pleasant dreams where Belinda and I floated on clouds, rolling naked together, our bodies pressed against each other. Her kisses tasted like warm bread fresh from the oven, her eyes danced with fire, her body shuddering with pleasure whenever I touched her. The pain in my finger faded into oblivion.

I opened my eyes, and realised that part of the dream was real. I was kissing Belinda, in a bed so soft it might have been a cloud in another life, and I was hard again.

Her tongue slid over mine, her hands kneading my shoulders. Her kisses were languid, sensual, half-cloaked in sleep. I returned her touch, wrapping my body around her and pressing her into the sheets.

This is the best way to wake up.

As if reminding me that my situation was precarious, pain flared through my body, starting in my swollen index finger, and moving along my arm, across my chest. I kissed Belinda harder, forgetting the pain in the warmth of her lips.

I pulled myself on top of Belinda, spreading her legs wide. I rolled another condom on and thrust into her in one deep stroke, enjoying the way her warmth slipped around me, sheathing me entirely. Her lips parted ever so slightly, and she sighed with pleasure as I slid up into her, grinding my thighs against hers, pushing myself deeper than I had the night before. Sometimes women were frightened to take in all of me, but not Belinda. She accepted everything I had to give.

I cupped her head in one hand, the other gripping her curvaceous arse, and pushed her body up to meet mine. Belinda wrapped her knees up around me, angling her hips to allow me to go deeper.
Yes.
I pounded into her, relishing the way her eyes locked on mine, fully losing herself in the moment.

Getting an idea, I pulled her knees forward, placing her feet on my shoulders. Not many girls had the flexibility to do this position for long, but Belinda sighed with happiness as she pulled my head down with her knees and I slid even deeper into her. Her sighs quickly turned to moans as my thrusts stroked her in just the right way, my pelvic bone hitting her clit while my cock rubbed that special spot deep inside her.

“Oh, Cole.” She breathed through gritted teeth, her black hair bouncing wildly around her face. I loved it when she said my name. “Oh, oh!”

I continued to thrust steadily, enjoying the view of Belinda’s head tossing about wildly and her lips parting as she panted in pleasure. I could feel myself getting closer, the tension in my body pulling me under. There was nothing in the world I wanted more right now than to come inside this beautiful woman. But I had to hold on a bit longer, for her.

I had to make her forget that fucking loser ex of hers. And the best way to make someone forget is to fuck the memory out of them.

I gritted my teeth and slowed my pace, concentrating on meeting Belinda’s gaze, on keeping my eyes locked on hers. I leaned against her, pushing her knees along my shoulders, and manage to press my lips to hers. As I kissed her, I felt her lips tremble against mine. She was close.

“Belinda,” I whispered against her lips.

Belinda’s walls tightened around me, squeezing my cock inside her. She threw her head back and moaned as she came, her orgasm sending pulses of delight through her entire body. She shuddered against my cock, and I was so close that sent me over the edge. I felt myself go rigid, and then my own orgasm claimed me. I grunted as I pounded into her one final time, relief spreading through my whole body as a hot wave of pleasure rose up and washed over me.

I leaned back, allowing her to slide her legs from my shoulders. I took care of the condom, then curled up next to her, wrapping my body around hers and pulling her against me. I loved the feeling of her soft skin against mine. Usually I wasn’t keen on all the cuddling women liked after sex, but with Belinda … I couldn’t get enough of the feel of her.

“I could do this all night, in every conceivable position.” I said, running my fingers along the edge of her breast. Belinda shuddered as the last vestiges of her orgasm fluttered through her body.

“I have to work in a few hours,” she murmured, her eyes flickering shut. “Bread must be baked, Eccles cakes iced …”

“Then you should sleep. I’ll try to keep myself from further devouring you until tomorrow night, but then you are mine.”

“Mmmmmhmmmm.” Belinda didn’t open her eyes. A few moments later, she was breathing steadily, her chest rising and falling with a regular rhythm. She had this enormous smile on her face that made my chest feel tight, and not from the pain that shot periodically through my body.

