The Ravenous Dark, page 36
How else would he have known that there was something wrong?
One moment he was aware of her, and the next, she was out of reach. His panic was slow to grow as he tried to remain levelheaded while finishing up with Jakob and Valdora… until he couldn't. He all but ran from the room in search of her thinking the worse had happened.
His brother had the misfortune of intercepting him in his foul state and informing him of the whereabouts of his she-wolf. In the Cellar Bar, halfway through a bottle of rhodiola.
His heart clenched as he squeezed her tighter.
He knew what she thought of the magically laced liquor and its harm to her friend. Only something of great distress would give her cause to find solace in the drink.
I caused her distress. It was me that turned her to rhodiola.
Ronan nipped at her lips as guilt nipped at him in return. Last night he allowed her that indulgence in peace, too ashamed to confront the situation head-on. Upon awakening that evening, he was intent on finding her. He stopped at the Vranas’ first, and in a stroke of luck, encountered River, who was privy to her whereabouts.
He set off to the Commons, but not halfway into his descent, he realized he was being followed.
But by whom, he couldn't tell.
Pulling Bailey into the safety of the shadows the stacks provided had been a necessity as they gained on him. And kissing her had been… irresistible.
So, without thought, he summoned the library's shadows to give them cover.
Her nails sunk into his back, drawing a hiss from Ronan. He pulled away, panting. He couldn't separate the soulmark's needs from his wants. More than that, he didn't know if they were separate anymore. He ground his hips against hers, reveling in the friction.
How can one woman be both my damnation and salvation?
Ronan's hands stroked her sides and teased the undersides of her breasts. She quaked beneath his fevered attentions.
"Mark me," she begged, pressing her lips to his in another rapturous kiss. Ronan moaned against the welcome onslaught. Magic wafted through the air. The rasp of it against his skin magnified his desires, and before he realized it, his hands were beneath her shirt. Sinful heat welcomed his advances. His hands glided upward, and he savored the twitches of impatience and whine building in her throat. She squirmed against him. Pressing into him with a needy moan, she whispered her plea against his mouth again.
When he didn't answer, she twisted her head away and leaned back against the wall. Her hands, however, remained on his shoulders.
"Don't go. I take it back, just please, don't go."
Ronan kept his eyes closed and breathed heavily through his nose.
Faster than he was prepared, everything seemed to be coming to a head. His body, mind, and heart all battled for the precious amount of control he had left.
Ronan didn't know what to do. The only thing that kept him afloat was pouring all his focus on the safety of his family and friends. Yet knowing the best way to do that was to leave… it hurt him more than he could put into words.
But leaving Bailey wasn't an option.
All roads lead back to her, and for the first time, he was starting to see that wasn't a bad thing. A wry smile crept onto his lips as he shifted to glance at her. Her eyes were closed, leaving dark cinnamon lashes to rest on the tops of her cheeks. Her lips looked thoroughly kissed. Warmth filled Ronan's chest. Shrouded in his shadows, she looked like a dream.
A hand abandoned its perch on his shoulder, tracing a path over his soulmark down to the top of his belt's buckle. A lump lodged in his throat. The teasing stroke reminded him vividly of the night of the full moon. His cock was held in her capable hands. Ronan shuddered at the memory.
The soulmark was systematically breaking down every wall he'd thrown up to fight it. He thought the temptation of the dark magic when in its thrall was bad… but this? This was torture of the utmost divine.
He shifted his weight and tugged Bailey off the wall until she was flush against him. She looked up at him, eyes hopeful and glazed with lust. It was too much to resist.
Ronan anchored a hand on the wall, prepared to heed her plea and damn the consequences. Then, without warning, the wall disappeared.
With a lurch, he stumbled forward, stopping their nosedive into the sudden appearance of the shadow plane, mere inches from Bailey's back.
"Ronan?"
She twisted, trying to follow his line of sight. She can't know. The thought struck him as panic flew through his veins. Ronan acted swiftly, his gaze narrowing on her neck.
