Raven Chapter 10 Sticky Floors and Sex Lists 111
Raven
I wake to voices and the sudden, horrifying realization that my eyelids weigh approximately forty pounds each. Where in the frozen hells am I? This has never happened to me before and my brain is short-curcuiting trying to process it.
The voices swim into focus. The basement. Right. The floor. The pain. The very aggressive introduction to gravity.
The world comes back in installments.
First, my body notifies me that everything hurts. Good to know, body, thanks for the update.
Second, the air is still cold and touching me everywhere while tasting like how I imagine an old wet sweater would taste like.
Third—wait. My face is no longer giving the gritty floor a hug. Instead my cheek is pressed against something soft. Something with a weird kind of... warm. And solid underneath the soft. Like if a pillow had bones.
I crack an eye open and see I’m on Dre’s lap. Of course. Who else would let me drool on them without complaint?
A few feet away, Kieran is vibrating. Not metaphorically. I think he might actually lift off. That, or he’s doing his best impression of a golden retriever who just spotted a squirrel.
“Did ye see that? She just stole demon magic and then used it tae chuck him!” he says, voice full of awe.
My eyebrows scrunch. Wait. What exactly happened?
I hold up a hand and start counting off on my fingers. “Okay. Guys took fuck-all too much time to get ready—per usual. Went to a club. A weird murder guy walked through me… A pretty purple light? Or was it blue? Cages? Did someone have a pet? I feel like someone had a pet."
Then the main event of the evening hits me full-force as I finally process what I woke up to. The feeling. The warmth. The realness.
"Well, fuck me sideways with a grimoire." I complain, moving to sit upright—then immediately regret it as the world spins.
I groan. "Oh, bite my spectral ass," I tell the spinning room.
Then I reach down and feel said ass. An ass that is decidedly not spectral anymore.
Which means I’m definitely still corporeal. Go me for not fading like I thought I was. Though, with all these not-so-fantastic sensations roiling through me, I’m not sure a fade would’ve been worse. I feel like a piece of chicken after Anik takes out that crazy-looking kitchen mallet.
“This gravity thing is totally making me her bitch right now,” I mumble into the stunned silence.
“What the hell is she goin’ on about?” I hear Kieran say.
My head turns, and I see he’s now crouched next to me, his head tilted like a dog who’s found a fascinating new toy.
Yes, please.
“I have no idea, brother,” a musical voice says from above me.
“I knew it.” I go to pat myself on the back for correctly guessing Dre was my pillow, but my newly corporeal limbs don’t quite cooperate, and I end up whacking him in the stomach instead.
Oh well. Forgivable. “You’re so pretty. I have bones now!”
Then I cringe internally. I’m finally corporeal, finally interacting with my guys, and all I’m doing is spilling every thought I have out of my mouth. Trying to save face, I decide to stand up smoothly and gracefully to introduce myself properly.
The minute I stand, my legs go wobbly. I must look like a baby deer. I let out a little cheer when I stabilize myself but, before I can get too excited, I take my first step—and go down like a rock.
“Fuck the gods!” I grit out before trying again. “How do you guys make this look so easy? This is so hard.”
Am I whining? Definitely. I also happen to be right.
“Mama didn’t raise no quitter,” I mutter, though I definitely can’t back that claim, and try again.
It takes a few attempts, but I finally manage a few steps without falling. I smile and reach around to pat myself on the back, successfully this time.
"Fates, why does everything have to hurt?" I ask, knowing those callous bitches won’t answer.
“Did she just pat herself on the back?" Leandre asks.
"Aye, I think she did," Kieran answers, a grin stretching across his face.
Then, a new sensation slams into me—something I don't have a word for yet. It's like the air suddenly has opinions.
One opinion is sharp and clean, like... cold? But also warm? I don't have the vocabulary for this. Whatever it is, it makes something in my chest settle. Quiet. My eyes find Dre without my permission.
Before I can process that, another hits me—completely different. This one is loud. Bright and wild and my skin actually wants something for the first time. Wants to move. Wants to follow it. My head turns toward Kieran like he yanked a string attached to my skull.
It's all the invitation I need. I'm moving before I consciously decide to—all awkward limbs and zero grace, but I'm going toward them anyway.
I finally get over to where they're standing, and the first thing I do is reach for Kieran.
His smile disappears, and he goes stock-still, his hand moving to the dagger I know is hidden at his thigh.
