Raven Song: Shifters Bewitched #4 Read online

  “You won’t be forever,” I promised her. “We will find out how you escaped this world and wound up in the other one.”

  “Does it matter very much to you?” she asked, looking down.

  “What do you mean?” I asked her.

  “You’re a king,” she said. “What if the reason I wound up in the other world is… not what you’re hoping.”

  I took her chin in my hand, forcing her to look up at me.

  “Anya Corbin,” I told her. “I don’t care where you came from. I only want to bring you the peace of knowing, if that is what you wish.”

  “That’s easy to say now,” she whispered.

  Pain flashed in her eyes, and suddenly I could see how much her past had hurt her. How so many people who were supposed to take care of her had let her down.

  It made me want to scream, or hit something.

  But I would not frighten her. I wanted her to feel safe, and optimistic. And that meant showing her how happy I felt.

  “I don’t care about your past,” I told her gently. “I want to be your future, Anya.”

  “No matter what?” she murmured.

  “No matter what,” I told her.

  “Tell me your name,” she said suddenly.

  “I have to ask you something first,” I told her. “But I’ll have to put you down to do it. Can you stand?”

  She nodded, her eyes so serious.

  I placed her down gently and was happy to see she was perfectly steady on her feet. I needed to know she was feeling herself before I swept her off them.

  Before I could chicken out, I knelt before her.

  Anya’s eyes grew wide, but she didn’t so much as shift her weight. She stood calm and proud, and my heart soared, knowing what her answer surely must be, before I could even ask the question.

  “Anya Corbin,” I said to her, “will you serve your people and protect the land?”

  “Of course,” she replied, her brow furrowing with concentration. “How can I help?”

  Gods of the realms, she had no idea.

  She had not been raised in Faerie, where every woman dreamed of hearing the Raven King say these words to her.

  “Be my queen,” I asked her plainly, hoping she couldn’t hear the desperation in my voice.

  Her mouth opened slightly, but she didn’t answer.

  And in that moment, I knew that I would beg like a street urchin for her, offer her my wealth, my power, any bargain she wanted to make.

  “Really?” she breathed at last.

  “Of course,” I told her through a clenched jaw. “Please.”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling down at me with an expression so radiant I knew the full moon must be jealous. “Yes.”

  I lifted her and swept her onto my bed in one fluid motion that left her giggling, hair splayed out across the pillow.

  She held her arms out for me and suddenly all other thought left my mind. There was no kingdom, no castle, no world to set right.

  There was only my love, my sweet mystery, warm and willing in my arms.

  My Anya.

  I crawled in after her and we tore at each other’s clothing, forgetting the solemnity of the event, needing the comfort of each other’s flesh against flesh.

  When our garments were a tangled mess on the floor, I pressed my forehead to hers.

  “I wish you could know my thoughts,” I whispered to her. “I am so glad you are home.”

  She tilted her chin up to reply with a kiss so sweet I saw stars.

  I thumbed her jaw open so that our tongues could dance. She tasted like moonlight, and I would never get enough.

  When her body trembled beneath mine, I left her mouth to nuzzle her neck, her delicate collarbone, her small breasts.

  She held her breath as I licked one dark nipple into my mouth. The quiver of her ribcage and her stifled moan drove me wild, and I fed on her other breast with the savagery of a desperate man.

  My own body throbbed with need for her, but I had to make this night perfect for Anya.

  Trailing kisses down her belly, I drank in her whimper of anticipation. The scent of her was intoxicating, I couldn’t wait for a taste.

  “Hush, my queen,” I murmured as I pressed her thighs apart. “I will serve you.”

  36

  Anya

  My senses were going wild. The king’s breath tickled my inner thigh as he whispered to me. I could still taste the nectar of his mouth on mine, and hear our panting breath.

  “Please,” I murmured, trying desperately not to lift my hips to meet his mouth.

  But the king was pleased by my desperation - I could feel his smile against my thigh just before he pressed a kiss to my throbbing sex.

  A sound rent the air and it took a moment for me to realize it was my own broken moan.

  He growled and began to feed on me with slow, firm strokes of his tongue.

  The pleasure swirled in me and built, beating down the doors of my inhibitions and leaving me bucking my hips and tangling my hands in his hair.

  The king responded instantly, speeding up his rhythm, bringing me so close to the relief I craved. His wicked tongue flicked at a rapid-fire pace and then slowed suddenly, as if he knew exactly how much I could take without pushing me over the edge.

  Again and again he teased and goaded me to the precipice without letting me fly.

  “Please,” I moaned again. “Please, I need you.”

  His mouth was gone from me, and I whimpered in despair.

  But he was crawling on top of me, pressing his body to mine, caging my head in his arms.

  “You wish for me to claim you as my queen,” he offered, his breath ragged.

  “Please,” I moaned again, forgetting all other words.

  “You will say my name first,” he told me.

  I didn’t know how to respond, so I only stared up at him in amazement.

  “But you must know that true name of a fae has great power,” he explained. “The one who knows my true name may command me. It is not given lightly. There is not another being in this realm or any other who holds that power over me.”

