Page 38 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
His mouth curves in approval. “Good. Fear makes people do stupid things.”
“Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps you alive,” Grim mutters, staring into the flames.
The men pass around a battered bottle, pouring amber liquid into tin cups. Sable hands me one, his fingers lingering over mine, and I sip it before I think better of it. It tastes like burnt honey and clove, hot enough to numb my tongue.
The talk grows looser after that.
They tell stories—some so wild I know they can’t be true, others so close to my own dreams I feel them like a second heartbeat.
Talon regales us with the time he killed a bear with nothing but a belt and a boot. “It wasn’t a big bear,” he admits, “but it hadan attitude.” He laughs, and the sound is so rich and real that I can’t help but smile.
Rune tells a story about losing his clothes to a band of outlaws before escaping naked into the woods while Sable and Bran watched from the branches of a tree, dying of laughter.
Sable interrupts constantly, correcting details or making them worse, and I get the feeling the truth isn’t the point.
Onyx’s stories are quieter, but every word carries the weight of a thousand lived lives. Grim rarely speaks, but when he does, his words slice through the laughter, making everyone pause. Shade just listens, his gaze flicking between the men, always watching for weakness or a lie.
Somewhere between the stories and the fire and the way Sable keeps refilling my cup, my body grows soft and pliant, my mind thick with comfort and heat.
Their touches grow bolder. Talon slides one massive hand up the inside of my knee, his fingers splayed possessively over my thigh as he demonstrates a hunting technique, using my leg as the prey.
I laugh, but the sound is breathless.
Shade sits closest now, barely a hand’s width from me, and every time he passes me the bottle, he brushes my skin with the back of his knuckles. The first few times, I flinch. The last time, I hold his gaze and let the contact linger.
Onyx’s arm drapes over my shoulder, heavy and warm. His other hand holds my ankle in his lap, his thumb stroking in lazy circles over the bone. When the blanket slips, he tucks it back around me, his knuckles grazing my breast in a way that’s too casual to be accidental.
Rune traces patterns on my skin as he talks, drawing invisible symbols up and down my forearm, along the inside of my wrist, on the back of my neck. Each mark seems to burn cold at first, then seeps warmth into my veins.
I shudder, and he just grins.
Grim stays back until, suddenly, he’s not. He moves in, fast and silent, kneeling at my back. With one hand, he gathers my hair to the side, exposing my neck. The other hand—cold as winter—cups my chin and tips my head back.
“You need to remember how this feels,” he whispers in my ear, the feel of his breath sending a bolt of pure electricity down my spine.
Before I can answer, he presses his lips to the spot just below my jaw, where the pulse beats a frantic rhythm. His tongue is hot, the scrape of his teeth even hotter.
I gasp, my body arching toward him, and Grim releases me, settling back with a look of hot satisfaction.
Sable is the first to speak, his voice bright and mocking. “Careful, Grim. You’ll make her faint before she gets to the fun part.”
Grim just shrugs, but his eyes never leave me.
My whole body hums, every inch of my skin alive with the memory of their hands and mouths. My heart beats so loud I’m sure they can all hear it.
The men lean in, the space between us shrinking until there’s nothing left but heat and possibility. Their eyes shine—some gold, some green, some pitch black—but all of them hungry.
Shade speaks, his voice a low command. “Tell us what you want, Raisa.”
The world narrows to the fire, the circle of men, and the greedy need in my belly. My mouth goes dry.
“I…” I start, then stop. I want everything. I want all of them, the same way I had them last night.
Bran’s hand closes over mine, steadying me. “Say it,” he urges, his tone gentle but unyielding.
“I want…” I choke on the words, but Sable finishes for me, his lips brushing my ear.
“You want us to fuck you again,” he says. “All of us.”
