The Ravenous Dark, page 39
"Maybe that's why his powers aren't like other demons," Bailey suggested.
Stella contemplated the idea. "I suppose that makes sense."
"Does he know?"
The banshee's eyes widened to an impossible degree. "No, and I certainly don't plan on pursuing anything with him or telling him. He'd use our connection to his advantage anyway and make me work for the demons." Stella returned to her seat, folding herself up into the corner of the couch and dragging a blanket over her lap. "You can keep sleeping with him if you want; just don't tell him about the soulmark, okay?"
"I'm not going to keep sleeping with him."
"Because he's a demon?"
"No," Bailey answered firmly. "One, because he's your soulmark."
"That doesn't matter to me."
Bailey scowled at Stella's swift interjection. "And two, because Ronan is mine."
At first, Bailey's explanation didn't register with Stella, and then understanding dawned on her face. Stella's mouth worked to form a question, and then another, but none made it past her lips. Finally, her entire body sank into the corner. Empathy pooled in her eyes. "Your soulmark, and he rejected you? Oh, Bailey, I'm so sorry. No wonder you haven't been yourself. Your heart must be hurting so badly."
A bitter laugh escaped Bailey before she could stop it. “Oh, don’t worry, it gets better,” she said, lips tacked up in a smile full of acerbic self-pity. “We’re sealed, and he—” Bailey’s chin wobbled as tears blanketed her vision. “He still doesn’t want me.”
Stella sat up straighter with each word of her confession, then reached out a hand in some modicum of comfort. Bailey inhaled sharply, prepared to brush off Stella's consolation, when, instead, a sob burst out of her. Bailey clapped both hands over her mouth, horrified to be overcome with emotion. She quickly turned her back, unprepared for Stella to be at her side a second later and guide her to the loveseat.
She hugged her until her tears subsided.
"I'm so sorry." Bailey wiped at her face with the heels of her hand.
"You don't have anything to apologize for."
Bailey exhaled shakily, relieved to find some of the enormous pressure on her shoulders had fallen away. "I don't know what to do."
"You keep trying," Stella said, her voice sure. "You're Bailey Hart, and you never go down without a fight. Not when it comes to the ones you love. Now go out there and find him. And after you make him see the error of his ways, I want to hear all the details about how he makes it up to you."
"What if he rejects me again?"
Stella smiled. "I'll still be here waiting. I promise."
Thirty minutes later, after much cajoling and a cup of black coffee, Bailey stood awkwardly outside Stella's door. She was going to, as Stella put it, hunt down her man.
Bailey cringed.
Stella's enthusiasm and belief in her were comforting, but a premature sense of defeat already filled her. She spent the past weeks trying and failing to pin down Ronan with nothing to show for it.
"Don't give up now, Hart." Bailey squared her shoulders and headed off in the direction of the nearest concealed passageway. Or what she thought was the direction of the nearest passageway.
One right and left turn later, she was staring down a selection of marble busts, wondering which would grant her access to the passage. Their cold faces were nearly identical, and their flat regard was unreasonably irritating.
A creeping sensation drew up her back.
Bailey stiffened, ears perking to absorb every slight sound. Her gaze swept to and fro, but there was nothing. No sound. No one in sight.
And yet….
She knew someone was near, or rather, something.
Bailey spun on her heels; lycan eyes flashing into existence. A wall of shadow greeted her. She growled and shifted into a fighting stance; her mind suddenly cleared and focused. The shadow rippled and a cool breeze wrapped around Bailey's ankles.
A moment later, the shadowmancer emerged. His arm rose, and Bailey froze, her rational brain telling her to attack while her soulmark—
Bailey sucked in a breath as the shadowmancer tipped back the hood of his cloak. The misty darkness he wore cascaded off him like a waterfall.
"Ronan?"
He smiled. The corners of his mouth barely lifted as he eyed her with apprehension. "You forgot this yesterday," he said, slipping a satchel from his shoulder and opening it to reveal a book and River's notebook. Bailey blinked at it and then at him, unable to comprehend what was happening.