  There was a moment of silence as we contemplated what he was offering to me. I tried to find the words to tell him he didn’t need to give me that. I knew he would love and protect me, whether I could command him or not.

  “Éan,” he whispered. “That is my true name.”

  “Éan,” I repeated softly.

  “Say it while I claim you,” he demanded in a dark voice.

  My body responded instantly. The wonder that had distracted me from my need was gone, my body was back on that pinnacle, frantic for flight.

  He took himself in his hand, pressing his massive organ against my opening.

  For a moment I felt real fear. I was not experienced. I had known it would hurt, but his size made me wonder if he would split me in half.

  “Don’t be frightened, a rún,” he crooned to me. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

  His thumb stroked the little bud that sent lightning bolts of pleasure through me as he pressed his way slowly into my body.

  A stretching pain harmonized with the pleasure for a moment, and then he was fully inside me.

  He stilled, allowing me to get used to him.

  “Éan,” I whispered.

  He smiled and pressed kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my eyelids.

  “I am yours, my queen,” he whispered, his frost-pale eyes meeting mine.

  I could see his love reflected back to me, and also the desperate need he was denying in order to comfort me.

  My own need rose up to meet it and my hips lifted involuntarily, as if to invite him to move.

  He growled and began to move, slowly easing himself out and then thrusting back in.

  I moaned and sank my nails into his arms.

  He thrust again, and again, so slowly I thought I would die. I could see the tension in his jaw, and something almost like pain in his eyes as he suppressed his own need.


  The pleasure was building again. I closed my eyes against it.

  “Open them, a rún,” he growled.

  “Please,” I moaned, obeying. “I need you.”

  “Anya,” he groaned in surrender.

  And then he was moving faster, blinding me with the pleasure until I lost track of my own sounds.

  Ecstasy took me suddenly, lifting me up into the stars and then crashing me down with a pleasure so extreme I wasn’t sure I would survive it.

  “Anya,” Éan shouted as his own climax took him.

  I felt him throb and swell inside me, jetting his hot seed deep inside and accentuating the last waves of my own pleasure.

  He collapsed on my chest when it was done and I breathed him in, wishing I could pause the world on this moment, and it would never end.

  “I love you, my queen,” he whispered at last, rolling over so that I was nestled against his chest, his big hand tracing circles between my shoulder blades.

  “I love you, my king,” I told him, smiling at how strange it sounded. Could this all be real? It felt like an elaborate game of pretend.

  “Why are you smiling?” he whispered.

  “It doesn’t seem real,” I admitted.

  “It’s very real,” he assured me. “Sleep now, my love. Tomorrow, you’ll learn what it means to be a faerie queen.”

  37

  Anya

  The gilded mirror showed me a version of myself that I liked very much.

  Mathair sat beside me, holding my hand in hers as two young women braided feathers and gems into tendrils of my hair.

  “Each item represents something your betrothed wishes for your future,” Mathair explained for the third time.

  I didn’t interrupt. She loved mothering me, and I ate it up. If it pleased her to explain my new life to me again and again, I would listen every time.

  I watched as the fae girl on the left braided one of Calvin’s feathers in next to the one they had already attached from Hobbes. A citrine represented abundance, while a strand of tiny emeralds stood for fertility and the many children the kingdom hoped we would fill the court with.

  A tuft of my school robes had been sewn into a tiny bow used to fasten a braid that wrapped around the crown of my head. It indicated friendship and our allegiance with the witches of Primrose.

  The rest of my hair was a long, dark, tangly mess, as usual. And the snow-white sheath I wore made no attempt to imply hourglass curves or large breasts I did not have.

  I looked like myself, adorned to honor the past and the future. And I liked it very much indeed.

  The fae loved illusion, but they - we, were not inclined to want to change ourselves. After a lifetime of feeling different, I was learning to love myself just as I was.

  Just as Éan loved me.

  There was a tap at the door.

  “Anya,” his familiar voice called out.

  “You shouldn’t see me first,” I told him. “It’s unlucky.”

  “Maybe on the other side of the veil,” he said. “Here it’s ill-advised to be parted from your betrothed.”

  I laughed, pretty sure he was teasing me.

  Mathair chuckled and got up to open the door for him.

  “Perfection,” he breathed, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

  “Oh,” I said stupidly, unable to stop myself from ogling him.

  The two women fussing with my hair were smiling to themselves.

  But I wasn’t ashamed. He was beautiful - bare chested with golden symbols painted on his muscular arms and torso. His long hair flowed like water, silvery and golden painted strands setting off the darkness of the rest.

  Together, framed by the gilded mirror, we were strange, and otherworldly, and perfect.

  Suddenly, his eyes burned so intensely that I thought the glass might explode.

  “Everyone out,” he said suddenly.

  To their credit, they all scurried away.

  I stood and turned to him, unable to keep the smile from my face.

  “Gods, but I want to ravage you,” he murmured, lifting his hand to touch my cheek.

