Ripples Through Time

by Ripples Through Time (lit)

  It was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. An unknown invader, an intruder, a thing that wanted her gone. It wanted her body, it was here to claim her body, and she wouldn’t let it. It clawed at her and she clawed back. It snapped and she pushed. It was angry and primal, but she had strength at her side, and even when she felt her defenses weakening she had borrowed power to call upon.

  She felt tears and scratches, felt her body thrash as wounds opened and blood rushed. Her pulse rang and she heard a dizzy ringing in the distance, but she couldn’t answer it. She couldn’t do anything. The angered demon held her hostage, pressing against her flesh and making her insides bleed. She felt its breath and heard its roar, and when it fought she fought back.

  It wouldn’t claim her body. This was hers. Hers. It wouldn’t claim her body. It wouldn’t send her into that good night. Her fight hadn’t finished.

  Raven wasn’t going anywhere.

  * * * *

  When Nicholas awoke, his body was infused in bliss.

  “There you are,” a sweet, melodic voice singsonged, her tongue flicking a sensual path along the underside of his cock. “I seem to recall this is your favorite way to be woken up.”

  Nicholas blinked rapidly, mind-blowing pleasure battling confusion and physical fatigue. “R-Raven?”

  “The one and very only.” Her hot, heavenly mouth closed around his silky tip. “And don’t you forget it, buster.”

  “Where are we?”

  “My room.” One of her hands suddenly made itself known, cupping his balls and favoring him with a tender, loving squeeze. “Look at me?”

  It came back the second their eyes met. He glanced down the length of his body and found himself lost in green. Her moonlit skin was marked with angry, purple bruises. Her eyes were blackened but dancing with vivacity that had his heart singing. He remembered then—he remembered the battle. He remembered fighting. He remembered the turning. He knew.

  Raven was awake and very alive.

  “Is this real?” he asked, the words riding out on a gasp as she nipped playfully at his cock, his hips arching upward. “Tell…oh yeah. Tell me this is…real.”

  “It’s real.”

  “You’re hurt.”

  The tip of her tongue traced the sensitive dip of his head. “You are too.”

  “I’m not. I—”

  Raven released him without warning and rose up on all fours, her mouth moving northward to caress a prominent bruise gracing his pale stomach. Nicholas frowned in confusion, his mind slowly catching up. It wasn’t the only mark. Like her, his body was covered with them. Completely ravaged with swollen sores he didn’t remember receiving. He became aware of a knot on his head and the foreign heat inflicting his tender cheek. More than that, he felt completely knackered. No part of him failed to ache.

  Though sore as he was, pain was secondary to his blood’s burning need for her. Need which went beyond the physical and was purely primal. Something inside him howled and clawed and reached for her, and it wouldn’t be satisfied with merely touching.

  He needed to feel her.

  “Raven…I…”

  A watery, tender smile spread across her lips. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m all…daimon girl.”

  “It worked?”

  Raven nodded. “I’ll let you be the judge,” she said, offering her neck to his mouth.

  Her intent could not be any clearer, and he was in a position to deny her nothing.

  Nicholas licked her skin tenderly, then bit down. The second her blood hit his tongue, a gate opened in his mind and he saw her waking, her panic. He saw her rolling over and seizing him by the shoulders, shaking him hard and demanding that he wake up. He watched as her anxious eyes took in the battered sight of his worn body, then realizing their marks were shared. Her body was just as debilitated as his. She was worn and tired, but she’d survived.

  He felt her—warm, alive, and real.

  Then he saw her dissolve in tears as the weight of realization came crumbling down.

  They had fought together…

  …And they had won.

  Nicholas closed his eyes. There were no words. There was nothing he could say. He wanted to cry, but he was too tired. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but after everything, the words didn’t seem adequate. Instead, he cupped her breasts when she straddled him, her pussy licking the underside of his erection as she moved to take him inside. Immediately, the fire within sizzled.

  The demon purred and strained. He needed to feel her.