"Bailey—"
"No." Bailey took two halting steps back. "It's you? You're the shadowmancer?"
"It's not what you think," he said lowly and pressed forward an inch. Bailey's mouth dropped open.
"You just came out of a wall of shadows," she snapped. Heat grew in her voice and cheeks. "It's exactly what I think it is!"
Ronan looked around the hall surreptitiously. "Listen, all right? I'm not the one cursing and killing people." His forehead creased as he stared into her eyes. "Do you really think I would do something like this?"
Bailey's mouth snapped a cutting remark and gave him a once over. He looked like she felt; beaten… and yet something seemed to kindle in his regard the longer she stared at him.
"No," she whispered at last. "I don't."
A rush of breath left him as a cautious smile took up residence on his face.
"This is a lot to take in," Bailey murmured.
Her drink sat untouched in front of her as the quiet cadence of subdued voices and music of the Cellar filled the silence following Ronan's hour-long explanation. Her brain took its time rehashing all that had been said.
His growing rift with Jax.
The harrow hounds' poisonous bite.
The Otherworld's dark magic and its tie with the court and his magic.
How he teamed up with Valdora, and most recently, Jakob to uncover the real murderer.
They were tucked away near the bar in a booth that she and River often occupied when they wanted some semblance of privacy. Of course, River would always cast a spell to help muffle their voices too.
Ronan's approach to achieving the same semblance was to deepen the shadows within their booth, adding an air of discretion. The trick was subtle yet effective as they conversed in hushed tones and sat close together.
His substantial explanation had answered many things, but they'd yet to dive into the subject Bailey wanted to the most.
"You're going to shake the table off if you keep shaking your foot and leg like that," Ronan teased. His hand fell on Bailey's crossed leg, and grinned.
"Sorry," Bailey breathed and bid her foot to stop its impatient beat. When his hand squeezed lightly on her thigh, she gave a small jump. Ronan chuckled. "We need to talk," Bailey blurted out.
"We are talking," he said easily, leaning back in his seat. Bailey's chest was inexplicably tight, and she struggled to find the words to start the conversation she wanted.
Sensing her anxiety, he reached for her clenched hand. Uncurling her fingers, he twined their hands together. Bailey's mouth dried as she stared at the sight.
"I'm sorry."
Bailey's gaze snapped back up to lock with his. "For what?" she asked breathlessly.
Ronan shifted in his seat, inching closer. "For pushing you away. For hurting you… hurting us." Ronan swallowed thickly and averted his gaze. "I only wanted to protect you."
"You didn't—"
"I know," he interjected with delicate firmness. "A mutual friend helped me recognize the error of my ways."
A curious frown tilted down Bailey's brows. "Who?"
"Jakob," he admitted with a flush.
Bailey's mouth gaped before splitting into a wide grin. "What did he say?"
"Something about learning to be grateful for having a she-wolf in one's corner."
His thumb ran over hers until he found the courage to meet her eyes once more. When he did, her heart caught in her throat. The moment seemed to suspend between them, trailing on and on in the perfect comfort of the shadows.
There was something different about him. A lightness where there had once been dark. The bags under his eyes weren't as prominent, and the usual stiffness he carried around her was absent—the latter hadn’t been there their entire conversation, save a few tense moments in his retellings.
A flutter of sweet hope crashed around her chest. If she was stronger, she would have tried to temper it, but….
"Did he say anything else?" Bailey raked her teeth over her bottom lip, watching in satisfaction and delight as his gaze followed.
"That I'm a fool for trying to avoid the inevitable."
Both eyebrows raised. "He actually called you an idiot?"
"Not in so many words," he hedged as her lips curved upward. "He was right, though," he continued in a more serious voice. "I've been an idiot. I wasn't just avoiding fate, but my attraction to you. In retrospect, things might have gone more smoothly if I had let you play the knight."
