Never More

by Dana Marie Bell

  “Kiss?” She was pretty certain her skepticism was written all over her face. “Are we talking steps or bases here?”

  “Now now, no changing the game on me, fair one.” Raven tsk’d. “I didn’t make the rules, the gods themselves did.”

  “So you’re telling me Leo won Ruby over with a kiss.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  No. No, she wouldn’t be. Ruby had wanted Leo like a caffeine addict needed Kona coffee beans. “That was different.”

  “I suppose so. After all, we’ve just met, right?” Raven stroked her neck, his touch on her skin whisper-soft. “We don’t know each other at all.”

  “No, we don’t.” So why wasn’t she kicking his ass out of her room? Any other man who tried that kind of shit would find himself on the wrong end of a high-heeled boot. But here was Raven, lying in her bed, stroking her skin, so close she could feel his breath on her lips.

  “We haven’t talked much. I don’t know your favorite color, or what you like to read, or who you root for when you watch competitions on television.” He sighed, and the green band around his pupil expanded, swallowing up the blue. “But the moment I heard your voice I had to know you. The second I saw you walk out of this house I wanted to touch you.” He picked up a piece of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “The scent of your hair will haunt me for the rest of my days.” He sniffed her hair and shivered. “Peaches.”

  “Shampoo,” she breathed out. Oh, this guy was good.

  “No.” His eyes glowed softly. “It’s you.”

  He barely moved, but suddenly their lips were touching. The barest hint of a kiss and she was closing her eyes and sighing into his mouth, opening for more.

  Raven granted her unspoken desire, taking the kiss deeper. The invasion was sweet and soft, like a bird’s wing brushing against her. The grip of his hands on her hips pulling her closer didn’t surprise her. Her reaction to it was, as the need to keep him nearly overwhelmed her. She slid her leg up along his, grabbing a hold of his biceps. The strength of him mesmerized her. This was no pale, limp goth boy. This was a warrior, a man with scars on his arms from fighting.

  He really was a dark knight, wasn’t he? If he’d told her the truth, not all of those scars had come from doing good deeds. She’d have to decide how she felt about that, but not now.

  Now, all she wanted to feel was his lips on hers, their mouths dancing together, learning the taste of one another.

  The scariest thing of all that she’d learned that night?

  Raven Goodfellow tasted wonderful.

  Raven was perched on the edge of the porch, one of his favorite spots when he visited the Dunne farm. Like most sylphs, he preferred high places and the wind in his feathers. He was enjoying the morning breeze, sipping the tea Aileen had been kind enough to make him, when Amanda stepped out onto the porch.

  He couldn’t see her, but his senses went immediately on alert as the scent of peaches wafted up to him. “Good morning.”

  She grunted.

  “Have you had your coffee yet?”

  She made a noise he hadn’t heard since he’d been a moody teenager. Half whine, half moan, for him it had once meant Oh for the love of God, Ma, shut up! She hadn’t listened, but then again, his mother had spoken fluent teen-ese by the time he was fifteen.

  He missed her, more than he wanted anyone to know.

  Indecipherable mumbling followed her whine-grunt, and the sound of rustling papers accompanied her march down the porch steps. His bondmate was in a black motorcycle jacket with multiple zippers, dark blue jeans and low-heeled ankle boots. Her hair was in a loose braid that wound down her neck and over one shoulder. She had multiple pads, papers and binders in her arms, and she was grumpy as a kelpie in a desert.

  Raven fluttered down to the ground, landing right in front of her. “Can I help with anything?”

  She stepped around him, not even looking at him. All her attention was on the papers in her hands. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a set of keys and tossed them to him. “Drive.”

  “Yes’m.” Raven followed her to the car and slid into the driver’s seat. “Where to?”

  “Hell.” She sighed, tugging on her braid. “Wait. Starbucks, then Hell.”

  He chuckled. “Problems with the wedding?”

  Her growl was mighty impressive for a human. “Don’t get me started.”

