by Aliya DalRae
Raven was here today, alive and relatively sane, because Mason had believed in him. Seeing his friend, his savior, look at him as though he’d somehow betrayed the male, was…disconcerting. Then again, betrayal goes both ways.
Tas was filling Harrier in on what had been discussed since he left the room, which the large male was taking with an incredible calm. As Tas finished, Raven felt the golden eyes on him and raised his head to meet the unfriendly gaze.
Harrier was smiling. “So it’s happening sooner than I thought,” he said, sneering at Raven. “I told your human it was bound to, sooner or later. In fact, I think she suspected as much.”
“You spoke with Jessica?” Raven just managed to keep himself in his seat, and Harrier had Mason’s attention as well. “When?”
“We had a real nice chat. Spent some quality time together in the Club. Getting to know each other, you know?” The wicked smile was growing with Raven’s rage, and Raven found himself on his feet lunging toward the arrogant bastard.
“If you hurt her,” Raven bellowed as Mason and Tas interceded, hauling him away from the now laughing Harrier.
“Don’t sweat it, asshole. She was still breathing when I left her. Quite heavily, in fact. Her heart probably hasn’t raced like that in…”
The room was instantly bathed in purple, and chairs flew as Raven flung the two males holding him away. His fangs were fully extended and his hands were around Harrier’s throat before anyone could intercede, claws extended, piercing skin.
Harrier was on his feet, his own fangs bared and eyes sparking a brilliant gold, but he did nothing to dislodge Raven’s claws from his neck. “She was working out, you asshole,” Harrier growled, and Raven tightened his hold, oblivious to the sound of someone knocking.
“Raven.” Tas was talking to him, calming him, and he felt his anger receding as it registered that someone new had entered the room. Releasing Harrier with a shove, Raven turned toward the voices.
Harrier rolled his shoulders and sat down. Leaning back in his chair, he propped his feet up on the table and studiously ignored the blood trickling onto his shirt.
Chapter Twelve
T he Soldier Peregrine was standing with Mason, his eyes wide at the scene he had walked in on. When Raven rushed him, he flinched. Through Jessica, Perry had gained a new, albeit grudging respect for the Warrior. Still, he wasn’t stupid.
Raven stopped short of the smaller male, searching his empty hands for a bag that wasn’t there. “Where is it?” he asked, and Perry chose to address his Warlord.
“Sir, I searched the Hummer, but there was no bag.”
“Was there clothing of any kind in the vehicle?” Mason asked.
“No, sir. Nothing.”
“That’s not possible!”
Raven had focused his ire on him now, and Perry couldn’t help the small tremor that coursed through him. He’d been a Soldier with the Legion for twenty-five years now, had fought the Sorcerers, faced fierce opponents, but Raven was a whole other animal. Literally.
By now, everyone knew the story of how Raven had been cursed by a Sorceress, and the subsequent changes that had beset the male. Seeing him like this, eyes sparking and fangs the size of daggers, it was easy to see why mothers had frightened their children with tales of this particular monster to get them to behave. The guy was a freakin’ demon.
Whatever had been in that bag must have been critical, because something was definitely off here. After the whole Sorcerer thing went down, Perry had become friends with Raven and Jessica, though he’d spent more time with the girl. She’d been kind to him after the first skirmish with the magicians, and after the main battle, Raven had given Perry responsibility for Jessica’s safety.
The few months that followed had brought them together on several occasions. Jessica had taken to seeking him out when she was at the Compound and Raven was busy. They’d spent many an evening discussing books, music and even Perry’s new girl, Heidi, whom Jessica had yet to meet.
She’d even managed to sneak him into the Club on occasion to spar, which had been a treat for Perry. Soldiers weren’t allowed to use the Club as a rule, but the Warriors tended to turn a blind eye when it came to Jessica.
She was a great girl, for a human, and to her credit, she was completely at ease with Raven. She swore he was gentle and sweet, which was hard for Perry to reconcile with the Warrior he knew. Apparently she’d never seen him like this.
While the other Warriors struggled with Raven, who was largely out of control, Perry inched toward the exit, planning to escape as soon as he was given leave.
With the help of Tas and his particular talent, they were able to get Raven settled somewhat, and back into a chair. His eyes were still blazing purple, though, and Perry thought it would be a while before those fangs retracted. Tas stood behind him with a hand on the Warrior’s shoulder, but Raven was still visibly shaking, his rage scarcely contained.
Perry’s gaze slid from the troubled male to the photos scattered on the conference table. Christ!
Forgetting his unease, he walked to the table to get a better look. The girl in those pictures—he was pretty sure it was a girl—she was eviscerated. Perry was a Vampire, so the sight of blood shouldn’t bother him, but this did. He’d never seen anything even close to the destruction spread in front of him. In fact, he’d only ever heard stories of this kind of bodily damage. Stories of…
“Peregrine,” his name was a growl that came from somewhere to his right, and he looked up, eyes wide, at the villain from the old stories seated right across the room. That villain was talking to him?
“Yes, sir?” Perry said, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat.
