Raven's Revenge: Paranormal Prison Romance (Paranormal Prison Series Book 2)

by Naomi Martin

  She takes another drag from her cigarette, then gives me a small smile that looks surprisingly genuine.

  “We live to fight another day. We need you and we need your talents, Raven. But only if your head is in the game; you’re a liability, otherwise,” she tells me. “If you can’t trust yourself out there in the field, we’re going to lose a lot more than seven people next time.”

  Dora drops her cigarette and crushes it beneath her boot, then turns and, without another word, walks to the door and heads back down into the hotel. But I’m still not alone on that rooftop. I look up at the water tower to find Zane sitting on the catwalk around the base of it.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” I ask.

  “Not when you’re having a conversation in a wide open, public area.”

  He leaps down from the catwalk, landing silently on the roof, then glides over, taking up the spot on the rail Dora just vacated. He looks at me with those blue eyes of his and I feel myself being pulled into their depths. I brush a strand of his stark white hair back over his shoulder.

  Zane is a beautiful man—tall and lean, with delicate features. He’s got cheekbones half the women I know would kill for, and flawless skin the other half would kill for. Zane moves with grace, an easy elegance uncommon in most men. I know some consider him almost effeminate, though they’d never dare say that to his face. But there is a core of pure masculinity within him. It’s primal and it’s fierce. And it is thoroughly intoxicating.

  “She respects you, you know. Dora,” he says. “She’s not the greatest when it comes to expressing herself, but she does.”

  “So, was it you who put her up to giving me a pep talk?”

  He shakes his head. “You know I don’t interfere in other people’s relationships,” he reminds me smoothly. “She came to you on her own.”

  Zane takes my hands and gives them a soft squeeze, his eyes still fixed on mine. I can see in his face that he’s telling the truth. He didn’t send Dora to talk to me. I reach up and trace a fingertip along his lips, relishing their softness. It seems like forever since I felt them against mine. Since I’ve felt his body intertwined with my own.

  It seems as though it’s been forever since I’ve felt anything remotely resembling desire or passion. All I feel is pain. And anger.

  “Why would she do that?”

  “She sees the darkness you’re mired in,” he says. “As do we all.”

  I let out a soft breath and look down at the gravel beneath my feet. I feel terrible. Beyond awful, really. I know I’ve neglected my boys, and the only thing they’ve done is be supportive of me.

  “I don’t deserve you guys,” I confess.

  He shrugs. “No. Not really.”

  A faint smile touches my lips but quickly melts away. Zane puts his fingers beneath my chin and raises my head, and I feel the tears welling in my eyes, making my vision shimmer. I try to bite them back. I don’t cry. That’s never been my thing and I don’t want to start now.

  “It was a joke,” he assures me. “We all deserve each other. That’s why the Joining between us worked. You know this.”

  Joining with my boys had been beautiful. It brought me the only shred of joy I felt when we were in the stinking hell hole known as the Pit. Well, not the only joy. Having sex with them was pretty great, but still came in a distant second to the rapture I felt when we Joined, bonding ourselves to one another.

  “I do know this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I admit. “I feel like I can’t control my emotions lately. I’m a hot mess.”

  “You’ve been given too much responsibility, perhaps.”

  I shake my head. “I wanted the responsibility,” I tell him. “I want to be on the front lines, helping protect our people from murderous assholes like Villa.”

  Shortly after we arrived in Meridian, Idaho—our home base—I volunteered to lead assault teams into the field. We attack prisons and transports, freeing supernaturals and destroying assets. Once we free the prisoners, they’re given a choice: stay and fight with us or get out of town. Those who choose to stay are given rooms here in Meridian and trained. Once they’re ready to fight, they’re either deployed with us, or are sent to another chapter that needs fighters.

  Those who choose to go are turned over to another group known as the Conductors. The Conductors run an underground railroad that gets supernaturals out of the country. Most of them head up to Canada, others down to Mexico; it’s really not difficult getting over, around, or under that stupid wall on the southern border.

  The cells are kept separated. None of us knows who runs or fights in the other chapters; only the national leaders know all of the players. That’s for the safety of everybody in this fight. It’s a pretty slick, effective operation and most days, I’m glad to be a part of it. I’m proud of the work we do and the lives we’ve saved. But I have to confess, there are days I wish we’d never crossed paths with Dora and the Breakers.

  “So, what is it that has you in such a dark place?” Zane asks.

  I look out over downtown Meridian. It’s a city of just under a hundred thousand people, so there’s not much in the way of nightlife. There are a few cars on the streets below, but it’s basically a ghost town out there. It’s a nowhere place surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. The perfect front.

  Zane’s question is one I’ve given a lot of thought to over the past couple of months. And the bitch of it is, I haven’t come up with any concrete answers. Oh, I have some theories, and some sound better than others, but nothing I can point to and definitively say, “That’s the reason I’ve been such a bitch lately.”

  But I’m getting tired of feeling this way. I’m tired of pushing my boys away and feeling so isolated. Most of all, I’m tired of myself. I know I’ve been whiny and petulant. I know I’ve been grumpy and not very pleasant to be around. But I don’t know how to stop it.