  Instead, he started the car and pulled out of the driveway and onto the county road. “Which part of the wedding is getting to you?”

  The slow pan, the disbelieving look, and the way she gripped the papers so tightly her fingers turned white were adorable. “What part isn’t?”

  He chuckled, keeping an eye out. Just because he was planning on enjoying this day with his bondmate didn’t mean he could let his guard down. There were still hunters after him. Hell, half the reason he was going with Amanda was to keep her safe. Now that he’d tasted, her, Claimed her, she bore his signature in her aura for any fae to see. She would be a sitting duck, and if he didn’t watch over her, she’d be a dead duck.

  “The venue. They’ve given me very little time to find one, and it’s going to be impossible.” She thumped her head on the back of the seat. “We’ve got the dresses taken care of, but the venue is going to kill me.”

  “Did you speak to Robin about this?” Raven didn’t sense anyone following them, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t. He’d learned over the years to be vigilant. It was what had kept him alive.

  “Robin and Michaela said they trust me because Leo does.” She thumped her head again. “But I can’t figure out how to find a venue at this late date. I’ve spent the past hour calling around and getting laughed at.”

  Hmm. Raven frowned, wondering if there was anything he could do to help his mate. “I can see if any of the fae have a venue available. The wedding of the heir of the Gray Court is a big deal. I’m certain any fae-run establishment would love to claim the coup of gaining that bit of business.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “He’s what, now?”

  Raven grinned. “Michaela is literally marrying a fairytale prince.”

  She shook her head. “This just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

  He refrained from mentioning that, as the son of Prince Robin, Raven himself was a prince. “Let me call Duncan. He’ll have some better contacts in the area than I will.” Since most of his contacts were still Black Court and would sooner spit on him than help him.

  “I’ll call him.” She stilled. “Duncan is…?”

  “He’s a Sidhe.”

  “A what?”

  “A Sidhe. They’re the descendants of the original fae, the Tuatha Dé Danann. They have the ability to cloud your mind, make you think you were in one place when you were someplace else. The most powerful ones can do it to multiple people at once.”

  “How powerful is Duncan?”

  “Very.” Raven had a healthy respect for the man. For one, he hadn’t once judged Raven, at least to his face. Once Robin claimed him as his own, that was that as far as Duncan was concerned. Hell, most of the Dunnes had reacted that way, even Jaden. “Here.” He plucked his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Put him on speaker, would you?”

  Amanda fumbled with his phone for a moment, but quickly found Duncan’s number. The voice that answered wasn’t Duncan’s but that of his house sprite, Ian. “Good morning, Prince Raven.” Raven winced. “How may I help you?”

  “Prince?” Amanda mouthed, before shaking her head. “Hello. I’d like to speak to Duncan Blackthorn, please.”

  “Ah, Miss Amanda. Of course. One moment, please.”

  They drove in silence until Duncan’s deep, rich voice came over the speaker. “Raven, what can I do for you?”

  “Do you know any fae-run venues in the area that can handle Robin’s wedding?” Raven made the tur
n onto the highway that would lead them toward Omaha. “You know the timeline we’re under.”

  Duncan sighed. “Why Michaela insisted on having the wedding now I will never know.”

  “Why did she?” Amanda rustled some papers, pulling out a legal pad and a pen.

  “I have no idea.” Duncan grunted wearily. “I can put you in touch with some people, but I’m not sure how willing they will be to work with you.”

  Raven glanced at Amanda. “Let’s keep that between you and me. We don’t need my father getting upset because some fae can’t let my past go.”

  “Excellent idea.” Duncan cleared his throat. “I’ll call around and see what I can find out. Come meet me here, and I’ll accompany you.”

  Raven hoped his relief didn’t show in his face. “Thank you, Duncan. I appreciate this.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll let Moira know you’re coming as well. She might have some ideas that can help.”

  “And Jaden?” Amanda asked.

  “He’s…sleeping.” Duncan’s tone was wary, no doubt protecting his bondmate from the mortal inquiry.

