Drake of Tanith (Chosen Soul)

by Heather Killough-Walden

  Crackling wood and fire.

  More screams of agony and rage.

  Raven had nothing left. She couldn’t move; the poison had done its work. She could feel her back drenched in her own blood. It trickled down her sides and muddied the ground beneath her. She could even smell it.

  Just before the darkness claimed her, she heard a popping, sucking sound and felt the air above her shift. Someone had just transported into the clearing. There were several more pops after the first, one after another. Raven lost track – and then lost consciousness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Drake tasted metal in his mouth. It was the taste of fear. He’d only ever tasted it once before – the first time he thought he would never again see Raven. But now it turned his tongue to lead and sent acid through his veins.

  It was his fault she’d been alone for the attack. It was because he was weak. Because he was certain that if he didn’t put some space between him and Raven Grey, he would break. Crack like glass. He could feel his time slipping through his fingers like sand, and at the bottom of the hour glass was emptiness, an existence without his soul mate.

  If Drake’s plan failed, he would lose Raven to his father. If, on the other hand, Magus came through for him and sequestered Raven somewhere safe from Drake’s father, Drake would have to go as far away as possible, putting distance between them. The further, the better. And he would still lose her.

  It was tearing him apart. He needed room – she needed room. He needed time to teach himself to be strong enough to let her go.

  If it hadn’t been for this, he never would have taken his eyes off of her. Not for a second. Not knowing what was out there.

  It might turn out to be the biggest mistake he had ever made.

  Drake felt the shifting in the air too late. He caught the scent of smoke moments past the point of no return. She’d wandered farther than he thought, and although he found her and her attackers within seconds, she’d already cried out in pain by the time he got to her. The sound was like a blade through his heart, slicing deep. He bled into himself now, anger upon anger, fury upon rage.

  One Rakshin lay dead at his feet now as its companion whined in pain and struck out with everything it had. Drake had never moved so fast. He blinked, a storm of red passed before his eyes, and the second beast joined the its mate on the ground.

  He heard the lighter footstep behind him and whirled, sword dripping acid-blood, eyes burning red as Nisse. Loki Grey was entering the clearing, his fine strawberry blonde hair wind-tossed, his eyes wide.

  “Heal her now!” Drake commanded as he sheathed his sword. He felt his wings move at his back as he did and realized that he had fully changed. His voice had changed as well, lowering several deadly octaves. His fangs were razor sharp and fully exposed.

  The priest stared at him with an ungodly fear. But his sister lay dying on the ground, and when he caught sight of her, real fear kicked in. Drake recognized the look of it in the planes of the priest’s face. It overshadowed all else as Loki dropped to the ground beside Raven.

  “Holy Haledon,” he whispered shakily as he tried to find some place on his sister’s body to place his hands. “What have you done?”

  Drake didn’t reply. He couldn’t have cared less that the priest was blaming him for this attack. He could smell Raven’s blood saturating the ground beneath her, and for once since meeting her, it didn’t turn him on. It just scared the shit out of him.

  “She’s poisoned,” he told Loki, coming to join him at Raven’s side. He wanted the priest to have all of the information he might need.

  As Drake knelt beside the blonde man, he caught sight of the tears on Loki’s cheeks. His eyes were shut tight in concentration, and his entire body was trembling. He looked green – sick, horrified. A light began to glow from beneath his palms where he had them pressed to what was perhaps the one place on Raven’s back that had not been ripped to shreds by the Rakshin’s claws.

  Little by little, the wounds began to close. But she had lost so much blood. And worst of all, the Rakshin’s poison was in her veins. The priest’s magic would not be able to cure that. In a matter of minutes, she would be dead.

  Drake looked from Loki’s glowing hands to Raven’s face, so beautiful and pale in repose – and then he was moving again. “Move aside,” he commanded. His tone had not changed; his body yet remained trapped in its Abaddonian form.

  She felt too light in his arms as he shoved the priest away and turned Raven over. He pulled her up against his chest to cradle her head in the crook of his elbow. Unparalleled despair clutched at him as she lay there limp and unmoving. Barely breathing.