A flare of color lit Bailey's cheeks that not even Ronan's shadows could hide. Ronan chuckled and released her hand to push back her wild hair. Bailey wet her lips as she caught his eye through the veil of her lashes.
Since the moment they’d sat down, Bailey had kept a tight leash on her soulmark's mounting desire. She didn't want to mess things up.
But Ronan was playing with fire. His subtle touches. The smooth quirk of his mouth and the way his gaze lingered on hers.
Her patience ran out. The thin control over her soulmark's wants degraded further as she leaned closer. "Probably," she said, letting her wicked intent shine through her eyes. "From now on, I should definitely take the lead."
Ronan's regard skirted between the smolder of her gaze and slightly parted lips. Desire warred with restraint over his features. "That's not what I—"
Clumsy like a teenager's first kiss, Bailey surged forward and pressed her lips to his.
They exhaled as one and immediately sank into one another without delay. Bailey wanted to howl her triumph as Ronan pulled her closer and sought to deepen the kiss. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much luck. He pulled back with a soft chuckle.
"You have to stop smiling if this is going to work," he chided.
"Speak for yourself," she teased back.
Bailey's hands clamped onto his nape and dragged his mouth back to hers. Her persistence and enthusiasm nearly toppled them in the small space. She couldn't help it though. It was more than she dared hope for but dreamed of regardless.
Ronan laughed as they tottered. He took her by the shoulders and guided her back.
"If I let you lead, we'll be neck-deep in trouble. Constantly."
Bailey hummed, her eyes opening only a fraction. "Trouble’s where the most interesting bits of life happen. Besides, I only get into the best kind of trouble."
She kissed him again, barely pausing between breaths as she melded their lips together. Ronan returned it with slow-building passion, his tongue and teeth coaxing hers into a game of advance and retreat. Her grip tightened on him. She wouldn't let him go for the world. By the way he held her, hands splayed against her hip and back, she was inclined to believe he felt the same.
Bailey shifted to nuzzle the side of his face, quickly becoming overwhelmed by their embrace. A pant fell from her lips, and a tremor skated over her.
She felt Ronan swallow. “Thank you, Bailey,” he told her quietly. Bailey stiffened, then relaxed. She shifted back to face him, but he stalled her retreat with a small squeeze of his hands.
"For what?” she asked in a mirror of his subdued voice, heart thumping in anticipation.
“I always knew that my time in the Otherworld had hardened me, but I didn’t realize how much of myself I lost in that time… or that there could be a way for me to come back. But your faith never waivered in me. In us.” Ronan paused. Bailey was acutely aware of their hearts beating in tandem as she waited for him to continue. "Forgive me for being so—"
"Stubborn? Frustrating? Idiotic?" she offered for him to choose from, a smirk quick to overtake her lips.
"Yes," he replied with a breathless chuckle. "All of them."
Bailey sat back and cupped his cheek, searching his expression. He held remarkably still for her, and she saw the fear he still carried in his eyes; about their future and the dangers that awaited them, alongside those haunting them now.
A tender smile bloomed on her lips. Again, she kissed him, a sweet caress lasting no longer than a breath.
"Forgiven, though, I reserve the right to hold it over your head for the rest of eternity."
"Agreed."
They rearranged themselves casually. Sitting as close as they could with Bailey's legs draped over Ronan's lap. She toyed absently with the buttons of his shirt, not meeting his eye.
"Don't tell me my fiery she-wolf has gone shy." Bailey shook her head but still wouldn't meet his eye. "What is it?"
"I'm sorry too," she told him in a quiet voice. "For sealing us when we weren't ready. I think about that night. A lot." She tilted her head back to look at him, a frown painting her features. "Tell me honestly; do you really think I would do something like that? Force you to be sealed with me?" she asked, parroting his earlier words.
Bailey's heart dropped to her stomach as his smile tipped down. He took a long moment to answer.
"No, I don't."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, because my theory about that night and why the sealing happened is sort of… out there."
"What's your theory?"
"Magic."
Ronan wore a confused frown. "I thought we’d agreed it was the room’s wards.”
