Page 19 of First Offense

It was a massacre.

A monstrosity.

A horrifying, macabre scene of feathers and flesh.

Auric wrapped his arm around me, but I pushed him away, wanting no part of his solace and strength. This was a view worthy of my sorrow and pain.

Noir weren’t meant to die like this. They were meant to reform and be reborn, not slaughtered like wild animals or pitted against each other in fights to the death.

“I want to go home,” I whispered. Not because I was afraid or upset, but because I was furious. My father needed to know about this. He would never approve. “He’d never be okay with this.”

“I know,” Auric whispered.

I finally looked at him, noticing his shredded torso covered in scrapes and death. His pants were torn. His shoes scuffed. Even his long wisps of white-blond hair were tainted red. More blood painted his formerly pristine feathers.

He resembled a true Nora Warrior.

And I couldn’t stand the sight of him and all that he represented.

It wasn’t fair or right. Nor was it all that rational. But a part of me truly hated him and everything he represented. Just for a moment.

Then I caught the concern swimming in his ocean-blue eyes.

“We’ll demand an audience with Sayir and find out what the fuck this was,” he vowed.

I believed him because I knew it wasn’t within his genetic makeup to lie. So I nodded in agreement.

Then I allowed him to escort me back to our cell, all the while wondering if I would ever be able to leave again.

7

Raven

“Five,”Sorin boasted, collapsing onto our bed. He clutched a cloth to his nose, his dark sapphire eyes challenging anyone to beat his score.

Zian smirked. “Tie.” Which meant he’d killed five as well.

Sorin frowned, then both of my mates looked at me.

I perched on the edge of the mattress and beamed. “Three.” It might be less than them, but that was to be expected. They had survived this prison world for over a century, plus they had decades of Nora Warrior experience on top of that.

For eighteen years old, and being on the smaller side as a female, three was impressive.

Sorin released a low whistle. “Three? Well done, little dove.” He chuckled, then lowered the cloth to give me a bloody grin. “Perhaps I should start calling youdeadlydove?”

“Maybe I should start adding marks to your arms like I do to Sorin’s,” Zian suggested, his black irises igniting with promise. Sorin’s gaze matched his, the two of them turned on from all the violence.

Mmm, yes, I wanted nothing more than to forget our afternoon of gore by losing myself in their arms.

But something wasn’t right.

“There hasn’t been a culling that bad in a while,” I thought out loud, ensuring they kept their desires at bay for at least a few more minutes. We had all night to tangle up our wings.

Zian joined us on the bed and leaned against the wall, his new shirt riding up to show off the attractive “V” that disappeared into his low pants. He must have stolen the clothes off the back of one of his victims, as he usually went shirtless. Only Zian would consider that a worthy trophy.

“What did you see today, sweet bird?” He lifted his arm in clear invitation. I crawled toward him to snuggle into his side, content to revel in his soothing scent. Sorin’s nearness added a touch of warmth to the air as well, mingling the aroma into a melted caramel that tickled my nose.

Zian ran his fingers up and down my arm, careful to avoid the scratches and cuts I’d sustained.