The Ravenous Dark, page 29
It was Jax.
He looked artfully disheveled in a tan turtleneck and tweed trousers, with his hair mused. His trademark walking cane was in hand, as was his eye patch.
At the crowd's continued gawking, he shook his head and chuckled.
"He always has to make an entrance," Bailey noted with some exasperation.
Stella hummed in acknowledgment, leaning forward to peer at Jax as intently as the rest of the crowd. "I heard he bested Philip Ryder in a game of liar's dice and ruined his chances of being accepted into the Habsburg Household."
"When did that happen?"
"A night or two ago in the Lamia Den."
Bailey's mouth pinched. The Lamia Den was an invite-only gambling salon. Bailey didn't realize Jax was a member. She quickly cast her gaze on Ruby. The ageless vampyré wore a stoic expression, but Bailey didn't buy it. Ruby's concern for Jax had not been pacified after their special "bonding" night, while the rest had been forced to attend the opera.
In fact, Bailey was of a mind to think it intensified, no matter how well she hid it.
She won't be happy to hear he's gambling.
Before worry could settle in, Bailey inhaled sharply. Her sights reverted to Jax and the man jogging up to his side.
"Is that Raphael?" Bailey breathed.
The demon slapped Jax on the back, and they shared a grin before entering together. Bailey held her breath as the two traipsed through the cleared floor like long-lost brothers.
As they neared, Jax passed Bailey a smile. Her lips perked up out of habit, but the motion stalled on her lips as someone from behind hissed the word traitor. Bailey's eyes widened as she shot a look over her shoulder. The group of nearby demons wore fearsome scowls.
Glancing back to Raphael, she noticed some of his good cheer lost as Jax ushered him on toward their seats.
He heard.
The crowd watched silently as the sorcerer, and the demon sat with the Vranas—Deval, Nova, Ruby, Sebastian, Briar, and Jakob.
"What a fucking joke. Who does he think he is?"
Bailey's skin prickled at the harsh undertones spoken by one of the demons and fought to tame the unnatural rise of her own temper.
"Let's find new seats," Bailey suggested. Stella, red-faced once more and lightly scowling, followed Bailey without a word. The she-wolf steered them to the Vranas as well.
As her eyes roamed casually over the crowd, she spotted Franklin. The owl shifter smirked at her and waved for her to come up. Bailey declined with a short shake of her head and a wry smile. Franklin rolled her eyes, her smirk flattening as she set her sights elsewhere.
They were a few feet away from the Vranas when Bailey stopped with an audible gasp. Her soulmark tingled and sent a thrill of anticipation up her spine.
"Bailey?" Stella questioned hesitantly, a step ahead of the she-wolf as the night's MC took center stage. Bailey made no indication that she heard, still searching the crowd for the face she longed to see most. Goosebumps littered her skin as her soulmark's anticipation continued to build.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Who's ready for blood?"
XVIII
Stella's hand gripped Bailey's arm, bringing her back to the present.
"Are you all right?" Stella shuffled closer. Worry etched itself across her face. "Do you need to leave?"
"No," Bailey answered quickly, reluctant to stop searching. A party of four stalked through the now darkened arena as the announcer's introduction barreled on.
"Are you sure? I don't mind—"
"No," Bailey snapped. She glanced apologetically at Stella as her friend's hand drifted away from her person. "No," she said again, but kinder. "Let's sit. This is the perfect opportunity for you to make a good impression on you know who and the others."
Stella squirmed and fiddled with her fingers. "Really?"
"Mhmm," Bailey assured her with haste. She stole another look at the approaching group. Her nerves were at full attention, and there was no stopping the rapid beat of her heart. "Come on."
Stella followed dutifully, if not doubtfully, and slowed further as Ruby and Raphael shifted to make room for them.
"Everyone, you know Stella. Stella, this is everyone." Bailey promptly took the seat next to Ruby and gestured for Stella to sit.
The banshee's smile wobbled as she eyed the remaining space. Raphael glanced at Jax, who sat directly behind him.