This night had been amazing. Belinda’s body was even more incredible out of her clothes. I had been so worried she would be afraid of sex, after what her scumbag ex had done to her, but from the moment I kissed her she was completely uninhibited. Behind her sugary-sweet exterior there was an inner minx just dying to get dirty. And I was definitely keen to help her with that.

But now that I had satisfied her, the time for play was over. The night stretched out before me, and as I lay in bed I grew more restless. I thought of Byron, and of the way I’d acted when he surprised us in the forest. I probably shouldn’t have been so rude to him, but I hated that he’d caught me off guard.

We had a pretty shitty relationship. Growing up, our father had played us constantly against each other, and Byron usually came out on top. After he was killed, Byron wanted nothing to do with me. He spent all his time with Pax and Poe, learning to fight and drink and barrel-roll and all the things teenage boys did when they were mad at the world. And when our mother died … well, we were never going to forgive each other for
that
. But even though Byron was a complete shithead, he was right – I’d taken too many stupid risks, and I wasn’t being careful enough. I fucking hated it when Byron was right.

I should probably find him. We need to sort this out. If I got Byron killed, I’d never be able to forgive myself.

I inched my arm out from beneath Belinda, checking to make sure she was still asleep. I slid out of bed. There was a window on my side of the bed that overlooked the forest. I pushed it open, letting in a gust of cool air. Next, I put the charm Ryan had given me around my neck. Luckily, it was light enough that it wouldn’t affect my flight too much. Neither Belinda nor I had bothered putting any clothes on again, so at least I didn’t have to worry about that. I saw her charm looped around her wrist, and thought about taking it for Byron. But I didn’t want to leave her unprotected.

I shifted as quickly as I could into my raven form, and hopped up onto the windowsill. I didn’t want to leave the safety of Raynard Hall, but I had Byron to think about. We may have a difficult relationship, but he was still my brother, and I knew he’d be close by, watching for me.

It didn’t take me long to find him. He was sitting on the top of the wrought-iron gate that barred the main entrance to Raynard Hall. I fluttered down and perched beside him.

“
You followed me here,
”
I said to him in caw-tongue.

“Of course,” was his reply. “But there’s some kind of magical field around the estate. I can’t cross it.”

“Raynard likes to keep the place free of vermin.”

Byron scowled.
“This isn’t the time for your abrasive humour, Cole. What’s that around your neck? You look like a carrier pigeon.”

“It’s a protective charm. It should shield me from detection. I’ll see if I can get one for you, too.”

Byron inclined his head. It was as close to a “thank you” as I would ever get. “So you went to the fox? That’s a pretty bold move.”

“I did. And he’s going to help us.”

“Us? You mean you’re acknowledging that I’m part of this, too?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Such anger in one so young. Go on, Cole. Tell me what the fox plans to do.”

I explained Ryan’s idea to Byron, and also about the charm I wore. He didn’t speak for some time, and then he nodded slowly, his beak dipping. “That is a good plan, but I see one flaw. You should know that Thomas Gillespie has already arrived. Pax saw them at Crooks Crossing this evening. They’re hiding in the crypt beneath the old church. If he finds me before Raynard arranges this meeting—”

Car tongue doesn’t have a word for “fuck”, so I just knocked my head against the gate a couple of times. Byron snorted.

“Don’t be dramatic. Just keep yourself hidden until Ryan can talk him into the trade. And if you could hide me too, that would be appreciated.”

I stared at him in shock. “You would go rogue?”

“I don’t really have a choice now, do I, little brother? Now, can you get me past this barrier so I can hide inside with you?”

“You know we can’t go inside just yet. We have to know, Byron. Our only weapon is the knowledge of what he’s up to. We have to know what he’s doing. Why does Sir Thomas even want a Bran? That’s what I don’t understand. I have a feeling that’s the key to this whole thing.”

“Fine. I’ll go. You stay here and I’ll report back.”

