The Ravager Chronicles: The Complete Series

by Sara Page

  “You could give it a try. You’ve known him the longest.”

  “I haven’t the faintest clue where to begin,” Vis admits.

  “Neither do I…”

  “If you were mine,” he says softly, his head lifting. His face deadly serious. “I would do anything to come back to you.”

  I feel like all the air has been sucked right out of me. My chest squeezes painfully; I don’t know how to respond to him. If I should respond to him. A secret part of me wants to be his.

  From across the cavern the King and his court erupts in laughter. Vis’ face shutters, hiding his emotions away again.

  I look away, sucking in a much needed breath. Willing away the sudden awkwardness.

  Vis clears his throat before telling me to, “Try talking to him.”

  With a nod and diverting my eyes, I scoot closer to Warrick. Hyper-aware of our audience, I open my mouth to speak, then decide I’d prefer to whisper to him.

  “Warrick,” I whisper softly, pressing my lips to his ear. “If you’re in there, listening, I need you to come back.”

  I pause, waiting for a sign, some kind of reaction.

  Save for the slow rising and falling of his chest, he remains motionless.

  How do I reach him? How do I do this?

  “Try touching him,” Vis suggests.

  My head jerks up in surprise. Is he serious?

  Vis’ narrowed gaze bores into mine. He is completely serious.

  I reach out, stroking my hand softly against Warrick’s cheek.

  “No, Ameia,” he admonishes me. “Touch him like you mean it. Touch him like you want to touch him.”

  I shoot Vis a glare before turning my complete attention back to Warrick. Touch him like I want to touch him… in front of an audience no less.

  I stroke my hand down Warrick’s cheek, then down his neck. Bending down I press my lips against his lips in a chaste kiss. He doesn’t respond so I push harder, deepening it. Urging him to respond to me but getting nothing for the effort.

  “You can do better than that,” Vis goads me on.

  He’s right, I can.

  Bracing my hands on Warrick’s shoulders, I climb on top of his prone body until I’m straddling his hips. Vis makes a strangled noise behind me but I ignore it. Warrick is so big, so wide, I feel a strain in my thighs as my muscles stretch across him.

  “Warrick,” I murmur, pulling harder from his lips. “I’ve accepted you.”

  Fingers releasing his shoulders, I drag them down the hard, defined expanse of chest.

  “Come back. You’re mine and I need you.”

  There’s a skip in the rhythm of Warrick’s breathing. My own breathing hitches with excitement.

  “I need you,” I insist and scrape my teeth gently across his bottom lip.

  Fingers gone as low as they can go, I flatten my palms against his abs and drag them slowly back up to his shoulders. There’s this incredible electric sensation as my skin rubs against his skin.

  “Please come back to me, Warrick.”

  “Ameia,” Vis growls impatiently.

  Damn him, I’m trying. Bending forward, I nuzzle my nose against Warrick’s nose just like he liked to do.

  “Warrick,” I murmur. “You’re mine. Mine.”

  I press another kiss to his lips and I swear I feel them twitch. Encouraged, desperate, I drag my hands quickly down his chest on a whim. My fingers light up, buzzing and popping like electric sparklers.

  Warrick groans.

  “Yes,” Vis gasps, sounding hopeful. “More of that.”

  I deepen the kiss, trying my damnedest to push all my love into him. Wake up, Warrick. Damn you, don’t let him win. Wake up.

  Pushing my hands back up as fast as I can, I feel Warrick’s muscles spasm beneath my palms just as a sharp, electric jolt shoots up my arms.

  My hands feel alive, tingling and buzzing with warmth. Warrick groans and his body twitches, spasming beneath me.

  Desperate, manic, I begin to rub my hands all over him. There’s no part of him, unconscious or not, I won’t touch. His face, his chest, even his waist. I kiss and bite at his lips, nipping a trail down his neck. Hoping to stir something inside him. Hoping to get him to do anything at all. To move, to twitch, to kiss me back.