"Don't mind me," Raphael said smoothly, returning his attention to Stella. He patted the space next to him, but her hesitation only became more pronounced. Raphael's lips lifted in a slow, cold smile. "I don't bite. That's their job." He gestured with his chin to Jakob, Sebastian, and Briar, who sat along the top row with Jax. "I will, however, nibble, if you ask nicely."
Stella made a noise remarkably close to a dormouse squeak when the crowd gave a sudden and enthusiastic cheer. Bailey rolled her eyes, grabbed her hand, and tugged her down to sit. She pressed into Bailey's side, drawing a bitter chuckle from the demon.
"Ignore him," Bailey whispered to her. "You're safe here."
Her reassurance did little to ease the tension lining Stella's body, but Bailey was too caught up in her own swirling emotions to offer better comfort. Ronan was coming right toward them, his gait confident and expression neutral. Flanking him were three of his kind. When they reached the Vranas, they paused.
Ronan inclined his head toward Jakob. "Good evening."
"Good evening, friend. Would you and your family care to join us? Room can be made."
Bailey held completely still as she waited for his answer. She was acutely aware that the Vranas could likely hear the erratic nature of her pulse, but she didn't care a lick. Bailey wet her lips as the silence between their parties was broken by another cheer from the crowd.
Ronan's gaze darted to her at the motion, and heat ignited in his eyes. A great and terrible want flashed through Bailey as his gaze held her captive. The sound of the crowd fizzling to a dull roar the longer their eyes stayed locked.
"Ronan?" Ruby's interruption made heat spike onto Bailey's cheeks as Ronan jerked his gaze away and back to Jakob.
"No." He cleared his throat and offered a strained smile. "We'll be sitting higher up. We may take to the rafters."
"Very well. Enjoy the match."
Ronan inclined his head stiffly and strode away. The foursome made their way farther down and then up the stands. She blinked, and the world came back into focus. Voices cheering and jeering for the night's fighters assaulted her ears. She swallowed thickly and breathed deeply through her nose, watching their retreat to the shadows.
The want reverberating through her refused to abate.
"I'll be right back," Bailey told Stella distractedly. Before she was halfway risen, Stella's hand clamped onto her forearm with surprising force. Panic lit her features, and she not so subtly glanced at Raphael. "I'm only going to talk with Ronan for a bit."
Her friend's panic turned to puppy dog eyes as Bailey forcibly pried her hand off.
"I have no intention of harming you." Raphael's interruption garnered both women's attention, but it was Bailey who met Raphael's half-hooded regard. His warm brown eyes drifted briefly over Stella. "My gloves are on as well."
Bailey stood and crossed her arms. Her patience was nonexistent.
She opened her mouth to deliver a reprimand, but Stella jumped in before a word could pass her lips.
"I don't care." Stella's voice toyed with the edge of panic as she slid into Bailey's vacated spot next to Ruby. A pleased noise came from the Asian vampyré, followed by a lilting comment about being everyone's favorite.
A muscle ticked in Raphael's jaw, but he made no further comment to placate Stella. Bailey afforded him a grimace-wrapped smile in lieu of a formal apology. Then glanced furtively at her friend, whose eyes were glued to the fight.
"I'll be back in no time," Bailey said.
Stella wrapped her arms around her middle, lips trimmed to a thin line. Bailey sighed and peeked at Jakob. He wore a knowing expression.
"Take all the time you need," Jakob replied.
Bailey nodded and scampered after her soulmark, aware that her departure from the Vrana's ranks garnered attention she didn't want. But she couldn't help herself. She was drawn to him like a magnet, unable to resist the siren call of his presence and the relief it would bring. Her mouth dried abruptly, as she climbed the grandstand and caught his eye.
Ronan watched her approach with eagle-eye intensity, as did his kin. She swallowed and forced her pace to remain steady—not too fast or slow—and shoved her hands into her pockets.
"Hey."
Ronan's entire body tensed at the simple greeting. When it went unanswered for an uncomfortable amount of time, Bailey's gaze darted to the raven shifter on his left.
"Hey." Bailey stuck out her hand. "I think we've met once before. You're Ana, right?"
The raven shifter was slight and with a face full of sharp angles. Though not unpretty, her features came across as naturally severe. Ana glanced at Ronan askance. Bailey couldn't make out their silent conversation, though much seemed to be said between twisting lips and various subtle eyebrow movements.
