5. Vessa

5

Vessa

S omething tapped at my window before dawn broke across the sky. I pulled the duvet cover over my head, muffling the sound until it went away. It wasn’t long until the rapid tapping came back. Growling, I threw the blankets off my body and flung myself out of bed. Raven appeared outside my window as a shadow cast in the luminescence of a fiery, crimson sky. He stretched his dark, silkened wings, as if he had been there all night. I never pried into where Raven went, but he was always waiting for me in the morning.

I slid the window up. “I’m shocked you didn’t shift into my room,” I said, yawning as he did just that in swirls of shadow, curling around my body in a familiar greeting before an apparition of a man appeared in a solid body on the edge of the bed. Now in fae form, Raven deeply yawned and stretched out his back.

“I have manners,” he replied, rolling his broad shoulders. I knew by the way he cracked his back that phantom pains plagued him in the remnants of the shift—pain that often mirrored my own but in different ways—and I waited until he settled after some more groans and stretches.

Raven always slept in his bird form, but now, with his elbows leaning into the mattress, his stare was far too penetrating this early morning. For a moment, silence hung between us. My eyes lowered to his abdomen, a firm body I knew was hiding beneath that dark, tight-fitted cotton long-sleeve with suspenders that seemed glued to every muscle. I was glad he harnessed the power to shift with clothes on. Without any, it would have only made things awkward. He tilted his head, catching where my bright violet eyes were.

Clearing my throat, I briefly turned and pulled out my nicely drawn portrait from my coat pocket. “Apparently, your manners only extend to when I’m sleeping,” I said, handing him the folded up piece of paper.

He watched me stride toward the washroom. With a wave of my hand, the wooden door slammed shut.

I heard him scoff. “A fucking blue jay? I’m a gods-damn rav?—”

“A raven, I know.” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

“Well, hey, at least you look good,” he said.

I summoned the door open just a crack. “Again, I know.” I smirked before slamming it. “So did you know about the cocky cowboy Pa hired?” I called out.

“I’m just as shocked as you.” His voice was smooth and airy—it always ended with a subtle rasp from sleep.

My brows hit my hairline as I blinked. “Huh,” I whispered in sheer wonder. “You’re off your game, bird.” I’d thought he would have caught something, any information.

“And you were knocked off yours last night when you met our new guide,” he prodded. The sound of his spine cracking sent a shudder down mine as he let out a groaning exhale.

“Stalking through the windows again?” I finished my morning business, washed my hands in the wooden basin, and continued to get ready.

“I don’t need the bond to know when your knees are ready to buckle,” he mocked.

I abruptly yanked the door open and stuck my head out. “Lies.”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth ticking up into a half grin. “He flustered you.”

I ignored his words as I gathered my things, strapping my holster to my belt. A useless weapon for an Umbra Fae. Shadow wielders didn’t need guns, but we had to pretend we did. Still, I knew how to use mine.

Raven held out my coat and draped it over my shoulders, his height eclipsing the sun that had barely started to filter in. There was an odd, slight chill in my room. I turned, eyes glancing up to find him still smirking while he straightened my collar and tucked the paper back inside the inner pocket. Sensing my aching muscles, his heavy palms squeezed my shoulders, ending with a few half circles of his thumbs. The gestures were too kind. I studied the way his jaw fluttered when we were close enough to share the same air. I wasn’t interested in opening the bond to find out exactly what he was thinking, yet I always caught myself beneath his stare.

“Flustered,” he whispered, low and soft, catching me off guard.

I cleared my throat, dipped below his arms, and grabbed my satchel off the dresser. Being five-four had its advantages. Without saying another word, I walked out the door.

