Chapter 13 Raven
Raven
Raven watched Mynx sleep, her breath shallow, her brow faintly furrowed even in rest. The plane dipped into its final descent, the engines shifting pitch as Cabo came into view beneath them.
He reached out and touched her shoulder, gentle. "Butterfly," he said. "Time to wake up—we're in Cabo."
She stirred, mumbled something he couldn't catch. Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused.
"What, already?" she murmured. "Feels like I just closed my eyes. I haven't been sleeping well."
He heard the weariness behind her words—fatigue that didn't come from travel.
She'd been carrying the burden of her family's problems long before coming to Blood Lust, and being away from them now, with her mother's health in limbo, couldn't be making things easier.
Adding in the additional stress layers of her new environment made it understandable why she'd be exhausted.
He brushed a thumb across her cheek, letting the moment settle. She didn't pull away.
This could work. The two of them together. It had promise.
The ride to the beach house passed quickly. In Mexico, the staff moved with precision—trained to meet his father's demands without question. Raven had never managed that kind of compliance back in Culver City. Here, everything clicked into place before he even asked.
The house was an architectural masterpiece—glass walls framed in white sandstone, gleaming beneath the moon like a promise.
It radiated the kind of luxury the Cordoba name commanded here, unapologetic and precise.
The landscape was minimalist but deliberate, dotted with native succulents and spiny cacti that thrived in the dry heat, their shadows jagged across the sand.
But it was the waterfall—engineered to spill down the side of the structure in a constant, silken rush—that caught him.
The sound tugged at something buried: late nights in the old courtyard with his mother, the echo of water, and the sound of her laughter, back when his father still smiled and Raven still believed in love.
"This is yours?" Mynx asked, eyes wide as she took it all in. "It's—God, I don't think I've ever seen anything like this. I can't imagine living here. Being wrapped in this much comfort… it almost feels unreal."
"It's mine now," Raven said. "My father still comes here sometimes for business retreats, but it was my parents' favorite when I was a kid. This was the place we escaped to—away from the Kings, away from the noise. Just us. Just family."
He paused, eyes drifting toward the waterfall.
"When she died, he stopped coming. Only shows up when he has to."
"I didn't mean to stir anything painful," she said gently. "How long has she been gone? What was she like?"
Raven shook his head gently, eyes still on the waterfall.
"You didn't," he said. "It's been twelve years. Mom died in the winter—coldest one I remember."
He paused; the memory of her settled in his chest like stone.
"She was... fierce. Elegant. The kind of woman who could silence a room without raising her voice. But with me, she was soft. Always knew when I was lying, even when I didn't realize I was."
He glanced at Mynx then, something unspoken flickering behind his eyes.
"She loved this place. Said the ocean made her feel small in a good way."
"I'm sorry," Mynx said softly. "Losing someone that close, that early… I can't imagine."
She hesitated, then finished the thought.
"My mother's everything. My best friend, my anchor. Helping her get better—it's not just about her. It's about holding onto the part of me that still feels whole. If I lose her… I don't know who I'd be."
"Something tells me you'd figure it out," Raven said. "But let's hope it doesn't come to that."
He placed a hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the front entrance. The gesture was gentle, but deliberate—an anchor, a redirect. He wasn't trying to dismiss the moment, just steer it back toward the reason they'd come.
"Can I offer you something to drink, before we go freshen up for dinner?"
"Sure, how about something tropical to celebrate my first trip to Mexico, something to make me feel at home."
"I have the perfect drink for you. It's called Coco Loco. Do you like Coconut?"
"Love it. What should I wear for the rest of the evening. Is casual ok?"
Raven nodded. "Good. Give me a moment, and I'll have it sent to your room," Raven said, then gestured down the hallway. "It's just over this way. And yes casual is perfect I want you to relax. Enjoy you’re evening."
He placed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the guest room just off the central corridor.
The gesture was automatic—one he'd used a hundred times in boardrooms, nightclubs, with women who never asked questions.
But with Mynx, it felt different. Not because she flinched or leaned in, but because she noticed.
The hallway was quiet; the kind of quiet only money could buy. Raven felt her body shift slightly under his touch, not resisting, not yielding—just aware. That awareness unsettled him more than he expected.
