Raven Chapter 11 Sensations and Symbols 121
Raven
My head is on something solid. Warm. Rising and falling slowly beneath my cheek.
One of my hands is splayed across something broad and firm—like another pillow with bones, except this one feels like it could also bench-press a car.
The other rests on something smooth and supple—luxurious, whatever it is.
Rocking. A low rushing sound. The air feels. .. textured. Prickly, but not painful.
My eyes snap open as another shiver rolls through me.
"Is this what cold feels like?" I mumble, still not fully awake.
I stare at my arms. Little bumps everywhere. I'm so fascinated I don't notice the car has stopped until the chest under my cheek stills.
I look up. Anik. Staring down at me, expression unreadable.
I realize, with a jolt, exactly how close we are. Head on his shoulder. Hand on his chest. The position I've watched from the shadows during countless movie nights, aching to be part of it.
I grin. Then, before I can overthink it, I burrow deeper into his side and sigh, stealing the moment I've wanted for half a decade.
“You’re so toasty,” I tell him as if he doesn’t already know.
“Cold, little one?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.
“I think so,” I say, biting my lip. “Do you get these when you’re cold?” I hold up my arm so he can see the goosebumps.
He nods, a single, slow dip of his chin.
The door on the opposite side of the car opens, and Forrest peers in, motioning for us to get out. With a grumble, I climb—not so gracefully—to the other side and set my feet on the concrete. Of course, my stupid legs falter after one step, and I stumble directly into Forrest's back.
"Ah, Nyx’s tit! Sorry, Forrest. Apparently, I have spaghetti legs." I push myself upright and wait for the rest of the guys to climb out of their vehicle and join us.
I notice my shivering has intensified. I look around the garage, then at the warm-looking guys just standing there. "How are none of you cold?" I ask, my teeth starting to chatter.
Without any hesitation, Leandre hands me a sweater. No idea where he pulled this from, but I’m not going to question my good luck.
It takes me a minute to get it on; I've never actually put an article of clothing on before. I have, however, watched people do it countless times, and eventually I’m able to figure it out.
The sweater falls almost to my knees, and the sleeves swallow my hands, but I don't care. I roll the cuffs up, then bring the soft fabric to my nose and inhale deeply. Sharp and clean, yet warm and sweet.
“What does this smell like?” I ask Dre, then wave him off immediately. “Obviously, I know it smells like you, but what do you smell like?”
He just stares at me, unsure how to answer. Luckily, Anik steps in. “He smells like cloudberries and pine.”
I take another deep inhale. “What’s a cloudberry?
” I wave off the question, but maybe now I want some cloudberries instead of chocolate.
“Ooh, do they make chocolate-covered cloudberries?” I ask, then shake my head at my own ridiculousness.
“No, I’ll save that for later. I need to taste both flavors by themselves first.”
I glance up at the circle of faces. My eyes land on Dre, and my breath hitches. The hunger in his eyes says he could eat me right now, and honestly? I'm here for it. I'm just about to make a wildly inappropriate offer when Forrest clears his throat.
"Everyone, upstairs. We need to debrief," he says, moving past me toward the elevator.
We all pile in, with me situated in the center of the group, and I can't help but do a weird snort-giggle.
It's like I'm in a man-forest—they're all so tall.
Then I remember our earlier conversation and start bouncing on the balls of my feet.
Which, after a terrifying moment of unsteadiness, I realize I need to work up to that and just start vibrating in place instead.
“There's chocolate in the apartment, right?
" I ask no one in particular. "That chocolate cake Anik was eating earlier this week—please tell me there's still a piece left.
It's first on my list. Well, my general list. The non-sexual one.
I figured chocolate was more realistic to obtain before orgasms."
I pause.
"Actually, chocolate and orgasms are on both lists. So neither of them is really non-sexual. I basically have two lists that are the same but also not."
Kieran bursts out laughing behind me. I look around to find all the guys staring at me with that familiar, bewildered expression.
"You watched me eat chocolate cake?" Anik asks, a low growl rumbling in his tone.
I nod, licking my lips at the memory. "I couldn't help myself. It looked so good. And you made this little sound with your first bite, so I took that as confirmation."
"Ach, sorry, wisp," Kieran says, and I whip around, unabashedly thrilled by the nickname. "I ate the rest of it a few days ago. But Anik’s ma left some brownies. Ye can have those."
