Right now, staring into the seemingly bottomless pits, they darkened into an abyss. Drawing her in, daring her to follow. His arms tensed. His hands clenched at her back, digging in a little.
She licked her lips. Memories of his mouth on hers plagued her mind. She could still taste him.
His gaze broke from hers and flicked down to her mouth. He leaned in. The clunking of the refrigerator softened. The whir of her laptop faded. The room around them disappeared.
“Am I interrupting?” A voice intruded. Her dream-like state shattered. The smug tone in Luke’s voice sent fear ripping up her spine as she jumped out of Cole’s arms.
Cole grunted and reached for her.
Too late.
Before his hand closed around her arm, a bright light erupted in the room.
Cole vanished.
A dark shroud in a room of light, Luke stepped in close and gripped her bicep. His fingers clamped down hard. His Other nature seeped into her skin and dampened her energy. Like smothering a flame, his power acted like a giant shovel full of gravel. Bane clutched a glowing orb in his other hand. The heady scent of blood and steel surrounded them. Pain lanced down her arm to her fingers. Her eyes hurt. The shocking white blaze radiated from the artifact held inches from her.
“Absolute light,” Luke explained. “Not as good as the Claíomh Solais, of course, but it will buy me a minute or two.” He tugged Raven close.
She stumbled into his large frame. Her face smacked against the soft fabric of his shirt. The gentle scent of his cologne conflicted with what was happening. She tugged at her ravens, but the dark energy sputtered and choked out like Jean Claude’s failing engine.
“And a minute is all I need.”
“Not something you often hear men bragging about.”
Luke glared at her. He dropped the glowing orb and used his free hand to pull out a small red disc. He threw it at the ground. Another portal snapped in place. He stepped into the fuzzy red light to the Other Realms and hauled her with him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Lincoln was not great because he was born in a cabin, but because he got out of it.”
~James Truslow Adams
Raven blinked repeatedly. Slowly, the distorted vision of the room grew less fuzzy. Her ears rang from the sensory overload, and the room buzzed. Or maybe that was her. The dark energy inside her pulsed, demanding release. Feathers flapped and fluttered in her belly.
She shook her head. Fluffy hair brushed against her cheek.
Two couches by a roaring fire greeted her with clarity. The pine finish of the walls and earthy smell in the air suggested a log cabin. Though the drapes were pulled shut, the surge in her dark energy, and its continued twisting suggested Luke had scurried her off to one of the Other Realms. A portal didn’t affect time, so though she travelled to a different realm, it mirrored hers. It was still summer and still night.
The vise-like grip on her arm unclamped. Her dark energy surged up, pressing against her skin. She gasped. No. She couldn’t shift right now. Not without more information. Where would she flee? She wrestled with the potent corvid essence and pushed it back down. The birds settled a little but croaked with displeasure. Shifting right now served no purpose and placed her in the bodies of smaller, more vulnerable creatures. She needed an escape plan first.
Luke stepped away from her and waved his beefy arm at one of the sofas. His cologne with subtle hints of sandalwood washed over her. Bad guys shouldn’t smell good. It was confusing. He didn’t tempt her in any way, but nothing about an abduction should be pleasant.
Bane made a gracious wave with his hand at the cabin’s interior. “I advise against attempting your little shifting display. The doors and windows are spelled to remain shut. You need a portal to get in and out.”
Her Other energy relaxed a little more. She folded her arms and gave the Lord of War her best fall-down-and-die stare.
He chuckled. “Suit yourself.”
He took two giant steps before sprawling on one of the couches. He propped his feet on the ottoman. No mud or grime splattered onto the furniture. His military boots appeared immaculately clean. Maybe the Lord of War didn’t get his hands or boots dirty. His arms spanned the backrest. “He won’t reach you here, you know. He can’t save you.”
“You Others need to stop abducting women.”
Luke sneered. “Did Cole try that?”
She pursed her lips.
