Page 14 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood (Tales So Wicked #2)

Harrow

L enore kneels in the snow, her hands full of breadcrumbs and nuts.

An array of birds and several of the smaller woodland creatures take turns eating from her palms. She sings a quiet song, humming parts.

Her crowd of attentive animals grows. Each one finds some way to touch her as they join the group.

The larger animals nuzzle her shoulders.

The birds find temporary perches on her arms and hands.

The smaller creatures scurry across her lap or rub up against her skirts.

Their adoration is obvious. I wonder, do they feel gratitude for the lives she’s given them?

Are they able to comprehend such things?

Despite the lingering traces of winter, the sun is out today.

Lenore glows beneath the soft golden beams. I would have maintained she is a creature of the night, but the light of day looks to lend her its favor too.

Whether she’s bathed in moonlight or sunlight, her beauty is of the heavens.

She shines, as if fallen from the sky itself.

That inner light that glows from beneath her skin speaks to the part of my soul that craves life.

It’s a light that’s unique to her and so different from the glow of those who are close to death.

Without thought, I step closer. The animals notice me first. Their eyes shift in my direction. Wariness taints the lightly warmed air. It is unusual that they can see me. Could it be an after-effect of being brought back from the dead?

Some shift farther away. Others move closer to Lenore. She notes their attentions but does not turn. “Always watching,” she says aloud.

She’s not wrong. I watch her multiple times throughout the day and night. I planned on staying out of sight, but her sunlit allure has me wandering closer. “I can’t imagine a more spoiled group of wild beasts. To be handfed by royalty.”

She scoffs, brushing off the tenseness in her shoulders with a false bravado.

“Please, these snacks are for me. The birdfeed diet is all the rage amongst the nobles these days. The only way to keep up a dainty figure.” She mimes tossing the seeds and breadcrumbs into her mouth.

One seed flies up, making its way past her lips.

She stiffens before discreetly spitting it out.

“Oh yes. Yum. Crunchy and delicious.” Her voice carries across the frost-dappled clearing.

I grin. She is the most strange and amusing creature I have ever met.

“Animals can see you too.” An observation.

I move to stand nearer. “Not all animals.”

“Just my animals?” She’s referring to her unique pack of resurrected creatures.

“Yes.”

“Well then, you aren’t a ghost.” She empties the rest of the food onto the ground, brushing her hands along her pale-green skirts.

“No.”

“Also not big on conversation, are you?” Irritation sneaks above her curious tone.

“I don’t have much practice speaking with humans. But for you, Roseheart, I make an exception,” I answer honestly.

“You aren’t human?” There’s trepidation in her tone.

“No.”

She’s quiet for several moments longer. I can almost hear the gears turning inside her mind.

What I wouldn’t give to peel her scalp back and watch those thoughts take form.

To know exactly what she’s thinking. To see the ideas blossom in her brain like jasmine on a vine, budding to bloom the moment they occur.

“Will you tell me what you are?”

What I am ? The right words escape me. My silence irritates her further. She sighs in frustration.

“Alright then, at least tell me this. Should I be afraid of you?”

“Yes.” Another honest response.

“You’re quite vexing, you know that?” I find her huff of unhappiness rather adorable.

A smile lights my face without my permission. “Insufferable, I’d imagine.”

She lets out a soft laugh; the sound is like a rain of petals against my skin. “Insufferable indeed. May I at least have a name to call you by?”

What an odd situation to be in. Though I imagine knowing my name would be rather harmless, there’s no mention of it in any books or lore.

Even most who reside in my domain aren’t privy to that information.

The ones who are aren’t in any position to tell.

A handful of others know it. Mainly other supernatural beings.

I suppose they could be considered friends.

Relationships between immortals are so different than those between mortals.

It takes only a moment to realize I do want Lenore to know my name. A giddy place within my chest delights at the thought of her being the only living mortal to truly know me. My name, at least.

“You may call me Harrow.” There’s a loosening in my chest. I wasn’t expecting it to feel so freeing to tell her.

“ Harrow .” My name on her lips makes me shiver. “I’m going to turn around now and face you.”

A spike of fear zaps through me. “Don’t.”

She flinches at the sudden iciness in my tone. “Why not? Will you vanish again if I do?” There’s a bit of sadness in her voice that wipes the earlier giddiness from my blood.