He opened the door and stepped aside. Moonlight spilled across the white linens, the sandstone walls, and the glass that framed the ocean like a painting. It was the kind of room meant to impress. But he wasn't trying to impress her.
He just wanted her to feel safe. Be open to him.
"This was her room," Raven said quietly. "Best view of the ocean. Balcony catches the breeze just right."
He stepped aside, letting Mynx take it in.
"I hope you like it. I want you to feel comfortable here—with me."
He hesitated, then added, "I know I'm not soft. Not romantic. Like other men you've probably dated. But I want to learn how to be. For you. If you can be patient with me."
She smiled then—slow, warm—and reached up to touch his cheek. Her fingers were light, but they steadied something in him. Then she leaned in and kissed him. Soft. Understanding. Like she saw the fault lines and chose not to step away.
It was a start, he thought. And it scared him how much he wanted it to last.
***
"You look absolutely stunning," Raven said, leaning against the doorway as Mynx stepped into the living room.
The light green sundress, scattered with tiny silver stars, made the green in her eyes stand out even more. Her curls had slipped loose from the sleek updo she'd worn earlier—soft now, a little wild.
She looked effortless. And it wrecked Raven.
So damn adorable. And she didn't even know it. That dress, that smile. Damn. I'm one lucky bastard.
"Seriously, if I'd known you were going to show up looking like that, I would've put on something with fewer wrinkles."
He grinned, half-teasing, half floored. And maybe a little undone
"It's just a sundress, Raven. You said dress casual—be myself," she said, voice low, a little self-conscious.
She smoothed the hem without thinking, fingers brushing the fabric as if what he thought mattered more than the way she felt. He looked at her for a beat longer than he meant to. "Yeah," he said. "Just a dress, filled with enough sex appeal to make a man forget his edge. You're beautiful."
He didn't say it for effect. He said it because it was true. That dress, her eyes, the way she looked at him like he wasn't dangerous at all.
It made everything else in his mind go quiet.
And damn if that didn't mess with his head.
God damn, she is such a good girl.
Raven took her hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."
Shelby had done exactly as he asked.
A hundred candles bathed the back patio in soft glow, scattering flickering light across the stone and tracing a path to the beach. The air smelled faintly of salt and wax, with a hint of warmth. If this wasn't romantic, Raven didn't know what was.
"This is… beautiful," she said softly. "You did all this for me, Raven?"
Raven smiled, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "Shelby handled the setup. I just told her what I wanted tonight to feel like—with you."
He nodded toward the candlelit path. "There's more. Beachside buffet, champagne, and later—music."
She tilted her head, curious. "What kind of music?"
"Something soft," Raven said, his gaze steady. "I've got a few songs lined up." He saw the flicker of surprise in Mynx's eyes and grinned, a little sheepish.
"So tonight," he added with a laugh, "you'll be hearing the musical stylings of Raven Cordoba.
" He meant it to be light, casual even—but the truth pressed just beneath the surface.
He'd practiced one song with her in mind, each note a quiet confession he hadn't yet found the courage to speak.
The melody carried what his voice couldn't: the ache, the hope, the pull.
And when he played it, he didn't look at her—because if he did, she might hear everything.
And if she smiled the way he hoped she would, he knew he'd play it like it mattered.
Talking to Mynx was easy—once you got past the fierce protectiveness she carried for her family. Beneath that, she was laid-back. Relaxed, even. The kind of woman who didn't need conversation to fill the space between them.
She listened like it mattered. Spoke like she meant it.
And Raven, who'd spent years keeping people at arm's length, found himself leaning in to her without even realizing it.
"Alright," Mynx said, leaning in and resting her head on his shoulder. "Let's hear this amazing guitar playing you've been hyping up all night."
Raven chuckled, nerves flickering in his stomach. "Okay, but just so we're clear—I'm no David Gilmour, Butterfly."
He reached across the blanket, picked up the acoustic guitar, and sat in front of her. "My dad didn't go easy on me just because I was his son. If anything, he made it harder."
He shifted, brushing his fingers over the strings. "Back when I was a kid, guitar wasn't about music. It was survival. Escape. From the violence. From the blood. From him."