Bailey cried out as his teeth clamped down on her throat—hard, but not enough to break skin. It was hell fighting back his baser instincts to lay claim to her, but worse still was trying to free his hand. Cool shadows encircled it like phantom ropes, leeching the warmth from his hand.
A growl rose in his chest as he struggled to rein in his shadow magic and retrieve his hand. After weeks of practice and manipulation, it should have yielded easily to his demands.
It did not.
His panic remained, cooling the fire of his desire as he forcibly yanked his hand out of the shadow plane and tripped backward. The shroud of shadows shuttered out of existence with barely a moment to spare as Bailey blinked dazedly after him.
"Ronan?" she questioned hoarsely.
He ducked his head, unable to meet the impassioned golden eyes that stared at him in longing and confusion. She whispered his name again with uncertainty. A light sweat broke out on the back of his neck. He was simultaneously spent and riled.
He was losing control of his shadow magic, and that was unacceptable.
Ronan swallowed roughly as Bailey reached for him. She cupped his jaw, and her thumb stroked and caressed his cheek. Ronan leaned gratefully into her touch, breathing in her scent to calm his agitated nerves.
"I have to go."
Bailey's gentle caress stopped, head shaking. He hated himself for saying it and denying them both. But if he was losing his grip on his magic while he was around her, what kind of disaster awaited them?
Maybe it isn't her. The thought was meant to provide hope, even if false, but in its stead came a more insidious notion.
What if the dark magic is growing stronger?
What if my magic is even more corrupted by it?
"Don't," Bailey begged. "We don't have to do the marking or binding, just don't leave me."
A dozen curses vied for position on his tongue, but all fled in the wake of her regard.
The weight of their separation had left her sallow. Purple half-moons clung to the bottoms of her eyes. Her hair lacked its usual wild luster.
"I don't know how else to protect you," he confessed, though what he wished to say was, "I don't know how to protect you from me."
"I don't need to be protected." Her throat bobbed. "I just need you."
"Bailey—"
Fresh magic coiled around them, drawing both their spines up as it intruded on their moment. They looked to the ancient books flanking them.
Bailey ground her teeth as the magic scratched at her skin like sandpaper. Ronan slipped out of her touch. Regret shone through his eyes that only served to anger her.
"What is it you think I need protecting from? The Wildings? Because I'm done with them. And if it's the shadowmancer, I've dealt with him more than my fair share of times and came out on top each and every one. The next time I see him, I swear I'll take him down."
Ronan stood as still as a statue.
She shut her eyes tight as pain eclipsed her heart. Why am I the only one fighting for us?
"Please, Ronan. I've loved you since I was a girl. It sounds insane, but it's true. You're the only person I could ever see myself with, soulmark or no soulmark." Bailey wet her lips and took a fortifying breath. "I know these past few years we haven’t been as close as we once were, but my feelings haven't changed. I'm not telling you this, so you feel obligated to return the sentiment. I’m not. That’s not why—" Bailey stopped herself short of rambling and took another deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't expect you to reciprocate the feelings. But if there's any hope for us to be more in the future, please, tell me. I need something to hold onto."
Ronan pawed at his face, and suffocating silence answered her as he opened his eyes.
"Please," her voice cracked over the word. "We can't keep doing this Ronan," she tried to reason softly, battling back tears. "I can't keep doing this. I need something more than these stolen moments because it's getting worse. You have to feel it too. When we're apart…."
Bailey reached out to touch his heart, and he flinched back.
The quick cut of rejection stung Bailey like no other. Her shoulders sagged as she took a wobbly step back. "I'm not going to force the marking if that's what you're worried about. I haven't lost my mind completely." Not yet, anyway.
"I know," he choked out.
A bitter smile raised the corners of her mouth. "Clearly, you don't." She gestured to the space between them. It felt like miles.
"I need more time."
"We're out of time, Ronan," she half-shouted, hands curling at her sides.