"After the debrief," Forrest states, his tone leaving no room for argument. I deflate, disappointed that my chocolate quest has been delayed.
“Party pooper,” I mutter, just as my stomach lets out a little rumble. The elevator doors open.
Anik and Dre head straight for the kitchen. Dre places something brown and square on a plate while Anik pulls a wrapped sandwich from the fridge.
As they work, I make a beeline for the spot I called dibs on.
Or I try to. I’m distracted by the sound of a throat being cleared—a slightly uncomfortable sound—and look down to realize I’m holding someone’s pinky.
I follow the arm it’s attached to until I meet Emerson’s curious eyes.
I let go reluctantly before turning and plonking my newly corporeal body onto the couch.
I definitely moan a little. This is so much more comfortable than the basement floor. It’s decided—I’m never leaving this spot.
I watch as Forrest’s gaze flickers between me and then to the guys in the kitchen. Emerson has taken the armchair directly across from me, a notebook open on his lap. His pencil moves furiously as his eyes map my face, like he’s trying to memorize every detail.
I really hope I don’t wake up and find myself being fed to MORDRED . No idea how that would work, but I’m positive it would hurt.
My morbid thoughts are interrupted when two plates—one with something I recognize as a ham sandwich, the other with a brownie—and a cup of water are set down in front of me.
“What is the meaning of this?” Forrest’s voice cuts through the room like a whip.
He stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his face a rigid, unyielding mask.
It’s the expression of a man whose sacred protocol has been violated.
Oh, the horror. “My instructions were clear. Debrief first. Sustenance after. We have a security incident to log, not a picnic to host.”
I send a confused look toward Anik and Dre, who are now arguing quietly, completely ignoring Forrest’s outburst.
“Real food first.” Anik snaps, his glare flicking from the food to Forrest and back in a clear challenge.
Dre simply shrugs. “She said she wanted chocolate, so I got her chocolate. She’s a grown woman; she can decide what to eat.”
If I were a cartoon, giant hearts would be shooting from my eyes and crashing into both of them. Now, to decide which to eat first. It’s a difficult choice because they’re both trying, in their own ways, to take care of me, and I want to show them I see it.
Not capable of offending either, I take a bite out of both at the same time—and immediately spit it out.
Ham and chocolate, it turns out, do not mix well. I take a drink of water to clear my mouth and can’t seem to stop. It’s just so good—crisp and impossibly refreshing. After a few long gulps, Anik reaches out and gently stops me.
“Slowly, little one.” He nudges the plate with the brownie toward me.
I pick up the dark square and beam at him before taking a giant bite.
The sound that leaves me is borderline feral as I enter a state of pure nirvana. The next few minutes are a happy, delicious haze. I come back to myself with only one bite left on the plate, and I frown.
For a moment, I can’t speak. I can only stare at the last morsel, then at Dre, my eyes wide. This wasn’t just food. It was an experience. A solid piece of comfort, an edible square of safety and pleasure. Now I understand why so many women believe chocolate cures all ills.
“What… what is this?” I finally whisper, my voice full of awe. “It’s like… eating a feeling. A happy, dark, borderline naughty feeling.”
“Aye, and the sounds ye made eatin’ it were nowhere near the border—they were fair settled in the heart of naughty territory,” Kieran says, his eyes holding a kind of hunger I’ve only ever dreamed he’d aim at me.
I can’t help but wink. “Anytime you want to feed me something like that, I’ll happily give a repeat performance.
” I pop the last bit of the brownie into my mouth and close my eyes again to appreciate the perfection.
When they open again I meet Kieran’s gaze and he just nods, accepting my challenge with a grin.
Deciding to ride this wave of glorious sensation, I turn to the sandwich.
The room falls into a watchful silence, broken only by my soft, appreciative sounds as I deconstruct the entire experience.
The ham is—I don't have words. It's doing something on my tongue. A lot of somethings. Intense. Complicated. Good? I think good. My mouth is very happy about it.
The cheese is different. Smoother. Heavier. It coats everything and I never want it to stop.
Then the mustard hits and my nose tries to escape my face. What was that? Bright and sharp and—I want it again. Immediately.
The bread is soft. Like a pillow, if pillows dissolved into happiness. It holds everything together. Makes it manageable.
I think I understand food now and I'm officially obsessed.
I’m licking the last crumbs from my fingers, blissfully content, when Forrest’s voice slices through the warmth with cold precision.