Page 28 of Raven

“He grew up in the system. A foster kid. Then was in juvie.”

That piece of information surprises me. I definitely need to learn more about Raven.

“Archer told me that he used to be the go-to guy for all of Deene’s upper-echelon students.”

“Go-to…?”

“Anything, really. If you had money, he could get anything illegal you wanted. And he was straight, through and through. No shady hangouts. Clean. On point. Business only. Apparently, he used to date the mayor’s daughter in their town back on the mainland.”

That is something, considering he grew up on the streets.

Just then, his opponent sends a sweeping punch his way, hitting Raven on the shoulder and making him stumble backward.

“Ooooh.” The crowd springs up to their feet in disappointment, a few whistling and shouting encouragement to the giant.

My heart jolts, my nerves on edge.

But right away, Raven ducks, missing the next punch, and gets the guy in the face.

I study Raven’s muscled back, his arms, the way he cracks his neck, almost leisurely, at ease, while the giant seems to be panting and shaking off the fatigue. I can see blood on Raven’s shoulder, split skin, probably—but he seems unfazed by the cut.

He gets close to his opponent, who is losing patience and getting sloppy with his punches. It almost feels like Raven is playing with him. Maybe the swipe to his shoulder wasn’t an accident—he let that happen to give the audience at least a little bit of suspense.

Raven is wearing out the giant, making him angry, nicking him with punches and elbow cuts.

Smart.

And I can’t look away.

Raven is magnetic in the octagon. Not cocky. Not clowning around like some other fighters. When his opponent is collecting himself after another punch, Raven is calm, assessing the public behind the chain-link fence like they are less than him.

He finally sends his opponent to the ground but doesn’t keep attacking him, lets him get up, slowly walking around him. He’s teasing, and that just shows how confident he is about his fighting skills.

There’s extraordinary calmness about Raven. It’s hypnotizing. It’s alluring. It’s fucking sexy. I now realize one thing—I haven’t been with a guy since the several days I spent with Patrick two years ago. Raven’s masculinity and the sense of danger are riling up all my bodily sensors. I used to take direct action when I felt like this around a guy. I would take what I wanted. But this thing with Raven, our deal, is definitely testing my self-control. Raven might’ve been surprised I agreed to this deal so quickly, but I’m using it for my own benefit. Two months of getting used to his demands and needs. Two months of getting to know him. I already like what I see—I watch his body with admiration.

Raven finally sends a vicious punch into the guy’s head, and the giant collapses.

“Yeah!” Kat shouts, sticks two fingers in her mouth, and whistles loudly.

Archer smiles, slowly rises to his feet, and claps.

The rest of the audience is cheering, half of it on their feet as the referee announces Raven’s victory.

Raven turns in his spot slowly. The audience roars and whistles. Someone boos and throws something at the chain fence of the cage.

When Raven’s back is to me, the raven tattooed on his back stares at me again. He slowly raises both his arms in the air, pointing in opposite directions, at a forty-five-degree angle, and the wings of the tattooed raven rise.

The club explodes in roaring cheers.

Raven looks majestic. His heavy breathing makes the inked bird on his back move, imitating a flight.

He turns toward me and lowers his arms. Slowly, he walks toward the chain fence that separates us, steps up to it, curls his fingers around the metal links, and locks eyes with me.

He is only five feet away. His eyes are icy-cold, like liquid metal, almost transparent blue. The pupils are so pronounced that he looks like a Siberian Husky. His eyes catch the light and reflect it in a strange way, unsettling, bizarre, and nothing like I’ve ever seen before. If it were Halloween, I would’ve thought he wore those party contacts that can make your eyes look like a cat’s.

His eyes are actually smiling, creasing at the corners, though there’s no smile on his lips. Strange, truly. He seems amused and absolutely unfazed by the rest of the people as his attention is clearly only on me. His gaze is somehow possessive, saying, “I always get what I want, and I want you.” It feels like everything around us disappears. It’s just us. His hypnotizing eyes dissect me piece by piece until my heart beats wildly, and I forget to control myself, and my chest rises and falls rapidly.

Someone nudges me—Kat. “What’s happening, Maddy?”

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