The accusation shattered the bubble they were in. The magic of the books retreated at the broken notes of Bailey's voice, and the sound of court life rushed to meet them. Jaunty laughter and swells of conversation filled the air, some close, others far.
Out of time.
Her words ricocheted about in her head as Ronan mumbled words too soft for her to hear… and then Bailey launched into laughter at her luck—or lack thereof.
River wanted to leave.
Stella was keeping secrets.
She used her lycan side to scare a family and woke up besieged by a magical malignancy on her desk. Yet, the cherry on top of it all; her soulmark didn't want her.
How many times does he have to reject me before I accept it?
Bailey wiped away the tears that banded down her face and reeled in her laughter at Ronan's aghast expression. She hitched her bitter smile higher and walked away.
For good.
Bailey was oddly numb as she departed the common's library. Ronan's hissed pleas for her to stop trailing after her, too little, too late. Eyes fell on the pair as soon as they joined the throng in the lavish main hallway.
It was only by the heaviness in her bones and tremor wracking her body that she knew he had abandoned his pursuit.
Bailey bit her lip as the knife of his rejection dug a little deeper. She lifted her chin higher as she heard her name whispered on courtiers’ lips and stared straight ahead.
She would ask River to make her a potion to mute the effects of the soulmark. Jax might be the smartest sorcerer of the century, but River was only just coming into her magic and what skill and ingenuity she showed thus far was brilliant.
Besides, it will be a relief to finally confide in someone and not feel so alone.
A shoulder slanted into Bailey, snapping her out of her reverie. She whirled on her assailant, her brown eyes clashing with inky black ones and a Cheshire grin dressed in menace. Twin tips of blue-black horns peeked out from the demoness' pixie cut. Her friend snickered as she gave Bailey a once-over.
"That's her, all right," the friend stated, her pink lips smeared with too much lip gloss. Her horns were slightly bigger, curving back at a steeper slant. "Better watch out, Talia. I heard her bark is just as bad as her bite."
With a sharp tug on the low-slung skirt her friend wore, Talia pressed herself flat against the other demoness. Her eyes never strayed from Bailey. "Some say it's worse."
The words were issued in a seductive purr that danced all the way up Bailey's thighs. Bailey gnashed her teeth and looked away sharply; her anger spurned just as much as her sudden arousal. A wrath and desire demoness. It was a nasty combination to go up against, as they made you lust after a fight, or for your pleasure to come at the hands of pain.
Bailey whirled back around and strode away from them. She was almost to the grand staircase where the crowd was thick. Bailey cut through the bodies with efficiency, but the undeniable stain of anger and lust didn't go away. Heat flooded her veins against her will.
"Oh, come on," Talia, the wrath demoness, called after her. "Don't you want to play?"
Bailey's lips pressed together. The best way to deal with a demon was to ignore them. Anything else was an open invitation to play their wretched little games.
"She doesn't seem very fun," Talia complained. Her voice carried above the oncoming herd of courtiers fresh from the Turkish baths. The smell of incense and spiced oils perfumed the air. Bailey kept tight to the stair railing to ascend with more ease.
"Of course, she doesn't," the other demoness quipped. "Look at her. Anyone can tell she's wound up. What she needs is a release for all that tension she's carrying. A good fuck and a fight will loosen her up."
Bailey sucked in a sharp breath as laughter tittered after her—gained on her.
She took the next set of stairs two steps at a time. The clamber of their pursuit mocked her. Bailey growled in frustration.
Demons, for the most part, kept to the lower levels where they were more tolerated, and where the Lunar Court claimed residence. Either the pair wanted to press their luck, or they were young and ensnared by the rush of the chase.
Whatever their reason, she needed a plan and fast. Bailey broke away from the stairwell. The smart move would be to ditch them as quickly as she could manage. Unfortunately, she didn't have much energy to spare after her encounter with Ronan.
Her pulse took up a nervous cadence.
Or I can ambush them.
