Nameless Darkness: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (The Raven Book 1)

by Elle Lincoln

  His hand tightens upon my belly, his nails scraping against my flesh. “Are you hungry?”

  It was all so domestic. Nerves filtered through me and yet, I don’t want to break the comfort two people lost in time found. I think on his question, and oddly I wasn’t too hungry. “No.” A ping of worry spikes through me. It doesn’t feel right. As though I should be hungry, ravenous for something sweet or carb loaded. “Why am I not hungry?”

  “You will not like the answer I give you.” The breath against my neck fires off heat to my nerves. I damn near arch into him.

  I roll in his arms. Facing him. Without thinking, I push his hair from his face. Letting the strands filter through my fingertips. The oil from his hair coats my fingers, the dirt coloring it. “You need a bath.”

  His smile devastates me. His teeth somehow white, straight, and healthy. My thumb ghosts over his lips, my eyes transfixed to where my fingers touch.

  “I do.”

  “Why won’t I like your answer?” He lay upon the blanket that wrapped around me. Our bodies only touching through the broken fabric. I want to wish away the blankets.

  “Because your mind is programmed to the world of humans.”

  “You speak as though you aren’t human.” I pull back to study him. His features give nothing away at my words.

  “I’m not.”

  I don’t push, instead, I watch the wrinkle in his brow as it waves on his forehead...

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, I don’t know if there is even anything to cook here. I am lost in an era of the dark ages where homes are hand built and meals are cooked over the fire.

  “I am always hungry.” He looks off, his eye seeing something I can’t.

  “What happened to your eye?”

  “You won’t like that answer either.”

  “I don’t have to like an answer to understand it.” I trace the eye patch with my fingers. It feels like animal hide, smooth and rough at the same time. The intimacy of the moment isn’t lost on me and I snuggle in closer, our breaths mingling together as we play out this domestic scene.

  “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.” He’s once again focused on me. Not just seeing my body, but seeing through me in a raw way.

  “If you could be anywhere else, where would you be?” I don’t know why I ask that question, yet the words fall free from my tongue all the same.

  His hand reaches out, his fingers hesitant to touch me. When his skin touches me, I exhale a breath of relief. The thick pad of his thumb drifts over my skin and I turn into his hand. His calloused skin scrapes and prickles my own. I watch as his eye glazes over while his mind is transported to a place I neither know nor understand, and yet I crave to hear the tale.

  “Home,” he finally responds.

  “Tell me about home, where ever that is.” I hold my breath, hoping he answers me.

  “I had a castle.” It was nothing more than a statement, and the emotion of loss that bleeds off of him strikes me until it’s all I feel. “Over the sea. I woke to the sound of waves crashing upon the shore. For one moment I felt nothing but peace.” There is much that remains unspoken in his words.

  “Then reality set in,” I add, encouraging him to continue.

  “Yes.” He rolls onto his back. “But each morning and each night the waves comforted me. Anchored me to that moment while everything else fell apart.”

  We lie there in silence. No waves crashing upon a shore for comfort. No wind in our hair to cool warm, sun-kissed skin. Most noticeable of all, no sounds reaching us at all beyond our own deep breaths.

  In fact, isolation deafens the senses. Overpowering in its ability to mute everything but the thumping of our hearts. I long for the song of crickets and frogs. Their memory drifts to me like a gift. One I cherish.

  “Were there crickets?”

  “And birdsongs.” He rolls to me, pulling me tight against him, just as starved for physical touch as I am. This moment of compassion and companionship merges us, strangers, until we are just slightly more than acquaintances. “Come, your clothing is dry.” He lets go of me to roll off the pallet, and his feet hit the floor with a heavy thud. I don’t watch as he leaves, if he were to look back, he’d see how much I miss his touch.

  I wrap the blanket around me and sit up, my body aching from slumbering too long. My bare feet carefully walk across the floorboards, as small wooden bits dig into my skin, pushing against my calloused feet. I press outside, the door swinging shut behind me in a whoosh.

