Chapter 7
Raven
Wake up!
Wake up—they’re coming!
My dragoness’s voice crashes through my consciousness like a tidal wave, shattering whatever drug-induced haze has been keeping me docile.
Raw power floods my veins like liquid lightning, and I feel awake for the first time in what feels like forever.
My body buzzes with energy, every nerve ending suddenly alive and screaming.
The golden thread of that phantom fifth bond burns to life in my chest, hot and urgent and undeniable.
I feel the pull toward him like a fishhook lodged in my sternum, tugging insistently.
He’s far away, but hunting—searching for me with the single-minded purpose of a predator tracking wounded prey.
The other burn that’s starting in my lower abdomen scares me more than being trapped here underground in this stone tomb. My yearly is blazing to life, spreading through my chest and belly like wildfire catching dry tinder. The heat is unbearable, consuming, demanding.
Hunt...
Hunt...
HUNT...
Her voice roars in my head, each repetition louder than the last until it drowns out everything else. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside out as the shift overtakes me. I try to fight it, but my dragoness is done being caged.
Bones snap and realign with wet cracks that echo in the confined space, sending waves of agony through me that somehow feel good.
My joints pop and reform, each one a small explosion of pain and power.
My muscles burn as they stretch and grow, fibers tearing and re-knitting themselves into something larger, stronger, more deadly.
Soon my prison is too small to contain my expanding form.
The walls groan under the pressure before crumbling around me, chunks of stone falling like rain.
Dirt cascades down from above, filling my nostrils with the scent of earth and decay.
I roar, and the sound is thunderous in the enclosed space—a primal declaration of rage and freedom.
I unleash my acid breath weapon, the viscous green liquid pouring from my throat in torrents. Gas follows, filling what’s left of my prison with toxic fumes that make the air shimmer and dance. The chemical smell is sharp and acrid, burning away the stale stench of captivity.
Footsteps echo from somewhere below, bouncing off the stone walls and floor with an urgent rhythm. Multiple sets moving fast. Whoever or whatever held me prisoner is coming, probably alerted by the sounds of my transformation and escape.
I unleash more acid, flooding the chamber I’m in until it’s a bubbling pool of death. The green liquid eats through stone and metal alike, creating an impenetrable barrier. Nothing will be able to follow me through that hell—anything that tries will dissolve before taking three steps.
Reaching up with my massive talons, I dig into the earth above, using my claws like pickaxes to carve my way toward freedom. Each strike sends showers of dirt and rock raining down. Screams echo from below me as I climb—high-pitched and terrified, abruptly cutting off as my acid finds its victims.
I swing my massive head from side to side, using my horns like battering rams to help widen the tunnel I’m creating. The bone ridges crack through stone and packed earth with satisfying force.
How deep did they bury me?
It must be drow with how far down I am—they’re the only ones who routinely dig this deep. Then again, there are several species that live in these depths: driders with their spider bodies and cruel intelligence, hobgoblins with their organized brutality. I decide it must be the drow.
Ugh, not them again... The thought comes with visceral hatred. They tried to kill me before, that severed head in my room is proof they tried to kill me before.
The pulse of heat moves through my body in waves now, each one more intense than the last. My yearly is fully upon me, and I have no access to the tonic that would ease this burning need. The realization sends panic through me, sharp as broken glass.
Tiamat, please protect my mates.
Please don’t let me hurt them.
The prayer feels inadequate, but it’s all I have.
When my talons finally break through the soil and I get my first breath of fresh air—clean and cold and tasting of freedom—my dragoness roars with triumph.
The sound split the sky. We lunge forward and breach the surface like a whale breaking water, launching into the sky with powerful beats of our massive wings.
I rain acid down upon the earth where I emerged, watching with savage satisfaction as it sizzles and melts.
The main blast is directed at the hole I just dug, a concentrated stream of destruction.
The acid pours down like green lava, making the earth bubble and steam.
I circle the area a half-dozen times, methodically leveling the territory until it’s an eerie green acid-covered mass about three miles wide.
The earth within the ring of acid is caving in on itself as my breath weapon eats through everything it touches—stone, soil, vegetation, bones, whatever infrastructure existed below.
A sick part of me feels profound satisfaction watching the world melt below me, knowing whoever held me captive is dying in agony down there.
A high-pitched call cuts through my bloodlust, clear and commanding.
When I turn my massive head toward the sound, I see a ball of fire streaking across the sky.
I stare at it, trying to determine if it’s friend or foe; my instincts are uncertain.
The pull on the golden bond intensifies, tugging me forward with insistent urgency.
My mate is a ball of fire.
No—wait.
A phoenix.
The realization hit me with shocking clarity.
It moves faster than I expect, darting and weaving through the air with impossible grace.
The flight patterns are chaotic and beautiful, leaving trails of flame in their wake.
The burn in my core intensifies with each passing second, almost pushing me to madness.
I can feel my control slipping, the yearly taking over everything.
Ahead of us looms an enormous lake nestled in the middle of a mountain range—pristine blue water surrounded by snow-capped peaks. Flashes of my dream assault me, and recognition slams into me like a physical blow. This is it. The lake that will burn because of him. The vision made flesh.
There’s a small patch of stone jutting from the center of the lake, barely large enough for a human to stand on. The phoenix lands there and shifts back in a cascade of flames, revealing a tall figure with flame-colored hair.
I hover in place, suspended by powerful wing beats, snapped back to the present moment by shock. The wind from my wings buffets the shore, making waves in the water that crash against rocks like a miniature ocean. The sound is rhythmic, almost soothing.