I paused at the top of the stairs, looking down into a room full of quiet conversations. The atmosphere was drab, a vast difference from the night before, while everyone nursed their hangovers. Instantly, my eyes found Ryder leaning back in a chair facing the window with his hat hanging on the knob while Pa played a quiet round of solitaire across from him. The sound of shuffling cards brought comfort that I didn’t often feel. It had been a while since I’d seen him at a table alone, finding his own moment of contentment with his cup of coffee. Steam curled and danced around the cards as he laid each one down. He’d always enjoyed his gritty black grounds after a big meal. He said it kept him from indulging in a long afternoon nap. The only thing in the way of my comfort was the cowboy sitting across from him—silent compared to the night before. The man talked too much for my liking, and he was flat-out rude. I sighed, debating if I should skip breakfast altogether and go straight to the stables. But my soul yearned for a quiet breakfast. We never spoke about our plans in any saloon, tavern, or parlor; we saved all our words for the road on open terrain, where the landscape could swallow us up without anyone in sight for miles.

Raven came up from behind me, the heat emanating off his body a reminder of the chill that had fluttered down my arms in the room. “I have a feeling I know which route we might take, and if my assumptions are right, you’re going to wish you had that full breakfast,” he observed.

I straightened my shoulders, rolling my neck. Before I knew it, I was moving toward them. Wooden legs scraped across the floor as Raven and I sat in the two empty chairs across from one another. There was a full house of silence at our table as I tipped my hat in greeting toward Pa, not giving any notice to Ryder’s stare searing down the side of my face. Moments later, a young girl placed a breakfast plate before us. I couldn’t remember the last time we had been in a room where we’d decided not to kill everyone in it. Judging by the amount of food on Raven’s plate and his sullen eyes, he’d had his fix last night. I looked around the room for the handsome young pianist but found him at a table beside the piano. I hummed, causing Raven to look my way. We began to eat quietly.

This felt…normal, save for the bastard cowboy beside me. Thankfully, he smelled a lot cleaner than he had last night. He pulled out a black licorice from a cloth and took a bite. I gawked at him, wondering where he would have gotten something like that. I hadn’t seen any sort of sweet candy since…

My mind reeled back to the times when Pa had taken me to the shores of our home in Black Water Woods. Back then, he had just begun trading with other fae, only allowing them to dock at our shores with enough time to do their exchange. Over time, more had come, but the masked man had always shown up with the best trades.

“Would you like a taste, darlin’?” Ryder grinned, offering me the piece that had already been in his mouth.

I scoffed, refusing to meet his stare. “Unless you have another piece, no. I don’t know where your lips have been.” Though I couldn’t help feeling curious about how the licorice tasted. It had been far too long.

“You could have.” He flashed me a wink as he took another bite, a sliver of a smile curving his lips. His scent surrounded me with a hint of the room’s fresh floral soap.

Raven eyed me from across the table, and I could almost sense his mocking whisper to me.

Flustered.

He grinned, that dimple appearing as he speared his food onto the fork. I looked away with an eye roll, taking a sip of my coffee.

Ryder was walking a fine line, and he knew it; it was written all over his face. I could sense Raven’s looming darkness growing aggravated. It was too tempting to remind Ryder of who we were, but seeing the content look on Pa’s face as he dealt himself another round of solitaire forced me to save it for a later time. The old man deserved some happiness.

“I suggest you shut the fuck up. If you don’t know how, you can kindly go fuck yourself and sit at the bar,” Raven challenged.

So much for that. Here we go.

“Territorial much?” Ryder turned his head slowly. “Who pissed on your worms this morning, birdy?” This time, Ryder didn’t grin as he glared at Raven. “Y’all act as if someone died.”

Pa’s eyes flicked up with venom coiling in his glare. In unison, the clamor of my fork reverberated around the room, causing surrounding patrons to look our way. My breathing stilled, and all I could see was darkness lurking at the corners of my eyes as they stung with vengeful spite.

I grabbed the ignorant cowboy by the bandana and yanked him close enough to smell the hint of licorice and spice on his breath. His eyes bore satisfaction at my reaction.

“You want to know who died, you fucking waste of life?” I said, voice shaking and gritting through my teeth as the horrors unexpectedly hit me like volcanic ash. “ Everyone ,” I whispered.

I released him, pushing him hard in the process, and made my way toward the exit. Behind me, I heard the remnants of their conversation fade out into the clamor of this dull small town as the sun warmed my face.

“I ain’t paying you for company.”

“No, End’s Wrath. You’re paying me for a whole lot more.”

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