Page 28 of Heart of the Raven Prince

“Come back to me, my love. Come back,” I whisper, knowing it’s a waste of breath. She never loved me. Sorcia stills, determination burning bright in her gaze that has never once left mine. It eats away at all the love that was shining bright just moments ago, devouring it until I recognize nothing in her. She looks at me with crazed eyes, as wild chanting picks up around us. “Sorcia, please—"

“Who could ever love you?” They are not words she spoke to me then, when the events that inspired this nightmare occurred. She only says them in this dream because some splintered part of my mind wants to punish me for experiencing an evening of pleasure.

Like she did on that night so long ago, she drives the knife deep into my heart.

A sharp and all-consuming pain erupts in my chest. The world around me bleeds into nothing but darkness and agony. I thought I would fall forever in that pit of suffering. But instead I am met with a slowly burning ember of hunger.

It starts low, like a dwindling flame, ready to be snuffed out. My heart begins to slow, and with each labored pump, that hunger builds. It spreads from my heart, traveling through my veins and warming my body. I ache with it, with this endless need to feed. I begin to writhe against it as it builds, and doubles, and crescendos. It is too much, I feel like I am going to come apart, burned alive from the inside by this impossible need.

Only then does the pain hit.

I throw my head back; a scream ripping from my throat with such a force that I am surprised the old gods do not hear it. But I think deep down I know I am already damned, and that the gods will never again answer to me. I scream louder and realize that I do not recognize the sound of my own voice.

I don’t know how long I am torn apart for; time has long since ceased having any meaning. The agony may have ebbed, but that restless hunger only grows. It has consumed every part of me, devouring my very essence until only it remains. I am not a man in this void of darkness. I am only hunger. Need. Want.

I do not bolt up in bed as I wake up from the nightmare. I’m far too used to these dreams to react so dramatically; however, I know I will not sleep again this evening. A dull ache throbs through my back, causing me to groan as I roll over in bed and stare at my ceiling. That, and of course the endless hunger.

A flash of her blue gaze fills my mind, and I’m instantly sitting up, not wanting to mimic the position of my dream. I run my hands through my hair, as if I can scrub the thoughts away in the process. A disquiet fills me, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m rising and dressing. I slip on a fresh shirt before hurrying down my stairs to retrieve a long black coat from by my door. Leaning down to slip on my boots I pause, noting the pile of bloody gauze and bowls of red-tinged water. Evidence of the beating I withstood at the hands of my closest friend.

I make a note to clean it before the maid can see.

Stepping into the night, I pull the collar of my coat up high, pick a direction at random, and begin walking. Digging into my pocket, I feel a loose rolled cigarette next to a small book of matches. It’s a habit I’ve picked up from the newer recruits in the army. Placing the cigarette between my lips, I strike a match and light the end of it, inhaling deeply. The smoke is thick and smells like cloves. The numbing herb doesn’t have as great of an effect on fae as it does on the human soldiers, but it eases some of the tension in my neck.

The streets are nearly empty as I stroll through them. A few fae are out, ducking in and out of the few establishments that are still open this late, but they all give me a wide berth. Beyond that, I am alone. I sink into the quiet, into the solitude of the night, attempting to let my mind empty. Blowing the cloud of smoke into the air, I find myself thinking about her. Not Sorcia. Not Yasminda. I scowl.

The princess.

I can’t stop replaying the look on her face when Lochlan dragged her out of the queen’s dining room. Of course, that asshole had to complicate things by taking an interest in Fawn. I let out a ragged breath as I remember those fucking puncture wounds in her neck. That bastard fed from her, something I will need to repay him for—

I stop.

I’m standing in the middle of the Alley. My feet must have carried me here, pulled subconsciously by my thoughts of her. The streets are dark, not a soul out. The humans that reside in this district are under a strict curfew, they will all be in the Barracks by now unless they are working. I look towards that building in the distance, and pull in another inhale off my cigarette. It’s burned to a nub now, and I flick it away before grabbing a second one out and lighting it. Without thinking, I begin to walk toward the Barracks.

A massive brick building looms before me, several stories high, large enough to house several hundred humans. At the entrance is a set of great double doors with guards flanking it. I slink into the shadows as I approach; I don’t want the guards to notice me. The last thing I need is news getting back to Lochlan or Arawyn that I’m here. There’s no telling what they would think I’m doing, visiting the humans. Rumors of being spotted slinking around here would do little to help Arawyn's clear suspicion of me.

What am I doing here, anyways?

I truly don’t know. I should return to my apartment before anyone sees me. I’m just about to turn back—then I remember a shortcut. It requires me crossing through the back of the Barracks. I creep along the side of the building, darting into an alley. The guards out front are too lost in conversation to even notice me. Taking another drag off my cigarette, I hurry up, eager to be back home, even though I know this restless feeling will follow me. There is no peace to be had tonight.

A quiet, muffled sob breaks through the night and I freeze. I should leave. Whoever is crying certainly doesn’t want my comfort. But I can’t help myself and the next thing I know I am following the sound. I am just rounding the corner when I catch sight of her and I come to an abrupt stop.

Fawn is leaning against a wall, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders quaking as she sobs. I breathe heavily through my nose, unable to look away, even though I know I am invading a private moment of grief. Especially because I am the cause of it. After what feels like hours, but is most likely only moments, her shoulders still. She takes a long, shuddering breath, and drops her hands. Her face is a muted mask. Unfeeling. Unyielding. Her eyes look determinedly ahead as she wipes furiously at her damp cheeks.

“What the fuck are you doing outside?” a guard barks, rounding the other side of the building and startling her. She spins from me, facing the guard, and I find myself desperately wishing I could see her face. I wonder if she’s giving him the same foolishly defiant stare she gives me. Her fists are clenched at her sides, and whatever she says I can’t hear. Apparently the guard doesn’t like her answer. His red eyes glare at her as he steps forward and snaps, “Bullshit. We don’t take kindly to runaways here—”

“She’s with me,” I say, stepping out of the shadows and into the maroon light cast by that eternal moon. The guard snaps his harsh eyes to mine, the look lasting for half a heartbeat before recognition hits. His harsh features bleed into a shocked expression that borders on terror. I expect her to whip around, to snare me in that wide green gaze, but instead she goes instantly rigid at my voice.

“I was just returning,” Fawn mutters.

Before she can move an inch, I growl, “No, you weren’t.”

She freezes again, her tightly curled fists shaking, and I can imagine the fire raging in her gaze. The guard’s eyes dart between us, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead as he says, “My apologies, Sire. I did not even know you were here.”

“Well, that makes you a shit guard then, doesn’t it?” I drawl, taking another deep drag on the cigarette as embarrassment colors his face. I’m not sure why I said it. I think maybe because that ravenous demon inside of me did not like the way he spoke down to her. Releasing the cloud of smoke into the air, my voice maintaining its bored edge, I say, “Speak of seeing me—or her—to anyone and I'll take great pleasure in ripping your skin off with my teeth. Is that a simple enough command for a shit guard like you to understand?”

“Sire, I—”

“Why the fuck are you still in front of me?”