It’s Professor Finlay Boaz standing there, his perfect form illuminated by lingering embers.
He’s my mate.
My fifth mate.
The reality crashes over me like cold water. The man who this year will grade my papers and lectures about royal protocol is mine.
The island he landed on is far too small for me to land on in my current massive form.
I’m at war with my dragoness—claim this new mate now, or hunt the ones I’m already bonded to?
Both needs scream at me with equal ferocity.
There’s a pull from leagues away where my other mates wait, but the golden bond to Finlay blazes brighter, closer, immediate.
My dragoness decides for me, forcibly denying me her form. The shift happens abruptly, painfully, and I’m falling. I spread my wings just in time and glide down to the rocky beach in my human form, landing hard enough to jar my knees.
The moment I touch the ground, I double over as a wave of heat moves through my body like molten metal through my veins.
It’s worse in human form—more concentrated, more desperate, more consuming.
I use my wings to try to physically restrain myself, wrapping them around my body like a straightjacket.
I know with absolute certainty that I will hurt him if I get close. Even Corvus with his protective silver scales wouldn’t be safe from me right now. I’d tear through them to get what I need.
“Miss Raven...” Finlay’s voice hits me like a deep bass drum resonating right in my chest, making my heart stutter and skip.
My canines lengthen involuntarily, piercing my bottom lip until I taste copper.
Every cell in my body demands I go to him, claim him, take him.
I extend a trembling hand toward him—not in invitation, but in warning.
“Stay back. I don’t want to hurt you...” The words come out strangled, barely human.
The pain of holding myself back feels like someone is trying to rip me to shreds from the inside. Every fiber of my being wants to launch at him, bite him hard enough to draw blood, claim him right here and now on these rocks.
The distinctive pop of Keir’s arrival with my other mates makes me growl low and feral.
I whirl on them and bare my teeth in threat, spreading my wings wide to make myself look larger.
Part of me needs to protect the newest mate from perceived threats.
The other part is furious at being interrupted when my prey is so close.
“I’m barely holding it together...” My voice cracks as I fall to my knees, wrapping my arms around my middle tighter, trying to physically hold myself together through sheer will.
“We have the tonic... It might not be too late.” Hemlocke approaches slowly, moving like someone approaching a rabid animal. His arm extends with the first vial already open, offering it to me like a peace treaty.
I see two more vials clutched in his other hand—my salvation or my prison, depending on how you look at it. I grab the first one with shaking hands and down it as fast as I can, barely tasting the bitter liquid. It slides down my throat like oil.
It barely takes the edge off the urge to hunt and claim Finlay. Scales ripple up my arms and down my spine unbidden, black and iridescent in the afternoon light. My body is trying to shift again, my dragoness clawing at my consciousness. I fight my instincts with everything I have.
Hemlocke offers me the second bottle, and I down that one too, gasping between swallows. Corvus is on the phone with someone, his voice urgent but the words indistinct over the pounding of blood in my ears. Hemlocke hands me the third vial, and I swallow it in two desperate gulps.
I still tremble violently, remaining on my hands and knees, fighting my dragoness for control of my body. The stones dig into my palms, grounding me with pain.
“Miss Raven, what can I do to help you?” Finlay drops to his knees just out of reach in front of me, close enough to see but too far to touch.
I look up and see desperation in his honey-colored eyes—pain and longing at war with each other, creating an expression so raw it hurts to witness.
My breaths come in ragged pants as I try to formulate words through the fog of need.
“Stay where I can see you.” Each word is a struggle, forced out between clenched teeth.
I curl my wings closer to my body, using them like a physical cage to restrain myself.
A second displacement of air grabs my attention, bringing with it familiar scents that make my heart clench. I’m growling again before I can stop myself, the sound automatic and threatening. This time it’s Ziggy, Mom, Daddy Thauglor, and Daddy Balor materializing in a cluster.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Balor’s voice is soothing as he comes to kneel close to me, just within arm’s reach. The familiar scent of him—leather and old books and safety—makes something in me want to cry.
“Help me...” The whine that escapes my throat sounds more animal than human. I dig my talons into the rocky shore, carving furrows in stone, trying desperately to stay where I am. My muscles ache from the strain of keeping them locked in place, trembling with the effort of resisting my instincts.
“Okay, little one. Look deep into my eyes and relax. Let me in.” Balor lowers his sunglasses with careful deliberation, revealing the blood-red of his basilisk eyes. The slitted pupils pulse in a rhythmic pattern that immediately captures my attention.
I can’t look away. Don’t want to look away. The pattern is hypnotic, pulling me down into safety.
“You are safe now, Raven. You protected yourself and your mates. It’s time to sleep. Rest now—your mates will watch over you. Orpheus is already at your house, ready to coil around you if that’s what you want.” His voice seems to come from very far away, echoing through water.
My limbs are getting heavy, weighted down as if they’re made of stone. Every breath is harder to draw in, like I’m trying to breathe through honey. The world is getting fuzzy at the edges, soft and dark and inviting.
“Keir... Need Keir...” The words slur together, my tongue thick and clumsy in my mouth.
“I’m here.” I feel his hand rest on my lower back—warm, solid, real. The touch grounds me, anchors me to safety.
That’s all it takes for me to finally surrender to the deep sleep the tonic will enforce. The world goes black like someone blew out a candle, and my last conscious thought is relief.
I know I’m finally safe.