My throat thickens. “That’s right.”

“So I can’t look at you, but you still insist on watching me day and night?”

“That is the current arrangement, yes.” No use denying it.

She sits up straighter. “I’m engaged, you know.” The defensiveness in her tone ruffles my feathers. How is it I can manage to cause her such unhappiness with so little effort?

“How very human of you.”

“Why do you say things like that? As if you aren’t human.” She folds her arms.

“I’ve already told you. I’m not human.” I can never understand why mortals struggle to understand the concept.

Lenore glances at the sky. Sun washes over her pale skin. She closes her eyes and sighs again. “You looked human enough the first time I saw you.”

Appearances can be deceiving . “Looking human and being human are not the same.”

She lowers her head and opens her eyes, brows furrowing. “Still.”

“There is much of me, little raven, that is not human at all. Those parts you have not seen. Do not want to see.” How would she feel if she knew that the first night I saw her I had just murdered a man?

One of the only times I may freely kill is when a soul has willingly prolonged their life using some sort of unnatural method.

The memory of his overripe blood in my monstrous jaws makes my tongue twitch.

She is too delicate to handle such information.

“Maybe you’re wrong.” The subtle defiance in her voice piques my interest.

I step closer, allowing my shadow to fall across her. Her body stiffens. My voice comes out low. “It would give you nightmares.”

To my great surprise, Lenore releases a mirthless laugh. “My dreams would give you nightmares.”

As if I’ve walked into a trap, my ribcage springs open, worry and curiosity piling inside. “And what does a pretty raven dream of that lends her such morbid charm?”

She looks to the sky again, face turning stony. “The past.”

I do not like the sound of that. “Tell me of the past.”

“Show me your face and I will.”

I smirk. Ravens are known for their cleverness, their ease at securing bargains and trades. My human raven is no different. I take a step back.

“Don’t leave.”

“What makes you think I’m leaving?”

“I can feel it. The same way I can feel when you’ve arrived, when you’re watching me. I wasn’t sure at first, but now… I’m certain that’s what it is.”

My pulse picks up. She’s different. I’ve always known it. Does that mean things could be different for us? End differently? “Mortals aren’t meant to perceive the dead.”

Toying with her fingernails, she whispers, “Is that what you are, dead?”

“Not dead. Death .”

“Hmm.” She clears her throat. “Death doesn’t frighten me anymore.”

Another curious thing to say. What secrets hide inside my raven? “Then you would not be frightened by the Prince of Death?”

“The Prince of Death?”

“Yes. Prince of Death, Ruler of the Underworld.”

She’s quiet. An anxious wave rolls over me. I shouldn’t have told her. Now she’ll run, hide?—

“If I keep my eyes closed, will you let me touch your wings?”

My wings shift. “I’m afraid I cannot trust that. It will be too tempting for you to peek.”

“Here.” She rips a lacy bow off the upper edge of her green skirt.

The lower half of the gown is stained reddish brown from dragging in the dirt.

Not very princess-like. In fact, there are very few things about Lenore that would be considered “princess-like”.

She lays the ribbon over her eyes, gently tying it behind her head.

I imagine the feel of my hands over her eyes, her eyelashes fluttering against my palms. Or better still, my shadows, wrapped tightly around her.

Not just her eyes, but her wrists, ankles, mouth.

I’d very much enjoy the sight of her suspended in my shadowy web, high above my castle.

I’d lick between her legs until her cum poured down, splashing across the verdant crystals like the euphoric rain of life.

Then I’d fuck her, hard, long, wicked, punishing thrusts while the damned wailed beneath us.

Fucking hell. Where did that come from ?

My cock strains beneath the obsidian armor.

Yes, that sounds like divinity embodied .

My mouth waters, already imagining the taste of her.

I’ve stared at her waist, imagining the size of her hips and thighs.

The absurd fabrics shield her shape from me.

When she’s in my kingdom, she’ll wear nothing but ribbons of silk and shadow, displaying her skin freely to my devouring gaze.

I need her. Need to see her on my throne, legs over my shoulders, my face deep in?—

“Harrow?” I’m pulled from my daydream by the sight of Lenore in front of me, eyes covered, arms outstretched. “I promise I can’t see.”