Page 4 of The Devils of Raven's Gate

She snickers while looking at me up and down. “Yeah, I know. My name’s Libra. Libra Thorn. And I can’t wait to see the look on Riot’s face when he finds out you’re here.”

I’m seriously starting to think someone slipped acid into my coffee this morning because this is all unreal. Like maybe I’m just having a bad trip in my basement back in Wickford Hollow. “I’m sorry, but you must think I’m someone else. I don’t know anyone named Riot.”

Libra shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Our names define us here at Tenebrose. You’re a Blackwell. I’m a Thorn. How else do you think we got a whole floor all to ourselves?”

While a part of me wants to be excited, this whole thing feels wrong. Not to mention my other little blonde friend who keeps appearing and disappearing without warning. “Yeah, again, I think there’s been a mix-up. I’ll figure it out in the morning.”

“Classes don’t start till Monday,” Libra hisses. “Now, go clean up. We have a party to get to. For fuck’s sake, you look like you fell into the ocean.”

The nerve of this bitch. Who talks like that to someone they’ve known for five minutes? But I’m not naïve to the fact that Libra Thorn is a spoiled rich girl. I can tell she’s used to getting what she wants and she’s not afraid to push people around to get it.

I look back toward the elevator, suddenly preferring the weirdness of Jessamine over this bitchy beauty queen. “Look, I’ve been driving all day and just dragged all my shit through a thunderstorm. Not really in the mood to party.”

I actually can’t believe those words came out of my mouth. I was the fucking party in Wickford Hollow. But something about this place makes me want to curl up under the covers and cry myself to sleep.

Libra stalks over and glares down at me. “Listen, we don’t have to be besties, but you will attend the parties. I’ve spent my entire life curating my image and part of that is having my own floor with a roommate who is equal in stature. Everyone expects us to be there tonight. If I go alone, the families will look weak. And if that happens, I will make your life a living hell.”

Yep, should have just registered as Maureen Gray and told everyone I’m on financial aid or something. Fuck me. I tilt my chin up. “Fine. But threaten me again, and I’ll stab you in your sleep.”

Libra grins. “That’s more like it. See, I knew you were a Blackwell.”

I don’t know who the fuck I’m supposed to be now. But the vibe in the air tells me I’m going to have to decide real soon.

Riot

Eyes like burnt honey… fuck. Every time I go to sleep I dream of her. And when I wake, her essence lingers on my soul like an unholy stain. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to charge back to Wickford Hollow and capture her. Put her in a pretty cage so I can take her out and play with her whenever I want.

I don’t even know her name… She’s just my firecracker. Mine. But I can’t leave Raven’s Gate again. I’m weak when I’m away. So, I can only dream about her. I imagine her full lips wrapped around my cock as I stroke myself. The rose-scented bathwater splashes onto the floor as I grapple with my massive erection.

I don’t even notice the bathroom door open. “There are plenty of girls waiting to fuck you, Riot. My cousin is one of them. Let me call her for you. Forget about the Wickford Hollow slut.”

I glare at my friend with contempt. With white-blond hair and blue-green eyes, he truly resembles a Greek god. All of the Thorns do. “I prefer self-inflicted torture, Atlas,” I grumble back.

He perches on the edge of the tub and watches me continue to rub one out. “Such a fucking masochist.”

The pressure builds in my shaft as I throw my head back against the porcelain. “Fuck…” I rub my thumb over the tip of my cock and trace the edges of my latest sigil. A mark of virility.

Atlas reaches in and touches it as well. I shiver as the heat from his finger sends a tingle to my core. “It’s healed nicely.” He drags his fingers up and down my shaft, and I release a moan.

“You’ll get yours soon enough,” I murmur.

“Mmm… how about now?” He licks his lips and withdraws his hand.

I glare at him again. “Always so impatient. Take off your pants.”

Atlas wastes no time taking off his black T-shirt and jeans. He smirks as he pulls a tiny vial of green liquid out from one of the pockets and takes a small swig. I watch as his veins turn from blue to green as the poison travels through him. His muscles clench and then relax.

I finish jerking myself off—moaning as my cum shoots out in thick white ropes. It paints the side of the tub before the water rinses it away. It’s the release I need, but it’s not as satisfying without my firecracker watching. I sigh and stand up as Atlas leans back against the red velvet sitting chair. He spreads his legs wide, offering his flesh to me.

I open a drawer and pull out my ritual box. The lid pops open with a snap of my fingers. My knife, the blade of ravens, gleams back at me, all shiny black and silver. I kneel down between his legs and get a firm grip on his cock. “Do you accept this mark?”

Atlas takes another swig of the green poison. Swirls of light dance in his eyes. “I do.”

I press the tip of the blade to his abdomen. “In absentia lucis, tenebrae vincunt.” In the absence of light, darkness prevails.

We pay with our blood. With our flesh. We make these sacrifices for our souls. For our lives. I begin to carve the rune into his flesh. He doesn’t flinch but instead moans as his blood trickles down his shaft. I smear it in deeper, rubbing it in circles around the tip of his cock.

His eyes blaze with power as I finish carving the last line. A soft whimper escapes from his throat. “Mors tua, vita mea.” Your death, my life.

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