“I didn’t do this,” Raven snarled, but there was something in his eyes, something other than the amethyst light and the out of control madness. It took a moment to identify, but Perry settled on—pleading? He wanted, no needed, Perry to believe him.
And, surprising himself, he did. Believe him, that is. The uneasiness Perry had felt mere moments before was erased, not by the male’s words, nor by anything Tas was putting out, but by that look. With it, he knew he trusted Raven. With Jessica…hell, he’d trust the male with his own life.
But the looks on the other faces in the room didn’t seem to be reflecting the same certainty Perry felt, and he understood what they must be thinking.
If Raven wasn’t responsible for this girl’s death, who was?
Chapter Thirteen
“Y ou have to know how this looks, Raven,” Mason said after Raven had calmed somewhat.
The rage he felt at the loss of his alibi had subsided, with Tas’s help, and Raven was left with an emptiness in the pit of his soul.
Rumor would get around about the Rapist-style murder, especially if Harrier had anything to do with it, and all eyes would point to him. Preternatural eyes, anyway. Without some way of proving his innocence, he was screwed. He knew he wasn’t doing himself any favors acting the way he was, but he desperately needed someone on his side. By the looks being thrown at him from around the room, he’d get no support here. They all thought he was guilty. Well, almost all…
“We have no idea how you’ve been affected, with the curse being lifted and all,” Merlin said. “We’ve done as much research as we can, but without the Sorceress who placed the curse on you, there’s no way of knowing how the reversal will work. You could very well have pieces of your old self resurfacing, without any memory of the act.”
“I’d know if I fucking did that,” Raven roared, slamming a fist on the pile of pictures, and Merlin blinked those brown eyes at him.
“Not to mention the fact that you seem to be a bit…touchy lately,” Merlin said, one eyebrow cocked.
Raven took a deep breath and tried to pull back the fury raging through him. It wasn’t their fault. How could they think otherwise? Half the males in the room couldn’t look at him, the rest regarded him with uncertainty or worse, resignation.
Except Perry. Even Harri
er was avoiding eye contact, but Perry was looking Raven dead in the eye. Raven held the Soldier’s gaze, and Perry gave him a stiff nod.
Raven exhaled. One person believed him. Yeah, he could work with that.
Holding on to that thought, Raven turned to Mason. “So what now. You gonna lock me away? Confine me to my quarters? Put me on house arrest? How do you handle the containment of a monster?” He bared his still lengthened fangs in an ironic smile.
“This isn’t funny, Raven,” Mason said, his voice tight. “But you’re right. Something must be done. I have too many centuries invested in you to think that you could fall into old habits so easily, However, there is a public to protect…”
“Not to mention, your reputation with the Primeval,” Raven said.
“…and I can’t have the Legion or our race jeopardized by this,” Mason continued, ignoring Raven’s comment.
“Mason, you know me. Better than anyone here, you know who I am, what I’ve done to change. Someone is out there butchering women in my former name, and I want his blood. Give me a week, Mason. I need to find who this is and put a stop to them, permanently.”
Mason leaned back in his chair and considered Raven a moment before saying, “One week.”
“Excellent,” Raven said, baring fang.
“But Raven, if anyone else dies, I’m pulling you in until this is resolved.”
“No worries.” Raven was on his feet and heading out when Mason’s next comment stopped him.
“I still need to speak with Jessica.”
Raven turned to his Warlord, knowing that whatever Jessica said could weigh heavily against him.
“I’ll find her and bring her to your office,” Raven replied, nodding once at Peregrine before continuing into the hall.
Heavy footsteps behind him had Raven spinning to confront Harrier moments later. The male’s russet hair fell over his eye and he brushed it back, locking a golden gaze with Raven’s still glowing eyes.
“Hurt her, and die, Rapist,” Harrier growled, his eyes developing a glow of their own.
“I would never,” Raven swore. “Why do you even care?” The male’s sudden interest in his human was intriguing.
“My reasons are my own,” Harrier said, his all but hidden brogue thickening. “Just know, I’ll kill you myself.”
Chapter Fourteen
B y the time I made it back to Raven’s rooms, the encounter with Harrier in the Club was all I could think about. I knew that he and Raven were not friends, far from it. But did he really believe that Raven—my Raven—could revert to his former heinous ways? I couldn’t see it.
Except I could see it. I did see it in that stupid dream that I still couldn’t get out of my mind. Could I really be responsible for unleashing something in Raven that could cause him to go back to the way he had been?
I curled up in the corner of the big leather sofa with a bottle of spring water, and contemplated the potential consequences of falling in love with a Vampire.
Oh, and not your garden variety exsanguinator, either. I had to go and fall for the Vampire equivalent of the boogeyman.
What if Harrier was right, and, because of me, all of Raven’s hard work had been erased, and he was suddenly left to battle his demons on his own?
Of course, Raven wasn’t alone now. He had me and Tas, Mason and the rest of the Legion. Even Piper and Alex were warming up to him. He had friends now, both human and Vampire, where he didn’t have them before, people who cared about him and who wanted him to succeed. But what if our love wasn’t strong enough? What if the pull of how he was before was stronger, more appealing, to his feral nature?