“As if I’d trust you with something this dangerous. Let’s go together.” I spread my wings and soared away over the village, trying to keep my balance with the charm around my neck and the pain flaring through my wing and my injured leg still dragging. A few moments later I heard the flap of Byron’s wings behind me.

We flew to Crooks Crossing in silence, darting high over the forest – where any Bran on patrol would be unlikely to spot us – and then dived low to cross the river that surrounded the next village. The old church was easy to find. It dominated the tiny high street of the village. The only other municipal buildings nearby were a pub, a post office, and a hall covered in graffiti. A couple of hoodlums with skateboards and cigarettes dangling from their mouths loitered in front of the hall. Otherwise, the place was dead and silent.

After doing a circuit of the churchyard to make sure there were no Bran or other creatures on guard, we swooped down and landed on one of the gravestones. I turned my head toward the church. I could hear voices inside. I gestured for Byron to follow me, and together we hopped down from the stone and dashed across the grass toward the side of the building. We fluttered up to the sill and peered through a stained glass window. I couldn’t see any lights inside, and it didn’t seem to be where the voices were coming from, either.

“Down there.” Byron pointed to the wall below us. There was a small window at the back of the garden, right down by the dirt. Behind it I could see the faint light of a candle flickering. We fluttered down and peered inside.

We were looking into a small crypt. I could see niches in the walls marking ancient tombs. In the middle of the room stood a dais upon which sat a stone sarcophagus. The elaborate carvings on the tomb depicted a warrior, possibly a local saint. He held a sword across his chest, and cherubs lounged on clouds around his feet. The lid had been tossed off the tomb, and it lay on an angle across the stone box, giving us a view of what lay inside it. I leaned closer, peering into the gloom, desperate to see for myself, and yet dreading what I knew I would find.

Inside the open tomb lay Sir Thomas Gillespie.

Beside me, Byron stepped back, his tail twitching. I didn’t blame him. My chest was tight, all my senses on high alert. I didn’t like being here, either. This was highly dangerous. Seeing Sir Thomas’s serene face staring up out of that coffin brought it home to me. At any moment Gillespie might wake, and he’d sense our presence, and we’d be dead.

But, as I’d said to Byron, we were the ravens, the watchers. We needed to see, to
know
.

“I don’t even want to know what they did with the remains of that medieval knight.” Byron said, shuddering.

“Knowing Gillespie, he probably ate them.” I replied, leaning in to peer at the rest of the crypt. It was probably early for him to be in bed, (as vampires tended to keep nocturnal hours because it meant less time in the presence of the sun) but he’d spent days on the road, so he must’ve been tired. Gillespie didn’t need to sleep in a coffin inside a dingy crypt like some bad horror film trope. He would have occupied the best hotel suite in all of Loamshire. But coffins and crypts were part of his species’ mythology, and Gillespie was the kind of vampire who took mythology very seriously. He liked to do things old school.

At the foot of the coffin sat Gillespie’s two human servants; Leonard and Rudolpho. They passed a bottle between them and argued over a card game they played by candlelight. Two rapiers and a shiny pistol leaned against the side of the tomb, within easy reach should anyone threaten their master.

Gillespie retained a purely human staff, partly for the ease of feeding (a vampire of the old traditions could feed from the same victim for many years without killing or turning that victim, it just took a lot of self-control) and partly because Gillespie honestly believed that his kind were superior to shifters in every way, and especially to the Bran. To them, we were wild, feral creatures, lower life forms born to be controlled by humans and therefore undeserving of his interest. Sir Thomas would rather have no servant than resort to employing a Bran, even with our unique abilities.

Which was why it was so strange that Gillespie suddenly wanted a Bran. And why I was determined that it was not going to be me. For all the evil Morchard had done – and there had been plenty of that – it had nothing on what that peaceful face below me was capable of.

“We shouldn’t be here.” Byron said, moving further away from the window.

“We’re here now,” I hissed back. “There must be a way we could hear what they’re saying.”