Page 12 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
I close my eyes and let the world spin.
I feel them with a clarity that makes every second seem endless. Their eyes, their bodies, their breath. The heat of their skin sears me even when it doesn’t touch. It’s all I can do to hold myself together.
Bran’s hand drops away from my cheek, but the ghost of his touch lingers. The others shift, their focus tightening on me until it’s almost unbearable.
I try to speak, to say something brave or at the very least dignified, but my lips are numb. My voice is missing. All I can do is stare as Bran and Grim close in, like twin moons orbiting too close.
Grim is different up close. More dangerous, more beautiful, more alive than any person I’ve ever seen. His tattoos move with the flex and ripple of muscle beneath his skin. There’s something wild in his eyes, some wolfish glint that says he’d eat me alive if I let him.
He circles, slow and deliberate, forcing me to turn so I never lose sight of him. The others follow suit, moving in tandem like a hunting pack. Even Bran—who was so gentle—seems predatory now, like something feral lurks just under the surface.
“Why are you here?” I manage, the words thick and clumsy. “What do you want from me?”
Grim laughs, soft but savage. “You already know.” He says it like an accusation, like I’ve already failed some impossible test.
I bristle at the word, at the way he spits it. “No, I don’t.”
He bares his teeth, the canines a little too sharp. “Want a demonstration, Princess?”
“Leave her alone, Grim,” Bran says, his voice a warning.
Grim ignores him. He leans in, close enough that I feel the heat of his breath. “You know what they say about the forest, don’t you?” he whispers, his lips almost touching my ear. “All sins are equal here.”
My knees threaten to buckle. I’m not sure if I want to run or lean in closer.
Shade hangs back like the last line of defense between me and the night. He stands perfectly still, his black eyes never leaving my face. He doesn’t need to move to command attention—he just exists, and the world bends around him.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, Talon, massive and beautiful, rolling his shoulders like he’s warming up for a fight. Sable and Rune, smaller but no less lethal, trade a look and then focus on me like I’m something to be dissected. Onyx stands off to the side, quiet, but there’s a tension in the way he holds his jaw, a careful control that’s more intimidating than any show of violence.
Every one of them is waiting for me to do something.
I lick my lips, my nerves screaming. “What happens now?” I ask, desperate to keep my voice from shaking. “Do you…kidnap me?”
“Kidnap you? No,” Bran answers. “We aren’t your father. You decide your own fate here.” The words sound innocent, but there’s something behind them—a promise, or maybe a threat.
Grim tilts his head, his gaze raking over me. “You’re not afraid.”
It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “I am,” I say, surprising myself with my honesty. “But maybe I’ve spent too long being afraid of the wrong things.”
He likes that. I can tell by the way his eyes flare, a flash of green fire.
Bran steps in, closer than before, but this time he doesn’t touch me. He just looks, really looks, like he’s seeing through my skin to the bones beneath.
“You want to be free, Raisa,” he says. “That’s what brought you out here.” It’s not a question, but a confident statement, as if he knows me as well as I know myself.
My mouth goes dry, words dying in my throat. How could he possibly know how desperately I ache for freedom?
Sable, lounging against a fallen log, grins at me. “Don’t worry, pretty bird. If you come with us, we promise to be a lot more fun than your father’s council.” His voice is teasing, but I hear the hunger in it.
“You’ve been watching me,” I say, realization spiking through my brain like a hot poker of fury.
“Obviously,” Sable laughs, low and musical.
The world lurches. I think I might faint. But at the same time, there’s a thrill to knowing they’ve been spying on me that feels like stepping off the highest tower, unsure if you’ll fall or fly.
I stare at the group, at each man in turn, and finally at Shade, who hasn’t spoken since he told me that I belong to them.
“Why?” I demand.
