Page 60 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
She doesn’t flinch or look away. She just watches, as if seeing something in me she recognizes.
“I never wanted to be like this, to have magic,” I admit. “But I don’t think I could go back now. The magic protected me when nothing else did. It saved us, when nothing else could.”
She leans her head against my chest, her fingers tracing the scars on my ribs. “Do you ever get used to it?”
“No. You just get better at hiding the cracks.”
The water laps at our skin, the minerals stinging where the cuts are still fresh. I shift her on my lap, her body slick and perfect against mine.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asks, her voice muffled against my skin.
“Because it’s warm,” I say. “And because I thought maybe you needed to see that you’re not the only monster in this forest.”
She laughs, this time for real. “You’re not a monster, Rune.”
I shrug. “Maybe not to you.”
She runs her fingers up my spine, slow. “Who taught you to use your magic?”
I almost say her father’s name, but I bite it back. “Someone who wanted to see what would happen if they let the monster out,” I say instead. “I thought they did it out of love, because they cared. I was wrong. I was just a tool, something to use. And, eventually, they discarded me when something more powerful came along.”
She nods, maybe understanding, maybe just pretending to.
The moon slides behind a cloud, and the world grows softer, the edges blurring until it’s just her and me and the heat of the water.
Eventually, she lifts her face, her eyes shining. “Show me?” she asks.
I raise her wrist, water sheeting off her skin. I trace my thumb over the inside of her arm, where the veins show blue under the pale surface. With my other hand, I draw a simple rune, one I’ve inked on myself a hundred times, one I’ve used to open doors, hide truths, and make the impossible, possible.
The mark glows, faint at first, then brighter, lines of electric blue spidering across her flesh. It doesn’t burn, but it tingles, the sensation rippling up her arm to her shoulder, her neck, her jaw. She gasps, her eyes wide, as the magic wakes in her in response.
I do the same to her other arm, then her collarbone, then her chest. Each touch leaves a trail of light behind, a constellation written in the language of desire.
She watches, rapt, as the runes pulse in time with her heart.
“These are the same marks,” she whispers, “as the ones you traced on me before. When we…when you and your brothers…”
“Fucked you senseless?” I offer, grinning. “Yes. They’re not just for show.”
She squirms in my lap, the motion slow and deliberate. “What do they do?”
“They make sure you feel everything I feel,” I say. “They give you pleasure, and make sure you never forget you’re alive.”
Her eyes are darker now, the pupils wide. “Can you draw them everywhere?”
I let my hands wander, tracing the runes down her belly, over her hips, along the insides of her thighs. The glow follows, sinking into her skin and lighting her from within. The water around us starts to swirl, stirred by the force of the magic, or maybe just by the want in our bodies.
I slide two fingers inside her, slow and deep. She’s already wet, but the magic makes her even slicker, hotter, the sensation wild and overwhelming.
She clings to my shoulders, nails digging in, her mouth open in a wordless plea as I draw a rune right there too, in the heat and heart of her.
She gasps, quivering around me.
I add another finger, curling them to find the spot that makes her shudder. The runes glow brighter, each pulse of pleasure sending sparks up her spine.
She grabs my wrist, her eyes wild. “Rune. Fuck me.”
I laugh, low and satisfied. “As you wish, Princess.”
