38. Stella
38
Stella
It’s difficult to eat a meatball sub politely.
Why did I choose a meatball sub for dinner with Paul Rider?
Obstinance, mostly. I knew it would piss Michael off.
And it did.
He glares at me over his soup and salad but doesn’t say anything about it. A simplynatural would not get worked up about anything, and he has a role to play as much as I do.
He thinks that because Fate has decided to make him a part of my Raven, he gets to dictate what I do and when. He’s in for a rude awakening. I don’t care what he says. I’m going to do this at my pace.
I won’t let Michael pressure me into sealing the bond with everyone. I don’t even know who the fifth is supposed to be, so it’s not like I will have a completed Raven any time soon.
Mr. Rider sets down his fork, tines facing down, and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “So, Stella, what is your favorite course here?”
Of course, he asks this while I’m chewing a too-large bite. I set my sandwich down and wipe my hands on my napkin as I chew, making that awkward face someone makes when they’re trying to rush through a bite to be able to speak.
I swallow a bit too early and nearly choke on my bite.
“Well, Authentic History, of course,” I tell him once I recover. “Professor Jessup here is quite engaging, and I have very much enjoyed his insight into our world.”
Michael narrows his eyes at me, trying to guess my game. But there is no game.
“Is that so? What has captured your attention most?” Paul seems more interested in me than the school, and I’m not sure what to make of that.
“Besides the Rift War?” He nods before taking the smallest bite of steak I’ve ever seen. “The formation of the countries. It’s clever how each region was designed to segregate the spirits and keep them from intermingling too much.”
Michael’s toe meets my shin from across the table, but I ignore him.
“I’ve always wondered why that was. Professor Jessup says it’s for the safety of everyone that some of the more volatile spirits remain in insular communities, and it’s not like there are laws that keep them from migrating to other areas.” I slowly sip my iced tea, not breaking eye contact with Paul Rider.
He does that thing that males do when humoring a female. They hum, nod, and suck on their teeth like they’re being pensive before holding up a finger and saying –
“Actually, the intention was never to keep spirits confined. The regions were divided around natural resources in a way that made the most sense for trade purposes.”
“Oh, my mistake!” The false cheer in my voice should be evident to the male, but no, he cares more about hearing himself speak than anything else.
“It’s curious, though, that that is what is being taught in your class, Michael.” His gaze swings to the red stag shifter, who is glaring at me fiercely.
Michael pushes his barely touched food away from him. “Of course, that’s not what I teach. I tell the truth about our realm. Miss Mikers is quite an imaginative student and tends to go looking for information where there is none to be found.” His eyes bore into mine, and my breath catches in my throat at the intensity. “She hasn’t yet discovered that sometimes strategic alliances have to be made for the greater good of the realm.”
“What an interesting way to put that, Professor,” I drawl, immediately clocking his double meaning.
He thinks I need to embrace having a Raven.
I don’t understand why he’s pushing this so hard.
“Well, what a wonderful dinner we’ve had,” I say, pushing to my feet. “But I do have a long day of classes tomorrow and need to rest.”
“You’ve barely eaten, Stella,” the Missurd president says. “You should stay and finish your dinner. We don’t have to talk shop anymore.”
I force out a girlish chuckle. “Aren’t you so kind for thinking of me? But I really must be going. You’ll join me in my classes tomorrow, yes?”
I pace outside of Clay’s door, my heart in my throat.
The Reaper has come to mean so much to me these past few weeks, and not just as a friend. He’s like a warm corduroy jacket that I put on when I step into the early morning chill.
Comfortable.
Reliable.
Unshakable.
Okay, so yes, he did creep on me in the shower. But he told me before we got physical, which is more than most males would have done. There was no way I would ever have figured out what he did, but he still came clean.
Also, maybe I’m gross, but it’s kind of hot to know that he desires me so much that he’d go to such lengths to catch a glimpse of me.
“Boo.”
I shriek, jumping backward and nearly falling to the ground, only to be caught by a pair of strong hands.
“Clay!” I hissed, swatting his forearm. “You scared the shit out of me!”
He chuckles and reaches around me to open the door to his room before ushering me in. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I could hear you pacing out here, so a quick trip to the void…” His fingers dance on my waist, tickling me gently. “I hope that wasn’t an overstep.”
The tension of the day with Paul Rider starts to slough off of me. “Not an overstep at all. I like how playful you are. It’s refreshing in this place.”
“Right? Everyone here is so uptight.” He snags a napkin from his desk and holds it out to me. “Cookie?”
I get my first look at Clay’s domain as I chew the chocolate chip goodness.
