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

by Steffanie Holmes

  “I want you to have it, Cole.” Ryan said. “You should have your liberty.”

  “I am in your debt,” Cole said seriously. “I will pay you back every penny.”

  “That’s not what I want,” Ryan replied. “All I want you to do is take your freedom and make something of it. Tell me, have you thought what you will do once you are free?”

  Cole didn’t hesitate. “I want to own enough land to create a bird sanctuary. A place where birds can be taken if they are sick or injured. There would be experts there who could treat and study bird flu, trauma injuries, everything. And scientists could use the facilities to study the birds, as long as they were humane. The sanctuary would be non-profit, so that no one had to worry they couldn’t afford care if they found a bird in danger. And, of course, we would be a safe place for Bran to come and get the care they need if their masters are too cruel to find them treatment.”

  I stared at Cole in surprise. He’d never mentioned anything like that before. I found it hard to imagine this hard biker running a bird sanctuary and raising charitable donations. Cole didn’t meet my eyes. He was staring into the corner of the room, looking as if his mind were a million miles away. He had spoken about the sanctuary with such conviction, his passion clear in his voice. I wondered what had spurred that dream of his.

  Clearly, there was more to Cole than I’d imagined. I turned over his hand in mine, my eyes trailing the body of a snake as it curled around his wrist and slithered along his forearm. My chest tightened. I was falling hard for this guy.

  “That sounds beautiful,” Alex said. I nodded in agreement. Cole shook his head, turning back toward us. He gave a little smile, as if he’d only just realised we could hear him talking.

  “Do you think Gillespie will accept your offer?” Cole asked quickly, as though he were keen to change the subject.

  Ryan grinned. “I’ll make it quite clear that it isn’t open to negotiation. Because of Isengrim’s recent attempt on my life, I’ve gained a bit of notoriety among the shifter clans and packs in the area. Sir Thomas, being what he is, cannot help but know what I have done. He may be cruel, as you say, but he is old-fashioned. He will not risk exposure for his family if things got ugly.” Cole nodded. “Plus, it is a very generous offer. If I make it seem as if I’d like to buy you for my own use, I’m sure I can make him agree.”

  “Thank you.” Cole reached forward and shook Ryan’s hand once more, clasping it in his as if it were precious. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

  “Oh, I have some idea.” Ryan tapped Alex’s knee, then stood up. “It’s settled. I’ll call Sir Thomas immediately and set up a meeting for his arrival. Then we can have supper. And I think the two of you should spend the night here. If what you suspect is true, and Byron knows where you’ve been hiding out, then you’re better off not returning to the bakery tonight.”

  “I can still open in the morning, right?” I asked, panic rising in my stomach. A single day without opening could be a disaster.

  “Of course. But Cole shouldn’t go with you. Alex and I will help you in the store instead.”

  No. I couldn’t have them there, not beautiful, successful Alex and her rich fiancé. I couldn’t allow them to see what was really going on, how bad things had got. My cheeks flared with heat just thinking about it. “It’s OK, really. I’ve been managing on my own for months—”

  “But now you’re not on your own anymore,” Alex grinned. Yes, I am. I have to be.

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Cole said. He squeezed my knee. I glared at him.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed in his ear. “I can’t bring them there. They’ll see my flat. They’ll know that I’m broke—”

  “So what? It’s the truth. They’re your friends, and damn good friends, too. I don’t see why you haven’t told them, why you don’t want anyone to help you. You don’t have to do it on your own, Belinda.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Well, this is the one and only instance where I don’t give a fuck what you feel. You’re getting help, whether you like it or not. Besides, what choice do you have?”

  He was right. I couldn’t very well refuse their help without having to explain why, and I had no good explanation on hand. I grabbed his hand, prised it off my knee, and shoved it back in his lap. “Fine.” I said, forcing myself to smile. “Thank you.”

  “This means an early start, doesn’t it?” Ryan asked.

  “I usually get up at three thirty am.” Ryan winced. Alex patted his knee.