When their conversation ended, Ana huffed and awkwardly avoided meeting Bailey's eye and proffered hand. Someone snickered nearby as Bailey's hand dropped to her side. Humiliation and hurt stung her heart as she slowly looked at Ronan. He, too, avoided her gaze.
A throat cleared. Bailey paid it no mind, absorbing what repose she could by at least sharing the same space as him.
He'll have to tell me to leave himself if he wants me to go.
Again, a throat cleared, followed by a cough. Bailey glanced at the man sitting behind Ronan and Ana. He wore a kind smile.
"Why don't you sit?" He offered, gesturing toward the seat in front of Ronan. Bailey returned his smile gratefully, ignoring the scowl Ronan sent over his shoulder at the younger-looking man.
"It's not your place to extend invitations, Callum."
"Huh," Callum pondered with false perplexity, winking at Bailey. "Must have slipped my mind. You'll have to excuse me, brother. I've never been one to turn down the presence of a beautiful woman."
A pleasant shock ran through Bailey as she regarded Callum with renewed interest. They shared the same eyes and nose, but where Ronan's features were cut and refined, Callum's youth still clung to his cheekbones. Bailey raised one eyebrow at Callum's comment but said nothing.
When Ronan answered his brother's remark with a low growl, her other eyebrow hitched up as well.
"Bailey, isn't it?"
"I am. And you're Callum?"
Callum clasped both hands on Ronan's shoulders and gave him a small shake to emphasize his reply. "Correct, I'm his younger, far more charming and intelligent, brother, that doesn't get the credit he deserves."
Ronan issued another growl. "Enough, Callum."
Callum removed his hands from the tense line of Ronan's shoulders and held them up in exaggerated surrender. He mouthed sorry to Bailey and a few other creative phrases she pretended not to understand but drew a chuckle from her anyway.
She felt lighter than she had in nights. The strange workings of the soulmark grew more pacified as they kept close to each other's orbits. Her aches melted away along with her anxieties. Bailey inhaled deeply, savoring the return of her equilibrium.
Restored after several more minutes passed in silence, Bailey sought to speak with Ronan again. But her attempt was waylaid by the roar of the crowd. Tearing her focus from Ronan, she looked down at the fight. Two sorcerers dueled sans magic, and with one hand tied behind their backs. The restriction didn't inhibit either. Their swords clashed with vehemence and remarkable grace. Bailey's gaze wandered past them, spotting their staffs being guarded by two scowling men.
The entire scene was odd to Bailey.
"Were they always meant to fight without magic?" she asked, forehead scrunching up.
"I don't think so," Ana voiced. The barest notes of worry lingered around her answer. "They must have revised the terms of the fight last minute to be non-magical."
Bailey grunted, her furrowed brow deepening. "It's a bit overkill, don't you think?" she commented, reconsidering the Delacroix as they laughed and cheered in their box. "They found the sorcerers responsible for the shadowmancer. Is it really necessary to make them fight without their magic?"
"Where did you hear that from?"
Bailey turned at the sound of Ronan's voice. Her eyes grew wide as she took in his intense expression. Ronan leaned toward her.
She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out as she caught a whiff of his scent. The bottom of her nose tingled. Magic clung to him but was overshadowed by a thick layer of pine and citrus. Her lashes fluttered lightly as the scent simultaneously calmed and riled her.
"Bailey?"
The she-wolf hummed, lashes lifting to stare into Ronan's stormy eyes. "Yes?"
He reached out but stalled. Bailey's eyes traced the rough bob of his Adam's apple as his gaze locked on some sight just over her shoulder.
"Who told you that they caught the sorcerers behind the shadowmancer?"
Bailey blinked.
"Stella." She glanced at her friend. Only the top of her head was visible amongst the bodies filling the stand. A pang of momentary guilt hit Bailey for leaving her with Raphael. He clearly made her uncomfortable. "She was there when it all went down. One of the Delacroix got wind of the culprit. The entire household came out to handle the situation. Stella said it was a blood bath."
Callum and the man sitting next to him above Ana and Ronan shared a worrisome frown, yet neither spoke a word.