I shuddered at the thought and wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into. I really wanted to go home where I could think things through on my own turf, but I’d ridden here with Raven, so I guess I was kind of stuck. Not too smart a move on my part.
I decided a walk would be better. A little fresh air could go a long way in clearing my head since my workout only served to clutter it more, thanks to Harrier. The grounds here really were beautiful, plus it was full on daylight, so the odds of running into a vamp I didn’t know were slim.
I walked down the hall and reached the elevators as the doors were closing. I stuck my hand out to stop them, and they reopened to reveal Harrier standing inside.
“Going down?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked.
“Idiot,” I whispered.
“I heard that,” Harrier said, a strange pull on his mouth that might have been a smile. “And after our chat earlier, I thought we were going to be friends.” He moved to the back of the lift to lean against the wall, and I thought about taking the next one, but when he showed me his teeth and said, “I don’t bite,” I wasn’t about to let him know he was getting to me.
“Yeah,” I said, not bothering to hide the snarkiness. “I’ve heard that before.”
I pushed the button for the ground level, and the opening sealed, boxing us in together as Harrier studied me through a curtain of russet hair. “Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Just out for a walk.” I said, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Want some company?” The look on his face told me he was as surprised at his offer as I was.
“It’s daylight,” I said. “You can’t go out.”
“Have you seen the tunnels?”
I just glared at him.
“You think I would go wandering in some dark tunnels with you?”
“Hmm…guess not,” he said, and after a moment added, “what about the lighted tunnels?”
As he teased me, a bit more of the Scot in him came out, and though the accent was pleasing, it was obviously something he worked hard to control. I wondered why that was.
As far as his intentions, I had no idea where this was going, but decided to play along. Where’s the harm, right? Add this to our “chat” in the Club? I was beyond curious.
“You must think I’m nuts,” I bantered. “It’s only been, like, a minute since you apologized to me. And I am grateful for what you did for me with the Sorcerers and all. But that doesn’t mean I trust you.” The elevator opened onto a broad landing and to the left were the heavy wooden, windowless doors that led outside. I took a step to exit the elevator, but when I did, he moved to follow me.
“I never apologized,” he said, matter-of-fact.
I stopped and stared at him.
“How about the halls, then?” He ignored my glare, holding the elevator open with one hand, gesturing to the right with the other and giving me the chance to decide. “There are servants everywhere. What could go wrong?” He looked so—dare I use the word innocent?
“Are you being friendly with me?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied, puzzled. “I’ve never been friendly before. Is that what this is?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Well, if we’re friends now, can I call you Harry?”
Harrier growled. “Not if you want to live.”
Hmm… “One lap around the house,” I said, then added, “One floor. That’s it.”
“Alright, then. That’s it.” Harrier exited the elevator, and we headed down the hall together in a companionable silence. I didn’t know what was up with this guy, but I decided to wait it out. See what he had to say. When he spoke, I wasn’t surprised at his topic of choice.
“What do you see in him?” he asked.
I smiled. “Other than being tall, dark, exceptionally handsome, kind, loving, gentle, intelligent, strong, protective, and amazing in bed? I don’t know, Harrier. Can’t think of a thing.”
Harrier shook his head. “And his past truly doesn’t bother you?”
I thought about the dream and all it implied, and chose to be honest.
“I can’t say it doesn’t bother me. But everyone has a past. Raven’s is just more…tragic than most.”
“Tragic?” Harrier scoffed. “For his victims, maybe. For Raven? I can think of other words to describe it.”
“Use
whatever term you like,” I said seriously. “That was more than three hundred years ago, and he’s worked very hard to change his life around. I’m proof that he’s had success. I could never love the man he was, but I do love the man he is, you know?” Harrier seemed to be digesting what I was saying as we walked on for a bit more.
“What about you?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“What about me?”
“Well, you have a past too, don’t you?”
“Not one I care to discuss.”
“No really, surely even you had a mother?” Harrier’s posture shifted, and I sensed he was getting uncomfortable, which in him read as pissed off.
He raked his fingers through his hair—a habit he shared with Raven—and said, “You’re really pushing me, J.”
I smiled. “Hey, this friendly walk was your idea. I was hoping for fresh air.”
Harrier let out a breath. “Yes. I have a mother. We don’t speak. Are you happy?”
Didn’t I feel like a jerk. “I’m sorry, Harrier…”
“Don’t be. I haven’t seen my family in centuries. At this point, it’s like they don’t exist.”
“But don’t you miss them?” I asked, thinking how badly I missed my parents. Harrier stopped walking and grimaced at me.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Like a dog with a bone,” I beamed, fluttering my eyelashes, and his lips twitched.
“Do you always have this effect on people?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean, and you’re changing the subject.”
Harrier shook his head and muttered, “Dog with a bone. Talk about an understatement.” Taking a steadying breath, he said, “Okay, Fido. The long and the short of it? I’m a half-breed.”