Chapter 39 Screaming Color #2
“Raven,” I murmur, my voice low enough for only her ears. “Talk to me.”
She looks up to meet mine and opens her mouth, only to look away.
I turn to my men, my tone dropping to a lethal calm. “Thank you. That’s all for now. Clean up the mess outside, and if there’s something out there, I want to know about it.”
“Yes, sir,” they reply, both moving quickly, leaving us alone in the dim light of my office.
Raven’s fingers lift to her necklace, again.
“Let’s take a walk.”
She blinks, startled out of her thoughts, and looks up at me. For a second, I think she might refuse, but then she nods. “Yeah… okay.”
I guide her out of the room, my hand on the small of her back, a possessive touch I don’t bother to hide. As we move down the hall, the house feels different.
Raven drifts slightly ahead, stopping in front of a series of paintings hanging along one wall, the same ones she's seen before. She's looking at them like she’s searching for answers in the brushstrokes.
“Those were my mother’s doing.” I try to keep my tone casual. “She insisted they stay, no matter how much I might’ve wanted to redecorate.”
A faint smile tugs at her lips. “Poor baby,” she teases. “The old paintings didn’t fit your bachelor pad aesthetic?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll have you know, I’m very attached to these paintings. They add character.”
Her eyes linger on mine, “They’re awesome,” she whispers, her voice quieter now. “I can see why she wanted you to keep them.”
For a minute, silence stretches between us as she lifts a hand, hovering near the edge of the frame, but she hesitates, pulling back like she’s not sure if she should touch them.
“What’s on your mind?”
She exhales slowly, her shoulders sinking under the weight of whatever she’s caught in. “Everything that's been happening… it's just a lot.” She admits. “The lights, the storm, the things Cam found about my family. It’s like… I’m starting to wonder if there’s more to this than just bad luck.”
Her voice trembles, and I catch the fear she’s trying so damn hard to hide. I also notice that I didn't fall under that category.
“Part of me wants to believe it’s just a fluke,” she continues, her eyes looking between the paintings. “But another part I’ve tried to ignore for so long… wonders if there’s something more. Ya know? Do you ever wonder if there’s any truth to fairy tales?”
Her question catches me off guard as she lifts her eyes to mine, searching for something.
“My sister and Cam believed in magic too. Every Solstice, we’d all leave little gifts for the fairies, hoping they’d lead us to their camp.”
A quiet laugh escapes her, light and unexpected. “Did it work?”
“Not exactly. But Cam swore once that he saw a fairy ring light up. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was just fireflies.” I chuckle, the image of Cam running around the garden with a jar of cookies still vivid.
Her smile softens, but the weight in her expression doesn’t fully lift. I can feel it pulsing between us like a heartbeat. Let me in, Princess.
“Sometimes, I think those old stories hold more truth than we give them credit for,” I add, my tone softer.
Raven stops walking, and turns to face me, her eyes search mine like she’s trying to decide whether or not I’m fucking with her.
“Whatever this is, it's mine to deal with.” I pause, letting the silence stretch. “Might even be entertaining.”
She lets out a laugh, and the tension in her shoulders eases slightly. “I think…” she hesitates. “I think I need to sleep on all of it.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Maybe we can talk more in the morning?”
I nod, hearing the exhaustion in her voice. “Sleep, Princess. I'll handle the rest.”
When we reach the door to her room, I stop, turning to face her. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, and for a heartbeat, she just stares at me. Then, she smiles. “Thanks, Kane. For… everything.”
Her hand comes up to cup my cheek, and the warmth of her palm feels like a brand, searing me to the core. The softness of her touch is enough to send a jolt of heat straight through my veins.
She rises on her toes, and her lips brush mine. The hesitation burns off fast, replaced with hunger. I grip her waist, pulling her against me, erasing the space she thought she had.
The way her body melts against me is like a drug I didn’t know I was addicted to. My hand slides into her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss, and her fingers curl against my jaw. God, this woman.
I pin her closer. My body strains, demanding, but I cage it. It's not the time.
She pulls back, but I can still feel her breath against my skin. Her eyes are dark with heat, and she smiles. “You better go to bed before I change my mind and we end up in another… library situation.”
Her words are a challenge, and the playful wink she throws at me makes my restraint hang by a thread. It takes everything in me not to pull her back, and let the night spiral out of control.
I chuckle softly, brushing my thumb over her lower lip, as I lean in. “Is that a threat or a promise, Princess?”
“Guess you’ll have to fuck around and find out,” she teases, but her eyes betray her.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” I murmur.
A flicker of satisfaction dances across her lips, as her fingers brush against the doorknob. “Goodnight, Kane,” she whispers. The sound sends another jolt straight to my cock.
Fuck.
I stay rooted in place, watching her go into her room and close the door. The quiet click of the latch feels louder than it should, leaving me alone in the empty hallway with nothing but the memory of her kiss and a hard cock.
I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair as a grin tugs at my lips. She’s trouble. All kinds of trouble. And yet, I can’t seem to stop walking straight into the fire. But, I can't think about that right now. I have shit to deal with,
Instead of heading to bed, I head to my office. The house is silent, and it's the kind of silence that makes your thoughts louder than they should be. I step inside, closing the door behind me, and let the familiar weight of the room settle over me.
I sit down and pull up the footage again. The glow of the screen casts shadows on the walls as I let the video play on repeat, my eyes scanning every frame with growing frustration.
The sequence is the same every time. Thunder, lightning, and then the lights outside explode all at once. Over and over, I watch it, searching for anything that might make sense of it. A shadow, movement, something to explain it. But there’s nothing.
The lights shattered at the exact moment we were in the library. My jaw tightens as I replay the memory in my head. That’s impossible. She was thoroughly occupied.
Leaning back, I let out a long breath.
What the fuck is going on with the lights around here?
This wasn’t part of the plan. I wanted to give her a perfect evening and show her I’m not the liar she thinks I am.
But she's a five-foot whirlwind who somehow managed to dismantle every ounce of self-control I thought I had. Something inside me snapped. A switch flipped. And now, there’s no turning it off.
It took every shred of restraint to let her go. To not throw her on my bed and claim her. Even now, the memory of her is branded into me, replaying like a fucking addiction I can’t shake. I want all of her.
My eyes drift back to the footage on the screen as the tension coils tighter with each replay. How could she think this is her fault? What makes her believe she has anything to do with lights shattering across the estate? More importantly, why do they keep breaking?
A memory of my mother surfaces, and I can hear her voice soft, yet resolute. “There’s always more out there, Kane. If you’re trying to make sense of it, it’ll always be confusing.”
Maybe she was right.
The idea would be laughable if I didn’t see the fear in her eyes, or the doubt crawling under her skin. She’s holding back, and that’s a problem I intend to solve.
My mother’s favorite thing to say to me comes to the surface. Question nothing, or you’ll always be wrong.
But right now, it’s pissing me off. I’ve seen enough in this life to know that logic doesn’t always have a seat at the table, so it looks like I have some digging to do.
With a heavy sigh, I pull out my phone and type a quick message to Cam.
Me: Can you be here in the morning? We need to talk. Something’s not adding up.
The screen goes dark, but my thoughts refuse to settle. I shove back from the desk, and tonight, I can feel the silence of the house pressing in as I make my way to my room. Each step feels like a countdown to something I can’t see.
Something isn’t adding up.