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

by Steffanie Holmes

Strong arms hooked me under my shoulders and pulled me to the bed. “Don’t move,” Ryan pulled my hands to my sides and straightened my legs. “And don’t try to get up again. You need to lie here and heal.”

  “What’s wrong with me?” I growled. “I feel as if I’ve been run over.”

  “You broke two ribs, you’ve got some kind of fast-acting viral infection, and you’ve been badly cut all over. Those birds have sharp beaks.” Kylie leaned over me to adjust the dressing on my face. I got a great view of her expansive cleavage down the front of her shirt. If I’d been feeling up to it, I might have gone in for a cheeky feel, but at that moment, I could barely move my head.

  “That doesn’t explain—” I started to say, but then I noticed the throbbing in my finger, and realisation dawned.

  “Today is the last day you belong to Victor Morchard,” Ryan said, confirming what I’d just deduced. “At noon, you become Gillespie’s Bran. I imagine the pull to return to your master is quite strong.”

  I gritted my teeth at the word master, but what could I do? Morchard was my master. As long as I was bound to his family, he still controlled my fate. Even my own body betrayed me, the bond that tied me to Morchard was pulling me back to him, stretching and squeezing my body. I felt as though an elephant sat on my chest. An elephant named Victor Morchard.

  At midday, I’d at least feel some relief from the pain, but then Sir Thomas Gillespie would be the one controlling me – and that would be a hundred times worse. At noon I would be fused spiritually with my father’s murderer, and my body would crave to unite with him. And he, with all the power of his kind, would instantly know where I was hiding.

  What had running from Victor achieved? Nothing. I was still a slave. I was still bound in service to an evil man. Mikael was dead. Belinda was in danger. Ryan and Alex and Byron were risking their lives to save me. Alex and Elinor and Bianca and Kylie were all upset. I had made life infinitely worse for a huge number of people.

  “What’s the time?” I asked Ryan weakly. He stared at me with wide, sympathetic eyes. He knew what I was really asking. How long until my new master claims me?

  “It’s a little after seven am” He said, sympathy thick in his voice. I hated hearing that sympathy from a fellow shifter. Why did he get to be free while I was destined to serve?

  I was so tired of running – so tired of resisting. I just wanted the pain to end. And it would, in a few hours, when the bond between Morchard and I severed itself, and I would be tied for eternity to one of the most terrifying creatures in England.

  “At least the pain will subside at lunchtime,” I gritted my teeth.

  “There’s still hope,” Ryan said. “I managed to track down Thomas Gillespie. I’ve invited him here for that meeting. I still hope to convince him to sell you to me. He’ll be here around noon. We can speak to him together.”

  Ryan’s words barely registered through the pain. As the news that I had a slim chance at freedom sank in to my body, I managed a tight smile. Ryan was doing me a huge favour, and he had no reason to. We weren’t friends, we had no blood ties, I wasn’t dating him, and yet he was putting up a huge sum of money and risking his life by inviting Gillespie into his home, all for me. “Thank you,” I croaked out.

  Ryan patted my arm. “Just focus on fixing your body. We need you to be on your feet when Gillespie arrives, otherwise he’ll complain about receiving a defective Bran.”

  Ryan ordered all the women to leave me in peace. He knew I needed to concentrate on healing. As soon as the room was empty, I leaned back against the pillows, closed my eyes, and drew my attention inward, focusing all my energy on the areas of my body that hurt the most.

  Bran heal fast, much faster even than other shifters, especially if we are able to retreat within ourselves and meditate. I tried to close off my mind, pushing out all my thoughts to bring in silence, but one face kept popping into my head.

  Belinda.

  Where was she? Who had taken her? Was it Gillespie, or Morchard, or someone else? Was she hurt? Were they going to hold her ransom? How would they use her to force me to do their will? When would I get the chance to see her, to rescue her?

  You can only rescue her if you have all your strength back, I admonished myself. You need to stop pining and start healing.

  I wanted so badly not to care about her. Caring was how I’d got her mixed up in all of this. But now it was my responsibility to save Belinda from all this, and then to get as far away from her as possible, before I messed up any more of her life.

