Page 11 of Dead Wolf Rising (Bad Moon Academy 3)

“Brayden, don’t be a jerk.” I turn and glare at him.

Carter clears his throat. “He’s right though. Just because I haven’t read about it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.”

My heart hurts for Carter. He’s been told so many times books can’t help but that isn’t true. The books helped us figure out what Jinx was and how I could take care of her.

“I wasn’t trying to be rude.” Brayden steps toward me. “I was only being honest.”

“Brutally so. As long as he’s not offended, it’s fine.” I give him a stern look. “A little consideration never killed anyone.”

He smirks and traces his thumb over my cheek. “Of course, Little Red.” Holding my chin between his thumb and finger, he drops a quick kiss on my lips before dancing out of reach.

A soft wind sweeps down the corridor, wrapping around the room and pressing in. Gooseflesh rushes down my arm, and my heart jumps to my throat when the familiar taste of bitter ichor coats my tongue.

Brayden spins on his heel, grabbing me around my waist and shoving me behind him as the room fills with shadows.

“What’s happening?” Draco glances at his brother. “What is it?”

Peeking over his shoulder, I catch a glimpse of a ten-foot-tall figure draped in the blackest of robes, the color so deep it almost looks like someone erased that part of the room. If it weren’t for the long, ivory fingers stretching out of the sleeve and the glowing red eyes peering out of the hood, I’d never be able to tell what it was.

“Death,” Brayden says so softly I can scarcely hear it.

“Hello, Reaper.” The voice cuts over my skin like a serrated knife. It’s deep but somehow dry and brittle, but that only serves to make it creepier.

“Death.” Brayden dips his head in respect.

“Raven,” Death says my name with such intimate familiarity it makes my skin crawl. “My challenger.”

Challenger? I never challenged him!

Joan chuffs.You stole Brayden. Took his essence to do all your voodoo necromancy shit, and you used the same power to take out Jinx. I guess challenger isn’t right. Perhapsuseris a better word.

“Step out so I can look at you.”

Call me a coward, but I shake my head and glue myself to Brayden. You’d be scared shitless too! I’ll be the first to admit I’m not a badass.

The tendrils of black at the bottom of his cape sway, and he seems to float closer. I cringe and press my forehead into Brayden’s back. A strong body presses into my back, bringing scents of fresh rain and pine and home.

Adler.

His presence gives me enough strength to glance over Brayden’s shoulder. The glowing ember gaze slices through my being, tearing apart my soul, reading my life’s story in a matter of seconds. Short flashes of memory play in my mind. The beach with Mom and Dad. My sixth birthday. Going to visit Aunt Lou. Riding bikes with my best friend. Mom raising Dad from his grave. Suddenly the memories stop, like he released me from whatever grip he had me in.

“Hm. Interesting.”

Somehow I doubt being interesting to Death is a good thing.

Lifting his hand, he reaches toward me, his arm extending longer than humanly possible. I steel myself, refusing to flinch away from him, and hold my breath when his bony finger traces over my forehead. The touch isn’t freezing like Brayden’s was, but my skin deadens, losing all sensation where he caresses.

Four growls cut through the room, and I feel the men ease closer—slowly because I’m not in immediate danger but trouble is definitely imminent at this point. Death chuckles, the sound grating like nails on a chalkboard. Adler grips my shoulder, squeezing it to let me know he’s ready, and I trust that with my men here, Death can’t hurt me.

Probably a little naïve on my part, but their strength and aggression roll through the bond so hard my breath catches in my throat. If Death tries to start something, we won’t go down without a vicious and bloody fight.

“So noble.” Death’s glowing eyes take in the men before resting on me again. “You have demon blood. A fraction of it.”

“What?” I squeak the question, fisting Brayden’s shirt in my hand. “How is that possible?”

Brayden glances at me over his shoulder, the lines around his mouth severe. “Yours?”

This scary ass mother fucker has a son? What type of woman would sleep with him? Does he even have a penis?

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