  Guy is standing in front of me. His head bent to the sky, his matted and dreaded hair spilling down his broad back. The sun glints on the brown locks and highlights the streaks of hidden colors.

  The sun.

  The sun?

  I jerk my head up, my eyes squinting against the light. I’m stunned, my body frozen to the spot. Above, the mist has parted just enough to allow the hazy light to dissipate into full dawn. Words freeze in my throat as a cascade of colors streak across the break in the sky. Strands of light hit the fog in rays, making them dance in orange and gold. I can just make out the curve of the sun, its ascent paused in the sky, frozen in time with us. I stare, my corneas burning, and yet I cannot look away.

  It’s a promise, a reward for something. The land is alive, the air is alive, and it exists in this realm that is becoming known once more.

  I need to blink against the dry burn of my eyes, but if I blink it may disappear. Then I’ll be cast once more in the grey of pre-dawn light. I already miss it, but the warm rays hit my shoulders as I blindly walk forward. I look down and laugh when my eyes show me the ghost of the sun in little round dots.

  I choke on a sob as my elation grows. My fingers caress the warmth where the rays hit my skin. I turn my hands, with a ghost of a smile caressing my lips. It’s too good to be true.

  Warm hands jerk me out of my trance, and Guy’s hands are shaking me. I look up to his furrowed brow.

  “You did this.” It’s a statement, and I can’t tell if he’s angry about it. His emotions are locked down so tight that I can’t figure out where he falls on the spectrum.

  “How could I have done this?” My mind catches up with his words, and confusion swamps me. He might be right, but how?

  “Because you are the only change that has befallen this place in centuries, maybe longer.” He shakes me once more before letting me go and backing away. “You will free me.”

  “I need to figure out how to free myself first, big guy.” How could he possibly expect me to free him if I can’t free myself?

  “It’s begun,” a voice states, and I look up to see that stupid man bird strolling into our clearing. The hood of his cape down for the first time and his features are lit from the sun, even more so than that first night I met him. I can’t help the sharp intake of breath at finally seeing him without any shadow. I watch him swagger toward us. Again I’m struck by his abnormal beauty. As rough and rugged as Guy is, Casseus is his polar opposite. I can see Guy’s emotions flit across his face, while Casseus wears a scowl.

  His appearance is odd. His body is tall and lean as though he were a swimmer. He still wears the cape, though the hood is down, and the rest of him is cast in shadows. Even with the sunlight, it doesn’t touch him. A mohawk, as black as a raven’s feathers, folds over from his forehead to his nape. The sides trimmed close and flawlessly blending into his unshaven face. He wears a mustache that turns up at the ends, accentuating his lush lips. His nose has a slight hook, imitating the raven he transforms into.

  Yet his eyes are as black as those of a raven, and the moment they lock on me, he sneers. I’m instantly reminded this creature killed me. My attraction evaporates as that memory floods me with adrenaline.

  “Casseus,” Guy greets the raven, who only nods at him before he focuses on me.

  “You,” he addresses me, and his lips twist with hatred. I assume it’s because I wouldn’t die as Guy stated. “We have things to discuss.”

  I raise a brow, holding the blanket tighter a
gainst my skin. “Bring me clothes, clean clothes, and we’ll talk.” I dismiss him by walking away. There is no way in hell I will address his need to talk without the barrier of clothing. I’m too bare, too vulnerable this way. I won’t allow it.

  His huff of annoyance makes me feel slightly better, and a devious little smirk flares my lips. Until I head to the tub and my clothes. I take one look at their hardened appearance and instantly decide to just walk around in the blanket for now.

  “I don’t think you are in any position to make demands,” Casseus states, gripping my arm and spinning me.

  I back away, and the need to call the mist almost overwhelms me. Yet I cannot kill him, so what’s the fucking point. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Listen Little Raven—”

  I cut him off. “Why do you two keep calling me that? Have you both come up with a nickname for me?” I slice the air in annoyance. “My name is Bette. Call me Bette.”