  “There’s so much to talk about,” he whispered.

  “I know.” Raven pressed a kiss to his lips as she sank down, swallowing his moan. “But now…”

  “I need—”

  “Me too.”

  He was only half alive when he wasn’t with her.

  Eventually, when whispers of knowledge solidified, when he knew that the nightmare was finally over, he was sure he would break down. Relief would crash and send him to his knees. That moment, however, wasn’t now.

  Now was for them.

  * * * *

  If Dexter weren’t bursting with glee-riddled relief, he might have been more disturbed. As it was, the sound of Raven’s mattress rocking against achy springs was perhaps the most welcome sound he’d ever heard.

  For the first few seconds, anyway. Then he just felt dirty.

  Dirty, and very aware that he was sitting in the living room of his own home as his surrogate sister engaged in explicit adult activities with a vampire.

  They didn’t seem prone to stop anytime soon. If anything, the thumping just grew louder.

  “Well,” Dexter said loudly. “Isn’t this nice and awkward?”

  Chapter 30

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, will you stop? It’s fine.”

  “I just don’t understand why it hasn’t faded yet.” Nicholas frowned and pulled her to a stop beside him for the third time since they left her place, his eyes immediately fixing on the last of her turning bruises. While most of her other marks were practically indistinguishable now, the one on her cheek remained visible, and therefore at the height of Nicholas’s concerns. “Your other bruises—”

  “This one’s healing fine, silly.”

  “I can still see it!”

  “You’re the only one,” Raven countered, poking out her tongue playfully. “They’re practically nonexistent.”

  “It’s not nonexistent. I can still see it. That makes it existent.”

  “You can only see it because you’re a freak-of-nature with freak-of-nature eyes.”

  There was a telling snicker at that. “Never tell anyone you don’t know how to romance a fella.”

  Raven grinned and snuggled into his side happily, her arm wrapping naturally around his waist as her head found his shoulder. She’d never understood how people could actually walk like this, but between two super-beings, almost anything was possible.

  “All things considered,” she mused thoughtfully, “I think that went pretty well.”

  Perhaps that was a bit of an overstatement. The past few days had been fun of the not so kind. Dexter confirmed the legitimacy of her new super- status while fending off nonstop incoming channels from the High Council, who demanded how the warrior had died and why. Then came the issue of Dexter’s role as Guardian and whether or not he would assume responsibility over a new ward. Their fears of incurring the High Council’s wrath had been for naught; if anything, the higher-ups seemed pleased with Dexter’s handling of the matter. They didn’t want a talent like his to go to waste, and with Raven dead, after all, he could always volunteer himself for One of the Few.

  The thought didn’t rest well with Raven. Dexter was a huge part of her life, and while she knew he would eventually have to move on and take on a new ward, the thought made her uneasy. Those concerns, however, were for another day. Dexter was in the free-and-clear for the time being. He convinced the High Council that, dead as Raven might be, it was better for everyone if he stayed put.
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  It was so strange. It had taken three hundred years, but she could finally breathe freely. For everything she’d been through in the interim, it was hard to fathom that this night—the night that was supposed to be her last—would be one wherein she wouldn’t be looking over her shoulder. The jaws of death no longer snapped at her heels. Clouds had parted, leaving soaked in sunlight.

  Tonight, she wouldn’t die. Tonight she would live, with Nicholas at her side.

  “They’ll fly by,” Nicholas murmured as he slipped the bouncer at Club Intensity a few bills and steered her inside. “These next couple years.”

  “You think we’ll actually be able to live together without killing each other?” Raven asked, mostly teasing, but she couldn’t keep the worried strain from her voice. “We do well when we’re outrunning death, but now our lives will be all slow and boring and—”

  She didn’t get to finish the sentence due to Nicholas’s uproarious laughter.

  “What?” she pouted.

  He tried to answer but couldn’t find his voice in his mirth.

  “I gotta tell you, jackass, no girl likes to be laughed at.”

