Page 26 of A Court of Ravens
The room might not survive. I’m pretty sure I won’t either. As if it agrees with me, the bedframe gives an ominous creak. Then one leg snaps clean off, sending the mattress listing at an absurd angle. We slide toward the fallen end, but don’t stop. The bed will have to deal.
My breathing grows rapid, my chest heaving against him. Energy crackles as our mouths collide in a kiss that feels like fire and destiny. The power thrumming between us is relentless, too much, too dark. Like blood and death, ravens and shadowed moons. It’s everything I shouldn’t want and everything I do.
The shadows converge, a dark tide crashing over us. The jolt of energy is so intense it feels like the world might shatter. But wrapped in his arms, I’m untouchable. I’m shielded by something stronger than magic, more potent than fate.
The scream rips out of me as we crest together. Niall groans, his pace faltering, his grip on my hips tightening as he buries himself deep, his release tearing through him.
One final thrust and the room erupts in a shockwave. The bed quakes. The air crackles. Everything is a blinding light and searing sound. Ruinous. Sacred. And fucking perfect.
His body shakes, his breath ragged against my skin as he collapses onto his elbows, pinning me beneath him.
The shadows retreat. The room stills. The silence that follows is heavy with something neither of us can name.
He drags his lips over my temple, his voice rough when he speaks. “I’ve got you, Shadow Witch. You’re mine. And gods help anyone who dares try to take you from me.”
I don’t argue. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. Instead, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer—because the truth is terrifying in its simplicity.
ChapterEleven
FELICITY FORREST
“Some magic binds the willing. The oldest kind takes without asking, without mercy, and without regret.”
The Unwritten Laws of the Fae Courts,as told by Ariel O’Sullivan
Shadow Witch.The nickname isn’t playful or offhand. It’s a claim burning into me like a mark that says there’s no way out. No escape. No undoing what just happened.
My fingers are still digging into his shoulders, my nails embedded in the hard muscle. I glance down, catching sight of the little crescent moons I’ve etched into his skin. A laugh bubbles up—half disbelief, half hysteria. I won the bet with Cyn, but at what cost?
I’m a mess. A hot, sweaty, post-apocalyptic bedroom mess. My skin hums, my body still thrumming from the aftershocks, but my pulse refuses to settle.
Niall doesn’t give me a second to catch my breath. Doesn’t give me space to second-guess. Instead, he kisses me like he’s trying to map my soul, one slow brush of his lips at a time. My forehead. My cheeks. My eyelids.
Each kiss carries a message I’m not ready to hear. I’m in too deep. Too far gone.
He rolls onto his side, pulling me with him, keeping me caged against the solid heat of his body. His arm hooks around my waist, his grip firm, possessive, grounding. I tuck my head under his chin, letting his scent wrap around me—earth and smoke and something inherently him. It should be calming.
It isn’t.
Every time I blink, I see it. The flashes of what happened. The shadows twisting like living things. The way our marks burned bright, searing a truth onto my skin I’m not ready to face.
The air is thick with its finality. The marks on his skin. The marks on mine. The raw heat still licking through my veins. The shadows linger in the corners of the room, refusing to completely fade.
It’s proof. Proof that we started something bigger than the two of us. Something I don’t understand. Something I might not be able to stop.
I shift, pressing closer to him, as if his heartbeat might hold the answers I can’t bring myself to say aloud. My fingers drift over his skin, trailing along his neck until they brush against the mark there.
It’s still warm. Still pulsing like a second heartbeat. I trace the intricate lines, feeling them glow faintly beneath my fingertips—like an ember that refuses to burn out.
“What just happened, Niall?” My voice is barely above a whisper, heavy with meaning and everything I’m too afraid to ask outright.
His chest rises in a slow breath, like he’s been waiting for this question but still isn’t sure how to answer.
“We’re bound.” His voice is quiet, but there’s no mistaking the finality in it.
I go still. “Bound?”
His fingers brush over mine, pressing my hand flat against his mark. “That seal is a ward. It ties us together in ways you don’t understand yet.”
