Page 12 of Ravik's Mercy

“The lesser clans don’t have the means to invest in new ventures. Even if they did, they don’t have any plans,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. “We have nothing to export that other planets want. Without wars, no one needs to hire our clansmen as warriors. Hagan is chanting to revert to the old ways that got us into this situation to begin with, and now fucking Caldes wants to ally with the Guldans.”

Anton’s sharp breath intake had me looking at him over my shoulder. He had no love for clan Caldes after Raylor’s son had nearly murdered Anton’s wife and their unborn child.

“You want to steer clear of the Guldans. They are trouble,” Anton said.

“I’m well aware. But Hagan and Raylor are right in that Braxia needs new allies, and the Western Quadrant might be a solution. If I don’t find a way to turn around our failing economy, Iwillhave a civil war on my hands.”

“Hmmm,” Anton said, rubbing his square chin pensively. “Have you considered—”

The chime of the elevator interrupted him. Its door opened with a swish, quickly buried by Grace’s peals of laughter and the throatier one of the female accompanying her. Their hands were laden with bags from whatever shopping spree they’d just been on.

“You’re back,” Anton said, heading towards the newcomers.

My breath caught in my throat, and my brain ceased to function when the head of Grace’s companion suddenly jerked towards me. The finely carved motifs on her black horns shone under the overhead lights. Stomach in knots, skin heating, I stared at the embodiment of pure perfection. Tall and statuesque in her skin-tight leather dress and draped in her knee-length, dark hair, she looked like a vengeful goddess come to pass judgment upon mortals. Her stunning, almond-shaped eyes, black as sin, widened as they stared straight into the depths of my soul. High cheekbones framed a dainty, slightly upturned nose in a delicately sculpted, heart-shaped face. Her plump, sensuous, pink lips parted in shock. The bag in her right hand slipped from her grasp and fell to the ground with a soft thump. She ignored it and rubbed the back of her neck as if something had stung it.

“No fucking way…” she whispered, bewildered.

The swear word snapped me out of my stupor.

“Ravena?” Grace asked, confused. “Is everything okay?”

Ravena. Beautiful name for a goddess.

She looked at Grace, disbelieving, before turning back towards me. She shook her head as if to snap out of whatever daze had overtaken her.

Having somewhat recovered from the shock of her beauty—barely—I realized my brutish appearance must have frightened her. That females cowered before me no longer came as a surprise, but from her, it stung.

“Do not be afraid, Madam,” I said, attempting to keep my voice and demeanor non-threatening. “I am not as savage as my appearance may suggest.”

She shivered, and her skin erupted in goosebumps. I couldn’t tell if my words or the sound of my rumbling voice had caused it. But the appreciative way her gaze glided over my massive body had me involuntarily puffing out my chest and flexing my bulging muscles.

“I’m not,” she whispered in a throaty, sensual voice.

Her pink tongue peeked between her luscious lips to wet them. Blood rushed to my groin in response. I had seen many beautiful females in my lifetime and never thought one could rival Grace’s beauty. But this Ravena was depriving my brain of its ability to function.

“Ravena,” Anton said, “please meet our guest, the ruler of Braxia, Magnar Ravik Xeldar. Magnar, please meet our friend, Ravena.”

I bowed my head and slapped my fist to my chest in the traditional Braxian greeting. A strange smile stretched her lips as she delicately pressed her palm over her heart and then waved her hand towards me in an offering gesture. I’d never seen this form of greeting before and didn’t know what species she belonged to. The markings on her neck, along the side of her arms and legs clearly appeared Veredian. Her light brown skin also matched that species. But the horns threw away that assumption. Could she be a hybrid?

Ravena picked up the bag she had dropped and walked down the three steps into the living area. Despite Grace’s height of 5’10” and her ridiculously high heels, she appeared dwarfed next to her guest who wore flat, knee-high boots. At a glance, I estimated Ravena to be around 6’4. Still short in comparison to my 7’6” but nice nonetheless.

Anton approached Ravena and relieved her of her bags. She turned grateful eyes towards him, a most beautiful smile stretching her lips. I barely managed to silence the growl that rose in my throat. Even though her gaze held no covetous glint as she looked upon him,Iwas the alpha—the apex alpha—in the room. In my presence, the attention of the prime female should be solely focused on me. I blinked at the violence of the primal response she stirred within me.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Magnar,” she said, taking a couple more steps towards me.

“Please call me Ravik,” I said, hungry to hear the sound of my name on her lips.

“Ravik,” she said with a smile. “It almost sounds like my own name, Ravena.”

“Indeed,” I said, stepping away from the window to approach her. “Odd, isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “More like fated. The Goddess has a strange sense of humor.”

The way she said it implied an underlying meaning I didn’t get. Behind her, Anton leaned forward to kiss his mate and free Grace of her own bags.

“I’ll be right back,” Anton said, preventing me from asking Ravena what she meant by fated.

“Come have a seat,” Grace said, gesturing towards the living area.

---