The room is immaculately clean but empty. His closet is open, with only two shirts hanging up. There are no shoes or pants. I imagine his dresser is similar, and the shoes he’s wearing must be his only pair.
I know that he was a foster kid who has been on his own since he aged out, but I didn’t think about what that would look like. It’s the first time I’ve realized that Clay has been homeless for almost a decade. It’s a wonder he made it this long without being arrested. I cannot imagine the things he encountered while trying to survive in a realm that seems determined to ruin any supernatural, much less a death spirit.
His bed is made with sharp creases, almost like he never sleeps in it, and the door to the shared bathroom is closed. When he catches me looking at it, he shrugs.
“I’ve never met my suitemate. He’s basically a ghost. Well, not a ghost. If he were, I would’ve seen him in the void by now.”
The Reaper sits beside me, so close my right side is completely pressed against him. Tentatively, he feeds his fingers between mine.
“Stella?” he says quietly. “I’m trying really hard not to freak out, but I overheard you and Jessup earlier, and Ryan said you’d need to talk to me and… I’m freaking out. Could you put me out of my misery, please?”
“Your misery?” I whip my head around to stare him down. “What are you talking about?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me that nothing can happen between us?” Vulnerability bleeds into his voice, making me want to gather him to my chest and stroke his blonde head.
“No, Clay, nothing like that,” I mutter, gathering him in my arms as best as I can.
Regardless of the way he wants the world to view him, he’s a damaged male who deserves all the comfort and reassurance I can give. As I slide back on the bed and rest against the headboard, he moves with me, curling up with his head in my lap like a sweet kitten.
As I stroke his hair, I tell him about Valkyrie lore and the Raven. I tell him what happened with Michael, about the conversation with Ryan, and the symbol I believe corresponds to him.
“And you think I’m a part of the Raven?” he asks hopefully. “Like, you think I’m supposed to be a part of your life forever?”
The hope in his tone is so overwhelming that it brings tears to my eyes.
I cannot imagine how much this male has wanted to belong somewhere, to someone. Even if a Raven wasn’t something I could foresee for myself, seeing the joy it’s bringing him makes me feel like maybe this won’t be all bad.
Five males is going to be a lot to balance, but with Clay by my side, I feel like I could handle anything.
“So, do you know what gave Jessup his brand?” He rolls over on his back and looks up at me. “Because I’m ready for mine. Right now. Lay it on me.”
A choked laugh escapes me at his eagerness. “We are pretty sure it was the… sexual contact.”
“Oooh, sounds clinical. Sexy,” he jokes.
“Well, we didn’t fuck, so I’m not sure what else to say!”
He slips out of my lap and climbs up on his knees. “Did you treat his face like a throne? Did he worship you with his hands, lips, tongue?” He brushes some of my hair away from my face. “Because I do not think that would be a hardship for me. I don’t know what I’m doing, so you’d have to give me some direction, but I’m happy to test that theory.”
My body heats at his suggestion and I’m having trouble finding reasons not to take him up on his offer.
Wait.
Why am I trying to avoid this?
He’s mine, right? Part of my Raven.
My Reaper.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab him by the collar of his worn-out tank and pull him to me, slanting our lips together. Almost immediately, the tension leaves him, and he melts into me. His tentative licks and nibbles are met with my nearly feral ones.
It’s as if one taste of him set me off, and all of my worries have evaporated.
I nibble his lower lip and stroke the soft skin of his face. When I pull away, his eyes are glossy, his pupils are blown out, and his mouth is partially open. He’s panting with need.
“Clay, you have to understand. We can’t go back from this,” I tell him gently. “There’s a chance you do not have to be a part of my Raven, but once we do this and you’re branded, I think that’s it. I doubt there will be an out for you.”
“What makes you think I want an out, Stella?” he asks quietly. “I’ve never had a home, not really. I was bounced from foster home to foster home, and then, when I was too old to be a part of them, I spent my life on the street. Being branded as yours, woven together? I can’t think of anything better. I am honored to have you be my first real home.”
I melt at his words, all reservations gone, and gently push him back on the bed. “You seem very sure, Clay.”
He hums and picks up a piece of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “From the moment I saw you, and you almost knocked me on my ass with your wings, I knew I’d do whatever it took to stay in your orbit.”
My lips move against his, our bodies melding together until I can feel him against all of me. I can feel his cock push against me already, hot and hard beneath our clothing.
Clay’s hands rest on my hips awkwardly before he pulls away. “Could… could you take the lead?” he whispers. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
A feline-like smile curls on my face. “Absolutely I can.”