  I focused, for her. I buried my feelings deep inside myself, and concentrated on my ribs, on flooding my body with the energy it needed to knit the bones and membranes back together, to heal what have been broken. I kept my breathing even, noticing that every breath seemed to get a little easier, a little less tight, a little more manageable.

  The vice-like pain still squeezed my body, but I was used to it. It was just a stronger version of the growing ache that had assailed me ever since I’d left Victor. The pain pulled at me, calling me back to him. But I would not go. I’d rather die than go back.

  Slowly, gradually, my body healed, my breathing became normal again, the scratches and cuts on my arms and face stopped stinging. It all took much longer than it usually did, and that niggling virus inside me clung on tenaciously. But eventually, I opened my eyes, and pulled myself out of bed. Being suddenly vertical made my head spin, but I gripped the wardrobe and waited for the nausea to pass. I found some clothes laid out for me – a black t-shirt and jeans, just my style – and pulled them on slowly, peeling off all my bandages as I went. Beneath them, I found no cuts or bruises on my skin. Perfect.

  I pulled open the door and hobbled down the hallway, following the sound of Alex’s infectious laugh. After navigating a maze of identical hallways, I found my way back to one of the many living rooms, where Ryan, Alex and Elinor were sprawled out over the couches, ignoring an American college movie blaring from the TV and discussing my current dilemma.

  “—he’s got her all mixed up in this and I don’t understand why.” Alex was saying, as she stroked Miss Havisham’s calico fur. “They’re not dating or anything. As far as I know they only recently met.”

  “They may not be officially dating, but he’s in love with her,” Elinor argued. “It’s obvious from the way he looks at her.”

  “Do you really think so? He seems so shut off. I don’t think he’s ready to love anybody.”

  “Ready or not, it’s happening.” Elinor said. Chairman Meow glanced up from his spot on her lap, and inclined his head, as though he agreed with her. “Just look into his eyes, you’ll see it.”

  I was in love with Belinda? That was news to me. Or was it? My stomach twisted to think of her in danger. Every minute I was with her I longed to hold her in my arms, to kiss her all over, to fuck her in every conceivable way. But that wasn’t love, was it? I’d never been in love before. When you fall in love, you get hurt, or you do the hurting.

  You’re doing plenty of hurting right here, I reminded myself.

  “Is it such a good idea, though?” Alex asked. “Shouldn’t we be warning her off of this? She’s been so withdrawn since Ethan left, just throwing herself into that bakery. Does she really need a guy like Cole messing with her head again?”

  “Or maybe he’s exactly what she needs.” Elinor added.

  No, no I’m not. I really wanted to be angry at them for talking about me and Belinda behind our backs, but they were her friends. They were worried about her, and rightfully so. Belinda was fragile. No one knew this better than I did, and I was probably the worst thing that could happen to her. I’d known her for four days, and I’d managed to get her business trashed, her heart all torn up, and her personage stolen. What a great catch I was!

  I resolved again that after I rescued her, I would leave her alone, and go somewhere far away. She deserved better than me, better than a slave who fucked everything up.

  “Does he know about Ethan?” Elinor ask
ed. “Perhaps he simply doesn’t realise how fragile Belinda is.”

  “How could he not know? He’s sleeping on Belinda’s couch. As soon as you go up to her place, it’s obvious she’s in serious trouble.”

  “What?”

  I cringed on Belinda’s behalf. I knew how much she didn’t want her friends to know about her flat.

  “She’s been hiding it from us,” Alex explained. “But I saw her apartment when Ryan and I were helping her at the bakery. She’s got no—”

  I decided it was time to jump in, before Alex revealed Belinda’s secret. I owed her that much, at least. I stepped into the room. “Good morning.”

  “Cole?” Elinor leapt to her feet. “You scared us.”

  “You shouldn’t be walking around with those ribs,” Kylie admonished me. “You could inadvertently push one through your spleen, and then where would you be?”

  I pulled up my shirt and showed off my chest, flexing my biceps for good measure. “I don’t see any problems here, officer.”

  “Well,” Elinor looked impressed as her eyes scanned over my ink. “Someone likes the needle.”

  “Yup. And I hope if I stay out of trouble long enough, I might be able to adorn somewhere special with yours,” I grinned, grabbing my crotch.