"Why have the banshee present?" Ana's tone was light, but her curiosity shone through regardless.
A sour taste filled Bailey's mouth. "Theatrics, nothing more."
"Is she all right?"
"Stella's tougher than she looks."
Ana grinned, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm happy to hear it."
"How are things with you and your household? You've been busy lately, haven't you?" Bailey's gaze darted to Ronan meaningfully while the crowd rose to its feet to cheer for the victor. Ana waited until the MC finished their congratulatory spiel.
"Why do you say that?" Ana cocked her head to the side. Her expression was guileless despite the slight edge to her voice.
"One of the Wildings noticed." Bailey delivered the lie with a casual shrug. Ana hummed thoughtfully.
The arena lights brightened as the crowd simmered down. Bailey glanced at the pit. It was being cleaned and readied for the next fight by a pair of women. Bailey straightened unconsciously as she squinted at them. They were Wildings and the same twins who accosted Bailey during her gauntlet, Pia and Jo.
"The Wildings don't know shit."
The abrupt statement prompted Bailey to whip around in her seat. She scowled at the man sitting next to Callum. He was older, with salt and pepper hair and a hooked nose.
"The raven shifters aren't the only spymasters at court. The Wildings hear and see things all the time and have collected their fair share of secrets," Bailey rebutted in defense of her newfound pack.
Between courier jobs, helping Stella, and fruitless searches for Ronan, Bailey spent most of her free time with the Wildings. Their rowdy lifestyle sometimes pulled them into questionable situations, and their appetite for violence didn’t exactly rub Bailey the right way, nor their constant dominance games… but they kept her distracted and busy.
And as of late, she had needed it a lot.
With no judgment passed on her awful attitude, the Wildings had gone out of their way to lift her spirits. Then Emmanuel died, pulling them all closer together. Her throat tightened. It surprised her to realize how much she'd grown to care about them.
"Everyone knows the Wildings are thugs—"
"Enough, Wills," Ronan snapped. Wills’ jaw clenched and held firm while glaring daggers at Bailey. "If you don't learn to mind your tongue in such mixed company, you'll be sent back home." The fire shining in Wills' eyes doused at Ronan's icy composure. He bowed his head in submission. "Bailey isn't a thug. Understood?" Wills nodded stiffly.
For a long, stilted moment, the group said nothing. Bailey hardly dared to breathe as Ronan's gaze slowly moved to her.
The moment their eyes locked, the world as she knew it faded from existence. She thought it might have for him as well.
We're inevitable, she longed to say. Fated.
Bailey had known this all along to be true—long before the discovery of their soulmarks. But now, it was a visceral thing. Tangible in a way that left her breathless too many times to count and in the grip of painful longing.
A tremor passed through her. Bailey watched as its echo filtered through Ronan.
A charge was building between them, invisible and thick. Every instinct pulled her closer to him, drawn helplessly by the soulmarks need and her own desperate wanting.
She would forever want him, with or without the mark. My very own curse.
Bailey's thighs clenched, and her toes curled as her desire grew. Ronan's nostrils flared. A flash of ravenous hunger speared through his stormy eyes. He leaned forward.
"You should go," he commanded. A husky edge to his voice.
Bailey swallowed thickly, her pulse a drum in her ears. "What if I want to stay?"
The MCs voice boomed overhead, jolting Bailey back to earth. Ronan smirked. The lazy upward tick of the corner of his mouth sent shockwaves through her. Bailey bit back a moan, eyes glued to his lips.
"You've never been good at following orders, have you?" he murmured.
Her head swayed from side to side and raised her eyes to his. "Troublemaker, remember?"
The air grew thicker between them before Ronan stiffened. The wild heat in his eyes shifted to hardened stone. A coarse shiver ran through his body as a fresh wave of applause meandered through the audience.
"Ronan?"
Bailey's head snapped to the side, her eyes widening in disbelief at Valdora. The disgraced sorceress only had eyes for Ronan, and a warning growl erupted from Bailey's mouth before she could stop it. Valdora met Bailey's ire head-on and arched an unimpressed brow before returning her attention to Ronan.