  “If you mess me up, I think Mathair will never forgive me,” I told him.

  “She’ll never know,” he growled.

  “You’re covered in paint,” I reminded him, trying not to giggle.

  He frowned and looked down at his chest.

  “Right,” he said, looking disappointed.

  “Soon,” I promised him.

  “Are you happy, Anya?” he asked softly. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “Of course,” I told him. “I only wish my friends could be here, and see how magical this is - how happy we are.”

  “I have a surprise for you,” he told me with a half-smile. “I hope you’ll like it.”

  He held out his hand and I took it, letting him lead me out of the room and down the corridor to a small courtyard.

  Though the palace was immense, with unimaginable luxuries and rooms of every shape and size with glittering artwork and incredible magical architecture, this little courtyard was my favorite spot.

  Sheltered by two stone castle walls, trellises of rose bushes formed the remaining walls to make a room with a cobblestone floor that reminded me of the big courtyard at Primrose. Shelves built into the stone castle walls held pots of tiny plants and flowers as well as books and small carvings of animals. Wooden benches and tables here made it a perfect spot to read or eat my breakfast each morning.

  Tonight, the space was aglow with fireflies and floating lanterns. Our closest companions of the castle were here waiting for us.

  Mathair sat beside a large man who had to be a brother or cousin of the king. The heads of the military and the stables were here, as well as the king’s favorite cook and a few beautifully dressed women I knew as his cousins.

  The royal wedding would happen tomorrow, before the whole kingdom. But tonight I would be crowned and wed in an intimate ceremony just for us.

  “Wait here,” the king told me.

  I did as I was told and watched him walk to the two walls of roses.

  He waved an arm, and the vines began to part, slowly winding their way around the trellises on either side of the area the king was focused on.

  An arched door appeared, and I smiled. The king loved secrets and hidden things, it was part of what he loved about me.

  The Raven King had reached out to the other fae kingdoms to try to learn more about my origins. We didn’t have the whole story yet, but we’d learned a little.

  Whoever my mother was, her love for me had allowed her to open the veil to hide me in the mortal realm, something no one had done in generations.

  Since there were no tales of runaways near that time of my birth, it meant my mother might still be here somewhere on this side. Maybe one day, I would even find her and solve my mystery.

  Curiosity drove me to learn more, but I wasn’t looking for her because anything was missing from my life. Not anymore.

  I had Éan now. I knew my friends on the other side were safe, and I was making friends among the denizens of the castle and grounds. Long-lost family might be interesting to meet, but there was no hole in my heart for a mother to fill. In fact, my heart was overflowing.

  The king opened the secret door and I gasped, blinking a few times to be sure of what I was seeing.

  The arch seem to open into the great library of Primrose Academy.

  I couldn’t see the oak at the library’s center, but I could see the bookshelves, the marble floors, and most importantly my friends.

  “Is-is it real?” I breathed, moving closer.

  “It is,” he replied with a smile.

  “Anya,” Kendall called out to me from the other side, her face radiant with happiness. I realized that she was also dressed in white. They all were.

  “Kendall,” I said, nearly speechless.

  “The king and the headmistress agreed to let me permanently open this portal,” she told me, patting the sword she wore on
her hip. “As the appointed conduit between worlds, I told them I needed a way to regularly communicate with you and with him. This is what we came up with.”

  “Incredible,” I breathed.

  “It took a while to get everything just right. But now we can open the archway from the tree in the library into your little courtyard,” she explained. “And you can open it from your side, too. We can see each other whenever we want.”

  “You look enchanting, Anya,” Headmistress Hart said in her lovely low voice, stepping forward to see me.

  The sight of her was almost too comforting. Sobs racked my body, and I fought for control of myself.

  “Anya?” Éan, said worriedly, wrapping an arm around me.

  “I’m so happy,” I wailed, trying and failing not to cry.

  Headmistress Hart smiled at me so hard that the apples of her cheeks almost hid her eyes.

  “We’re happy too, Anya,” she told me.

  The others all gathered closer, and I could see them in their wedding finery. Bella wore a traditional puffy white wedding dress with a jewel encrusted bodice. Cori was rocking a satin number that clung to her curves. And Kendall wore a long lace gown, her golden hair down instead of in its usual ponytail.

  “You guys look amazing,” I told them, realizing the plan. “Are we all doing this at once?”

  “First your coronation,” the king reminded me. “Mathair.”

  The kindly woman approached, carrying a delicate crown made of twisted branches.

  A small man in pale robes approached and began to speak the words of the coronation ceremony that I had memorized in order to say my parts at the right times.

  As the solemn speech flowed, I clutched Éan’s hand, unable to believe the happiness I felt. I had two homes now, two groups of people who loved and understood me.

  When it was over, Éan placed the crown on my head and cheers went up in the little courtyard and at Primrose too.

  Then the Primrose choir lifted their voices to the tune of a wedding march, and the king gazed down at me in open adoration.

  When the guardians came to claim their mates as wives, fresh tears prickled my eyes as I realized we would all be saying the words together.