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

by Steffanie Holmes

  When we’d gone back to her place, Ingrid had cooked us a huge dinner of roast beef, potatoes, peas, and carrots. While we ate she went out and found some clothes for us at the local Salvation Army store. The blue t-shirt and Bermuda shorts weren’t exactly my style, and Byron looked less-than-impressed with his checked shirt and slacks, but at least they allowed us to walk around in our human forms without arousing suspicion or desire.

  We waited until nightfall, Byron and Ingrid chatting and flirting across the kitchen table, and me staring out of the window thinking about Belinda. When the clock struck 9pm, Ingrid hustled us into her truck, and headed out to the forest.

  And there we had stayed for three hours in our raven forms, trying to find our inner bird. But all I found was thoughts of Belinda, strange thoughts that were like memories that hadn’t happened yet, vivid half-dreams where we rolled together in her bed at Raynard Hall, our limbs twisted around each other as we made frantic love.

  All Byron found was frustration.

  We went back to the forest in the early morning, and tried again. After two hours of attempting to clear my head of Belinda, I gave up. I transformed into my human form and started climbing down from the tree. “This isn’t working.”

  “It’s not going to be immediate, Cole.” Ingrid said. She was sitting under the tree we were both perched in, reading a book.

  “I know that, but I think I need a break. I need something else to do for a little while, and then I’ll come back and try again later.”

  “I’m due at the aviary this morning. Do you want to come with me? If you help me, I’ll be done in half the time.”

  The chance to see an aviary that actually set out to help birds, instead of pump them full of drugs and viruses? “Hell yes. That sounds great.”

  Byron wanted to stay in the forest, and keep trying the meditations. His finger had swollen up to about twice its usual size, and he winced every time he walked. He assured us he’d be fine on his own.

  I hopped down to the ground and pulled on the clothes Ingrid had waiting there, then we walked back to her truck. Ingrid stopped at a farming supply store to pick up several large bags of bird feed. I helped her load them into the back of the truck, and then we drove up to the bird sanctuary.

  “I’ve been volunteering here for three years,” Ingrid explained. “Pretty much ever since I emerged from the forest. At any one time we have over two thousand birds in the aviaries or the infirmary, and we also have tagged species in the wild we study. Scientists work out of the main research centre, which is that building,” she pointed to large building on the left of the driveway. “They monitor the wild species, as well as some of the aviary birds. A lot of students from the university come here to do internships, and we also run a great public education programme in the local schools. People in the village bring in injured birds they’ve found, and we have a really successful adoption programme.”

  “What’s your role?”

  “Right now, I’m run the public programmes and the adoption programme, but I also do a lot of odd jobs around the place.” Ingrid said. “When I started, I had to clean out the cages. I’ve been working my way up.”

  We rode down a winding, gravel drive, moving deeper into the forest. All around me, birds in the trees chirped, their pleasant song a delightful change from the pained cries in Morchard’s aviary. Ingrid parked the car next to the long aviary cage. I jumped out and peered inside, my heart soaring to see and hear such a wonderful cacophony of different species. A dove hopped along the branch in front of me, its broken leg splinted. Above her, two rainbow lorikeets preened in the sun, croaking “Turn that TV down!” at each other.

  Ingrid unlocked the small potting shed we’d hidden in the day before, and tossed me a set of grey overalls. “I know this isn’t your usual denim and leather, but around here we’re not too concerned with trying to look as though we play guitar for a heavy-metal band.”

  “This is fine.” I pulled the overalls on, while Ingrid pulled on her own dungarees and moved the bags into the shed. She ripped one open and filled a bucket with feed. When I was fully kitted out, Ingrid led me into the cage.

  Hundreds of birds fluttered down from the branches to peer into the bucket. They hopped around my feet, excitedly exclaiming both over the possibility of food, and the fact that a second Bran had joined Ingrid in their abode. Even though we were both in human form, the birds knew what we were.

  I picked up handfuls of feed and threw it to the birds, spreading it around so everyone got a morsel. The birds skittered around me, squabbling over the food. They didn’t seem to mind me being in their space.

  “What’s going to happen to these guys?” I asked.

  “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.”<
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  “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.

  14

  Belinda

  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.

  15

  Cole

  Whoa.

  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.