  Nicholas had doubled over, resting his palms on his knees as he tried to get a hold of himself. He held up a hand in a wordless request for patience, but every time his chuckles seemed to dwindle, he would remember what made him laugh in the first place and dissolve all over again.

  Once he managed to get a hold of himself, though, his mood changed considerably, even if he couldn’t chase the smile from his face. “Sweetheart,” he said, reaching for her with one hand and not-so-nonchalantly wiping his eyes with the other. “You are so self-righteous I wanna throttle your neck sometimes. You are bossy, bitchy, beautiful, funny, intelligent, caring, and independent. You think of everyone but yourself when the chips are down, and you’re so full of life it’s practically glowing from you. Not to mention, you’re a demon in the sack.”

  Raven didn’t know if it was more appropriate to slap him, kiss him, or melt on the spot. She decided to withhold her judgment until he arrived at the point.

  “You’re a thousand things, but the one thing you could never be is boring.” He smiled gently and leaned inward, stealing a kiss from her lips before she decided whether or not he’d earned it. “I love you. I always have. And if you don’t know that by now, you seriously oughta get that noggin of yours under some shiny machine so we can figure out which circuit is shorted, because I tell you, I—”

  Apparently, her body had decided that he’d earned her lips, for the next thing she knew, she had flung herself into his arms. She stole whatever condescending-albeit-wrapped-in-love insult he was about to toss her way, gaining some of her own back when her womanly wiles got him moaning into her kiss.

  Nicholas grinned and nipped at her mouth. “This boring?” he murmured, his eyes brightening with amusement.

  “With you? Never.”

  “’Cause without impromptu town burnings and deranged old men with poisoned arrows or demons hankering for super mojo, I don’t know how you’ll ever put up with me.”

  “I don’t either,” Raven retorted cheekily, sucking his lower lip into her mouth as her fingers explored his exceptionally fine ass before giving it a much-deserved pinch. “But I’m willing to find out.”

  * * * *

  The date of Raven’s payment came and went. While no one said anything, there was a certain aura of apprehension in the air about how the Hell King would react. The cosmos had been rearranged, Raven and Nicholas pitted into a century in which they did not belong, and she had cheated the demon—to whom she owed everything—out of her debt.

  There was nothing on the night she was supposed to have died. Nothing at all.

  It was unnerving. She wanted him to come out of the shadows. She wanted the confrontation over with. She wanted Paimon behind her completely, else she knew he would hang over her head forever.

  Two nights following the new moon, her wish was granted.

  As he had before, Paimon materialized out of nowhere while she patrolled. Only this time she wasn’t alone. Her vampire was at her side.

  “I suppose,” the demon purred, stepping out of the shadows, “you feel you have won.”

  Nicholas tensed and seized her hand. “Yeah,” he barked, “now that you mention it. Why don’t you fuck off?”

  Paimon smiled and spread his hands. “I am merely here to collect what is mine.”

  “The girl’s not human anymore.”

  The Hell King delivered an icy glare, dragging his inhuman eyes away from the vampire and instead fixating on Raven. “We had a deal, remember?”

  “Kinda hard to forget when you go through what I went through,” she retorted. “Sorry. Shop’s closed.”

  Paimon’s face hardened, if such thing was possible, and the air around her grew very cold. “It is unwise,” he said softly, “to spit in the face of Hell.”

  Raven blinked, refusing to betray fear. She thought, perhaps, that seeing the demon again would be easier with her strength fortified and with her future certain. However, no matter what had passed, no matter what she had defeated, there was an air about him which couldn’t be overcome. The raw power that oozed from him in a simple look. She didn’t want to fear him. She didn’t want to fear anyone.

  She couldn’t help herself.

  “And here I don’t remember spitting,” Raven replied, squeezing her growling mate’s hand. “I just decided I didn’t want to die.”

  “Find someone else to haunt,” Nicholas snarled. “The girl beat you. Learn to live with it.”

  “Hell does not accept defeat.”

