Ebony Rising: (The Raven Queen's Harem Part 2) Read online

  Bunny moves down my body with long strokes against the dip of my sides and the arch of my hips. His brush travels downward, swirling across my legs. He spreads my thighs and I clutch the table. I know I’ve left a wet spot down there.

  “Why are your cheeks red?” he asks, pulling the extra brushes from his teeth. He’s fully attuned to my reactions. “Are you uncomfortable? Just tell me.”

  “No,” I reply, staring at the ceiling. He’s standing above my hips and thighs. “It just feels really good and even though I’m trying to keep my mind out of the gutter, my body has a mind of its own.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says. “You’re exquisite. The most glorious canvas I’ve ever had the pleasure of working on. Do you want to see?”

  My first thought is no. I don’t even like to look at myself in the wide mirror outside my shower. But Bunny is an incredible artist. I feel an intense urge to see it myself. “Can I?”

  “Of course.”

  He walks away and I instantly miss the heat of his body near mine. The magic, I think, must not only react to my skin but his proximity as well. It makes me wonder what would happen if he were even closer.

  Bunny returns with an oval mirror and holds it over my body. My eyes widen when I see what he’s done. Nearly every inch of my skin is covered in, what I now understand to be from my research and studying, runes. I lift my hand to a symbol above my breastbone.

  “You can touch it. They dry quickly.”

  I’m careful at first, worried anyway. But the paint is dry, feeling more like it’s part of my skin than just applied on top. The designs shimmer when I touch them, as if activating their magic. The warmth hasn’t left my body. It’s only grown stronger and as Bunny watches me looking at myself, the spark burns.

  “I feel the magic,” I tell him. “Do you feel it?”

  “I do,” he whispers, lowering the mirror. “I need to complete the runes before the mixture spoils.”

  He starts to move back between my thighs but I grab his shirt and drag him back.

  “Morgan?”

  “No,” I tell him, pulling his mouth to mine. “No more painting. No more magic. I need you to fuck me. Now.”

  Chapter 3

  Bunny

  Morgan’s lips sear against my own, channeling the magic and lust into a force I’m not sure I can withstand. I’m not like my brothers. The ways of women are not innate. I’m not sure how to give her pleasure. Would she even want it from someone like me?

  Her body hums, the whole house probably hears it—feels it. A deep soulful vibration that rattles around my heart before landing in my groin. She sits on the table in front of me, body covered in golden glyphs. Each one a spell of protection—created to keep the Darkness away. But I feel the power beneath the surface, under her heaving breasts and sparking in the pit of her belly. It’s in her fingertips, her breath, it’s coiled tight in between her legs.

  The Morrigan, even the small bit residing in this woman’s soul, is strong. Her thirst unquenchable. She needs to be needed. She wants to be wanted. To turn her away is like firing a shot in a battle that can’t be won.

  My job—our job—as guardians is to contain that fire before it spreads, and until she finds a mate there’s only one way to do it.

  She comes at me again, round, full breasts smashing against my chest. Her lips are blistering hot and her eyes have turned a shade darker. I thread my fingers through her hair and groan when she bites my bottom lip.

  “Please,” she begs, but I know it’s the magic talking. Even when she moves her hand to the front of my pants, I know she’s not ready to declare her intent. “You’re here to protect and serve me, Bun. The Morrigan wants to be fed.”

  It’s the first time she’s referred to herself by her given name—the woman we swore to protect when gods still roamed the earth. I step back and take in the ravishing, naked woman before me.

  “Spread your legs,” I command, my mission clear. She needs me and I crave to serve her. Morgan leans back and presses her palms against the table top, widening her thighs. Her tits jut forward and I curse my disfigured arm for not being able to touch them both at the same time. Instead I use my finger to circle around each of her nipples, raising them into a hard peak. I guide a path lower, between her breasts, over the runes fading into her skin and down to the soft hair between her legs.