  “I’m surprised you can even remember your name,” he taunts.

  I growl, literally growl at him, like a damn wolf. He makes all the hair on my body stand on end in anger.

  “Casseus,” Guy warns, his voice holding no arguments. The tone tells of his past and the authority he once held. I rather like it.

  “Thank you, Guy.”

  “Guy? You are calling him Guy? Hasn’t he told you his real name yet?” Casseus laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. If it weren’t for the sinister intent, his mirth would be infectious. Instead, I bite my lip.

  “Clothes Casseus. Then I’ll talk to you.” I go to walk away. “And food, bring me food.”

  Again he laughs and I refuse to acknowledge him. “Oh Little Raven, you are past the world of bread and wine. But I’ll bring you another rodent.”

  My spine crawls—no. My eyes widen as they seek him out. The blood drains from my face as I teeter on my feet. No. It isn’t true.

  But the smirk on his face tells me everything I don’t want to know. As he merges into the raven, he takes flight with a condescending squawk. I let the smart-ass have the last word. For now. Until he returns and I torture answers from him. I think of plucking his feathers out one by one until a sick satisfaction shudders through me and I feel marginally better.

  Chapter 8

  Mac

  Earth

  “Do you think that was your best decision?” Morrigan stands with her hands on her hips, her pristine white pantsuit wrinkles as she clutches the fabric in her distaste. Her bright red lips pull down into a frown that does nothing to mask her beauty.

  I give a humorless laugh because after all, she’s absolutely correct. “No, but I can’t get there and he can. I’ll just have to make sure I’m there when they are free.” Weariness makes its presence known and my entire body fatigues. I scrub a hand down my face, my beard overgrown and scratchy. I should have known better than to send the fool. He could fuck up something even so simple as finding your own blood. You’d think after all these years he’d have grown up. He hasn’t and he never will, he enjoys the gluttony this life has to offer. If only the idiot would realize this is his fight too.

  “She will love you.”

  I glance over to Morrigan, her sigh is wistful and her dark eyes glisten with unshed tears. I’m instantly on alert. Her statement is odd and completely off the topic of our mission. “Who?” I know I shouldn’t indulge her. It’s bad for everyone involved. Most days she is crazy as a fox, other days her clarity is crystalline. And fucking terrifying.

  “Soon,” she responds vaguely. Her shoulders shrug and her face falls as she looks around our small battle room. It’s nothing more than a hotel room with a map lain upon it. Her nose wrinkles, the little upturn scrunching and winkling in her distaste.

  “How much time do we have?” I ask, and watch as her eyes glaze over and a shudder racks her body.

  “Time.”

  That is a horrible answer. “Care to elaborate on that?”

  “Enough time. It isn’t a clear-cut answer Manannan.” Her scolding voice cuts through me and I’m reminded of why we never hooked up.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “I apologize. Your modern name is much more appropriate.” I can’t decide if she is laughing at me or not. I determine I don’t want to know.

  “What is our objective here?” My hand flies over the mountain range in question, comprising of over two thousand miles and endless acres of forest. I’ve never felt so desolate, nor outnumbered. I regret years upon years of doing nothing more than letting these creatures run wild. Now they are spread out like ants, but unlike ants, they prey upon humans.

  We’ve been aware of the issue for quite some time, yet humans disappeared all the time. Left to the fate of murderers and rapists. Sometimes the monster under the bed isn’t supernatural at all.

  Then the survivors spoke of tales where they walked around a bend and the land was different. Or they felt watched, only to not see anyone there. Even worse, some of them described a world that didn’t fit this one and the creatures that led them there.

  That’s when we knew our descendants were hunting the humans.

  “Take them out one by one.” Her voice is hard, unforgiving. The wrath that sits just beyond her control vibrates the air. I’m once again reminded of her power. “They are foolish children.”

