Page 10 of A Court of Ravens
“Aye, hope it’s been a help for your story,” he says with a warm smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with a parishioner about our summer bake sale. We’re trying to perfect the recipe for our rhubarb crumble—it’s a closely guarded secret, ye know. You ladies have a good day, now.” He gives a small, friendly nod.
As the priest moves away, I glance towards the ancient stone church, its Celtic cross gleaming in the sunlight, and there’s a flash of black fur against the weathered grey of the building. My breath hitches. Half-hidden in the shadows, sitsthecat. The same one with that infuriatingly intelligent, lavender gaze. It doesn’t move or break eye contact. It’s watching me with an intensity that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.Ash?The thought flickers through my mind before I can shove it away. It can’t be. Idon’thave a cat.
-You don’t have a cat. I have a pet,-a snarky feline voice speaks inside my mind,-and I’m starting to think you need a leash.-
Oh gods.-Shut up. You’re not real. I’m losing my mind.-
-I’m getting tired of your denial.-He licks his paw, staring at me knowingly.
I blink.
Cyn’s elbow strikes again. Honestly, if elbowing me was an Olympic sport, she’d have a gold medal by now.
“Yeowch, Cyn,” I hiss, rubbing my side. “What’s with the assault?”
Her grin is all teeth. “Making sure our little bet hasn’t slipped your mind.”
My eyes narrow. “Oh, it’s on my radar, alright. And so is your defeat.”
She snickers, completely unbothered. “We’ll see, princess. We’ll see.”
Niall walks toward us. His scent—musk and somethingwilder, somethingother—floods my senses. The memory of his heat, the taste of him…a dream, maybe? But the feel of him, the raw power…He shifted. He kissed me, tried to erase it. Didn’t work. And now, the púca.Him.Or was it?
“Isn’t it afinemorning,a stór?”
I frown. I don’t know what it means. It’s probably something insulting, knowing my luck. Internal me is peeved and wondering what the hell he’s doing here. External me manages, “Grand.” My eyes narrow. I’m one breath away from saying something mortifying, like I’m compelled to tell the truth or can’t lie or at least not easily, like my handy guidebook talks about the fae. I hatethis. I hatehim. And I hate that my brain apparently short-circuits whenever he’s within a ten-foot radius. “And what doesa stórmean anyway?”
He moves in, his breath ghosting my ear. “Some things are best experienced, not explained.”
Oh, for fucks sake!The string linking me to him that I hoped I imagined in the pub last night tugs again, like a phantom limb aching for a connection I don’t understand and don’t want. The universe thinks it’s funny, doesn’t it? Throwing this…specimen…in my path. The staring, the possessive air—it’s allsopredictable. He thinks he’s got me pegged, a wide-eyed doe ripe for the taking. He’s wrong. So very wrong.
“Morning, Tomas. Sleep well?” Cyn purrs.
Tomas, bless him. He looks mentally prepared to swim the English Channel to escape. “Aye, fine morning.”
“Walk with me, love.” Niall smiles wickedly, his hand reaching out to grasp mine. He brushes against my skin making my blood heat.
He exchanges a look with Tomas, some silent bro code in action.
Walking it is then. He didn’t ask, exactly, but whatever. It’s not like my legs are cooperating with any other plan anyway. Damn this…thingbetween us. It’s like my inner compass has decided he’s magnetic north. My inner eye-roll is epic. “You know, most people ask before they decide what we’re doing.”
Niall raises an eyebrow. His smile has a slow, predatory curve. I take his hand anyway.Masochist,I think, but the word is more of a purr than a reprimand. It makes me think of that damn cat, but I don’t know why. The heat radiating off him isn’t just intense. It’sfilthy. It makes promises of pain and pleasure, of domination and surrender. It makes me want to crawl closer, even knowing I’m going to burn. And yeah, maybe I’ll end up a pile of ashes. But some things are worth dying for. And I have a feeling that with him, the experience will be…ruinous.
* * *
NIALL O’LEARY
Now that’s a look. The glare she gives Cyn could wither an entire field of wildflowers. It screams,I’m going to murder you.Cyn either doesn’t notice or is pretending she doesn’t. Honestly, it’s hard to tell. Some people are immune to the laws of social survival. The wheels turn like Felicity is debating whether walking with me is a good idea. It’s not, it’s averybad idea. I’m full of them, but I can’t decide if she’s nervous because of me or because her friend seems hell-bent on throwing her to the wolves. Probably both. I catch the faintest twitch of her lips. Irritation rolls off her, and it’s all I can do not to grin.
Then her scent hits me. Warm. Wild. It wraps itself around my senses and yanks me off balance. My beast stirs.Ours, he growls. I have to fight the need to agree. She shouldn’t have this pull on me. No one should, but I’m stupidly drawn to her. The bond is suffocating. I shouldn’t even be looking at her. Thisthingbetween us can’t go anywhere good. One wrong step or moment of weakness could destroy us both. Or worse.
Cyn brought up some wager before we headed over. Of course, I heard it. Fae hearing is rarely a blessing. A bet. On me. My jaw tightens. I have to push down the flare of heat in my chest. The beast in me doesn’t take kindly to being treated like a game. Neither do I. Felicity makes me want to play along anyway.
Even so, when her eyes meet mine, it doesn’t matter. My breath catches. She stands defiant, ready for anything. Human? Barely. Mindspeak? Impossible—I’ve said so myself. But she wields it anyway, oblivious to the boundaries she shatters. Prophecy, duty, my sister, Madden, the end of worlds, survival—gone. Justher.
Because she’sdevastating. A ghost of a smile touches her lips as she tilts her head. She’s a theorem I’m obsessed with cracking, a viper coiled in velvet, a flame dancing on the edge of my control. A slow burn. Every second near her is exquisite torture, a study in restraint. I want to see how far I can push her before she pushes back. Then I’m going to dissect her, piece by delicious piece.
My gaze is a brand on her skin. Felicity fidgets, the flush staining her chest and neck a delicious crimson.She knows I see.The thought vibrates between us, a tangible tension. This isn’t innocent flirtation. It’s the bond. Ishouldwalk away.Always walk away.The logic is impeccable, the execution…impossible. Theceangalpulls me irresistibly toward her flame. And my need wars with a past I’m not ready to face. Not now. Maybe in a few centuries, a thousand years…whatever. Because losing someone leaves a hole. A gaping, agonizing hole. No amount of magic, no whispered incantations, can ever fill it.Never.But gods…she’s playing with fire. And I…I’m fascinated by the flames.