I take a deep breath, and something vibrant and wild floods through me—it makes my skin all twitchy again, wanting to find the edge of whatever this is and jump off it. It has to be Kieran.
“Well this is new.” I mumble in awe. I’m smelling . Actually, smelling.
And what an introduction to smells it is.
It’s so intensely Kieran it almost steals my breath.
Before they can do something everyone might regret, I bury my fingers in his hair.
It's not a graceful move, and I'm definitely leaning on him for support, but for the first time in forty years, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.
A triumphant smile spreads across my face. "I knew it!" I squeal.
Both Kieran and Leandre look at me like I've lost all my marbles before they both ask at the same time, "What?"
"Your hair is like a fucking cloud," I say before awkwardly stumbling over to Leandre and putting my hands on his beard, "It's scratchy," I say, "Why is it all scratchy?"
Leandre just blinks a few times, a faint, bemused smile touching his lips. "Well, beards are generally pretty coarse."
My eyes widen. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed.
That explains why girls get all hot and bothered when a guy with a beard is getting ready to give oral.
That scratchy sensation on the inside of one's thigh has got to be something.
I want to feel that!" I declare. "But first, chocolate.
" I turn to Kieran. "Where can a woman find some chocolate? "
Kieran, who's been watching me like I'm his new favorite TV show, bursts out laughing. Not a mean laugh—the kind that says he hasn't had this much fun in decades.
"Straight tae the priorities, I like it!" He turns the biggest, most manipulative puppy-dog eyes I've ever seen on Dre. "Can we keep her? Please?"
I definitely don’t preen.
Dre just rolls his eyes fondly. “You know that is Forrest’s territory, not mine. Also, Anik will have to give his approval before she’s even allowed to get in the car.”
I smile wide, but before I can say anything, my knees give out and I'm collapsing again. I brace for impact, but it never comes. Instead, I'm scooped up into strong arms. I look up to see Leandre holding me against his chest, my legs dangling. I take a deep breath of him as well. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to something as delicious as smell.
I smile at the thought and, before I can ask what exactly they smell like, I'm distracted by my hands that I'm just noticing now.
“Guys! I’m not pale!” I hold up a hand and then squint at Kieran before asking with utter sincerity, “Would you describe this as an olive complexion?”
He blinks a few times, still grinning, “Aye, I would.”
I wriggle a little in excitement, then gasp. “Oh! What color are my eyes?” I widen them comically, looking between the two men.
“They’re a soft gray,” Dre says, his voice calm and reassuring, like he’s answering the most important question in the world.
Kieran, on the other hand, looks more entertained by the second. I can’t help but nod my head a little as if to say, at your service, sir.
Then my head snaps back to Dre. “What kind of grey? Blueish gray? Greenish gray?”
Kieran leans in closer. “They're mair silver than grey,” he says, his voice soft. “Like somebody took moonlight and poured it straight into yer eyes.”
I try not to melt into a puddle at that, but it’s hard. “Oh, so like a piercing kind of gray? Good. That’ll be useful for intimidation.”
Kieran barks out a laugh. “And who do you think you’ll be intimidatin’, wee yin?”
I roll my eyes. "Bad guys. Obviously."
Just then, a door creaks open. I look over to see the other three guys filing into the basement.
Forrest is speaking as he enters, his voice low and measured. “—should’ve taken her to the hospital—”
Emerson cuts him off, his tone dry and factual. “No hospital, human or supernatural, has a protocol for spontaneous corporealization.”
A low grunt rumbles from Anik. “She’s fine.”
I wiggle to be let down, and Leandre gently sets me on my feet, his hands hovering near my shoulders as if expecting me to fall.
Oh, ye of little faith .
Without thinking, I turn and take a few steps toward the others before my legs betray me, and I collapse into a pile of limbs. I hear Leandre groan behind me just as the three men come to a stop in front of me.
“Stupid feet,” I mutter, glaring at the offending appendages. “Always getting in my way.”
Forrest takes a single step forward, his posture rigid. I know he isn’t moving to assist me; he’s assessing a threat. I try not to let it get to me, I really do.
“Remain where you are,” he orders, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’re clearly injured or incapacitated. Leandre, assess her. I need answers before she moves again. State your affiliation and objective. Now.”
I can’t help but glare. “Affiliation? Currently, it’s gravity. My objective was to keep you all from being turned into demon barbecue. You’re welcome.”