  “She knows about us. She’s mine.” Raven ignored Amanda’s snarl as he turned toward Duncan’s estate. “My father already knows as well.”

  “Have you Claimed her?”

  “We’ve kissed, yes.”

  “Ah.” Duncan’s amusement came through clearly. “Have you explained the rest of it to her?”

  “I haven’t had the time.” He’d left her bedroom soon after the earth-shattering kiss they’d shared. She’d been far too tired for them to have the conversation he knew was still coming.

  “I’d make the time, if possible before the rehearsal.”

  “I will.” Raven looked at the time. “We should be there in about ten minutes or so.”

  “All right. We’ll see you soon.”

  Raven hung up the phone and waited for the barrage of questions.

  “What’s the rest of the Claiming?” She tilted her head. “Hell, what’s a Claiming?”

  “Remember our kiss last night?” Because boy, did Raven. He could spend hours doing nothing but kissing her.

  “Yes,” she replied warily.

  “What do you think is the next step?”

  She was silent for a moment. “Second base?”

  “Try rounding the bases all the way home.”

  “Tonsil hockey is one thing, but I don’t know you well enough to play spot the clitoris.”

  He swerved, almost running them into a guardrail. “Well. This is our second date. How long until we get to hide the jalapeño?”

  “Second date?” She scoffed. “I’m using you, minion.”

  He winced, trying not to allow bad memories to taint the fun they were having. “Yeah, well…I got nothing.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “Sorry. I forgot.”

  “It’s all right. I’ve got to get used to it.” Raven pulled up in front of Duncan’s house, grateful that this conversation was about to be cut off before he was forced to relive his nightmares for her. “We’re here.”

  He got out of the car, surprised when she remained seated, just staring at him through the side window. When she finally climbed out, she startled him by thrusting her paperwork into his hands. “C’mon, big guy. This was your bright idea. Let’s find out if I’m going to pull all my hair out before the day is over.”

  “I hope not. I like your hair.” Sunshine and peaches. How could anything so simple and sweet have the Raven Lord following a dainty little human like a lamb to the slaughter?

  But follow he did, his gaze on the swell of her ass as she marched up the front steps and rang the bell.

  Chapter Eight

  The moment they entered the house, Raven relaxed. The tense set of his shoulders eased, and the cocky expression was back on his face. Goth boy felt safe here, and for some reason Amanda’s subconscious seemed to be taking her cues from him. All the tension she’d felt in the car melted away, to be replaced by a feeling of comfort.

  Yeah. She was losing it.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Goodfellow, Ms. Pierson.” A tall, stately looking man with silver at his temples and wearing a crisp black business suit stood at the open doorway, a smile on his face and a hand extended in welcome. “May I take your coats?”

  Raven handed over his jacket. “Hello, Ian. How is the family today?”

  Ian’s gaze was filled with affection. “They are doing well, Mr. Goodfellow.” He took Amanda’s outstretched jacket and turned on his heel, the door shutting behind him as if on its own. “If you’ll follow me, please, I believe L…Duncan is awaiting you in his office.”

  Raven stopped the butler with one hand on his shoulder. “She knows.”

  Ian barely raised a brow. “Ah. Then I shall inform Mrs. Pagett that there is no need for secrecy.”

  “Your wife?” Amanda inquired.

  Ian stared at her in sheer horror, his expression smoothing as he cleared his throat. “No, Ms. Pierson. Mrs. Pagett’s bondmate would quite literally rip my head from my shoulders should I so much as look at her sideways.” He leaned in and whispered quietly, “Her bondmate is a lovely lady troll. They’re almost as territorial as the Sidhe.”

  Amanda stopped dead in her tracks. Troll?

  Troll?

  Oh, she was so out of here.

  Before she could make a break for it, Raven grabbed hold of her and began marching her forward. “Onward, brave wedding planner. You must slay the terrible caterer before entering the Venue of Vows and claiming the ultimate prize of having your picture taken with your mouth full of cake.”

