Drake of Tanith (Chosen Soul) by Heather Killough-Walden Page A

him.
    Their eyes remained locked on one another; he’d never released her from his unbreakable hold. “Where we come from, Raven, a woman is punished when she lies to her king.” The hint of fang could be made out from behind his lips as he spoke. He towered over her, and she felt drunk with the scent of him – leather and sandalwood and dark magic.
    “You’re not my king,” she breathed, barely managing to get the words out.
    Drake fell silent. His gaze narrowed thoughtfully. There were secrets behind it that Raven almost didn’t want to know.
    “Listen carefully, princess,” he whispered. His demeanor had suddenly changed. The hunger was still there, but something else was as well. “Do not toy with me. There are forces at work here which you cannot possibly hope to comprehend.” He shook his head just enough that the silver in his eyes glinted menacingly. “You have no idea how much danger you’re in right now.”
    Raven stared up at the bounty hunter, flashes of memory returning to her – Drake’s ropes, his tight grip… his kiss. His blood.
    And her mouth went dry even as her anger spiked. She suddenly wanted to say a thousand things at once and could think of none of them, not with him so close. Not with him staring at her the way he was.
    She tried to take a step back, to distance herself from him and pull out of his grip, but his free arm snaked around her waist and yanked her body back up against his so fast, she lost her breath of air and all thoughts flew from her mind.
    “Trouble follows you like leaves on a wind,” he told her, his tone having softened a touch. His breath, hot and scented like cinnamon, touched her lips. “You think you’re in the clear now,” he continued. “But Cruor was just the beginning.”
    The hard length of Drake’s body pressed threateningly – promisingly – against her, making her mind spin into a whirlwind of dark possibilities. But the razor edge of what he was saying, the acid-like meaning of his words, somehow managed to slice through the fog of her consciousness and hit home.
    The thing was, Raven wanted to know how much danger she was in. She wanted to know about the monster that had attacked them in the forest. She wanted to know why Drake had come for her in the first place. She wanted to know what he was talking about right now – because he was right. She was the Chosen Soul. And that soul attracted danger like a beacon on a stormy night. “Then tell me,” she said softly, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “What danger am I in?”
    “You’re going to get blood all over you when I kill the bounty hunter,” came another voice, loud, recognizable and clearly angry.
    Raven’s head whipped around to find that Loki had joined them in the clearing. He was alone; Grolsch was not yet with him. Her brother glared at Drake through the tops of his amber colored eyes. He dropped the armful of wood he’d been carrying and scowled. Loki knew good and well who and what Drake of Tanith really was. Now the priest had all the reasons in the world to distrust, if not hate, Tanith. And he hadn’t liked him in the first place.
    But if Loki was going to attack someone, he wouldn’t announce it first. Raven knew her brother well enough to know that. He would have simply gone for his bow or tried some priest spell from a distance.
    She was right. Loki simply shoved his sleeves up his arms, picked up one of the logs he’d dropped, and tossed it onto the top of the bonfire without taking his burning gaze off of Drake.
    Raven turned back to look up at Drake, and it was clear from the tiny glint in his metal eyes that the bounty hunter knew Loki wasn’t going to attack him. In fact, it appeared that Drake found her brother’s anger… amusing .
    Raven held that gaze a moment longer and then raised her arms to shove against Drake’s chest. He could have held on to her; she knew how strong he was. He was the son of Asmodeus, and his powers were undoubtedly mind