  Elinor laughed. “I think Cole has healed up just fine.”

  “Where’s Byron? Has there been any news about Belinda?” I asked, slumping down on the couch next to Elinor, and moving my legs apart so Chairman Meow could get comfortable between them. My whole body screamed in protest, the tug on my muscles nearly overwhelming. Elinor shot me a knowing glance. As an ex-lawyer, Elinor had a nose for seeing through bullshit, and she could clearly see through my false cheeriness, I wondered if she guessed at what being away from Morchard for so long did to me.

  “He hasn’t come back.” Alex wrung her hands. “Bianca and I drove out to Morchard Castle to try and ask after her, but some guy with a Mohawk and an attitude wouldn’t even let us in the gate. There seemed to be a lot of ravens hanging around though – at least ten of them lined up along the outer wall.”

  “The guy with the Mohawk is Pax, in his human form, and you don’t want to mess with him.” I managed to choke the words out. “Those ravens could be the birds that took Belinda.”

  “That’s what we thought,” Alex said. “But without confirmation, we didn’t want to assume anything, not when Belinda’s life may be a stake.”

  “Did they have rings like mine?” I held up my hand. The girls winced when they saw the awful blackened skin.

  “Not that I saw,” Alex said. “But I probably couldn’t have seen from that distance.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I hated to think of her out there somewhere, alone and scared. Elinor squeezed my knee. “We’ll find her, Cole. I promise.”

  Ryan glanced at his watch. “Gillespie should be here at any moment. One way or the other, he should be able to tell us where Belinda is.”

  I glanced at the clock on the Blu-ray player. Ten minutes to twelve. My body tensed, the pull to return to the Morchards’ surged through my body, worse than ever before. I gritted my teeth, managing to hiss out the words. “I can’t wait.”

  Elinor’s grip on my knee tightened.

  I stood bone still, watching that clock, trying to control my breathing, to ride the waves of agony that assailed my body. My teeth clattered together, my stomach twisted. I dug my fingers into the leather sofa.

  11:52 ...

  “Cole, are you OK?” Alex leaned over me, her cleavage resting right in front of my face as she felt my forehead. Under normal circumstances, these girls would be testing every ounce of my self-control, but right then I was having enough trouble just breathing.

  “He’s burning up!” Alex mopped the sweat that ran down my face with his sleeve. Her light touch felt like daggers piercing my skin. A tiny moan escaped my lips. “Simon, get us a cold compress.”

  “Just leave him be,” Ryan said. “There’s nothing that’ll cure him but time.”

  11:59 …

  The pain surged, and my whole body shuddered. My chest tore in half, one part of my body being pulled one way, while the other was tugged in the opposite direction. I arched my back, crying out as the two halves of my body tugged against each other, fighting for dominion.

  And then, just as the pain become unbearable, my right side swelled, a wave washing over me, carrying everything away in its wake. The pulling stopped, the searing heat beneath my skin cooled. The throbbing heat of the ring on my finger cooled. For the first time in days, I felt normal.

  “Cole? Are you OK?”

  Grinning, I stretched my hands over my head, curling on arm around Elinor’s shoulders and planting a big kiss on her cheek. “I’m back.”

  “What happened?” Elinor squeezed the hand that I’d draped over her shoulder.

  “His body has recognised his new master,” Ryan said. “Cole, do you feel different?”

  I nodded, trying to settle myself into the new sensations that surged through my body. It felt as if I’d received a jolt of adrenaline. I jumped to my feet, walking quickly across the length of the room to the window, just as a sleek black Bentley pulled into the long drive. My heart hammered with excitement, as though it were Santa Claus or Jenna Jameson coming for tea. It was my body, yearning to start work for its new master.

  My mind surged with anger at my body for betraying me, again. Angry that this spell that bound me to servitude tied me to a man whom I hated more even than Victor Morchard. A man that was, at this moment, climbing from his fancy car, pulling his dark glasses low over his eyes, and strolling towards the hall’s great doors as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  “Cole?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, watching as Gillespie disappeared from my view under the wide porch, his two minions following close behind him. “It’s just a bit different, is all.”

  “Do you know what you’re going to say to him?” Alex asked her husband.

