Chapter 6 A Flicker of Hope #2
We melt into the woods together, the taste of her skin still burning on my lips.
We run until the only thing I can taste is the burn of cold air in my throat and the blood pounding in my ears.
Raisa keeps pace, barely a step behind, her breath quickening in sharp little gasps that sound half pain and half delight.
Every curve shows beneath the damp fabric of her nightgown, and it takes everything I have not to stop and press her to a tree, to bite her shoulder and drink down every sound she makes.
But I know the others are waiting, as wild and impatient as I am.
The path winds deeper into Fable Forest, where the trees grow tight together and the night feels twice as thick. I move with confidence, guiding her over roots and under branches, never letting go of her hand for more than a heartbeat.
The further we go, the more the woods change. The air grows warmer, almost humid. The ground softens with moss and old leaves, the scent of wildflowers threading through the rot.
I feel the others closing in. Not by sound—they’re hunters—but by the heat in the air, the slow-blooming pressure that always gathers when we’re all together. Like a storm preparing to break.
I glance back. Raisa’s hair is a mess, twigs caught in the long black strands, her cheeks flushed. There’s a wild shine in her eyes I haven’t seen before.
“You’re not afraid?” I ask, my voice pitched low so it doesn’t carry.
She shakes her head, not trusting her voice. I want to believe her, but her hand trembles in mine.
We cut through a tangle of low-slung branches and find ourselves in a clearing. Six shadows ring the space, black and patient, their eyes shining like coals.
One by one, my brothers step forward.
Shade is first, of course. He moves with the arrogant, careful gait of a man who’s never lost a fight, his arms across his chest. The moon casts the hard lines of his face into sharp relief, and the smile he gives Raisa is nothing but teeth.
“We’ve been waiting,” he says, his voice a command even when he tries for gentle.
Raisa freezes. I feel her pulse spike under my fingers, but she doesn’t step back. If anything, she leans forward, searching his face like she’s reading a page she’s seen a hundred times.
Grim is next, sliding out from behind the trunk of an ancient birch. He’s less a man and more a shadow, his hair loose around his face, his hands curled at his sides. He watches her with a hunger so raw it’s a wonder he doesn’t drool.
Onyx and Rune move together, side by side, but opposites in every way. Onyx is huge and silent, his presence steady and heavy as stone. Rune is all restless movement, tattooed arms flashing as he dips into a mock bow.
Talon hangs back, but his eyes never leave Raisa. He looks like he’s barely containing himself, muscles bunched and ready. Sable is last, dropping from a tree with a showy roll and straightening up with a cocky grin.
I feel my lip curl. He always did like an entrance.
The circle closes, each brother falling into their old roles without a word. I pull Raisa behind me, not to shield her, but because I don’t trust myself to let go.
Shade’s gaze pins her. “Did you miss us, Princess?”
She licks her lips, swallowing hard. “I…don’t know if I ever had the chance.”
Grim moves in, slow and deliberate. He studies her the way a wolf studies a meal, more interested in how she’ll taste than what she’ll say. “You’re different than I remember,” he rasps, his voice like gravel.
He isn’t wrong. She’s brighter out here, as if the oppressive weight of the castle no longer clings to her, diluting her magic. As if Gallagher’s dark magic no longer roils against her, trying to twist her into obedience.
She lifts her chin, fear replaced with something hotter. “So are you.”
I feel a sick twist of jealousy, my hand tightening at her waist. She leans into the pressure, a silent reminder that she’s just as much mine as anyone’s.
Onyx steps forward and offers her his coat, draping it over her shoulders with a gentle touch that seems too soft for hands his size. “You’ll catch a cold,” he murmurs.
She thanks him with a shy nod.
Rune doesn’t speak, just studies her with those silver eyes, his head cocked, as if he’s listening to some secret frequency only he can hear. Talon prowls the edge of the clearing, never still, but I know he’s waiting for the right moment to pounce. Sable just grins and gives Raisa a wink.
There’s a beat of silence, as heavy as a held breath.
She looks around, seeing all of us for the first time since the night she slipped outside the walls. I can almost see the thoughts flickering through her mind—curiosity, fear, longing, defiance. It’s a beautiful thing, watching her try to decide which urge to follow.
“We’re yours to command,” I say, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “Tell us what you want, and it’s yours, Princess.”
Shade gives me a look. “Don’t get greedy, Bran.”
Raisa’s cheeks flush scarlet, but she doesn’t look away.