Luke’s cruel mouth snarled up in what would probably be a smirk on a mere mortal. On him, it was something else, something more, but certainly condescending. “Did he realize he could catch more bees with honey?”
She shuffled her feet.
“Or did you give him a taste of your honey…honey?”
Her cheeks heated. “You’re disgusting.”
Luke barked out a laugh. “I’m the Lord of War. People often assume battles can only be fought through fists and bloodshed.” He settled into the couch. “I’ve found more pleasant ways over the years to wage war.”
She blanched. “Is that why you brought me here? To pick a fight in some sick, twisted way?”
Luke’s gaze sparkled and his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk again. Obviously, he found her question greatly amusing. “No. Sorry to disappoint.”
She relaxed a little and uncrossed her arms. Of course, he found it amusing. He probably never had to worry about his safety or protecting his “honour.”
He stood. His new jeans crinkled and failed to move as fluidly as he did. Instead of walking to her, he moved to the roaring fire. He faced the crackling flames and gave her a view of his broad shoulders and back, apparently, unconcerned about placing himself in a vulnerable position. He clasped his hands behind his back. “You’re not my type.”
He probably preferred glamazons who’d pop her head off like an unwanted zit. Relief washed through her. The last thing she needed in her already complicated and sucky life was an amorous, blood-thirsty warrior with no respect for boundaries. “Then why am I here? Besides your need to ridicule a mortal to bide your time.”
Luke spun around. His dark, Other gaze flickered with its own fire while the lighting in the room cast the rest of him in shadow. Empty shadow. Heat continued to pump from the fire in waves.
“Bjorn Crawford has something I want. Something I paid him to retrieve. He refuses to deliver, so now I have something he wants.”
“Bear and I are hardly besties.” She spat out the words without any heat—anything to cover her reeling mind. Bane had paid Bear to steal the Claíomh Solais. All this time, she thought the Claíomh Solais was stolen from him. She ran through her previous conversations with the Lord of War. He didn’t lie, but he talked his way around the truth with expert finesse. He always said it was stolen. Son of a banshee. He let her and Dad assume the item belonged to him. Now, Bane confirmed Cole spoke the truth. The Claíomh Solais belonged to the Shadow Lord. Whatever that meant.
Bane said something in return.
“What?”
“You’re his soulmate,” he repeated. “He’ll come for you. You’re probably the only thing he values more than what he stole.”
“Cole?” Her heart skipped a beat.
Bane laughed. A deep, bellowing sound communicating his amusement and mockery at the same time.
Heat burned her face.
Bane finished laughing. “No. Bjorn.”
“Um, eww. He’s my brother. You should fire the person you get your information from because you’re grossly misinformed.”
“I disagree. I find myself perfectly informed.”
“Then you’re just gross.”
Luke’s gaze darkened in the flickering firelight. “Watch yourself.”
“Why? You’re not the Lord of Torture, are you? You want what my brother has. I hardly doubt you’d damage your best trading chip.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I need you alive, but what condition you’re delivered in is not a given.” He cocked his head as if he could hear
her teeth chattering or her knees wobbling.
Maybe he could. What the fuck was she thinking? Why antagonize the warmonger? Without using a drop of his power, he could snap her in half with his bare hands before she could say, “Ouch.”
“You obviously have no experience with war,” he said.
“Not true.”
He raised a dark eyebrow.
“I’m a pretty vicious armchair warrior when it comes to social media fights.”
He crossed his arms. The soft fabric of his shirt stretched.
Instead of causing her to fall into a drooling frenzy of hot need, like the sight of Cole’s muscles did, Bane’s imposing figure only incited fear. A lot of fear. A whole barrel full. Her throat grew dry. “Seriously. Just point me toward an antivaxxer and watch me go.”
He frowned. “Did I accidentally hit your head when I brought you over?”
“No.” She scratched her temple.
“So, you’re normally this idiotic?”
“Just biding my time.” The sweet taste of donut had faded from her mouth, along with the memory of Cole’s tongue playing with hers. Her stomach rumbled. Bane couldn’t dispose of her now. Not on an empty stomach with a stale taste in her mouth. That would be cruel.
