Chapter 14 #3
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I’m worried I’ll draw blood, but it does the trick. Somehow, that cuts through the whirlwind, letting me find balance. “Shut up,” I hiss, side-eyeing him just enough to catch the faint smirk tugging at his lips.
A shrill giggle pierces through the wood, followed by a masculine chuckle, and my jaw drops.
Did that arrogant ass leave our dinner for sex?
As though Raven can sense my thoughts, a warm hand seals over my mouth, reminding me to stay silent.
In the other room, the teasing laughter turns to moans and soft gasps.
The sounds combined with the press of Raven’s body ignite a heat low in my belly, and my thighs clench together, either to encourage the sensation or stifle it.
With one hand still pressed against my mouth, Raven caresses the exposed skin along my ribs with the other.
His fingertips dance over flesh, leaving a trail of fire burning in their wake.
Reckless. Reckless. Reckless.
The word becomes a chant in my mind. Yet I can’t bring myself to care. Not as the sounds of the woman’s passionate cries reach their peak. Not as Raven presses his hips into mine. Not as I grab on to his tunic and pull him even closer.
Another shrill cry sounds, followed by a crash, and both Raven and I freeze. I tilt my head, listening intently as the sounds of laughter and running footsteps lead farther away before another door slams.
Raven shifts to the side and inches the door open, peering out through the crack. The antechamber must be empty now, as his hand slips from my mouth, his fingers intertwining with mine. He tugs me from our hiding spot and back into the reality of our situation.
Our mission.
Our purpose.
I chant the reminder in my mind as Raven and I escape the prince’s chamber. We return to my rooms in silence, the tension so thick between us, it’s almost a tangible thing. As though, if I look hard enough, I’ll be able to see it woven into the air like the threads of a tapestry.
The silence stretches as we walk, the lingering heat of his body beside mine like a second skin. Our footsteps echo in the hall, neither of us daring to break the quiet, until Raven glances over with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
When we finally reach my chambers, a tremor runs through me, and I grip my key to suppress the slight tremble in my hand as I turn it in the lock.
I push open the door, and the tension spikes—threads pulling tight—my breathing speeding up in time with the beat of my heart.
Distantly, I note the emptiness of the room, the absence of Nyssa and Myna.
A mix of relief and unease settles over me as I realize Raven and I are now entirely alone.
“You’re good at this, you know.” His voice is soft but carries a weight that stops my pulse for a beat.
“This?” I raise a brow, trying to keep my tone light. “Sneaking into royal chambers and narrowly escaping being caught?”
“That too,” he says, a hint of a chuckle slipping through. “But, I mean, I always knew you’d make a good Songbird when you set your mind on it.”
The air between us tightens. He’s not teasing now. I meet his gaze, searching for the Raven I knew before—the one who seemed untethered to duty. I don’t find him. What I see instead is someone forged in the same fire as me, someone who has been broken and remade along the way.
For a moment, we simply look at one another, and I realize how easily we fell into rhythm tonight. Despite the passage of time and never having served on a mission together, we still understand each other. And that should comfort me. It should feel natural.
Instead, it terrifies me.
I make for my room, almost colliding with the door in an effort to escape the looming presence at my back. But as I step through, hands clasp my waist, freezing me in place. Raven leans his forehead against the top of my head, and we both stand still, our breathing ragged.
“El,” Raven says, and the simple utterance of my name has so much meaning hidden beneath the surface. A simple invitation, or a siren’s call to a more perilous path.
One woven with mutual destruction.
It’s like we’re standing on a precipice. One move could push us off the ledge, and the other could as easily drag us back to safer ground. Despite myself, I hover on the knife’s edge of indecision, wondering which way I fall will cut the least.
But I don’t think I want safety.
I don’t want to be pushed either.
I want to jump.
I twist in his hold, my eyes locking with his, and I pause, struck by the raw desperation etched across his face. It’s as if, for the first time, he’s allowing me to glimpse something genuine. Something raw and real.
“Did I tell you how breathtaking you look tonight?” he rasps.
“I can’t recall. Maybe tell me again.”
“You look—”
He doesn’t get to finish the words before our lips collide.
He tastes like honey, and cinnamon, and all the things I’m not supposed to have.
His hands cup the back of my neck, tangling in my hair, and I slide mine up his chest, the texture like silk and stone beneath my palms. A moan slips from my lips, dragging a responding growl from his.
I can’t count the number of times I have relived the memory of his lips on mine.
But no memory compares to this.
Hands slip down the arch of my back and over the curve of my ass, gripping the backs of my thighs as he drags me up his body. I part my legs and wrap them around his waist as my back hits a wall, and he grinds his hips against mine.
I gasp as pleasure thrums through me, and he swallows the sound, devouring it like a dying man desperate for air. My hands roam every inch of his body they can find. Mapping the sharp angles of his face, running through his hair, tracing down the curve of his back.
It isn’t enough.
I want more. Need more.
Steps sound in the hall—a low scuff of boots against polished marble, dashing out the smoldering flames with the cold, harsh waters of reality.
“Put me down.” My words are a whisper, but the command in them is clear.
Raven stiffens, but he does as I ask, lowering me down the length of his body until I’m standing on my own two feet.
“Star—”
“No,” I cut him off, combing my fingers through my hair as I battle my own desires for some semblance of self-control.
I watch as he pulls away—not only stepping back physically but also retreating into himself, shutting down mentally and emotionally.
I breathe in a deep, trembling breath, and my next words taste bitter as I force them past my lips.
“We need to leave the past where it belongs, Raven. This will be easier on us both if we do.”
He straightens his tunic, and those honeyed eyes meet mine, their heat finally tempered. “If that’s what you want.”
As the door clicks shut behind Raven, the warmth of his touch still lingers on my skin, like an ember refusing to die out.
My back stays pressed against the wall, as if its cool surface can still the rapid beat of my heart.
Every part of me wants to chase after him, call him back, but I force myself to stay rooted in place.
Weakness has no place here—not when everything depends on clear eyes and a sharper mind.
I inhale a tenuous breath, willing the knot in my chest to loosen.
The kiss was everything I had remembered…
and worse. It reminds me of what we almost had, of the fractures in my life that I’ve papered over with reluctant duty.
Being with Raven feels too much like standing on the edge of a promise, a perfect world I can’t step into.
That’s why I said it—to protect myself.
To protect him.
Because Raven doesn’t see what I’ve become. To him, I’m still the girl he left behind. He doesn’t see the shadows I’ve worn since he disappeared. And I can’t afford the kind of soft light he ignites within me, not while we’re both standing in the dark together.
Crossing the room, I pull open the nightstand drawer beside my bed, my eyes falling on the vial of somniseed.
The urge to take one is nearly overwhelming, the glint of those black seeds whispering promises to banish thoughts of him.
With a frustrated groan, I shove the drawer shut and stumble backward, resisting the pull.
The mission must come first.
Keeping those I love safe must come first.
It’s the tether keeping me upright, the one thing that gives the chaos of my existence meaning. I can’t lose sight of that—not for him, not for anyone.