  He knew the priest was there, questioning, angry, desperate. He knew Grolsch had entered the clearing as well. He could feel the world on the sidelines, watching. But Raven was his world, and as he tore a hole in his wrist with his teeth and placed it to her lips, his entire being became focused on her face. The rest of the universe slipped away while he watched for the slightest movement, the tiniest fraction of evidence that she was still with him.

  Raven, his mind called. Angel….

  He tilted her head back, opened her mouth with a grip on her chin, and allowed his blood to trickle over her tongue.

  Swallow, he willed, wishing he had the power to control her body. Drink.

  He pleaded in silence, speaking to a mind that could not yet hear him. She wouldn’t be open to him in this manner until their bond was strengthened by his blood. That was the way it had been the first time she’d taken his blood. And the second….

  If he could just get enough down her throat to wake her up a little, she could do the rest on her own. She needed to swallow. She needed to drink. It would take a hefty amount of the magic in his veins to counteract the effects of the Abaddonian assassins’ poison.

  She still did not move, and a river of red trickled down the side of her face to lose itself in the black of her hair. Desperation clutched at Drake. Raven! his mind cried. He swore internally and under his breath, oaths to gods that no one had worshipped in tens of thousands of years. “Please, Angel,” he whispered then, as some foreign emotion turned his tone and choked his words. “Drink.”

  Raven’s eyelashes fluttered. Her lip twitched, just a little. Drake inhaled sharply, his grip on her tightening as hope ramrodded through him. “Raven!” He shook her a little, forcing more blood into her mouth. “Wake up,” he commanded, hissing the words through his fanged teeth.

  Suddenly, Raven inhaled – and then coughed violently as blood entered her windpipe and lungs. Drake held on to her as she did this, relief flooding his system. Within seconds, she stopped coughing and relaxed in his embrace. And then she opened her eyes.

  Tri-colored irises mesmerized him; blue, silver, and gold. Her long lashes brushed the tops of her cheeks as she slowly blinked, no doubt trying to focus her vision. And then her arms moved, her hands coming around the wrist he held to her lips.

  “Thank Haledon,” the priest breathed.

  Drake spared him a glance. Loki sat on the other side of Raven, hunched over. His cheeks were wet with tears, and his hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists on his thighs. He trembled slightly, thanking his god as his sister began to drink the life-giving fluid Drake offered her.

  He was Dark Royalty; a very potent power flowed through his veins. What had just occurred had nothing to do with Haledon and a whole Hell of a lot to do with the devil.

  “I’ve seen enough,” came a new voice, slicing through Drake’s thoughts like a fin through water.

  Drake pulled Raven tighter into his body and turned to glance over his broad shoulder. His massive black wings folded as he locked eyes with Adonides, steward of Lord Malphas of Caina. The glaring devil stood at the center of a motley group of Hell’s soldiers dressed in black and blue leather, seals of Caina emblazoned on their chests. Drake’s blood recognized them as quickly as did his mind, and it heated in his veins. There was a natural animosity between Caina and Nisse. F
ire and ice did not mix.

  No? came a soft query in his mind. It was barely a whisper.

  Drake blinked and turned to look back down a the woman in his arms. She’d released his wrist and now stared up at him with a silently questioning expression. His blood stained her plump lips. The pink was returning to her cheeks, and her tri-colored eyes burned bright. Drake’s gut clenched. His chest ached.

  “I don’t know what you’ve done to make this happen, Tanith,” growled Adonides. Drake turned to look at him again. The steward appeared both disgusted and furious. His teeth were bared. The men behind him shifted. They appeared outwardly human – much more so than Adonides. But Drake knew it was magic that disguised their true natures. “But the only reason you still breathe is because by saving her life, you’ve saved your own.”

  He came forward into the clearing. Drake stayed where he was, crouched down, his gaze steady, his arms wrapped tightly around Raven’s small form.

  “Let her go and step away.”