“What about companionable silence?”
“That implies we’re companions.”
He took a menacing step toward her. “How about just silence, then?”
“No deal. How am I to trick you into revealing your diabolical master plan?”
“Is that what this is?”
“Maybe?”
“I’ve already told you my ‘diabolical master plan.’”
She pursed her lips. He had. Literally two minutes ago, he’d explained how he planned to hold her in exchange for the Claíomh Solais. She needed time to process. Like a kid who just jumped off the merry-go-round, her head spun, and she struggled to focus on what was in front of her. She knew one thing. She couldn’t allow Bear to exchange the Claíomh Solais for her. Even if Luke kept his word and she went home safe, Bear wouldn’t receive the same assurances. The Lord of War didn’t seem like the forgiving type. She needed to get out of here and that meant help from Cole. She pursed her lips.
“Or are you trying to distract me, hoping Camhanaich will somehow save you?” Luke’s voice cut through her thoughts.
Nailed it. She swallowed and refused to look away from Luke’s knowing gaze.
“There’s no need to stall. He can’t reach you here and I have no plans to torture you…yet. Keep up that incoherent babbling and things might change.”
“How do you know Bear refuses to deliver?” The awful scene at his safe house flashed through her vision. She shivered.
“What are you suggesting?”
“Maybe someone took Bear before he could bring you the Claíomh Solais.”
Luke dropped his head back and barked out more laughter. The sound rumbled deep from his chest and filled the cozy room. Instead of putting her at ease, his laughter amped up the flight part of her fight or flight response. Prey drive fully engaged, she wanted out. Her leg muscles twitched. Her energy surged again, begging for release. She scanned the room for potential exits. Theoretically, she only needed one bird to escape alive.
Bane’s laughter died down. “He seemed perfectly fine and in complete control when he told me to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off. You’ll never get the Claíomh Solais.’”
Raven’s shoulders drooped. He must’ve talked to Bear before whatever happened in his safe house…happened. What in the Underworld, Bear? The more she attempted to dig her brother out of trouble, the deeper he burrowed. Like a fucking clam on crack.
Everything about this situation confused her.
“Why would he do that?” she asked. “He’s never reneged on a contract before.”
“Reneged is an incorrect word choice as it implies renegotiation. Your brother made no effort to reach a new agreement.”
“But why?”
“He found the Claíomh Solais.” He spoke his statement as if it was the only explanation needed. Maybe she had bonked her head when he brought her over because that made no sense.
“What exactly is the Claíomh Solais?”
Luke chuckled.
Her hands twitched. Raven wasn’t normally a violent person, but an insane urge to punch the Lord of War in the gut consumed her. Her muscles tensed. Yeah, like that would end well. Memories of her trying to tackle Bear while he held her at arm’s reach surfaced and drowned her with humiliation and a much needed reminder of her incompetence as a fighter against a bigger, stronger opponent.
With his laughing fit over, Luke’s attention fixed on her. “Ah, my silly girl. You ask the wrong question.”
She frowned.
“Not what, but who.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Me: I want to travel.
Bank Account: Like…to the backyard?”
~Unknown, but also Raven’s internal dialogue
Raven slammed the cutlery drawer shut. The contents jangled. “Seriously?”
Luke didn’t own a single sharp object in the entire cabin where he imprisoned her. After he dropped his Claíomh Solais bombshell and refused to elaborate, he’d left to “run an errand.” Her mind reeled, sifting through old conversations in an attempt to make sense of this new information.
This is what she knew:
1) Bane didn’t have any donuts in the cabin.
2) The Claíomh Solais was a person.
3) They were a weapon of some kind or could be used as one.
4) They belonged to Cole.
She struggled with point number four the most. How did one person belong to another? What exactly did “belonging” to Cole entail? Was the Claíomh Solais a slave? A weapon used at his command? That would squash any romantic feelings she held for him. Or was the Claíomh Solais something else to Cole? Something more? Maybe his kid? A child would explain Bear’s instant protectiveness and refusal to make good on his deal with Luke, and it would explain Cole’s determination to retrieve him or her.