  She squawked.

  “Yes, I know.” Raven turned to Ian. “Could we have some tea sent to Duncan’s office? I believe Ms. Pierson’s nerves are getting the better of her.”

  “Of course, Lord Goodfellow. I’ll see to it at once.” Ian opened the door to Duncan’s office. “Lord Goodfellow and Ms. Pierson are here to see you, sir.”

  Duncan Blackthorn stood and walked toward them, his hand extended in welcome. “Come in. Moira’s been eager to see you again.”

  Amanda was still stuck back on the word troll. “Gurk?”

  Duncan laughed. “What did you do to her?”

  “Me?” Raven pointed toward his chest. “Your butler broke my bondmate.”

  Duncan’s gaze widened briefly, his only indication that this was his first time hearing that Amanda and Raven were somehow connected. “Ah. Do I want to know?”

  Raven gave Duncan that lazy, bad-boy grin of his. “Mrs. Pagett’s bondmate.”

  Duncan laughed. “Oh.” He waved toward a pair of seats in front of his desk.

  In a daze, Amanda took one. “This is the weirdest week ever.”

  The door to the office shut quietly behind them.

  “So.” Duncan took a seat once more behind his desk. “I understand you’re having some difficulty finding a venue for Robin’s wedding.”

  Amanda took a deep breath and told her inner child to go hide under the bed while Mommy took care of business. She put one of the folders down on the small table between the two chairs. “With such short notice, and a lack of contacts in the area, having trouble is a bit of an understatement.”

  Duncan nodded. “Yes, I can see how that would be an issue. Let me make a few phone calls. There’s someone who owes me a favor or two. Perhaps I can call that in.”

  “Are you sure? You might need that favor at a later date.” Wasn’t there something in the legends about fae and debts owed? That they never quite paid you back in the way you hoped?

  Or was that genies? Did genies exist? She’d have to ask Raven. Or Ruby.

  Or just get the hell out of Nebraska.

  Duncan waved his hand. “It’s what you do for family.” He picked up the phone and began dialing, his words low.
>
  Raven stood and moved to the window, some of that tension he’d lost back in the set of his wide shoulders. Something about the way he stared, the tilt of his head, the way his fists were clenched in his pockets, had her standing and going over to him. She was nervous as she approached him, terrified something was out there, watching them. Waiting for them to leave Duncan’s safe little world. “Raven?”

  His only response was the lift of a brow.

  “Everything all right?” She put her hand on his arm. The skin beneath her palm was warm, the muscles tight. “It’s not, is it?”

  He shrugged.

  “Are your birdie senses tingling?”

  That got a reaction. “Birdie senses?” The disbelief in his tone, the way he finally turned his head to stare at her incredulously, had her biting back laughter.

  He made a thoroughly disgusted noise as he turned back to the window. “Birdie senses.”

  Amanda patted his arm. “Now, now. Don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.”

  “And we’re on to the bird puns. Wonderful.” But some of the tension had left his shoulders, and his lips were quirking up in a smile.

  “What can I say? Someone needs to give you more flock about it.”

  Raven rolled his eyes. “That was hawkward.”

  “Yeah. It was totally fowl.”

  “Toucan play at this game, you know. I cawtapulted to fame on the strength of my tweets.”

  “Oof,” Amanda grunted. “You sure laid an egg with that one.”

  “Owl have you know I’ve never been a father.” He blinked. “Or a mother.”

  “So your use of prophylactics is something to crow about?” She had to admit, she was having fun coming up with this stuff, but she was running out of bad bird puns rather quickly.

  “See? This is why I like you.” Raven grinned. “You thrush right in with the sexy talk.”

  “Time to put an end to this before it terns into a murder,” Amanda muttered.

  Raven threw his head back and laughed. “Fine. You win, my little wren.” His gaze returned to the window, and his humor fled. “I just wish I knew where Sayyid is.”