Page 30 of Claimed By Midnight

"Mylittle healer?" The words come out as a growl.

Athena slips past me, cheeks flushed pink. "I did promise. And I'm not anyone's anything."

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." Raven winks at her. "Just try not to break our weapon-maker here. He's been walking into walls since you arrived."

I grab the nearest object - a leather-bound tome - and hurl it at Raven's head. She catches it with a laugh, but the movement makes her wince.

"Your leg's bothering you." Athena's there instantly, professional mask sliding into place. But her hands shake slightly as she examines Raven's injury, and I catch her stealing glances at me when she thinks I'm not looking.

The air between us crackles with unspoken possibilities. Every accidental brush of skin feels like sparks against kindling, and I'm running out of reasons not to let it all burn.

And for some reason I don't have the sense to get rid of her. I'm growing far too addicted to Athena, lingering next to her all day. She stays in the workshop, and when she grows tired, I join her and Raven out in the chambers.

Dinner is the same with the three of them far too friendly and me feeling like I'm going to climb out of my own skin. By the time I get back to my chambers, I already know I won't be able to sleep. It's chased away by thoughts of golden-green eyes and healing hands that should know better than to touch xaphan so freely.

I'm not even sure why I want her so much. She's such a delicate little thing, yet she dares to stand her ground. Ordersmearound in my own workshop. The audacity makes my blood burn.

I could break her. Show her what happens to humans who forget their place. But no - that's too simple. Too quick. I want to watch that innocence crack slowly, to see corruption seep in drop by drop until she's begging for it.

Maybe I'll start with those gentle hands. Show her that they are just as good twined in my hair or pinned down by one of my hands.

My wings snap open, feathers bristling at the thought of her pressed against my chest, those delicate fingers tracing battle scars instead of trying to heal them. Would she still look at me with that stubborn defiance if I showed her exactly what kind of monster she's with?

I may call her a little demon, but now I want to make her earn the nickname properly. Strip away that healer's compassion until she's as cruel as the rest of us. Until those golden-green eyes darken with the same hunger that keeps me awake at night.

But slowly. Carefully. I want to savor every moment of her fall, every crack in that pristine facade. Want to be the one who teaches her that healing isn't the only way to make someone scream.

17

ATHENA

Raven's footsteps echo off the stone walls as she leads me through the mansion's twisting corridors, her dove-gray wings brushing against tapestries and ancient artwork. The deeper we venture into the east wing, the mustier the air becomes, thick with the scent of aged stone and forgotten spaces.

"Uriel never comes to this part of the house." Raven's violet eyes glint with mischief. "Too busy playing with his precious weapons to notice what's right under his nose."

She pushes open a heavy wooden door, its hinges groaning in protest. Beyond lies a hidden courtyard that takes my breath away. High stone walls stretch toward the sky, their weathered faces draped in dark crimson vines with thorns as long as my fingers. The vines pulse with a faint purple glow, their magical nature evident in how they seem to absorb the sounds from outside.

"The perfect spot for a human to learn some real skills." Raven's angular features soften for a moment. She limps forward, her left leg dragging slightly on the stone tiles. "No one to coddle you here."

The courtyard itself is a fighter's paradise. Wooden practice dummies stand sentinel in one corner, their bodies scarred from countless blade strikes. Weapon racks line the walls, holding everything from simple wooden staves to wicked-looking curved daggers.

"Did you create this place?" I run my hand along a rack of throwing knives, their edges gleaming despite the courtyard's shadowy atmosphere.

"Uriel acts put out by me, but he let me have it. Helped me get everything set up here." Raven stretches her wings, the feathers catching what little light filters down from above. "When you can't fight like you used to, you find new ways to stay sharp." She grabs two wooden practice swords, tossing one my way. "Now, let's see what you're made of, little human."

The weight of the practice sword feels foreign in my hands, but there's something thrilling about holding it. Here, away from my sister's protective gaze and my father's constant worry, I might finally have a chance to prove I'm more than just the fragile human they think I am.

The practice sword whistles through the air as I swing, missing Raven by several feet. She doesn't mock my clumsy attempt, just adjusts my grip with calloused fingers.

"Your father would burst a blood vessel if he saw this." Raven circles me, her movements fluid despite her injury. "Did I ever tell you about my first real battle? I was younger than you, fresh out of training. Got stuck with guard duty at the Gates of Ash."

Another swing, another miss. Sweat drips down my spine.

"Keep your core tight," she says, demonstrating the proper stance. "So there I was, bored out of my mind, when this massive shadow demon comes crashing through. Three times my size, covered in barbs that could shred steel." She parries my next strike effortlessly. "Everyone else froze. But me? I saw my chance."

The next few exchanges leave my arms burning, but I manage to block two of her attacks.

"Better." Her violet eyes spark with approval. "That shadow demon thought I'd be an easy target. Small, inexperienced. But that's the thing about being underestimated – it makes people careless."

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