  “You know, this is really the first time since the night my parents were killed that I’ve ever had any downtime. I was on the run after Villa killed my folks and living on the streets, just trying to make it from one day to the next. I was more worried about surviving than anything,” I say. “I never had time to slow down and think like I do now. I’m not in fight or flight mode all day, every day, anymore. And now that I have some semblance of peace and stability, I’m spending too much time in my head.”

  Zane nods as if he understands. Maybe he does. It would be nice if he did so he could explain it to me, because I sure as hell don’t get it.

  “It sounds to me like you’re finally able to grieve all you’ve lost,” he says evenly. “What has been taken from you seems to finally be catching up with you.”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  He shrugs. “Is there a time frame for grief?” he asks. “As you said, you had to bury your feelings since you were fighting for your life twenty-four hours a day. It seems understandable to me, now that you’re not in survival mode and your mind isn’t consumed with fear, that those feelings you buried would resurface.”

  “But I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

  “Maybe you don’t need to do anything with it,” he replies. “Maybe you need to stop fighting it and just let your grief take you.”

  I look out toward the silhouette of the mountains again, my stomach roiling and my heart thundering inside of me. I haven’t been this close to actually being in touch with my feelings in quite a while, and I’m finding it scarier than hell.

  “I worry that if I let it take me, I’ll never find my way back,” I confess, my voice softer than a whisper.

  A small grin curls one corner of his mouth upward. “You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for, Raven.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  Zane squeezes my hand firmly and forces me to look into his eyes. His gaze is intense. It makes me shudder.

  “You’re one of the strongest people I know,” he says, his voice earnest. “You just need to learn to beli
eve in yourself again.”

  Shame ripples through me and my cheeks flare with warmth. I don’t feel strong. And I don’t feel worthy of this amazing man—nor the other two who have my heart. But, for whatever reason, they’ve decided to cast their lots with me. They’ve been more faithful to me than they probably should have. And I’m grateful.

  I look up into his eyes. “Thank you. I haven’t deserved your—”

  He cuts off my words by pressing his mouth to mine. I part my lips and feel his tongue slide into my mouth, swirling around my own. Our kiss lingers and I melt against him, reveling in the sensuality of it, in the heat and the passion I’ve been missing for so long.

  Slowly, Zane pulls back and gives me a gentle smile, then wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him in a tight embrace. I’m overwhelmed by how safe, how whole and loved, he makes me feel. In that moment, I realize how stupid I’ve been. About everything. Rather than drawing inward, I should have leaned on my boys. I should have trusted them to help me shoulder the burden. They would have been happy to do it, and I should have known that.

  But I was too deep in my head to see it, let alone ask them for help. Not that I’ve ever been very good at doing that. I’ve always been more self-reliant than is probably healthy. Especially since it’s stunted my ability to ask for help, even when I need it most. But I’ve always been this way, and you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks.

  Zane looks at me like he’s reading my mind and knows what I’m struggling with. His expression is soft and his eyes shine with a love so pure, it nearly steals my breath and stops my heart.

  “You should get some rest,” he says. “It’s been a long day.”

  “A long few days.”

  He leans forward and places a tender kiss on my forehead, then turns and leads me toward the stairs. Something is different about Zane. He’s always been coldly pragmatic. Even with the boys, though I can’t help but see the affection and brotherhood between them, he can be a bit aloof. He’s never been much for being soft and sentimental. He certainly has a gentle side, but it’s not on display very often.

  Over the past few months, however, I’ve seen it more and more. He’s been kind and solicitous. I won’t say it’s like he’s a different person, because that wouldn’t be true. He’s just been… different.

  “You know I love you, don’t you?” I look up at him and ask.

  “I never doubted it for a moment, my love.”

  I smile and lean my head against his shoulder. “I kind of like this caring, sensitive side of you.”

  He smirks. “Just don’t tell Gray. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Chapter Three

  Colonel Villa

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter.

  I scroll through the pages of the report from the field, my frustration growing until it overwhelms me. With a snarl, I hurl the tablet across the room. It hits the wall with the satisfying sound of shattering glass as it rebounds and lands on the floor. Major Martin Soames, fresh in from the fucking debacle in Montana, doesn’t flinch. He continues standing at parade rest in front of my desk, seemingly unaffected by my outburst.

  “Sixty-three soldiers and eighty-three escaped freaks,” I seethe. “We lost an entire platoon to the freaks, along with every single one of the prisoners. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Soames replies. “Unfortunately so.”

  “And if I read the report correctly, there were only two dozen of them?”

  He clears his throat.

  Agitated, I get to my feet and begin pacing around the room. Soames doesn’t move a muscle. He stands before my desk, eyes still fixed forward, no expression on his face whatsoever. Soames is a good soldier. He and I have served together in this unit for more than five years now and he’s my point man on our field ops. He’s a natural born leader and believes in the job we’re doing passionately. And I can usually rely on him to get the job done.