  “Hell will have to get used to disappointment.” Raven stepped forward, swallowing hard. “And you know, with all this brand-spanking-new strength, you’re striking me as less of a king and more like a common demon. So why don’t you get back to Hell before I send you there myself?”

  Paimon stared at her. “You dare threaten me?”

  “I dare. Didn’t you hear me? I could do it again.” She shrugged. “I should’ve figured a demon of your age…what, three, no, four million years old? I guess that’d make you hard of hearing.” Raven quirked her head and held up her blade. She was surprised to see a flicker of fear ripple through Paimon’s being. There were many things she’d expected from him—fire, brimstone, another taste of the inferno he’d shown her just a week before. She hadn’t expected fear, not from one who inspired so much of it, and she’d be lying if she said the rush wasn’t a potent one.

  Creating fear in the eyes of a Hell King was heady. She could get used to this.

  “It’s funny,” she continued, taking a step forward and grinning when he quickly recovered it in the other direction. “Now that I’m all Super Raven, it doesn’t take nearly as much force to defeat the local baddies. I barely tapped the last three.”

  Nicholas, apparently having caught on, tossed in, “Not to mention she has these muscles that squeeze you so good—”

  “Sweetie. Now’s not the time.”

  “Just trying to help.”

  Paimon’s chin shot up. “Are you so arrogant—”

  “I think you’re backing up for a reason, Hellfiend.” She twirled the blade in her hand once, twice, and grinned. “Let’s find out.”

  Whether or not the pointed end ever met its target, she didn’t know. All she knew was one second the Hell King had stood just feet from her, hatred and fear rolling off him so thick she was surprised she didn’t choke on it, and the next there was nothing but wisps of black air. The blade soared through the smoke and embedded itself through the bark of an oak tree, leaving them alone once again.

  “Huh,” Nicholas said, gently caressing the small of her back. “That was…a little anticlimactic.”

  “I dunno,” Raven replied. “I kinda got off on it.”

  “Hey now. The only one allowed to get you off is me.”

  She smirked and thumped his shoulder. “Not that way, perv.”

  “I think that�
��s the only way those words can be taken.”

  “I’m just saying… the guy who has haunted me for three hundred years being afraid of little ole me?” Raven wrapped her arm around his waist, snuggling comfortably into his side. “I could get used to it.”

  Nicholas smiled and brushed his lips across her brow. “You think that’s it, then?”

  “I think he’ll be too embarrassed to come back. And if he’s not…” Her eyes focused on the blade protruding from the tree. “Well, if he thinks Raven-with-blade is scary, imagine how he’d feel about Raven-with-crossbow. Or Raven with…any kind of cool weapon, really.” She grinned proudly. “I kinda kick ass right now, don’t I?”

  Her vampire’s eyes were glowing with pride, and the look he gave her melted her into a puddle of goo.

  “My love,” he replied, “you always have.”

  * * * *

  The cottage Nicholas acquired was not completely unlike the one they had shared lifetimes ago. It was marginally larger, built out of brick rather than wood, and instead of a basement, they had a spare room designated for sparring. It wasn’t as large as they would have liked. Raven mentioned once or twice about knocking down a wall and merging the area with the empty guestroom. Nicholas countered it would make more sense to merge it with their bedroom, as most of their sparring sessions rendered them sweaty for reasons entirely unrelated to the art of sparring.

  This time when she painted the sunrise on their bedroom wall, she didn’t do it alone.

  This time, they did it together.

  Epilogue

  Ten years later

  There was something about the way his lips curled around his fangs that fascinated her. It was a small thing, practically indiscernible, and perhaps it had nothing to do with the aforementioned curling at all and everything to do with what those lips did to her at night. Raven didn’t know. The only thing she knew was the next move would be sadly predictable, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t avoid falling into the inevitable trap.

  Nicholas knew this, of course, and he used it to his full benefit. He knew what the slightest look did to her. He knew how to make her squirm without so much as batting an eye.