  Her hips tilt forward in invitation and, stepping closer, I nudge them even wider. Her eyes watch with anticipation, licking her pink lips as I swipe my tongue across mine.

  Bending between her legs, I inhale her scent and brace myself for pleasuring Morgan in a way the others haven’t yet.

  Chapter 4

  Morgan

  The coil tightens, twisting and twisting until my breath comes in tiny pants.

  My fingers curl against the table’s edge, holding on for dear life. Bunny’s breath tickles my clit, until it throbs, begging for more, more, more.

  Between my legs he works his tongue the way he uses his paint brushes; with skill, precision and unbelievable patience. The slow lathing turns rapid and I cry out his name.

  “Almost,” I promise, loving the way his hand grips my thigh, and I tug the hair near his ears.

  “Take your time.”

  It’s clear he’s not in a hurry. He never is, but my body needs release. Our eyes connect seconds before the orgasm rips through my body and for a second I think I may fall into the deep coppery pools. But the coil snaps, sending me tumbling down the edge, nerves raw and explosive. I groan and box his ears with my thighs.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, leaning back on the table. Every inch of my body is slick with sweat. The area between my legs aches. I rest for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. When the fog in my brain clears I sit and look for the man that just showed me the stars. Bunny stands before me, eyes worshipful.

  “Did that help?” he asks, the tip of his ears red.

  “Bunny,” I say, dragging him back over by the shirt. “That was incredible.” I touch his chin. “Thank you.”

  His eyes flick over my shoulder where I know a large clock hangs on the wall. “You don’t want to be late.”

  We both know I have a history lesson with Dylan next. We also both know I don’t want to be late. Dylan’s not a big fan of tardiness.

  Before I move I tug Bunny down for a kiss. I taste myself on his lips and his mouth still carries the fever of want. I feel awful getting pleasure without offering any in return, but the men assure me this is their duty. My needs come first. I’ll make it up to him later.

  When I stand, wobbling slightly on my feet, I discover the golden runes have disappeared. “Where did they go?”

  “Your body absorbed them. You’ll carry the magical protection for some time.”

  “Do you really think it will help me select a mate?” I ask. Bunny picks up my discarded clothes. His eyes never leave my body as I redress.

  He touches my temple and trails his finger down the side of my face, along my neck and stops at my breast. “Your mind, body, and heart need to merge to the same place. The spells should assist. It will always be your decision, Morgan, but with your emotions and desires so heightened, a little assistance can’t hurt.”

  We stand across from one another and I feel a change from the woman that walked in the room. Not only in myself but in the relationship I have with Bunny. His mouth has touched my most sensitive and private of places but I have a feeling his paintbrush tapped into something even more elusive.

  My soul.

  Chapter 5

  Morgan

  A small break is worked into my schedule between my appointments with the men in the house. Originally I thought it was just good time management. Like a break between classes at school. I’ve learned over the last week that these small respites are mostly used to shower. I spend half the day covered in either sweat from training or the lingering scent of sex. The men, astonishingly, don’t seem to mind, but I think it’s awkward. The whole
sharing one another concept seems strange, even if they don’t think so.

  After my encounter (that’s what I call them, because “after my epic orgasm” sounds weird) with Bunny I rush downstairs for my second shower of the day. My phone chimes the instant I cross over the threshold of my room.

  Shannon, the screen says. A photo of my best friend from college smiles back at me.

  Shit.

  I won’t even deny it. The first month I was in New York I barely thought of my friend. I missed emails and texts. I ignored phone calls, but two days ago Dylan reminded me of the importance of keeping up with family and friends.

  “I don’t have any family,” I snapped back, feeling slightly defensive. “I killed them, remember?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t kill them, Morgan.”

  No, but when I was a teenager I let the Darkness past the gate. My parents were the victims of the toxicity that followed. Luckily the ravens—my guardians—were nearby and shut the entry point. It was too late for my parents but at least no one else suffered.

  “When your friends call, engage with them. It’s normal. It’s healthy.”