  “We’ll manage, I’m sure. Oh! We have something for you.” Alex went to a cabinet on the far wall, opened a drawer and pulled out two pouches. “Ryan’s mother made these for us when we were having our own problems. They’re still charged with energy, so they should work for you, too.”

  “What are they?” I asked, picking up the pouch Alex dropped in my lap. She handed the other one to Cole.

  “It’s a protection charm. It will hide you from the Bran, and it should prevent them being able to hurt you.”

  “But how?” I opened up the pouch and inspected the contents. All that was inside was a small blue crystal and a bundle of dried herbs. “Is it poisonous?”

  “No, it’s a spell. Ryan’s mother, Clara, is a powerful witch.”

  I scoffed. “Are you telling me there are really witches now? It’s not enough that I just learned the world is filled with shapeshifters, but now there are old ladies flying around on broomsticks and making potpourri bags that can save me from evil?”

  “She doesn’t fly around on a broomstick, but my mother is a real, bona fide witch.” Ryan said. “She can trace her heritage right back to the original coven here in Crookshollow, the one that was almost completely wiped out in the witch trials.”

  I remembered that I’d heard the name before. “Clara? Does she work at Astarte?” Ryan nodded. “She’s the woman trying to help Cole track down someone to perform the spell to break his bond. She said it was beyond her abilities.”

  “Then it must be a pretty powerful spell, as not much is beyond Clara.” Alex said. “You can ask Elinor about her. Clara helped her bring Eric back from the dead.”

  I paused then, remembering something in the papers about how Elinor’s fiancé – the musician Eric Marshell – had died. But it had turned out to just be some sort of publicity stunt. It had happened before we were friends, so I didn’t really pay much attention at first. I wasn’t big on celebrity gossip unless pastry was involved. And Elinor was always dismissive when I asked about Eric, so I usually didn’t ask. I’d assumed he liked to keep things private, because he was so well known. Was Alex saying that Eric had really died, after all?

  Were all of my friends part of this secret underground world of magic? Was I the only one in the dark?

  I looked up at Cole, who was smiling that wicked, heart-melting grin down at me. Heat flared between my legs. I’m definitely not in the dark anymore.

  Alex squeezed my shoulder, her expression saying that she would talk to me about Eric later. “Please, take the charm. Trust me when I say that it could save your life one day.”

  I stuffed the charm into my purse. “Of course. Thanks.”

  Ryan stood, and downed the last drop of his Scotch. “Well, now that we have a plan in mind, should we adjourn to the dining room? We might need to go to bed early, since we have a busy day tomorrow.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. A three-thirty start? I didn’t even know there was a three thirty in the morning.”

  I forced a grin. “Well, you’re about to find out.”

  In Ryan’s airy, beautiful dining room we sat at a table set for twenty and had a beautiful supper of cold beef sandwiches and delicate lemon tarts (I made a note to ask that grizzly old butler – Simon – for the recipe), and finished off another two bottles of wine between us. Cole and Ryan entertained us with stories of their shifter lives, and we asked endless questions about what it was like being two different creatures i
nside one body. Miss Havisham took up residence on the window seat and glared at us with all the derision only a cat could muster.

  The more I drank, the funnier Cole’s stories become. My whole face hurt from laughing so much. It had been so long since I’d laughed. I was feeling giddy by the time Ryan looked at the clock and suggested we adjourn to bed. “I’ve made up some guest rooms for you,” he said. “Simon will show you where they are. We’ll see you bright and early in the morning, Belinda.”

  “It will be OK,” Alex said, squeezing my shoulder. “You’ll see.”

  “Yeah,” I said, all my mirth fleeing my body with the reminder that tomorrow they would be privy to all the behind-the-scenes workings of the shop. Dimly, through the haze of alcohol, I wondered if maybe I could keep them from going upstairs. If they stayed in the kitchen and behind the counter, they might never figure things out.

  Simon walked us silently to a guest wing on the west end of the house. Alex and Ryan had been working to redecorate several of Raynard Hall’s old-fashioned, dark rooms in their modern, bright style. This wing was still undergoing its transformation, and our journey took us past unplastered walls and cans of paint stacked haphazardly against the wooden mouldings. There was neither a mahogany sideboard nor gilded portrait in sight.

