Chapter 5
RAVENA
My skin still tingled where his fingers had brushed against me, an irritating reminder of how much he unsettled and intrigued me.
One second, he was there, his presence suffocating and intoxicating all at once, and the next, he was gone.
Vanishing at lightning speed, leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions I didn’t have the patience to untangle.
Confused, mad and frustrated.
How the hell had I been so oblivious to someone stalking me for God knows how long? I should’ve noticed the signs or sensed him watching. The realisation made my blood boil, my fingers twitching with the urge to rip his head clean off his shoulders.
And yet… a treacherous part of me—the part I wanted to strangle—wondered what it would feel like to kiss him.
Nope. Absolutely not. I was not going there.
“Definitely don’t go there,” Xarothar's deep voice rumbled through my mind, his tone laced with a warning.
I fixed him with a glare, arching a brow. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
The sharp flick of his tail and the way he huffed told me he didn’t believe me, and part of me didn’t believe myself.
I couldn’t afford to get close to anyone, not when I had no guarantee of how much time I had left.
Letting someone in meant risking them experiencing the same loss and devastation I had endured. I wouldn’t do that to anyone.
“Stop thinking like that, Raven. You will live. We will destroy your enemies.”
Xarothar was so sure of my survival, rather than the acceptance of my fate.
I exhaled sharply, pressing my palm against the side of his massive snout as he leaned in. His scales were warm beneath my fingertips, solid and unyielding, a reminder that I wasn’t alone anymore, no matter how much it felt that way.
“You sound so sure of yourself,” I whispered against his scales, my voice barely more than a breath.
“Because I am.”
I wanted to believe him, but I rolled my eyes and playfully tapped him on his snout.
“Anyway, I guess I’ll need to figure out how to build some sort of nest or whatever it is that you dragons sleep in.
You keep growing at this rate, and you won’t fit in the cottage at all.
I have already lost far too many books and furniture thanks to your antics.
” Stepping back, I took a moment to survey my surroundings.
The crisp winter air kissed my skin, invigorating me even as a chill settled in. I had always loved the cold and how it felt; it never really bothered me.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and focused, feeling the familiar pulse of my magic thrumming through my veins like a gentle heartbeat.
The energy swelled within me as I concentrated, calling to the earth beneath my feet.
I opened my eyes to witness the vines unfurling from the ground, creeping toward me like eager tendrils of life.
With a flick of my wrist, I summoned large branches to rise and twine together, the wood bending to my will as if it were a living part of me.
The branches intertwined, forming a sturdy framework, while the vines wrapped around them, weaving in and out.
The air around me crackled with energy as I directed my magic, shaping it with intention. Leaves rustled softly as they gathered around the structure, creating a warm, inviting nest.
With a focused intention, I turned my attention to the rich soil beneath me, feeling its texture and essence as I gathered it in my hands.
I conjured water from the air, letting droplets form and gather until I had a shimmering pool in my palms. As I combined the soil and water, I could feel the earth's energy merging with the liquid, creating a thick, bendable mixture that glistened with potential.
I spread the earth paste over the intertwining vines and sturdy branches, deliberately smoothing it out.
The mixture clung to the wood, binding it together and infusing it with strength.
As I worked, I whispered incantations, my voice blending with the soft rustling of the leaves around me.
The soil hardened under my touch, solidifying into a resilient shell that fortified the structure.
With each passing moment, the nest transformed, becoming a secure haven that radiated warmth and security.
The combination of earth and water had crafted not just a physical space but a sanctuary filled with the essence of my magic, a place where Xarothar could find rest and solace as he continued to grow.
I stepped back to admire my handiwork, a sense of accomplishment swelling within me as the cosy refuge took its final shape, seamlessly integrating with its natural beauty.
“It’s true there haven’t been any vampire attacks lately,” I admitted out loud to Xarothar as he inspected his newly built home with a critical eye.
“You like him.” His tone was far too smug for my liking.
I scoffed, flicking a stream of water at him, “I am not having this conversation.”