  “What do I tell her?” I asked, specifically thinking of Shannon. “That I’m too busy fucking around with five guys to return her call?”

  His jaw clenched. “We’re not fucking around.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Dylan was right. He and I were definitely not fucking around. He’d barely touched me. The others? Sure, there was no actual fucking, at least not yet, but a lot of everything else. “Fine. I’ll answer the next time she calls.”

  The phone vibrates in my hand. Now is that time.

  I swipe the screen. “Shannon?”

  “Holy crap, Morgan. You finally answered!”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” I walk down the hallway to the bathroom. My eyes widen when I take in my appearance. My hair is wild. The makeup under my eyes is smeared and my neck is blotchy from Bunny’s lips.

  I can’t even imagine what my inner thighs look like.

  “I’m the worst kind of friend,” I say, feeling a wash of guilt that isn’t just about Shannon. Juggling five guys is not normal for me, even considering the supernatural implications.

  “I’ve just missed you,” she says. “I miss college. Adulting sucks.”

  “How is your job?” I ask. Shannon has a degree in dance and music theory. So naturally she’s teaching dance camp to three-year-olds.

  “Exhausting. Why did my parents let me get such a worthless degree?”

  I laugh because even my creative writing degree is a crapshoot. I just lucked out and got into a graduate program. There’s no assurance I’ll ever make a dime from my writing. “I’m sure it will all work out. So tell me how things are going back home.”

  Shannon launches into details about our small group of friends, most of whom I haven’t thought of since I left. Living in New York, writing all the time and then discovering I’m some kind of goddess who has the power to take down humanity has kept me distracted.

  “I saw Ryan the other day,” she says.

  “Ryan?” I ask, hardly paying attention. Seriously, I’m the worst kind of friend. I’d dropped my pants and inspected my legs. The runes are still gone but a large, pinkish hickey is forming on the soft flesh of my upper thigh.

  “You know, the hipster-hottie from the school paper you were sort of dating before you left?”

  “Duh,” I say. “The train was ratting by. I just didn’t hear you. How’s he doing?”

  “Not much—he got that internship at the Atlanta Journal.” She pauses. “I think he misses you, too.”

  I almost laugh. “Shannon. He does not miss me.”

  “No, seriously, Morgan. I saw him the other night. He asked about you.”

  “We didn’t even part on the best of terms, you know.” I think of Ryan and his little hipster glasses and thick beard. I crushed on him hard even though he was a bit of a douche about my writing. Too whimsical and juvenile. The image of that boy back in college compared to the men living in his house? Talk about juvenile. I bite my tongue and say, “Ryan’s great, but I don’t think I’m interested in a long distance relationship.”

  There’s a moment of silence.

  “Shannon?”

  “Oh my God. You met someone!”

  “What? No.”

  “You did!” she shouts. I hope she’s inside. “I can hear it in your voice. Tell me all about him.”

  Tell her? I fight back a real laugh this time.

  Tell her about him?

  Or rather them.

  How do I even begin to explain what’s happening in this house? In the world, even? How do I suggest that I’ve got a smidge of goddess in my soul and she’s not a good one? Hell no, she’s the Queen of the Ravens, the Goddess of War and wrathful as hell. With the energy and power coursing through me right now I’d chew up a guy like Ryan and spit him out.

  I take a deep breath and say, “There’s no guy. I’m just busy. Living the city life, you know? Studying and working my ass off. Figuring out how to live with a bunch of housemates. It’s just crazy and there is no time for a relationship right now.”

  “Housemates?” Shannon was my roommate for four years. I’m not surprised she’s curious.

  “Yeah, five guys.”

  “You’re living with five guys.”

  “Are they hot?”

  I drop in the chair in my sitting room and lean back against the pillow. Dylan told me I needed to keep in touch with my friends. So that’s exactly what I do.