  Across his broad shoulders my fingers travel, and down the bulging lines of his arms they drag. My fingers tangle with his fingers. Grabbing his hands, I pull them up to my own chest, pressing his palms over my heart.

  “Warrick,” I moan, kissing my way back up to his mouth. “I’m yours, I’m yours.”

  His hands jerk in my hands. In surprise I let go but they don’t fall. No, all at once he seems to surge to life under me.

  My world flips upside down.

  I cry out.

  His hands grab and mold around my breasts as he rises above me.

  “Ameia,” he rumbles, and then his mouth comes down on top of mine. Words are lost. At this moment there is no need. I want to cry with joy, cry with relief that he’s awake, alive, and kissing me.

  Lips pulling from my lips, his hands knead my breasts rhythmically. The rest of the world fades away. The darkness, the shadows, the pit, they’re replaced by this soft glowing light as his body covers me.

  Light, sweet, precious light. Oh, how I missed thee.

  His lips are warm and so very soft, tasting like the sweetest honey. I almost lost him. I almost let him leave me.

  His hips grind into my thighs and I spread myself wider for him. I offer myself up willingly. He can take what he needs from me. I’m a fountain of electric sensation for him to drink from.

  There’s a rightness to this. A rightness in the way he presses his weight down on me without crushing. A rightness in the way I fit against him.

  Gasping into his mouth, his tongue presses the advantage, stroking me, penetrating me.

  As his tongue meets my tongue a strong jolt of pleasure courses through my blood, flooding me with heat. My entire body feels like it’s humming, reverberating with unspent energy.

  “Mine,” he growls into my mouth, his hands squeezing my breasts tightly.

  I arch up into his hands, my breasts growing heavier, feeling incredibly achy. The humming in my veins, in my bones, vibrates harder. I want to touch all of him, every inch of him. I need to feel his skin against my skin. I need to feel him inside me, deep inside me.

  My teeth nip at his lips as my fingers stroke up the back of his neck, curling into the nape of his hair, grabbing and tugging. Holding his mouth to me. He groans deep in his throat and his body shudders against my body. I feel so powerful and yet so weak. I wrap my legs around his waist and feel him rock his hips, rubbing me with the stiff bulge trapped in his pants.

  The friction, even through our clothing, is breathtaking. More lights flash behind my eyes. More energy surges through me.

  This was meant to be; we were meant to be.

  I swear in the distance I can hear someone calling my name…

  “Ameia.”

  Beast?

  The harder I try to focus on it, the quicker it fades away.

  Warrick’s mouth working against my mouth and his hips rolling against my hips is too distracting. I still against him, my fingers relaxing in his hair as I try to focus harder.

  My shirt is being pulled up. I’m only half kissing him back now as my ears strain, hoping to hear one more Ameia.

  A hand slips beneath my shirt, I shudder as Warrick’s skin slides against my skin. He’s groaning, sounding even more into it but I’m lost in my thoughts, thinking of Beast. I could have sworn I heard him. Dammit, I know I did.

  The light is dimming. Warrick stills, probably noticing my lack of participation. Suddenly something blots out the light completely, a dark mass eclipsing us.

  “Don’t stop on my account,” King Zar chuckles, and all the heat in my blood cools instantly.

  I peek up, over Warrick’s shoulder to see him bent forward, leering down at us.

  Warrick stif
fens, withdrawing his hand from my shirt before yanking it down and smoothing it back into place.

  The King sighs with disappointment and straightens. “I suppose the show is over.” The shadows mutter their own disappointment and the black mass behind the King begins to dissipate.

  Warrick rolls off of me and rises to his feet before offering me a hand up. Once I’m on my feet, Vis steps close, sandwiching me protectively between them.

  I’d be flushed with embarrassment if I wasn’t so chilled by the King’s attention. His eyes are gleaming with barely suppressed hunger and they linger a little too long on my breasts and thighs as they sweep over me thoroughly.

  “But what a show,” the King smirks and then his demeanor darkens as he looks between us.

  Did I piss him off? I don’t know, it’s so confusing. One second it feels like he wants to protect me and the next he acts as if he wants to eat me up.