  Simon showed us two rooms opposite each other. Mine was painted a soothing pastel blue, with billowing curtains and a gorgeous view toward the edge of the forest. Cole’s room was ultra-modern, with black and chrome accents and a view over the village. We thanked Simon, who nodded wordlessly and shrunk back off into the depths of the house, to do whatever it was that butlers did when there was no one to wait upon.

  And I was alone with Cole once more. He was standing in the doorway of his room, regarding me with that stunning, self-satisfied smirk that made my insides feel like pudding. The memory of our kiss earlier replayed in my mind. A surge of energy pulsed through my body, a white-hot current of desire. I wanted him to stay with me, to kiss me again.

  But it was the wine talking. It was a bad idea. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t over Ethan. Hell, I was still seeing his face around town. I couldn’t ...

  The energy reached my core. The ache between my legs was certainly going a long way to convince me I was ready after all.

  But what about him? Cole didn’t move closer to me. He regarded me from across the hall with his usual amused expression. I wished I could read what he was thinking, to sense if his heart was pounding against his chest, the way mine did every time we were alone together.

  “Well,” I said lamely, gripping the door handle of my room so hard my knuckles turned white. “It looks like things are going to work out.”

  “Yeah,” Cole grinned wider. “It looks like.” His hand gripped the doorframe, and he swung his body toward me. Cole was always so in control, it was so hard to tell when he was serious and when he just thought something was a game. I stepped back, trying to give myself space to think. Fuck, I shouldn’t have drunk so much...

  He smells so good.

  Cole let go of the door frame and took another step toward me, closing the gap between us in a heartbeat. He leaned against my door, his head bent toward me, his eyes smouldering.

  Did he really mean what he said earlier, about showing me what I meant to him? Did he feel what I felt when we kissed, that amazing electrical storm going off inside my body? Or is that just normal for him? Does he do this with every woman he meets? Does he want to kiss me right now? Why doesn’t he kiss me?

  “Belinda,” Cole said, his voice coming out as a growl. Goddammit. That was so hot. Should I kiss him? Can I do that? Oh God, he looks so good.

  “I have to go to sleep,” I said, intending my words to come out sharply, to force him to back off, for both our sakes. But instead they came out in a husky whisper, almost an invitation.

  “I know,” he said, that stupid grin still plastered across his face. “You have lots of work to do in the early morning.”

  I nodded vigorously, like one of those bobble-head dogs. “So … goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Nightingale.” Cole said, that smirk never leaving his lips. I made to step backward, but he grabbed my arms, and pressed his lips to mine.

  The touch of him was like an electrical charge surging through my body. My limbs pulsed with heat, my whole face glowed with the sheer delight of his touch. His hands cupped my cheeks as he teased my lips open, pushing his tongue between them and stroking mine. He had the faintest taste of whisky on his breath. The taste of him drove me wild.

  Giddy with wine and warmth, I leaned against him. There was no pulling back now. I was committed. My hormones were speaking for me. Electricity shot through my whole body, as if I’d stuck my tongue in a light socket instead of in his mouth. At first I felt nervous, knowing that Cole was so much more experienced than me. But then he moved his hands down my body, moaning against my lips as he pressed one palm into the small of my back, the other cupping my arse, pushing my body up against him. I relaxed into the kiss, my nerves beginning to dissipate as I succumbed to the deliciousness of his touch.

  This felt so different from the kiss we’d shared at the cemetery. It was so much hotter, so much more urgent. That kiss had been exploratory, inviting. But this was passionate, obsessive. It melted away my doubts, obliterated my nerves. My whole body came alive for him, it ached for his touch in a way I’d never ached before.

  Cole pulled away slightly, lightly biting my lip and causing me to let out another low moan. “Let’s get you to bed,” he grinned, as he pushed the door open and pulled me into my room.

  That grin. Shit, it did things to me. My heart seemed to sink deeper into my body.