  Ryan nodded. “Gillespie is old school. From the oldest school there is. He’s been around for about four hundred years. He believes in observing protocol and tradition. I know how to play that game.” I noticed that Ryan wasn’t wearing his black jeans and paint-splattered shirt from earlier, but a nice tailored suit. I looked down at my clothes, wondering if I should have changed. No, Ryan has planned this out to the last detail. If he wants you to look like this, there is a reason. You just have to do what he says and not let your smart mouth get you into trouble.

  I’m doomed.

  Simon materialised at the door. “Thomas Gillespie to see you, sir.” He told Ryan. “He is waiting in the cream drawing room.”

  “Thank you, Simon. We’ll go to him now.”

  Gillespie. My new master. I didn’t want to see him, to go to him like a slave crawling and begging for scraps. But the pull in my body had already started, tugging me towards the front of the house, where I knew he was waiting. Odd that it should be so strong already.

  Ryan saw my face. “Remember, he’s come to discuss my proposal,” he said. “He is willing to consider it. Perhaps you won’t be his servant much longer.”

  “Here’s hoping.” I said, following Ryan towards the door.

  The girls rose to join us. Ryan shook his head. “You guys should stay here. Cole and I need to speak to Sir Thomas alone.”

  “No way,” Elinor shook her head, her neat brown hair shaking around her face. “Our friend has been kidnapped, and this guy is mixed up in it. He’s trading Cole’s life for cash like he’s a Chesterfield sofa or a dog kennel or something. It’s wrong and we won’t stand for it. We’re coming.”

  Ryan looked at Alex for help, but she shook her head.

  “I can’t have you guys there,” he said. “Sir Thomas isn’t going to listen to women, especially not human women—”

  “Then he’s a dick,” Alex said firmly. I nodded my agreement.

  “If you don’t allow us in the room with you,” Elinor said. “
We’re just going to listen at the door.”

  Ryan sighed. “Fine, I’ll show you a better place to hide. But don’t let him catch you. Remember, Sir Thomas is a stickler for protocol, and he is extremely formidable. If he gets angry, I am probably not powerful enough to stop him. So be very quiet and extremely careful.”

  “Would we ever be anything else?” Alex smiled sweetly.

  Ryan stalked down the labyrinthine halls. I followed close behind him, my body propelled by the magical bond that already possessed me. The girls dawdled behind, whispering to each other conspiratorially and giggling. For all their attempts at being inconspicuous, they were very conspicuous indeed.

  Ryan pointed down a corridor and hissed at Alex. “Take them down there. Go in the first door on the right. That room adjoins the drawing room, so you can listen through the wall, especially if you take down the third painting over the fireplace. But be quiet.” Alex nodded, and dragged her friend along the hall, the twin tails of Miss Havisham and Chairman Meow stuck up in the air like periscopes as they trotted behind.

  “Keep your thoughts quiet, too!” Ryan yelled after them. They ignored him.

  Ryan stopped in front of a doorway. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you ready for this?” I nodded, and followed him inside.

  Sir Thomas Gillespie stood before the fireplace, as far from the airy open windows as he could get. His back was to us, his eyes transfixed by the large painting above the hearth – a Ryan Raynard original, showing a fox and her vixen hunting together. He kept his thin hands clasped behind his back, and I couldn’t help but stare at them, remembering those fingers curling around the edge of his coffin when I’d spied on him in the church crypt.

  Those are the hands that squeezed the trigger to kill my father.

  “Sir Thomas. It is a pleasure to see you again.” Ryan moved forward, extending his hand. The man shook it stiffly, then turned to face me. I was hit by his power as though it were a brick wall. The sheer force of his will knocked me off my feet, and I stumbled back against the door.

  Sir Thomas Gillespie looked exactly as I remembered him when I’d seen lying in a coffin only two nights before, and yet he also appeared completely changed. In the daylight his skin sank into his face, pale and sickly-looking. His thin hair had been combed back from his face, almost translucent in its attempts to cover his high, noble skull. Vampires aged slowly, so even though he was over four hundred years old, he had the smooth skin and tight features of someone in their late thirties. His eyes blazed into mine from behind his dark glasses with an indescribable power.