  “I suppose a gift is a gift,” he growls after a long moment. I feel the tight ball of tension in my stomach easing. “But I’d advise you to depart, my dear, before I change my mind.”

  I nod my head and grab Warrick’s hand, meaning to do just that. I’ve pushed my luck enough for one day. Now I just want to get somewhere safe, somewhere away from the King and his malicious shadows, so I can figure out a new plan to get us out of here. Maybe I can recreate what Warrick and I just did and reach Beast again. Though, honestly, that could have been a silly hallucination—my mind playing tricks on me. But it’s worth a shot.

  Leading Warrick away, Vis falls in a step behind us. For some reason it doesn’t feel right just holding Warrick’s hand so I reach back and grab Vis’ hand as well.

  “Vis,” the King calls out, forcing us to turn back to him.

  “Yes, milord?” Vis asks.

  “Come here.”

  Reluctantly dropping my hand, Vis approaches the King as commanded. I squeeze Warrick’s hand with trepidation, wondering what the hell is going on now.

  The King spreads his arms out in expectation and Vis walks right into them. I watch on with a mixture of horror and helplessness as the King’s arms close around Vis. Darkness spreads, his shadows swirl around Vis like a tempest, swallowing him up.

  Did he just eat him?

  I nearly faint at the thought.

  It’s all over in a moment. The swirling wraiths calm and settle back into place, taking the shape once more of a body with a head, legs, and arms. Vis separates, stepping back, and from my vantage point he looks completely unharmed. I slump against Warrick in relief. It’s not until Vis turns and walks back to us that I finally notice the difference.

  His eyes are no longer red, they’re black.

  “You are still responsible for her protection, Vis” the King warns before we depart. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  * * *

  Gripping Warrick’s hand tightly, we begin the long trek up the spiraling stairs, and the entire time I can feel Vis’ eyes boring into the back of my head. He walks so closely behind me he’s practically breathing down my neck.

  Casting a quick glance over my shoulder, I stumble and Warrick’s stops, pulling me close. “Ameia?” he asks, peering down at me with concern.

  “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m just tired,” I quickly reassure him and he nods. Without another word he just scoops me up and settles me in his arms.

  “You really don’t have to…” I protest weakly and he just rumbles contentedly. “Warrick,” I frown when he begins to carry me up. “You were just in the pit. I can walk on my own.”

  When he doesn’t respond, I continue to protest. “Warrick…” I seriously don’t want him to overexert himself. I practically had to molest the guy to wake him up.

  “Hush,” he murmurs.

  I’m so shocked I hush right up.

  He just spoke another word. Has he always been able to say that one? Snapping my jaw shut, I peek up at him. I’m pretty sure that if he’s always been able to say it I would have heard him use it before now.

  What does this mean? Physically, he appears to be unchanged. Still black, still massive. But maybe there’s more of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. And his eyes, they still smolder like two burnt coals but they smolder brighter now.

  It feels strange and uncomfortable to be carried by him without touching him. So I lift my arms up and wrap them around his thick neck. Then I peek over his shoulder to look at Vis, expecting to see some kind of reaction out of him.

  The look Vis gives me is full of absolutely nothing. His dead, black eyes are a void of emptiness. It’s so jarring, so disturbing, I find myself recoiling.

  “Vis?” I ask, my voice a soft gasp.

  “Yes, princess?” he responds his voice flat.

  “Are you all right? What happened back there?”

  “I’m fine,” he simply responds.

  I’m not convinced. After what I witnessed when the King embraced him, I know something happened. So I straight up ask, “But what’s wrong with your eyes?”

  “There is nothing wrong with my eyes.”

  “But they’re black now,” I point out, guessing he doesn’t know because he can’t see them.

  “My eyes are fine,” he answers, his voice still monotone.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Despite what Vis says, I’m convinced something is wrong with him. He’s not the same. Usually his face is full of emotion, barely suppressed anger or sadness. Now there’s nothing where there was so much before. His face is a blank page.