  Once inside, Cole slammed the door behind me. “Now you can’t go anywhere,” he whispered, his hand on my face again, entwined in my hair. “Now you are mine.”

  His words made my chest flutter. He sounded so certain, so sure. Cole wanted me, and he always got what he wanted. I was only too happy to oblige.

  Cole’s kisses became more furious, more possessive. His tongue danced over mine, creating a delicious warmth that spread out from my mouth, down into my chest. I dug my nails into his back, claiming my own piece of him.

  His hands traced my entire body, stroking my shoulders, my arms, skirting over my thighs. He cupped my cheeks and pulled me up, thrusting his tongue deeper. I moaned against him, drowning in him.

  “I thought you didn’t want me,” I whispered against him as he pulled me across the room, toward the bed. The room was so large, it was a very long way to go. Plenty of time for him to change his mind.

  “Are you kidding?” Cole grinned wider, as he pulled my grey jumper over my head. “I’ve been crazy about you ever since I first laid eyes on you.”

  He looked like an excited kid who’d just come downstairs on Christmas day to find the stack of presents under the tree. No one had ever looked at me like that before, like I was a present waiting to be unwrapped.

  Evidently, Cole didn’t want to wait any longer for the unwrapping. He pulled down the straps of my singlet top, exposing my collarbone. He laid a trail of kisses along my neck, over the sensitive skin. I shivered with delight.

  “Fuck, Belinda.” He groaned against my skin. “I would take you right now, but I want this to be so good for you.”

  “Cole, you don’t have to—” But the thought became lost in his kisses. My body ached so bad, and his touch felt so good. I wanted him to keep doing what he was doing and to throw me down and fuck me, all at the same time.

  “No,” he murmured against my skin, his lips shooting a shiver of desire straight through my core. “We have to take this slow. I don’t want you to remember anything else. Anyone else. I only want to you remember me and what I can do to your body. I want to make you feel as amazing as you are.”

  Oh God. “You talk so good.”

  “You taste so good.” He plunged his tongue into my mouth again.

  Cole’s touches became more urgent as his hands roamed
everywhere, his fingers drawing lines of fire across my skin. He lifted my arms and pulled the top over my head, throwing it somewhere across the wide expanse of the room. I might never find it again. Not that I cared.

  He cupped my breasts through my bra, tracing their edges with his fingers. So slow, so patient. I pressed my body forward, desperate for more. He obeyed, reaching around with a single hand and unclasping my bra. Clearly, he’d had a lot of practice. He threw the bra out into the nothingness of the room, then held me at arm’s length, his eyes trailing hungrily over my body.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Cole grinned. I grinned back. It had been so long since I’d felt desired, like I was worth any guy’s attention. But looking into his gleaming eyes and wild, mischievous expression – like that same kid who’d just been told his Christmas present was having a sleepover in a candy shop – I was starting to believe it.

  He cupped my breasts again, his fingers deftly moving over the surface, circling the nipples. His touch traced a line of fire over my skin. It must have been way too long, because I don’t remember anything ever feeling this amazing.

  Cole bent down, and took my nipple in his mouth. I gasped as his tongue slid over the sensitive bud. Oh, he’s good at this! Wetness pooled between my legs.

  He licked and suckled at my breast until I writhed against him. I twisted my fingers in his long hair, pulling his face against me, enjoying the view of his wet tongue sliding across my hard nipple. When he moved across to the other breast and dragged his teeth lightly against the tip of my nipple, my knees buckled, and I sank against him, my need pulling me under.

  Cole threw me against the bed, and covered my body in his. His weight against me felt reassuring, safe. His mouth sought mine, his tongue sliding against mine with more urgency. I responded in kind, our mouths fusing together like they were made for each other.

  I tried to reach around him, to circle his whole body with my arms, but he was too muscular. I settled for stroking my hands over his shoulders, across what parts of his back I could reach, revelling in the way his hard muscles moved beneath his skin. Finally, I could give in to my own desires. I trailed my fingers over his inked skin, admiring the way the pictures seemed to move as his weight shifted.