  Usually.

  “What the hell happened out there, Soames?”

  A frown crosses his face and he glances down at his feet. An expression of distaste along with the horror of what he saw out there crosses his features. He clears his throat.

  “They came out of nowhere and started throwing fireballs at us. When they disabled the carriers, they were among us,” he says, his voice tight. “Vampires, the Elementals, and the were-creatures… they cut us to ribbons. We managed to take some of them out—a half a dozen or so—but it wasn’t enough.”

  I sigh and continue pacing the room, then stop with my back to Soames and look through the window in the rear wall of my office. From this vantage point, I have a clear view of the training arena below. I watch as a pair of soldiers bring a tall, brawny man with dark hair and olive-colored skin through a door in the south wall. He shuffles along like a zombie, face slack, seemingly little life to him at all.

  A silver collar is around his thick neck and it glows with a pale blue light. After the events that allowed all of our subjects to escape, the Elementals who work for us have been making some adjustments and modifications to our collars. The new design is supposed to make the creatures wearing them more pliable and compliant. It looks to me like it lobotomizes them.

  Not that I care. If it were up to me, I’d put them all down, no questions asked. As far as I’m concerned, they’re not even people. They have no rights. These things are monsters. They’re unnatural, little better than animals. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they’re worse than animals, since animals can’t kill you with fireballs from their fingertips or conjure up a tornado out of nothing.

  No, as far as I’m concerned, it’s shoot first, ask questions later with these beasts.

  “Permission to speak freely, Colonel Villa?”

  “Granted.”

  I hear Soames moving and a moment later, he’s standing at the window beside me, watching what’s happening in the arena below.

  “I know you’re loath to use our supernatural assets, but I truly believe if we’d had some on the mission in Montana, we could have won that battle,” Soames tells me. “If we’d been able to fight fire with fire, the outcome would have been entirely different.”

  It’s a discussion we’ve had before. Many times. To me, the risks far outweigh the rewards. We have but a handful of supernaturals with the skills we need at our disposal to begin with. Sending them into battle with these Breakers is a dicey proposition, with success anything but guaranteed.

  And the last thing I want to do is squander a precious commodity. The supers —the Elementals in particular—we have working for us are helping to develop some fantastic weapons in this fight. Unlike the creature in the arena below my office, who is simply fodder for the weapons we develop, I’ve found the Elementals to be particularly useful in that regard.

  “We’re working on that,” I tell him. “We’re hoping to have some weapons we can roll out into the field sooner, rather than later.”

  “May I ask what sort of weapons, sir?”

  I point to the creature below. “Just watch.”

  I open a door next to the window and step out onto a catwalk that’s situated above the arena. Soames follows me out. I put my hands on the railing and lean forward as, down on the floor level, another door opens and as the guards file out. A second large, burly man is pushed in. He, too, shuffles along like a zombie, the same glazed look on his face.

  A young woman comes through a door on a catwalk just across the way from me. She’s got blonde hair, blue eyes, and a wholesome, next-door-girl appeal about her. At twenty years old, Jenni Adams is the most powerful Elemental I’ve ever been around. And she is, thankfully, devoted to our cause, believing that people like her, with extraordinary powers, need to be constrained. Jenni believes people like her need to have rules in place.

  I know she doesn’t share my belief that supers pose a genuine danger to this world and need to be eliminated; she�
��s got a vested interest in that, so she can be forgiven. In her world view, we would have structures in place to mitigate the powers of supernaturals and blend them back into normal society. And I’ll let her keep believing that’s the plan as long as she continues to put in the work for us.

  “What is she doing, sir?” Soames asks.

  “Jenni is a rarity among the Elemental crowd,” I say. “She can channel Spirit. She’s the only Elemental we have right now who can.”

  “Spirit, sir?”

  I nod. “Using Spirit, she is learning how to tap into a person’s mind,” I explain. “She’s learning how to implant memories, control thoughts, instill mission parameters…”

  If she’s successful, the advantage this will give us over the freaks will be enormous. Perhaps even decisive. I look across at Jenni and give her a nod. She returns it, then looks down at the first man who was brought into the arena. Jenni moves her hands through a complicated set of gestures. She makes a triangle with her two index fingers and thumbs, palm facing toward him.

  A thin white line that looks like smoke flows from her hands and seems to melt into the collar around his neck. He gives a slight twitch, but his face then relaxes, melting into an expression that’s nearly euphoric as his collar glows a brighter blue. I watch as Jenni silently mouths something, then turn my eyes to the creature below me. Its eyes grow narrow, hard, his expression morphing to one of pure rage.

  Fascinated, I continue to stare as the man shifts, becoming a large wolf. He charges to the other side of the arena, straight at the other man who remains standing there with a blissful expression on his face. As if he’s in some sort of trance, he doesn’t move, totally unaware of the danger bearing down on him. And then the beast lunges, raking razor-sharp claws down the torso of the man who just stands there. Blood flows and pools around his feet, but he doesn’t move, nor does his expression change. He doesn’t even scream. It’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s being shredded to pieces.