Raven Chapter 23 Two Weeks of Hell and One Delicious Secret 297 #2
I melt into him as the smell of wet earth and primal man wrap around me. He holds me like I’m precious, and it makes me want to laugh and cry simultaneously. I can’t do even that since my emotions seem to be just out of my reach. The only thing I’m feeling right now is a sad defeat.
As Anik carries me out of the training room, I finally meet Forrest’s eyes. His gaze roams over my pale, shaking form, and I watch with detached fascination as his expression cracks, a dawning horror filling his eyes.
Fates, do I really look that bad?
I stay curled in Anik’s arms as he carries me to Kieran’s room. My curiosity seems to peek its head over the exhaustion as we cross his bedroom and into the only room I haven’t been in yet.
If you could call it a room. Kieran’s bathroom is more of an experience. The cedar-scented air from the crackling fireplace hits me first. Then, the light from the actual, godsdamned chandelier overhead fractures into a thousand rainbows that seem to chase the flickering firelight across the walls.
I watch as Kieran slips past and starts running a bath.
The entire alcove is a grotto of iridescent, fish-scale tiles that shimmer from seafoam green to deep violet with every shift of the light.
A stack of plush towels teeters on a stool, and an assortment of expensive-looking bottles, pots, and salts clutter every surface.
It feels less like a spa and more like a wonderfully chaotic alchemist's den dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure.
It’s decadent, slightly messy, and entirely Kieran.
“Will you be able to stand to undress yourself, little one?” Anik asks me, and I just stare up at him in awe.
Since I became corporeal, he hasn’t spoken more than a few growled words at a time. So the words feel more like a declaration of love than a question.
“Um, I think so,” I say. Super eloquent, I know.
My body still screams, but being out of that room, away from Forrest’s crushing glare, has lifted the anvil from my chest.
Anik sets me on my feet as Kieran dumps various salts and oils into the bath.
He tests the water, then crosses the room to rummage in a drawer, returning with a very familiar tray that he sets on the tub's lip.
He slides a pillow into the water at one end, then disappears again, coming back with a box of chocolates and a glass of water.
"We'll be right outside, Wisp. We've called Leandre home so he'll be here soon to take a look at ye.” Kieran explains before motioning to the bathtub. “Enjoy yourself, and if you need anything, just call for us.”
I just blink stupidly at him. “But… the training.”
“Ach.” He practically spits. “We're done with all that pegasus shite. We went along with his plan because we thought it was what was best for you, for all of us, but we cannae sit by and watch him grind you down any more than he has already. ” He reaches up and caresses my cheek. “We’ll find a different way to get you where you need to be.”
My lip wobbles. Before I can turn into a blubbering mess, he leans down, kisses my forehead, and walks out. Anik hesitates for a moment before marching over, wrapping me in a crushing hug, and making a weird, vibrating noise.
“Are you purring ?” I ask, a tear finally escaping.
He just grunts in confirmation. “No more,” he says, kissing the top of my head before setting me down and following Kieran out.
I shed my sweaty clothes and sink into the bath. I snatch a chocolate and pop it into my mouth with a desperation I would find embarrassing if my brain was working properly. No regrets.
This is exactly what I needed.
I’m sure it sounds like a porno in here with all the moaning. If I weren't so exhausted, I'd be tempted to give them a show. Too bad I feel like a wrung-out rag, my very life’s essence squeezed onto the training room floor.
I have no idea how long I spend in the bath, but when I do finally get out the water is lukewarm, and the four beautifully boxed chocolates are at home, safe and sound, in my stomach. I dry off, wrap myself in a towel, and crack open the door to find a pile of clothes folded neatly on the floor.
Once I’m dressed in a pair of Kieran’s silk pajama pants and one of Anik’s massive waffle-knit thermals, my limbs are shaking in full force. The bath did wonders, as did their soft words and touches, but the reality is, I’m still exhausted.
Not wanting to walk another step, I give up and curl into Kieran’s bed, settling on my side so I can still see the room like an exhausted, emotionally wrung-out burrito with personal space issues.
His room has always been a beautiful disaster.
The massive bed I’ve cocooned myself in is heaped with a mountain of pillows and a duvet in deep burnt oranges and rusty reds.
Just sitting here, looking like the world’s most comfortable sunset-soaked cloud against the warm, honeyed wood of the headboard.
It’s the largest thing in the room and by far the most inviting.
