Page 38 of Heart of the Raven Prince

“I—oh,” she falters, gathering herself quickly as she flashes another coy smile. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, you cannot tell me you don’t feel the same.”

Fuck.

I forgot I glamoured her, although I’m glad to see the false memory took. Being an asshole works in my favor for moments like these as I grab her wrist and pull her hand forcefully off my chest. She lets out a squeak of surprise when I squeeze her wrist tight, keeping her from wrenching free. Leaning down, I make sure she is looking intently into my eyes as I whisper, “Next time, ask before touching.”

I shove her back and continue stalking across the ballroom, ignoring as she scoffs indignantly at me. It’s a delicate line I walk, knowing the queen desires me to be both the respectable son and her feared conqueror. Arawyn is less inclined to care if I’m a dick to the members of my old court, only truly noticing if I turn that aggression on one of her own. Still, her rules are ever-changing and I’m never sure just how much she will allow me to get away with when it comes to snubbing the elites, but right now I don’t particularly care. I have more important things to focus on.

Like the smell of Fawn’s blood which hits me like a slap across the face.

I follow the peppery notes of her like a bloodhound. Her scent is so distinct I can almost see it hanging in the air, a bright red line on a map leading me directly to her. It guides me out of the ballroom, and I’m unable to do anything but follow. Away from all the bodies the smell of her is stronger. That starved demon inside of me is demanding we sink our teeth into her neck. Clenching my jaw, I take in a long, steadying breath as I move down the hallway. If the smell of her blood is this strong, it can only mean one thing:

Someone is feeding from her.

The blind rage I feel at that thought alone is enough to make me nearly break out into a run as I stalk down the hall, following her trail. I’m no stranger to hunger. My kind was never meant to survive off blood, so it’s long since stopped baffling me that I am not sated by it. But this intense longing for hers is bordering on unstoppable, and a rational voice in my mind shouts that I’m beginning to snap. I should go find Doran, get him to quite literally beat some sense into me, but I cannot make myself turn away. My hands clench and flex at my side in intervals as I imagine wrapping them around the neck of whoever is foolish enough to drink from what is mine.

Mine. Mine. Mine. She’s fucking mine.

I’m losing it, I’m well aware of that fact, but the demon that was planted in me the day my heart was carved from my chest has been denied too long. Centuries of starvation have left me withered with hunger, and now that I’ve sampled something that actually satisfies me, she is quickly becoming an obsession. One I cannot afford to give in to, but I can’t fucking stop. I’m dangerously close to the edge, like a lit fuse racing toward an explosive finish. It is a constant battle to keep the darker parts of my soul caged, refusing to ever allow it control over me. But her blood is acid to the chains of that monster, freeing him with only a drop of her on my tongue. I wonder if killing whoever tasted her will help satisfy this demon.

The thought shouldn’t please me as much as it does, and that fact fucking infuriates me.

Gods, how can I hate and desire someone so much at the same time?

I clench my jaw at the traitorous thought. I do not desire a human. I am just fucking starved, and she tastes like heaven. It’s nothing more than that.

Her spiced blood clogs my senses, calling out to me from behind a door in the hallway. I grip the handle, finding it locked. The barest flick of my wrist has the lock snapping, and I silently open the door, slipping inside the dimly lit room like a shadow. Muffled noises reach my ear—the clear sound of a struggle, and I creep toward it. The scent of her grows stronger the closer I get to a leather couch. That’s when I spot the two writhing bodies.

He doesn’t hear me approach, the man who is caging Fawn in as he lays on her. One hand is clamped tightly over her mouth, holding in the worst of the screams she tries to let out. Not that it would truly matter, screams go unanswered in this palace.

His other hand is holding her wrists together above her head, pinning her down even as she struggles against him. I come to a stop, standing behind the couch and staring down at them. Fawn stills the moment she sees me, her wide green eyes holding mine, an undercurrent of fear and pain swimming in those mossy depths as this motherfucker drinks from her neck. For how wildly unhinged I feel, I’m surprisingly calm as I watch him for another heartbeat.

Then, as easy as plucking an apple off a tree, I sink my hand clean through his back, grip his heart, and rip it out. He yanks his fangs from her neck with a sickening squelch, letting out a shriek that lasts barely a moment before his body disintegrates into ash, including the heart that was still beating in my hand.

“Gods and demons,” she gasps, scrambling back on the couch, her hands slipping underneath her as she attempts to escape me.

Good, run. I want to chase you.

All I see is red, all I smell is her blood, and the only voice I hear is the malevolent plea of the demon I have been fighting all these years to be let free. She pulls herself up until she is pressed against the arm of the couch. I expect her to be trembling under my gaze, but she exudes the same effortless calm I see in the warriors I train. Her muscles tensing is the only warning I get that she’s about to move, something mortal eyes would have missed.

But I’m not mortal.

So, when she jumps off the couch and bolts for the exit with a burst of speed, I am poised and ready. My arm hooks around her waist, yanking her back as she rushes for the door. My boots thud loudly on the ground as I drag her across the room, until I slam her against the wall. Caging her in with my arms, I press my body close to hers, daring her to try and evade me. She doesn’t struggle, but her gaze is defiant as ever when she glares up at me.

“Exactly how long are you going to insist on being a gods-damned thorn in my side?” I snarl, baring my fangs at her. My traitorous eyes can’t stop looking at the fresh puncture wounds on her neck, and the matching streams of blood that are flowing a steady trail down her exposed shoulders.

Bite. Rend. Tear. Drink, drink, drink. Finally be full.

I forcefully shift my eyes away from her alluring blood as I shove that voice back. I should really turn and leave. Get to Doran before I do something stupid. I’m so far gone I’m close to snapping. Then my eyes snare on the ruby dangling from her ear and a fresh wave of possessive rage swells inside of me. Reaching up, I pinch the stone between my fingers and twist the gem, casting red flecks of light on her skin. My voice comes out unhinged as I ask, “Who the fuck gave you one of these?”

“The Barracks Master, who do you think?” she says between clenched teeth. She doesn’t even flinch at speaking so flippantly toward me. I groan, closing my eyes to try and get her bloody neck out of my mind. The sight coupled with the fight that sings through her is doing nothing to calm the raging demon that is demanding we release her, only so we can chase.

The moment I am distracted she attempts to rush past me, feinting to the side to escape. Once again, I easily catch her, slamming her back into the wall with a grunt and pinning her in place. I snap my eyes open, glaring at her. One leg is lodged firmly between hers, the other on the outside of her thighs, trapping her in.

“Lying to me isn’t going to win you any favors, Oisín,” I snarl.

“Why the fuck would I lie about that?” she hisses, and instead of trying to push as far away from me as she can get, she crowds into my space, her face tilted up to meet mine. Her far too exposed body presses against mine.

Fuck, she’s warm.