“Are you going to accept his offer to break the spell that is sealing your magic?” I sat on the steps next to the cottage with a sigh; the magic I had just used had already tired me.
I ran a hand through my hair. “How the hell am I supposed to trust him?”
Malrik was insane—unhinged, obsessive, and entirely too entertained by making me uncomfortable.
But the more I thought about it, the more a frustrating truth settled in my chest. He’s had plenty of chances to kill me, yet he hasn’t.
Instead, he lingered in the shadows, watching, interfering, and acting like some deranged protector.
Still, he was also a creep who sniffed underwear and looked at me like I was a feast laid out just for him.
“He has also been reading your favourite romance books. I am surprised you haven’t noticed some of them missing.” Xarothar sounded amused.
I whipped around to face him, eyes narrowing. “And you let him?” My voice rose in outrage, that bloody, infuriating blood mage.
Those books were mine—my escape. The only place I could pretend, just for a little while, that love, trust, and toe-curling orgasms were things I might actually get to experience. But in reality? That wasn’t my life, and it never would be.
“Oh, he’s dead.” I pushed to my feet, ready to storm inside and check which books the sneaky psycho had stolen.
“Then who would help you break that spell?”
I rolled my shoulders and turned back to face him again. “I never said I was going to let him.”
“You will.” I scoffed at him.
“Oh, come on, Raven. He might irritate the hell out of you, but he also intrigues you, too. Let’s be real, whatever spell your mother used to bind your magic is killing you. I am not at full strength or power to help.”
Damn it. I did want Malriks' help, and I needed it.
But trusting Malrik is another thing entirely.
“You will trust him.”
“Shut up.”
He let out a puff of smoke, clearly entertained by my inner conflict. Meanwhile, the sky had started to shift, deep oranges and soft purples bleeding across the horizon as the sun dipped lower. Daylight was fading slowly, but it still shone bright.
Xarothar stiffened, his growl vibrated through the ground as he lowered his head slightly, nostrils flaring, sending out another burst of smoke.
“Raven… can vampires come out whilst the sun is still up?” I frowned.
“No, that’s why Eclipsara is always in a state of night. Why?”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose before I even turned. Ten figures stood in the distance, their armour dark as obsidian, their eyes gleaming with cold malice. The vampire king’s soldiers were here, and the sun hadn’t even fully disappeared.
“What the hell…” I whispered.
How were they out when it was still light?
Not the best timing. I had just drained a considerable amount of my magic from crafting Xarothar's den, and now ten of the vampire king’s soldiers stood before me.
I couldn’t let them leave. If word got out that a witch was living in the whispering woods with a dragon, it wouldn’t just reach whoever else wanted me dead.
The king and Vespera would know, and I couldn’t afford that to happen.
Then I saw him.
Magnus.
He stepped forward with that same cruel smirk I remembered far too well.
A deep scar ran through his bottom lip, courtesy of my mother.
Tall and lean, dressed in dark, regal armour of the King's elite, he looked like he had just stepped out of a nightmare—my nightmare.
His long black hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, accentuating his sharp, angular face that I hated.
His skin was a deathly pale, making his blood-red eyes stand out like fresh wounds.
I thought I would never have to see him again; all he did was hunt me.
He and his brother had a slight obsession beyond orders; luckily, his other half wasn’t here.
But now that he was standing in front of me, my chest tightened, my breath caught, and something dark slithered through me.
Rage, hatred, the aching ghost of grief that never really left me.
He was the one who killed my mother.
My fists clenched at my sides, magic humming angrily beneath my skin, sparking at my fingertips.
“You are a hard witch to find, Ravena,” Magnus said smoothly, though I caught a flicker of intrigue as he glanced behind me.
He was looking at Xarothar.
I immediately stepped in front of my dragon, blocking his view, my chin tilting up in defiance.
“Well, that’s the point, Magnus.” My voice was steady, but the storm inside me was anything but.
Magnus chuckled, the sound cold and amused, as he lazily lifted a hand, signalling for the others to hold their ground.
“It’s been a while, and yet, here you are,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “Back in the very house where your mother was slaughtered.” He laughed, and the others joined in.