The dripping shadow shrinks from the bird with a cry of fear. A second dark shape that’s scuttling along the wall pauses. Both watch the bird for a second, then bow their heads.
I retreat, shaking, muscles tensed to run again. But I freeze when my vision of the bird shifts. I stare in confusion as smoke begins to seep from the raven’s back, spilling out in plumes. It billows from the black body, growing with each quick beat of its wings, taking shape. Until the raven is gone and there’s a man standing in front of me. His back is only three feet away.
A man who was a bird a second ago.
Smoke still trails from his shoulders and down his sides.
He speaks—I don’t recognize the words, but the tone is commanding, and the two dripping black creatures respond by cowering more. They mew, hunkering down to settle a few feet in front of him as if they were seeking his approval.
The raven man turns, and his metallic eyes fall on me.
The world tips again. My breath falters. I know him . . . I—
Where have I seen him before?
His features are young, etched and severe in their beauty, hair blacker than night, skin so pale it almost appears lit from the inside. But it’s his eyes that cut into me—a sharp silver, inhuman, unreal. “You shouldn’t be alone, little doe.” His voice is a warning as he looks around, like he’s searching to see if anyone is nearby.
I can’t seem to form words. I still can’t process the dripping shadows behind him, their slick bodies, their hollow eyes. Eyes that turn to stare hungrily at me again.
“Don’t worry about the wraiths,” he says. “They belong to me. As do you, by rights.” His lips tilt in a slight grin.
The words jar me. I recoil, shivering, and glance at the waiting shadows. “Those creepy things are with you?”
The raven man steps toward me, taller than I realized, his movement sly like a cat’s.
I falter. “Don’t touch me.”
His hands lift in surrender. “Forgive my clumsy approach, but I wanted to see you up close, to speak to you. Before the water can be muddied too much by others.”
“Stay away.” I have no idea who or what he is, but it’s obvious he’s not Team Marius. I should’ve asked more questions at dinner. Marius said there was a danger, but I assumed he was talking about me being the threat to people, not nightmarish creatures like this guy.
“Who are you?” I ask, trying to sound demanding. As if I have any power here. Bluffing is my only weapon right now. I could try to run, but it’s clear that I wouldn’t make it very far.
He tilts his head like he’s surprised I don’t know him. “I am your protector, if you wish it. Second son of the Morrígan, Prince of Shadows. My name is Kieran, brother to the King of Ravens. My sister leads the House of Morrígan as the Princess of Bones. We wish to offer you shelter.” He bows in a regal way, as if we were in a castle instead of an alley.
Then it dawns on me: this is the dark prince Faelan was talking about. Holy shit.
I almost burst into hysterical giggles as the realization settles in. Because this has to be a joke. God is playing a joke on me, right? This guy totally fits the title, now that the dots in my head are connecting. The high cheekbones and proud chin, the oddly formal speech. And that thick dark hair shadowing his eyes. Those eyes . . . you could get lost in them . . . you could . . .
A foggy memory surfaces: a flash of those eyes over me, his hands gripping my naked hips, his body pressing me into the cool clover beneath us.
Heat fills me in a rush. Where the hell did that come from?
I have to focus on breathing as the images, vivid and overwhelming, filter through me. It can’t be real, it can’t. I swear on my life I’ve never met this freak before, let alone gotten naked with him. I think I’d remember if I had, especially with that raven trick. But his eyes are so familiar.
“You shouldn’t fear me,” he says, breaking through the images clouding my senses. “I can give you your heart’s desire.”
I step back again. “Right now I’d like a one-way ticket to Tahiti.”
Confusion fills his features. “We don’t rule in the south.”
“Sounds perfect, then.”
He studies me. “You’re not what I expected. Not at all.” He pauses and then adds, “I pictured dark stoicism. I pictured assurance. But you . . . you’re so different than she was. I find it . . . intriguing.”
Prickles of awareness crawl over my skin at his words. “Different than who?”
“Your sister, Queen Lily.”
I remember what Aelia said about Faelan hoping I wasn’t like the last female offspring from Brighid’s tree. Could she have been talking about the same person? A sister . . .
“You have a strange vibration in your spirit,” he continues, moving his gaze over my body. “Almost as if you were at war inside. Why has it taken you so long to surface in our world?”
I shake my head, not understanding.
His expression turns dark, his voice becoming unsettled when he adds, “And your power is . . . wrong.”
He knows something about me. And I have the feeling it’s something vital. It almost makes me blurt out the questions still crowding my head, but I bite my lip. I have no clue if I can trust this guy. Letting him know how ignorant I am could give him the upper hand. So I keep bluffing, pretending not to be completely freaked out.
“What can I say,” I mutter, “I’m a rebel.” I dare to turn away, feigning a casual air, and reach down to pick up the heel I lost when I stumbled. “And, uh . . . even though this has been invigorating and all, people are waiting for me, and I can’t—”
He re-forms in front of me again in a blink, blocking my path. He steps forward, forcing me to move away.
My back hits the brick wall of the building. And I’m trapped. Those silver eyes locked on mine.
My mind registers that he’s too close, that I should strike out and stop him, but I can’t seem to figure out how to squirm away. And then I feel his fingers slide over my neck, gripping it delicately. But I still can’t look away from those eyes.
His long thumbnail scrapes over my skin, and a shiver rakes through me.
“No, no, little doe,” he whispers. “You mustn’t rush off before our agreement can be made. I’m meant to protect you. To be your covering.”
“I told you not to touch me,” I say, breathless. My insides twist into knots. The barrage of emotions that fill my chest make me want to scream—confusion, fear, rage at my vulnerability.
He reaches up with his other hand and touches a strand of my hair that’s come loose. “But in this world, you’re mine, fire creature. And soon I will be yours.”
Raw terror rises to first place.
“Why are you shivering?” he asks, annoyance edging his voice. “What have they done to you?”
They? He’s the one pinning me to a wall. “Please don’t touch me” is still all I can manage to say.
“You plead with me? Are you really so weak? Where is your fire? I feel it in your spirit, why hold back?”