The chaos that makes up the rest of the room isn't neglectful.
The thick carpet is spotless, there's no dust, and no trash is lying around.
It is, however, an explosion of half-finished interests.
A partially restrung guitar leans in one corner; a stack of leatherworking tools and a mangled hide sits shoved into a box on a chair; an array of paints sits next to an easel, a sketchbook lying open, its margins filled with intricate doodles.
And I thought I was the magpie. Obviously I was wrong. Being in here now I can see that title falls solely on Kieran.
This can only be the nest of an insanely handsome magpie with impeccable taste in comfort and a tragically short attention span.
Everywhere you look, there’s evidence of a brain too fascinated by everything to focus on anything for long, and it is, inexplicably, the most home-like place in the whole house.
I must doze off, because the next thing I know, the bedroom door is opening.
Leandre stands there, backlit by the hall light, his medical bag in hand.
The usual calm grace about him is gone, replaced by a coiled tension.
His eyes are shadowed, his jaw tight. He looks…
furious. And the way his gaze darts away from mine slices into me like a blade.
He’s angry at me. Of course he is. I’m the reason everything is falling apart.
The words tumble out in a rushed, shaky whisper before he can speak. “I’m so sorry, Dre. I’m sorry I’m such a mess and that I’ve messed everything up and that you have to be here instead of at the clinic and that Forrest is so angry and it’s all my—”
“Stop.”
The word is a quiet one, but it cracks through the room like a whip.
He’s staring at me, his expression one of pure, unadulterated horror.
“You think… you believe this is directed at you?” He takes a sharp step forward, his voice dropping to a pained, ragged whisper.
“Gods, Raven. No. My anger is for Forrest, the idiot who got you to… this.” He motions to my pathetic state of existence.
“And for myself, for not being here to stop it and for… for what I did to you.”
I cock my head in confusion. “You didn’t do anything to me.”
He sinks to his knees beside the bed, his eyes on the duvet, tracing the stitched pattern like it might save him.
"The night of the attack. I put venom in your tea." He won't look at me. "To heal you. To—" A sharp exhale. "It lets me feel you. When you have it in your system, I can... reach through it. Feel what you feel."
His hands twist together. "I've hidden this power my whole life.
The last person who had it was my sire. I killed him for what he did with it.
What he made me." He finally looks up, and there's something raw there.
Something ancient and terrified. "I can heal with it.
I can hurt with it. I can—" His voice cracks.
"I couldn't let you stay hurt. You were new to this body. What if something was wrong and you didn’t even know? I had to do something. I had to—"
He stands, starts pacing. Wringing his hands. The usual calm is gone. In its place is something frayed and desperate.
Meanwhile, I feel like an ass because he's pouring out his soul, and I'm wondering how interesting that venom trick would be in bed. Then I remember what happened that night before going to bed, and my eyes snap back to him, an inferno blazing to life in my lower belly.
"You weren't falling asleep. And I… I felt it. Your pleasure. I felt all of it. I didn't pull away. I stayed. I watched." His voice drops to barely a whisper. "It was a violation, and I am so… so sorry."
He finally risks a glance up, his eyes full of a self-loathing so deep it seems bottomless.
I think he's expecting rage or revulsion.
Instead, I'm mentally fanning myself. I may not have known he was there then, but knowing it now?
Boy oh boy. I thought getting myself off in front of Em was hot, but an unknowing audience?
Holy hot damn. I had no idea I was into that, but let me tell you, the discovery is doing it for me.
My voice is a little dazed when I finally answer. “So… you saw the whole thing, and you’re not disgusted?”
His mouth falls open. “Disgusted? No. You should be disgusted by me. I am a monster.”
I reach out and he comes to me without hesitation, his fingers twining with mine as I look into his eyes.
I see it all swirling there—the fury, the shame, centuries of self-loathing.
He’s laying himself utterly bare, willing me to see the worst of him.
I hold that fragile trust like a precious baby bird.
“Dre,” I say, my voice dropping to a hushed, intimate tone. “The only thing I’m feeling right now is wildly, wildly turned on.”
His eyes widen, the storm in them shifting from torment to stunned, dawning disbelief. The air in the room crackles, thick and heavy. We stare at each other, a silent gauntlet thrown down, waiting to see who will make the first move.
A shadow falls across the doorway.
“Wrap it up,” Forrest states, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Silas found something.”