Page 46 of Heart of the Raven Prince

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. I’m trapped in him, entranced by the darkness that rolls off him. Once again, I’m staring at the wolf waiting to be released. Just like before, I have no idea if it will attack or not. I’m horrified to realize that it thrills me.

“Now if you will just listen to me,” he says, moving his hand from my neck, and the loss of contact breaks the spell over me.

“I’m done listening to you,” I seethe. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth. Kill me now or let me go, but either way back the fuck off.” My voice is not as loud or as strong as I had hoped, and the bastard takes the opportunity to move closer. He props a knee on the edge of the chair, wedging it between my legs as he presses in. The raw power that rolls off him in waves is suffocating and bewitching in an exhilarating way. My heart is trying to race out of me, and as he glances down at my chest, I can’t help but wonder if he’s listening to it.

He stops a hair’s breadth away from touching his forehead to mine as he says in a grave-quiet voice, “I am never letting you go, Oisín. Not now.” He presses his leg in closer. “Not tomorrow.” His breath trails down my neck, whispering over my exposed shoulders. “Not for as long as I remain in the world of the living.” It does not go unnoticed by me that he doesn’t include himself among them. “You will be mine until I am done using you.”

“I will never help you,” I say between clenched teeth. “I’m not an idiot, Caden. I heard what you said to the queen. You told her I could win the mortal realm for her, whatever the fuck that means. Besides the fact that it’s utterly asinine to assume I have some kind of power worth using, it’s even worse to presume I would ever help. You might as well kill me no—”

“If you suggest I kill you one more time, I’m going to—”

“What, kill me?”

“You gods-damned infuriating little…” Caden trails off. We glare at each other, two stubborn people that refuse to back down. He shoves away from me, stepping back as he snaps, “I'm done with this. I'm exhausted and in no mood to deal with an unreasonable little brat.”

I scoff, my mouth falling open as he storms away from me and heads toward the door. He stops at the doorway, his hand on the frame gripping it tight like he is resisting the urge to turn and storm back to me. My chest rises and falls in quick intervals; I’m left breathless in the wake of his staggering power. It calls out to that untamed force inside of me, screaming for me to fight. He does not turn, but he calls over his shoulder, “Believe it or not, we want the same thing.”

“You have no fucking idea what I want,” I whisper, barely keeping my voice from shaking as I glare at the back of his head.

He finally turns to lock eyes with me as he says, “You want me dead, Oisín.”

I don’t bother denying it.

“Once I have proven to you that you do indeed have the power to command a horde of vampires, you and I are going to use that power to eradicate them. Then you’re going to take all the rare, wonderful power of yours, and you’re going to use it to kill me.”

Without another word, Caden walks off. I am left alone, surrounded by the shifting shadows of the fire that drift like ghosts along the walls. I stare at the door long after he is gone.

The featherlight feel of a finger tracing my neck begins to rouse me from the depths of sleep. My mind is still in that blissful state of ignorance, foggy and fighting through the clouds of my dreams. The touch is cool, and the soothing sensation tingles through my body. A soft sound of relief passes my lips as the throbbing, stinging wound on my neck numbs. The hand begins to leave my skin, but I grab it, keeping it held firm against me. I don’t want the sensation to be gone. Then a voice like the night breathes, “Let me go, Oisín.”

I startle awake, sitting up so quickly I flail and topple off the chair I had been curled up on. I hit the floor with an oof, blinking rapidly to try and clear the sleep from my eyes. Memories of the previous night crash into my head, and I instantly have a headache.

After Caden left me alone, I stayed up for several restless hours, pacing the room. Filtering between peering out of the window to observe the midnight streets, to rifling through the desk for anything useful. I found a brass letter opener, and a quick test of the edge showed it was pitifully dull, but it was better than nothing. I had nowhere on my body I could hide it, unless I wanted to stick it between my breasts in the corset, so I simply carried it around with me. I only set it down when I picked up a throw pillow and screamed into it.

I had been too nervous to leave the room and wander the house. I know myself, if I stepped closer to the front door, I would ignore my better judgment and try to bolt from this place. I have no idea where I am, and after having been attacked twice in the same night, I wasn’t eager to be around the vampires again. I must have fallen asleep at some point, curled up in front of the fire that was burning steadily lower. Only to wake and find Caden staring down at me. He’s disheveled, still wearing the same clothes from last night, wrinkles saying he clearly slept in them. His hair is a tussled mess, and deep shadows bloom under his eyes.

Good, I hope you never get a moment of peace.

Caden turns from me, heading to the window as I slowly pick myself up off the ground. His wings are drooping, almost dragging on the ground, but when he catches me studying them, they jerk upright. Whipping around, I search the chair wildly for the letter opener and a cough has me turning back to Caden. He’s brandishing it, before he sets it on a side table as I scowl at him.

So much for that weapon.

Rummaging around in his pockets, he pulls out a rolled cigarette and a book of matches. With a flick of his wrist, the window opens on its own as he busies himself with lighting a match. Holding the flame to the end of the cigarette between his lips, he takes a deep inhale before he waves the match out. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, it drifts lazily out of the window, and I realize it smells like cloves. Like him.

“None of this has gone how I intended,” he muses, studying the dark skies beyond, taking another long inhale. I wonder if he’s talking to himself. The haze of the smoke is tinged red in the light of the moon, reminding me of that swirling mist that circled a pulsating heart moments before he attacked me. I don’t know what to say to him, so I simply remain silent. He takes another drag on his cigarette before turning and spearing me in his intense gaze. The wind drifts in, ruffling his feathers and mussing his hair. He notices me eyeing the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers, the slight grimace on my face, and he flicks the mostly unburnt cigarette out of the window.

“Follow me,” he says, crooking a finger at me. I must be exhausted, because I don't argue. He leads us out of the room and down the hallway toward a stairway, taking us up several flights of stairs. We walk slowly down a corridor interspersed with doors and he stops before one, opening it with another flick of his wrist and entering the room. After a brief pause, I walk in behind him.

I’m not sure where I expected him to lead me, perhaps to a torture chamber, but instead we’re standing in the middle of a grand bedroom. One nearly as ornate as the one I grew up in. My heart aches at the thought of my life before—the one that feels like a dream to this waking nightmare. But I can’t possibly think of home now so I ignore those memories and focus on something mundane, like the room we’re standing in.

It's richly decorated, with bookshelves lining one wall, a great wardrobe nestled next to a vanity, and a canopy bed situated before a large window. The walls are covered in wallpaper with the same swooping golden vines from the hallway, but this one is set against a deep forest green background. The bright golds and mossy tones reminds me of sunlight breaking through a forest canopy.

“There’s a bathroom across the hall,” Caden says, leaning against the wall as he watches me amble about the room, trailing my fingers over furniture, tracing the vines on the walls, and touching the spines of the books on the shelves. I’m moving like a specter, idly picking up objects at random.

“Is this to be my room?” I ask, rubbing the silky canopy drapes between my fingers.

“Are the accommodations not to your liking?” he deadpans.

“Does it really matter?” I mutter, though there’s very little heat in my voice because I honestly don’t have the energy for it. I barely slept, and what little sleep I did get could hardly be considered rest. Caden runs a hand through his hair, before leaning his head against the wall and studying me with that calculating gaze.