“No, you claimed it was the wards. Briefly,” Bailey said blandly and gave Ronan a dry look.
He flushed slightly. “Right, well, I still wouldn’t consider your magical theory as 'out there.’ In fact, I think it makes perfect sense. We can both agree now that there were forces at play beyond us that night, correct?” Bailey nodded solemnly, her lips pressing together tightly. “Are there any sorcerers you're on bad terms with? Any that might hold a grudge against you that would have been following you that night too?"
Bailey shied away momentarily, averting her eyes and tucking in her shoulders. “I don’t think it was a sorcerer.”
“A sorceress then?”
Bailey shook her head and started toying with his buttons once more. “I think… I think it was the demons chasing me." She glanced at him and caught Ronan’s widened eyes. “I don’t know why you look so surprised. After you suggested it was the wards that night, it was you who went on to blame the demons.”
Ronan's thighs clenched underneath her legs. Bailey watched as he scanned the patrons of the bar and then did the same. A handful more supernaturals had come to indulge, but by no means was the Cellar bustling. Every patron gave a wide berth to one another. They were safe from prying ears.
"Do you think the demons know about our soulmark?" Ronan whispered. Bailey shook her head quickly.
"No, how could they? I haven't told anyone about it. Well, except Stella a little while ago," she rushed to say. "I think they were looking to stir up trouble for me."
Ronan hitched an eyebrow. "By making you kiss the guy you like?"
Bailey crossed her arms over her chest. "You kissed me. Remember?"
"How could I forget?"
Ronan reached for his drink. A contemplative frown furrowed his brow line as he sipped his warm whiskey.
"I think they may have been building up my emotions, so they could feed on me. That's how they survive, isn't it? They feed on the emotion they manipulate."
"Yes, but they have to be within a certain proximity for their manipulations to work, and they weren't in the room with us, Bailey."
Bailey scowled and grabbed her beer, taking a swig to mellow her frustration. "Maybe they were standing outside the door. Or together, their combined powers of manipulation reached us. "
"I don't know…."
Bailey huffed and narrowed her eyes at him. "Have you ever been fed on by a demon before?"
"No."
"Then maybe—"
"But one of my ravens has." Bailey went silent. Her stomach tightened at his somber expression.
"When was this?" she asked cautiously.
"A couple of years before you and River arrived. Kent was new to the court and fascinated with the Styx. He got wrapped up in some debt, which he chose to pay in feedings. He hid it from everyone, meeting with the demon in secret for weeks. It wasn’t until he started picking fights with other ravens that it came out."
Bailey made a crooning noise as Ronan paused to compose himself. “Was it a wrath demon?”
He nodded. A muscle flexed in his jaw as his eyes filled with the pain of the memory.
"That's how they get you addicted. There's a bond that builds with the feedings, and if a demon isn't in control, they can drain a person dry."
"Like a vampyré?"
Ronan nodded stiffly. “At the time, I was with Jax in the Otherworld. When I returned, Ana immediately brought me up to speed. By that point, he'd paid off his debt and then some." He squeezed his eyes shut. Regret lined his next words. "It was my fault—"
"Don't say that, Ronan."
His eyes snapped open. "I'm the head of my household. My job is to protect them. If I had been there watching over him like I was supposed to, I—"
"He probably would have still been under the demon's thrall. Once you're addicted to something like that, it will always try to rope you back in. Kent might have been strong enough at the start to say no or resist, but why would his debt collector pass up on having a consistent food source?"
Ronan grunted and turned his attention back to his whiskey. "Ana said something along the same lines."
"What happened then after you got back?" Bailey asked when he fell silent.
"I banished him from court and sent him home. He was too far gone. The only thing that could save him was distance." Ronan finished off his drink in one fell swoop. "Which is why I don't think those demons chasing you fed off you or me. We would know, Bailey. Unless you've been having urges to seek out those demons who messed with you—us!" He corrected quickly at Bailey's pinched lips. "And let them feed on you?"