  *

  “You’re late,” he says when I finally get to his room. The door is ajar, clearly left open for me to enter when I arrive. Dylan sits in a buttery soft leather chair near his attic fireplace. The ceilings are huge and vaulted—it must be freezing in the winter. A thick book rests in his lap.

  “Sorry.” I struggle to catch my breath from running up the steps. “I got a phone call. From my friend Shannon, you know, the one you told me to stop ignoring.”

  He raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. Everything about Dylan is perfect. He’s tall. Muscular, but not bulky. Short, jet-black hair. Brilliant cobalt eyes. Other than Clinton, Dylan is the only guardian I find intimidating. He’s smart, quick, and I lose myself when I’m near him.

  “You’ve missed your lesson,” he says, ignoring my excuse. “We’ll be a day behind.” As I step closer I notice him take a sharp inhalation and his eyes narrow.

  The call kept me from taking a shower and I have little doubt he smells the sex on me. I brace myself for…something. Jealousy? No, the guardians aren’t jealous. They’ve encouraged my sexual experimentation. They know better than anyone that I must have an outlet. Desire? I roll my eyes. If Dylan truly desires me I wouldn’t know. Since the true intention of me being in the house was revealed, to fight back the Darkness, he’s kept his distance. Maybe I’m bracing myself for nothing other than his judgment. His eyes are laced with opinion. Even so, he places the book on the table next to his and keeps whatever is running through his mind to himself.

  “Maybe I can come back tomorrow for a make-up session.” I offer. “It’s Tuesday and other than my writing time in the morning, I just have a meeting with Professor Christensen and Anita.”

  He seems to consider this. “You received your runes today?”

  “Yes.” I push up my sleeve but there’s nothing to see. “Fully spelled.”

  “And you had an intensive training session with Clinton this morning?”

  I nod, thinking of Clinton’s mouth against mine. “Quite vigorous.”

  He sighs and rubs his forehead. “I did hope to go over the Raven Wars with you this afternoon.”

  “The Raven Wars?”

  “The two-hundred-year battle that started with the Morrigan’s betrayal by Cu. There are lessons to be learned in the history.”

  Despite my exhaustion, my interest is piqued. “Good, then let’s meet tomorrow. I’m eager to get to work.” I meet his
steely eyes. “Unless you have other plans?”

  I wait to see if he tells me where he and the others go on occasion. It’s not like they’re not allowed. They can leave. Predictably though, Dylan doesn’t even blink. “One o’clock sharp.”

  I smile. “Perfect.”

  I turn to leave but hear Dylan call my name. “Make sure you take a shower before dinner,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You smell like sex and I’m not sure the others can take it.”

  I nod and quickly leave the room. As stoic as Dylan tries to be, the tight feeling in my belly tells me that the others aren’t the only ones that can’t handle the smell of sex on me for long.

  Chapter 6

  Dylan

  I release a groan and drop my head into my hands when Morgan walks out of the room. After a moment, I stand and grab a pre-dinner drink. There’s no doubt I need something to settle my nerves. Being in the house with the Queen as she releases her energy on the others is testing my resolve. What once was a thick rope tying me to the Morrigan is now a thin thread pulled taut by want and desire.

  I gulp the warm, amber liquid in one swallow and place the book I’d been reading on my study table. Even though I sounded pissed when I spoke to Morgan, I wasn’t. I’m not. Unlike the others, I’ve kept my connection with her strictly professional. Even Bunny broke down today, pleasuring her so thoroughly her orgasm ricocheted through the house like a boomerang.

  My turn is coming. It’s part of my duty and allegiance to being her guardian. She must test each one of us to see if we’re not only compatible but actually her mate. The fate of society depends on it. The Darkness knows no bounds and the energy she contains is unparalleled.

  The clock chimes behind me, alerting me to the fact it’s time to prepare for dinner, where once again I’ll be faced with Morgan and her alluring temptations.

  I plan to hold her off as long as I can. Not because I don’t want her. I do.

  That’s the problem. I want her too much.