  “What did he do to you?”

  Vis just stares at me, no answer forthcoming.

  The longer I stare into his eyes, the more they remind me of staring into the pit.

  Two swirling pools of darkness…

  …sucking me in.

  “Ameia,” Warrick’s voice snaps me out of it.

  Vis is grinning now, but it’s not his grin.

  I drop my head back down and press my cheek against Warrick’s chest. My heart is hammering behind my ribs. I don’t want to believe it but somehow the King has possessed Vis.

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the time we reach Vis’ room, I’m antsy and anxious to be put back down on my feet. Being carried around so much is only making me feel feeble, and I’m not feeble dammit.

  “Please, put me down,” I beg of Warrick after we push through the door.

  With great reluctance, Warrick bends forward and gently lowers me to the floor. I hear the door closing behind Vis and the lock clicking into place as I straighten.

  Warrick stretches back up to his full, monstrous height and stares down at me with a great deal of unsuppressed heat in his eyes. I flush in response, remembering the way he kissed me, remembering how warm I felt when his body was pressed against my body. Then I shiver as his gaze roams over me slowly from head to toe. I’ve seen that look before many times in Beast and Striker’s eyes before they strip my clothes from me—Warrick’s trying to picture me naked. To him I’m still new, undiscovered, and unknown.

  There’s still all this unspent energy crackling between us. Reminding me of what I started but didn’t finish. I don’t know how we’re going to deal with this with Vis in the room.

  I take a small step back; Warrick takes a step forward.

  “I need to use the facilities,” I stammer and turn, rushing for the bathroom.

  Thankfully he doesn’t try to stop me or follow me in. I slam and lock the door behind me, but I still have no damn clue what I’m going to do. I accepted Warrick but there’s no way in hell I’m going to join with him while Vis watches.

  Slumping against the door, I want to pound it with my fists because I know if there’s any chance of returning home I might have to. I might have to have sex in front of an audience.

  When Warrick and I were kissing, and things were really heating up, I heard Beast, I know I did. It was his voice calling out my name. Seeking me in the light. Somehow, someway, I might be able to reach Beast again
through the connection with Warrick. I don’t understand it in the slightest, but I don’t need to. I’m going to trust my gut and go with blind faith here. I know it’s going to work, because it has to. It’s the only option I have left. Seducing and joining with Warrick is my new escape plan.

  I just don’t know if I have the guts to do it in front of an audience. How bad do I want to go home?

  More than anything.

  Taking care of my personal needs, I steel myself before opening the bathroom door again.

  You can do this, Ameia.

  I grab the handle of the door, still hesitating to open it. Then I feel butterflies in my stomach and know it’s not just from nerves.

  Tick, tock. Time is running out, princess.

  This isn’t just about me. I’ll do anything to protect my babies. Anything.

  Pulling open the door, I lift my chin with determination and exit the bathroom. Warrick is standing exactly where I left him. Feet spread apart, muscles tense and his hands clenched at his sides into fists. At the moment I can’t see Vis, but I assume he’s standing somewhere behind Warrick. Vis leaving would be too much of a blessing.

  One foot in front of the other, I move forward, pushing against my own reservations. Warrick’s eyes lock on me, glowing with intensity. I take in his eyes, the compressed line of lips and the set of his jaw. There’s a large, prominent vein throbbing in his neck. He’s already holding himself back.

  This would all be so much easier if he just threw himself on me and started ravishing me.

  At the thought, I gather up every ounce of courage I possess and grab the bottom of my shirt. Tearing the shirt up, over my head, I toss it to the side.

  Warrick sucks in a breath so sharp, so shrill, it hurts the ears. Behind him, I hear Vis growling softly, ominously.

  I’m not ashamed of my body, in truth, I’m quite proud of it. I’m young, smooth, curvy, and still perky. But even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be flashing my bits around, showing off. Every nerve inside of me is screaming to cover up and hide. So I do the next craziest thing I can think to do. I shove my pants down to my feet and walk out of them.