  “Do we know their motivation yet?” Everyone has a motive for their actions, no matter what. Theirs is a huge question mark hanging above our heads like a damn noose. Humans have been used in the past to strengthen their magic, but this is something else entirely. The consistency is flawed. It’s as though they are using up their magic and pulling from living sources.

  “No,” Morrigan answers. That one worded response coming from a seer who thrives in chaos is telling. “I can see nothing.”

  She paces. Her anger palpable as she does her best to rein it in and not level the crappy little motel. I don’t dare comfort her. It isn’t our way. Our friendship is, at best, a negotiation. At worst, our relationship is toxic, based on manipulation and deception. I’ve deduced that she wants something from me.

  What? I have no idea. Part of me wants no part of it. But then there is that small piece of me that revels in the puzzle. She doesn’t do favors nor does she grant promises. She is the phantom, the nightmare humans tell their children about. Morrigan is an army unto herself.

  I’m glad she is on our side. Otherwise, we may just be fucked.

  She is wrapped up in crazy of course, but what woman isn’t? This one just happens to be an old immortal, and any woman over a thousand would enter crazy territory. Or so I try to reason.

  “You will have to leave soon.” She stops in her pacing, calmer than before. Her eyes twitch back and forth, seeing something just beyond, intangible to this plane but very real to her.

  I nod. I don’t question her. Ever. I’ve made that mistake in the past and it cost me an entire species. I won’t do so again. “Where to?”

  She walks over to the map and points down to a little town right in the middle of hostile territory. Or rather in the middle of a clan of Fae if my map is to be believed.

  “How much time do I have?” I question again, but for a different reason.

  “A few hours.”

  Is she serious? That location is hours away. I groan, moving to grab my keys and the map.

  “Oh and Mac?” I turn to see her dark eyes shine with mischievousness. “You are picking up precious cargo. Call O’Flannery on the way. It’s time he comes out of hiding. And ditch the car.”

  “Who am I picking up Morrigan?” I wonder if she will even answer me.

  “The one you’ve been waiting for.” With that her magic splits the air, leaving a crow in her wake. A hard flap of her wings and she disappears through the wall. Nothing could ever keep her out of where she wanted to go.

  I race out the door, not bothering to question her further or call her back. My time is already limited to get to my destination. I start my car, feeling a small tinge
of regret at having to ditch it. My one splurge after lying low for so long and now I have to let it go.

  I wonder whom she believes I’ve been waiting for? I’ve been alive for far too long to ask anything more of this world. All I ever receive is heartache and despair. Now, my life purpose is to keep the humans safe from our decedents, the greedy bastards.

  There is nothing left for me in this life. I’m ready to die. I may joke, I may flirt, but I want nothing more than to sleep off my immortality. There is nothing left inside me except a black hole. Morrigan must be mistaken.

  “You fool, I am never mistaken.” Her voice filters through my head, causing me to swerve. The tires squeal and my hand grips the steering wheel as I fight for control. “When have I ever led you wrong?”

  I grit my teeth refusing to answer.

  “Exactly. Now hurry and don’t eat the gas station sushi.” Why would I even want to eat gas station sushi? Gross.

  Still, I don’t dare to hope. What is she suggesting? My mind is lazy to remember our first meeting, when her eyes glazed over as she told me it would take centuries to find the right woman. I concentrated on other things after that, like keeping my sea creatures in line. They somehow got a taste of human fishermen.

  I can’t help the small smile that peeks through my mask where true happiness dares to rear its ugly head.

  I flip through my contacts, ending on O’Flannery. A sober Irish man may be too much to hope for, but a drunk one can sometimes be amusing as hell. I punch the button to call and listen to it ring and ring.

  Again. And again.

  “What! Ye fart swallow?” His gruff voice echoes in my car. I can’t tell his level of drunkenness just yet.

  “Fart swallow?”

  “Aye, what do ye want ye bastard?”

  “I’m on my way to you.” I pause, unsure of how to proceed. “I’m going to need a few things set up.”