  Drake shook his head. Kill them, son. A voice in his mind, caressing, tempting. Power flooded his limbs, once more giving him that tall feeling. He was the prince. He could be king. He didn’t take orders from anyone, least of all some worthless peon of Abaddon who would never stop trying to take Raven from him.

  Kill them all.

  *****

  Raven heard Drake’s thoughts; it was as if he’d become incorporeal and began whispering in her ear. She felt him stiffen at the sound of Adonides’s voice. And then a hatred coursed through him, and she tasted it in his blood. It was like acid. She pulled away, suddenly afraid. Afraid of everything – what she’d endured at the Rakshin’s claws, what she’d become, feeding off of another person like a monster. She was at once terrified of the rage she tasted on her tongue and consequently felt stirring in her own veins.

  Fire and ice don’t mix.

  Pain clenched at Raven’s gut, but it wasn’t a physical pain. It hurt in a different way, a lonely, desperate kind of way. No? she wondered. Was there no chance for them? Was it true what they said? Would the animosity between their two circles forever dictate what happened with their souls?

  Drake looked down at her, and she saw his surprise. She saw his own pain echoed in his eyes. And then Adonides spoke again, and Drake once more tensed. She watched as every muscle in his body tensed; his grip became painful.

  Raven remained quiet as she felt rather than heard Drake’s thoughts turn dark. There was a sudden weight to them that hadn’t been there before. A heat, a heaviness, a wrongness so thick it made the air around them hard to breathe. Raven’s brow furrowed, her eyes widening as she caught three final words, loud and clear, before Drake was gently setting her down.

  Kill them all.

  Raven wasn’t yet strong enough to stand up. She’d pulled away from Drake too soon. His blood was powerful, but it would take a little time before she regained the strength she’d lost. Right now, all she could do as Drake slowly stood and turned away from her was push herself into a seated position – and watch.

  “What are you doing, Tanith?” Loki asked, his frantic tone no more than a whisper. He remained beside Raven, one hand on her shoulder, the other under her arm to help her sit.

  Drake didn’t reply.

  No, Raven thought. “Bad,” she whispered without realizing it. This was bad. What was about to go down would be life-altering. She felt it in the core of her being.

  The clearing seemed to shift, then, to enter some dimension more quiet, a little darker, a touch more deadly. There was a vibration to the air that sent rivulets of power, tiny charges of warning, across Raven’s skin. Instinctively, she backed away, scooting along the ground and moving closer to her brother behind her.

  “Get out,” Drake warned. It was not a growl or a shout or hiss, but it dripped with more poison than the claws of ten Abaddonian assassins. “Before it’s too late.”

  The night grew darker. No birds fluttered in the forest, no crickets chirped. The world was holding its breath.

  Adonides laughed. It was not a laugh Raven had heard him use before. “You’re insane, Tanith. Who do you think you are?” The men behind him began to fan out, preparing for a fight.

  Oh my god, Raven thought. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know who Drake is. It made sense; Raven hadn’t known it herself until she’d taken his blood. It was a secret Drake had managed to keep for thousands of years, and nothing had ever happened between him and Adonides to change that.

  “Adonides, please go,” Raven said. Then she swallowed and her eyes grew wide. She hadn’t meant to make the plea aloud.

  Adonides glanced at her, a surprised expression on his face. But the surprise quickly slipped away to be replaced with more anger – and something that instantly made him look foreign to her. He went from handsome to ugly in seconds as embarrassment and jealousy claimed his features.

  “Listen to her, Adonides. There’s a reason your sister couldn’t keep her hands off of me,” Drake said. His voice was taunting – wicked. It had a growl to it, an innate wrongness that instantly reminded Raven of ash-laden winds, fiery abysses, and ruby thrones. It scared her.

  There was no further warning before Adonides attacked. Raven at once tried to push herself up. Her instinct wanted to throw her into the fray of violence that suddenly exploded before her eyes. Drake was in there. He was outnumbered.

