Page 31 of A Court of Ravens
“I know who I am,” I mutter to the empty room. Don’t I?
I press my palms against my face, trying to smother the fear creeping into my chest. My adoptive parents were the only family I’ve ever known. Earthy, free-spirited hippies who believed in the power of crystals, sage, and tarot cards. The metaphysical shop they owned smelled like incense and hope, but their shared love for me never wavered, even if it wasn’t always conventional.
They’re gone now, taken from this world without warning. Thinking about them still feels like swallowing glass. If it hadn’t been for Cyn and her family swooping in with holiday dinners and unconditional love, I don’t know who I’d be now or if I’d still be standing.
And yet, Niall’s taunt churns in my mind, digging up shadows I didn’t know existed. He cracks me open, exposing something raw and terrifying inside me. Something I’ve spent years locking away.
The shadows…I don’t understand them, not even a little. But I remember his voice, steady and sure.I don’t care about the odds, love. I’m all in. Shadows and all.
I wish I could believe that, not only in him but in myself. Because whatever this is between us, it’s not just his kisses, though they linger like wildfire on my lips. It’s how he looks at me, like he’s daring me to step into the storm, even if it destroys me.
I let out a long, shaky breath, staring at the ceiling as if it holds answers. Niall’s right about one thing. There’s something inside me that I don’t understand. Something powerful and broken andhungry. And if he’s all in, then I have to be too. Because if I can’t figure out why I am the way I am, this bond—thisthing—might be the end of both of us.
And yet…I run my tongue over my lips, still tasting him, still wanting more.
My phone buzzes with a missed call notification blinking with Nathan’s name. My boss. There’s a text too.Chat about the meeting at the construction site?Yeah, no thanks. I’ve got bigger questions in my head, like, what the hell am I? And why do shadows seem to follow me like a lost puppy with a bad attitude? The last thing I care about is work logistics.
The scent of sex and magic sticks to my skin, and all I want is a hot bath to wash away the ache in my muscles. Every sore spot feels like a trophy from an afternoon that left me reeling, starving, and full of more questions than answers. My stomach growls in protest over the skipped lunch, but the memory of room-wrecking pleasure shoves it to the backseat.
As I muster the will to peel myself off the bed, the door swings open, and Cyn storms in, irritation rolling off her like smoke.
Of course, it’s Cyn, and Tomas is probably the reason for the storm cloud over her head. I don’t need to ask to know if the latest chapter in her work-in-progress romance isn’t exactly fluffy or light. Cyn is more like a dark romance. My inner sceptic bet on this disaster from day one, and judging by the fire in her eyes, I hit the jackpot.
She flops onto the bed beside me with a huff. “Well, don’t just lay there looking all post-coital and glowing. I need vodka or answers. Preferably both.”
I prop myself up on an elbow, fighting a smirk. “You first.”
“He’s gay,” she announces, like this is a universal truth and not pure speculation because her ego is wounded. “That’s the only explanation. Hehasto be gay.”
Suppressing the laughter bubbling in my throat, I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, what happened?”
She throws her hands in the air. “It started fine. Great, even. The beach was perfect. He seemed interested in me, like, really interested. Asking all the questions about my family, my work, even my exes. Which, fine, was a little weird because no guy actually wants to hear about other men. But whatever, I went with it.”
“So, what’s the problem? Sounds like he’s into you.”
“The problem,” she says, her voice rising in pitch, “is that when I went in for the kiss—like, full-on, swoop-in-with-a-bang kind of kiss—he offered me ahandshake.Like we were sealing some corporate merger. Who the fuck does that?”
That’s it. I lose it, laughter spilling out before I can stop it. The mental image alone is enough to wreck me. Cyn—international model Cyn—being snubbed? It’s absurd. She’s a walking goddess, all curves and confidence and the kind of beauty that should require its own warning label. Men don’t turn her down.
“A handshake?” I wheeze. “Oh, Cyn…”
She crosses her arms, glaring daggers at me. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s alittlefunny.”
“No, it’s maddening,” she fumes. “One second he’s attentive and hanging on my every word, and the next he’s retreating like I’m trying to sell him a timeshare. The man’s a damn Rubik’s Cube, and I don’t have the patience to solve him.”
“Maybe it’s time to cut your losses?” I suggest, though the thought makes my stomach twist. There’s something about Tomas that’s connected to Niall, and it’s giving me an itch I can’t scratch. I should tell her, warn her, but how do I tell her what’s happening without sounding bananas?
Her grin turns sharp and wicked. “Oh, there’s no way I’m letting you off that easily, Flick. A bet’s a bet, and Iambanging him before we go home. Tonight, actually.”
I open my mouth. I should come clean, lay it all out there about Niall, the shadows, the bond that’s wrapped itself around me like a vice. But how do I explain it when I don’t even understand? How do I tell her about the sex that felt like the universe cracked open, or about theceangal—whatever the hell that means—has me connected to him in ways I can’t fathom?
“You’re right. A bet is a bet. And speaking of bets…” I start, easing into it.
Cyn narrows her eyes, instantly suspicious. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me.”
I hesitate, trying to pick the least insane version of the truth. “I won the bet with Niall this afternoon.”