I want to rip them all apart, make them watch while I lay claim to her body and soul. But I know the rules—we share everything about her. Always have, always will.
Still, the urge to stake my own claim is so strong I can taste it.
Sable circles closer, his voice teasing. “I bet you want to know what happens next.”
Raisa squares her shoulders, finally finding her words. “I want to know…what you want from me.”
Shade’s eyes glitter. “You already know.”
Rune’s voice is a purr. “We want you, Princess. However you’re willing to have us.”
She looks to me for guidance.
I lean in, my lips at her ear. “We want to spill ourselves inside you, claim every inch of you as ours so nothing can ever come between us.”
She shudders, and I know it’s not from the cold.
The circle draws tighter. The woods are silent, as if even the animals have stopped to watch.
I feel the others’ hunger rolling off them like a physical force, but I see the way Raisa’s body responds—her eyes are dilated, her nipples peaked hard against the cotton of her nightgown, her pulse flickering at the base of her throat. She’s as wild with wanting as we are.
I run my hand down her spine, slow and steady, letting her feel the heat crackle through her.
“I…want that,” she says.
Grim groans, a low, desperate sound.
“You’re not afraid?” I ask, daring her to admit the truth.
Her breath catches. “No,” she says. “Not anymore.” Her eyes meet mine, huge in the moonlight. “I feel like I’ve been dreaming of you my entire life.” Her gaze shifts to my brothers. “All of you.”
“Once you’re ours, you can’t ever go back again,” Rune says, as if he’s warning her.
“Maybe I don’t want to go back.” She swallows, her voice cracking. “Maybe I want to be where I’m wanted.”
“You’re wanted, Princess,” Onyx groans.
She nods as if she expected that answer. “Show me.”
Silence hangs over the clearing for a long moment, none of us even breathing. We’re frozen, feet rooted to the spot, suddenly afraid to take what we’ve waited so long to claim.
“Please,” she whispers, a hint of vulnerability in her voice that’s intolerable.
That soft plea breaks whatever spell roots us in place. Like I told her, we’re hers to command. Always. Not because the curse demands it. Not for any reason other than love, so fierce and bright it eclipses everything else.
I take her hand without hesitation, my brothers forming a living wall around us. The moon is so bright it makes her skin glow. The sight of her standing there, barefoot, trembling, but unbroken, shatters something inside me.
I let the mask drop, just for her.
“You belong to us now,” I say, watching the words sink into her bones.
Her answer is a nod, sure and steady.
The clearing hums with tension thick enough to drown in, thick enough to choke on. I smell her, sweat and arousal, as sweet and sharp as ripe plums. The others smell it, too. I see their eyes shining, their lips parting in anticipation.
I guide her to a patch of moss at the center of the clearing, never taking my hand from the soft curve of her hip.
The nightgown clings to her body, every inch of her illuminated by the moon.
She stands there trembling, but it’s not fear anymore, not really.
There’s an eagerness behind her eyes, a curiosity as ancient as the curse running through our blood.
I take off my glasses, folding them slowly, carefully. For a moment, I want to hide behind them—my last defense—but I want her to see me as I am, too. Not the mask, not the scribe, not the polite son. Just Bran, all hunger and need.
Her breath catches as I look at her, and I see the way her knees go soft.
“We’ve waited so long for you,” I say, my voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I thought I’d go mad some nights.”
Shade is the first to step in. He doesn’t touch her, not yet. He just stands tall, his gaze as black and infinite as the new moon. He looks at her the way gods look at sacrifices.
“Undress,” he commands.
The word cracks through the clearing, a sound as physical as a slap.
Raisa flinches, but she obeys. She peels off Onyx’s coat, letting it fall in a dark puddle at her feet.
Her fingers fumble at the hem of her gown, dragging it up inch by inch.
Her pale thighs catch the light, her belly soft and dimpled, her breasts full and aching to be touched.
She pulls it over her head and lets it drop, standing naked before us, arms crossed in a last, desperate attempt at modesty.
Sable’s eyes go wide, his tongue running over his teeth. “Fuck, she’s perfect,” he whispers, not bothering to hide his lust.
Rune circles, studying her as if every inch of her skin is an inscription to be translated. “More perfect than anything else,” he agrees.
Onyx watches with quiet reverence, his hands behind his back as if he doesn’t trust himself to touch her yet. Grim just stares, breathing harder than I’ve ever seen him, hunger scrawled all over his face.