  No he isn’t, her mind told her. You’re not afraid for him. You know they won’t hurt him. They can’t.

  Oh gods, Raven thought.

  “Come on!” Loki said as he knelt quickly beside her and tried to pull her to her feet. “We’re getting out of here!”

  Grolsch appeared on her other side, and between them, they got her on her feet and began to move back out of the clearing. Raven felt panic. “Wait!” she pleaded. But neither man was listening to her. They turned, with her in the middle, heading toward an opening in the trees. Behind them, Raven could hear horrible sounds. Haunting sounds.

  “Grolsch!” she exclaimed, not understanding how the ork could leave his best friend behind.

  But Grolsch shook his head. “We’d best be moving,” he told her simply. There was an air about him that Raven would never have otherwise associated with him. He was frightened.

  Behind her, there was a loud cracking sound, like a tree trunk splintering in half. Loki and Grolsch picked up their paces. Over their heads, the canopy of trees became denser, blocking out the light of the moon. Foliage crunched beneath their boots. They covered ground fast and, as they moved, Raven’s blood circulated through her body. With each passing second she felt her strength returning. Drake’s donation was working.

  “Let me go,” she breathed, gritting her teeth as she flexed the muscles in her legs and caught her own weight. Loki glanced at her questioningly, but when she shot him a warning glance, he nodded at the ork and both men slowly released her.

  They’d moved a good distance from the clearing, but it was obvious that neither of them were satisfied yet because they inched forward, urging her on. She could understand their anxiety. The air around Drake had become nearly un-breathable before Adonides had attacked and she and her companions had run. It felt as though there would be an explosion at any second. Or that the ground would open up and swallow them whole and cracks would follow on their heels, threatening to envelop them if they didn’t get far enough away.

  But Drake was back there. And though his essence had suddenly become as foreboding as a nightmare, she carried his blood. She knew the feel of his lips upon hers, his arms around her body, his whispered breath across the taut skin of her neck.

  Raven glanced over her shoulder at the thick of trees behind her and the clearing that lay somewhere beyond. She was struck, suddenly, by the stillness. There was no sound. Nothing breathed.

  “Wait,” she said softly, almost afraid to speak too loudly and break the silence.

  “Raven…” Loki’s voice trailed off. She turned to glance at him, but he wasn’t looking a
t her. He was looking above them, his gaze skirting the canopy and the trees to either side of them, his expression starkly worried. Grolsch’s stance was wide, his hands flexing and un-flexing at his sides. Both men looked positively terrified.

  Raven’s brow furrowed. “What?” she whispered.

  The trees exploded around them without warning. One second, there was nothing but stillness and foreboding – the next, the air was thick with leaves and flying tree branches. Raven tried to duck, but someone had her. Grips like steel claimed her arms. She inhaled in the air-borne dirt and debris and was pulled against something hard. Her hair flew about her face, obscuring her vision.

  And then the ground was no longer beneath her feet.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Adonides felt the atmosphere change as if a storm had suddenly rolled in, heavy and black. But his pride was on the line, and pride burned a cold fury in a man’s veins. It would forever be the god of emotions, reigning supreme over a male creature’s actions.

  Malphas’s daughter had been found in what an Abaddonian would consider a rather compromising position. Adonides was well acquainted with the act of sharing blood with another. It was no insignificant act in the realm of Abaddon. Among devils, it was a sign of trust, and even of intimacy.

  Adonides himself had given Raven blood once before. His moral excuse, and the one he was grateful her father accepted, was that she would not have been capable of accessing her power had she not taken it. But he was her father’s steward, a close and trusted member of Caina’s court. He was allowed.

  Drake of Tanith – was not.

  What was worse, though he would never admit it did not bother him as much, was that she’d been so severely injured she’d needed blood in the first place. She’d suffered the attacks of two Rakshins; their bodies were now destroyed and littered the small clearing. And it was obvious from the look of Tanith’s bloodied weapons that he’d been the one to dispatch them. No small feat. Rakshins were not the weakest of Abaddon’s creatures.