Bailey grimaced. That was a terrible idea. If she didn't have the energy to outrun them, what possessed her to think she could ambush and fight them? The answer tickled at her back as anger and lust teased her better senses.
Bailey rounded the nearest corner without a backward glance. Running and fighting were off the table, which meant she needed to hide.
And if they found her….
Bailey didn't have time to contemplate the scenario as she ran into another demon's arms. A gasp tore out her throat as she stared into rich brown eyes.
"I didn't think I would see you again so soon." Raphael's pleased and surprised expression weakened as he gave her a once over. "Is something wrong?"
Bailey squirmed out of his hold, sparing a look over her shoulder as footsteps neared. "I have to go."
Raphael frowned, lips parting to respond when his sight caught on something behind Bailey. Hisses sounded. Raphael's expression went flat as he calmly rose an eyebrow.
"A bit out of your league here, aren't you, ladies?"
"Astrid said—"
"Astrid isn't here, Sonja," Raphael cut in. His voice carried a chilly embrace as he deftly maneuvered forward to stand between Bailey and the demonesses. Instantly, the warring feelings of lust and violence vanished from her bloodstream. She turned and stared dumbly at Raphael's back. "But I am," he purred.
"There are rules even you have to follow, freak," Talia fumed.
She leaned sideways to glare at Bailey. A touch of her infernal anger toyed with Bailey's nerves, but it never came to true fruition with Raphael acting as a buffer to their manipulations.
"If you aren't putting up a claim against Astrid's, then you have no business standing between us."
"And I'm to believe you won't play with her before bringing her to Astrid?"
Talia's hot glare transferred to Raphael as she snapped straight.
"Listen, Raphael, you might have been made wrong, but even you should be able to feel all that emotion coming off her. Astrid won't mind if we have a little taste and some fun," the other demoness, Sonja, tried to reason.
Raphael hummed knowingly and took a step forward, his gloved hands coming to clasp behind his back. "To be sure. Astrid does quite love to share. Unfortunately, I do lay a counterclaim on the she-wolf. We've gotten quite close recently, isn't that right, Bailey?"
"You're lying," Talia hissed, shuffling slightly to the side to spy Bailey.
"Why don't you run along before the vampyrés drag you back down to where you belong." Cool smugness lined Raphael's voice.
Raphael spared Bailey a smoldering glance and offered his arm to her. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as she accepted it. Bailey steeled herself for the onslaught of the demonesses' manipulation to hit her but keeping contact with Raphael also negated their power. She stood taller, gaze narrowing viciously on the two. The young women were both flushed with irritation.
"You'll pay for this."
Raphael hitched a shoulder in a lazy shrug, then leaned forward slightly. "Doubtful. Let's see if you survive the week, shall we?" He gave a sidelong glance to Bailey as he straightened. "The young need to feed on emotion so much more than the old," he explained casually, ignoring the demonesses gasping and sputtering. "They often bite off more than they can chew and end up paying with their lives."
Color flared brighter on Sonja’s dark cheeks. "You're not supposed to—"
"Enough." All manner of civility dropped from Raphael. Bailey swore the air dropped by several degrees, and the lights flickered. "My patience wears thin. Go and do not bother me, or mine, again. Or I shall come on the hunt for you. Do you understand?"
The pair scampered away, scowling.
Words failed Bailey as she watched their retreat. Raphael patted the hand she hooked onto his bicep reassuringly, if not a touch patronizingly, and ushered them onward.
"Shall we retire to my quarters for a time?" He ducked his head so that his soft-spoken words could only be heard by her. "News will spread like wildfire among my kind that I've announced a counterclaim, and after that, the rest of the court will be privy to the news as well."
Bailey dug in her heels. "Whoa there! I am not yours to be claimed." Heat consumed her cheeks. "Or anyone else's."
He spared her a devious smirk. "Indeed, but you needn't worry about that lovely cinnamon head of yours. I've no intention of claiming you. I merely assumed I was the better option over Astrid. At the very least, my counterclaim will ensure you some relief from those ravenous little beasts."
