Page 76 of Heart of the Raven Prince

“Yes, you’re normally all broody, and now you look…” She bites her lip as if unsure if she should continue. “…I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. You just look different.”

Gods, she sees me so easily.

I am different. Around her I am finding it easier and easier to strip off the coat of guilt I have crafted for myself after centuries of torment. I stuff my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching out to touch her. The last remaining vampires on the balcony go inside, and music from the parlor spills out when they open the door. Then we are left alone, but I can still make out the music. The gentle, quiet notes of a violin drift over the balcony, and before I can stop myself I say, “Dance with me, Oisín.”

My eyes go wide when I realize the words have left my mouth. That demon cackles inside of me, whispering every single hateful thing I think about myself.

Worthless. Empty. Traitorous son. Better off dead.

But something about looking into her deep green eyes quiets that voice. She has this strange ability to be able to still my mind and hush that ugly voice. The world melts away when I am around her.

“What?” she asks breathlessly, and fuck I love when I surprise her. She makes this captivating sound every time I do.

“You heard me,” I croon, holding my hand out to her. I don’t step closer; I don’t cross the distance between us. I wait for her to. She looks at my hand for a long time, before slowly trailing it up my body. She stops at my chest, looking directly at my heart. I know she’s thinking about the scar, how can she not? It is the most intimate part of me, both my ultimate shame and the only reason we ever met.

Some part of my mind realizes that if it weren’t for the queen, I would have never found Fawn. If I could do it over again, I’m not sure that I would. That thought is far too big for me to fully look at. Because if I do, I will have to accept what I really feel for her, and knowing she does not feel the same will break me. She so gods-damned strong that I owe it to her to not crack, so instead of begging her to give me her heart, I am content to merely ask her to dance.

A slow smile spreads across her face, when she reaches out and places her hand in mine. Warmth blooms at our touch, and I swiftly tug her to me, my arm twining around her and holding her tight. She lets out that noise again and fuck it might just be my new favorite sound. We dip into a slow, lilting waltz in time with the muffled music. We do not move far, keeping in our small dark shadow of the balcony. We are on the brink of another war—one I have no idea if we can stop. But that all dissolves as we sway together.

“This is dangerous, Caden,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. I can hear her heart; it’s beating a wild tune in her chest. I can feel her pulse thrumming through her.

“I know,” I say, pulling her closer.

“We can never be anything.” She’s shaking her head as she says those words, yet she presses nearer to me. Tilting her face, her lips brush over mine. “This ends with me killing you.”

I let go of her hand, wrapping it around the back of her head, refusing to let her retreat this time. “I know, Oisín. I know. And I don’t care. The question is, do you?”

We stop spinning, both waiting on bated breath. The choice is hers. It always has been. Because for me there is no choice, my ultimate want will always be for whatever scrap of her she gives me.

She pulls in a long breath and says simply, “Fuck.”

Then she throws her arms around my neck and crashes into me. I waste no time grabbing her ass and hoisting her up as I move us backward, slamming her into the wall. Her tongue demands entrance, and who am I to deny her. The kiss is ravenous, feral, fueled by every heated word we’ve lobbed at each other. Fueled by the brutal reality that we get very little time, so there is none of it to waste. She moans, yanking me closer, and I grind against her. Grabbing her thigh, I run my hand up, reaching inward, stopping just before her pussy.

She whines, and I laugh. Dragging my hand agonizingly closer, I flick the edge of her undergarments which are already soaked. She writhes as I continue to stroke her teasingly.

“Gods-dammit, Caden,” she snaps, ripping her mouth away from mine. Fuck, I could devour the look on her face right now. Always so fucking fiery. “Touch me already.”

“Say please,” I purr, refusing to go easy on her, even as she squirms against me.

“I swear to the fucking gods, Caden, do not make me beg you to shove your fingers in my pussy.”

“What exactly am I interrupting?”

Fawn yelps, pushing off me and quickly adjusting her feathered skirt. Growling in annoyance, I turn to find Bastion standing in the middle of the balcony, slowly smoking a cigarette and grinning like a fox at us.

Looks like I’m committing murder tonight.

“You really have taken a special interest in her, haven’t you?” he laughs. Darting his eyes between us, he trains them on Fawn, and I really don’t like the way he looks at her. He speaks to me without moving his gaze once. “The queen is looking for you. Apparently, it’s show time.”

“What show?” I ask. Dread, cold and all-consuming settles in my stomach, freezing more of me.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” he says as he keeps Fawn caged in his gaze. “But I’m positive it has something to do with her.”

The cacophony in the parlor is a shocking contrast to the quiet of the balcony. It’s unnervingly easy to forget about the world when Caden’s body is wrapped around mine, but now, that world demands attention. Every voice is shrill; the music suddenly far too loud. Bodies press against me as Caden pulls us through the crowd, led by the white-haired vampire. My mind keeps trying to wander back to the reckless thing Caden and I very nearly did. Anything to keep my focus off what the queen has planned for me.

I don’t like this new vampire that keeps casting glances at me. I don’t like that whatever show the queen has in store includes me. And I certainly don’t like the look on Caden’s face. His fear splintering through his stoic exterior is somehow more terrifying than the blood-thirsty creatures surrounding me. It can’t be the second trial, not so soon. Then again, am I really surprised? To her, I am nothing more than the evening’s entertainment.

We’re led from the parlor into an enormous dining hall. There is a large, horseshoe-shaped table that the guests are beginning to situate around. At the center of it sits the queen. Her iridescent gown and glittering crown of rubies catch the hundreds of candles lining the table, making her look like a shining star. She lifts her glass high; the deep crimson liquid matches the exact color of her eyes. “Ah, here he is now, the guest of honor.”