Page 44 of The Collector

It didn't erase the hurt. But it cracked something open inside Mynx that wanted to forgive him. Move past it.

"I get it," she said softly. "Things between us… they seem to pull toward each other, whether we're ready or not. It's hard to explain, harder to know what to do with it."

She let the silence stretch, then met his eyes. "Let's just forget the part that didn't go right and move forward. I wasn't expecting this to shift from business to something else, but it has. And I won't pretend it doesn't affect me."

Her voice steadied. "The way you make me feel—it excites me. Makes me want to be around you more. To know who you are when no one's watching."

Raven turned to her, his movements slow, deliberate. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her cheek like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch her that gently. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead—soft, grounding, unexpected.

"Thank you," he murmured. "Now rest, Butterfly. I plan on keeping you up till sunrise."

His smile held a flicker of mischief, but there was something else behind it too—something quieter. Mynx felt it in the way his eyes lingered, like he wasn't just teasing her, but promising something he hadn't dared before.

She didn't answer. Just let herself lean back, the warmth of Raven's touch still blooming across her skin.

This is going to be interesting.

Chapter 13

Raven

Raven watched Mynx sleep, her breath shallow, her brow faintly furrowed even in rest. The plane dipped into its final descent, the engines shifting pitch as Cabo came into view beneath them.

He reached out and touched her shoulder, gentle. "Butterfly," he said. "Time to wake up—we're in Cabo."

She stirred, mumbled something he couldn't catch. Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused.

"What, already?" she murmured. "Feels like I just closed my eyes. I haven't been sleeping well."

He heard the weariness behind her words—fatigue that didn't come from travel. She'd been carrying the burden of her family's problems long before coming to Blood Lust, and being away from them now, with her mother's health in limbo, couldn't be making things easier. Adding in the additional stress layers of her new environment made it understandable why she'd be exhausted.

He brushed a thumb across her cheek, letting the moment settle. She didn't pull away.

This could work. The two of them together. It had promise.

The ride to the beach house passed quickly. In Mexico, the staff moved with precision—trained to meet his father's demands without question. Raven had never managed that kind of compliance back in Culver City. Here, everything clicked into place before he even asked.

The house was an architectural masterpiece—glass walls framed in white sandstone, gleaming beneath the moon like a promise. It radiated the kind of luxury the Cordoba name commanded here, unapologetic and precise. The landscape was minimalist but deliberate, dotted with native succulents and spiny cacti that thrived in the dry heat, their shadows jagged across the sand.

But it was the waterfall—engineered to spill down the side of the structure in a constant, silken rush—that caught him. The sound tugged at something buried: late nights in the old courtyard with his mother, the echo of water, and the sound of her laughter, back when his father still smiled and Raven still believed in love.

"This is yours?" Mynx asked, eyes wide as she took it all in. "It's—God, I don't think I've ever seen anything like this. I can't imagine living here. Being wrapped in this much comfort… it almost feels unreal."

"It's mine now," Raven said. "My father still comes here sometimes for business retreats, but it was my parents' favorite when I was a kid. This was the place we escaped to—away from the Kings, away from the noise. Just us. Just family."

He paused, eyes drifting toward the waterfall.

"When she died, he stopped coming. Only shows up when he has to."

"I didn't mean to stir anything painful," she said gently. "How long has she been gone? What was she like?"

Raven shook his head gently, eyes still on the waterfall.

"You didn't," he said. "It's been twelve years. Mom died in the winter—coldest one I remember."

He paused; the memory of her settled in his chest like stone.

"She was... fierce. Elegant. The kind of woman who could silence a room without raising her voice. But with me, she was soft. Always knew when I was lying, even when I didn't realize I was."