She gulped.
Or, if the Claíomh Solais was female, was she Cole’s lover? Wife?
Her stomach twisted. She needed to focus on getting out of Bane’s Cabin of Doom, instead of asking questions she couldn’t answer.
Escape first. Understanding later.
The moment Bane stepped out the door, she’d attempted to leave the glorified hut. As Luke promised, the entire place was spelled with a magical boundary. The only way in or out was with a portal disc.
Or a summoning.
At least she hoped summoning was an option. Bane had said the windows were spelled and she required a portal to get in and out, but he didn’t say portals were the only way.
Raven needed to spill her blood. Cole had been quite clear about the requirement. Her teeth and nails weren’t sharp enough, and the entire cabin was so well baby-proofed, Luke may as well have contained her in a padded jail cell. If only Megan’s oldest son was around. He’d find something to cut himself within minutes.
The single random thought landed Raven in the Awful Person Category. Maybe she deserved to be imprisoned in Bane’s creepy cabin. She didn’t actually want her best friend’s son detained with her and injured.
Outside the trees swayed, mocking her with their freedom on the other side of the sealed, unbreakable windows. Despite Luke’s warning, she still pulled back the drapes and tried to wrench the double paned windows open. No luck. She tried throwing heavy objects at them as well, only to have them bounce back, crash to the floor, or in the case of the ottoman, hit her. She might’ve pulled a bicep as well, but if she got out of here and anyone asked, she’d deny everything.
Dark clouds rolled across the night sky and blotted out the two red suns. Luke had brought her to one of the Other Realms, but she didn’t know which one. One within the Underworld, most likely. Beings from the Realms of Light rarely lowered themselves to cavort with mortals let alone allow dark fae
lords to set up camp. The dark energy continued to pulse and twist inside her, more potent and stronger than before.
Someone had hung a vintage-styled plaque on the wall that read, “Life is better at the cabin.” Odin’s blue balls. Had Bane lumbered in here, post war, in his bloodied armour with a small nail and hammer to hang this himself? Had he chuckled at the irony? Or had he whipped some poor fae servant to make the place “cozier” for his future prisoners? What else had the unfortunate employee been tasked with? What other supplies did Bane require for his friendly interrogations? Besides a medic.
Another idea crossed her mind and she raced to the simple, three piece bathroom. The air in the room was slightly cooler than the rest of the cabin and smelled of cleaner. Somehow, the idea of Luke Bane crouched by the toilet in his expensive suit to clean the base didn’t ease her sense of impending doom.
Her reflection stared back at her. Mouth tense, brow furrowed and her normally poker straight hair cascading past her shoulders in waves.
Whelp. The curling hair confirmed it. She knew absolutely nothing about the Other Realms. Time to go.
She yanked open the cabinet under the sink and riffled through the contents.
Yes! A First Aid kit. She flung the red tin open. Gauze, bandages and tape…and childproof scissors.
Gah!
Raven dropped from her squatting position to the floor. Her butt hit the tiles with a smack. Her jeans stretched and the waistband dug into her stomach. Seriously? This guy thought of everything. The small windowless room with dull lighting closed in on her.
She held the blunt blade of the scissors to her fingertips.
The next few minutes proved just how well the “childproof” label was. With red, angry skin and a couple of developing bruises, Raven flung the scissors back into the cabinet and gave up. She’d managed to get a few tiny droplets of blood, but it wasn’t enough.
She needed more than a sissy pinprick or scrape. Her ravens could attack each other, but most wounds healed when she shifted back to human, and she needed to draw blood and recite Cole’s true name at the same time. A raven could mimic human speech, and she wasn’t bad at it, but her human tongue stumbled over Cole’s full name. Not that she practiced at night when she was alone, or anything.
Conspiracy of Ravens (Crawford Investigations Book 1) Page 19