Page 48 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

“Wren was going out to get tests. You must have met her on the way out.” She sniffed hard, and sharply inhaled, wringing the snotty towel around her busy fingers.

“Does Jenkins know?”

“No. We’re…I don’t even know what the fuck we’re fighting about.

I don’t honestly know if we’re fighting .

” She raised her hands, slapping them into her lap.

“I was doing just fine, you know? I was happy . I was just coming around to the idea that I wouldn’t have to become this— thing every month!

Brandon and I were blissful. We took down the bad guys, and Wren was safe.

Brent lived through that bullshit . Everything was fine! ”

Athan gently gripped one of her hands, and she cried silently, shaking her head.

“I was sitting here eating, and Wren came home. It hit me when she pointed out my appetite.”

“You’re always hungry, partner.”

“Not like this. I’ve eaten a lot before the change, mostly because my body lets me know I need it, but I do get full for a while. I’ve eaten so much today, and my stomach feels fucking empty , Athan.”

He reigned in his logical sense, and his void reservoir for outwardly showing compassion, and tried to school his face to calm her down.

“Why don’t you just wait until you know for sure?

Even then, you’ve got options. I understand you’re freaking out, and I get where it’s placed…

but either way you’re not by yourself. I told you; I’ve always got your six. ”

“My six…” she sniffed, smirking.

“Yeah, if you have a litter? I’ll make sure God Himself can’t find me,” he snorted. At least he got a chuckle out of her.

“I hate you.”

“It’s gonna be fine. No matter what way this goes.” He flicked her chin, and she nodded tearfully, though it took every ounce of his energy to appear unaffected.

“Why are you here? Did you need me?” she asked, finally trashing the snot rag.

“Oh…yeah. I brought you something.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out an envelope and handing it to her.

“What is this?”

“A lead. To make that frown turn upside down. If you spend any more time with your scandalous new friend, be sure to thank her again for the intel.” He pulled another chair out, plopping into it across from her as she opened up the papers.

“How in the hell did you get this?” she asked, skimming through it.

“Jenkins. You remember how she hid the fact that she ran her own prints? She was in the system. With that information Leigh gave about her going back to Portland, Jenkins was able to get a few snail trails on her before she came to Boston.”

“You know, I was thinking about that. If she's in the system and she’s a vampire? She can’t be very old.” She flipped through the papers, reading more.

“That, or she stole somebody’s identity.”

“I don’t think she did. You remember the day she came to the precinct? I made a dig at her name, and she didn’t seem bothered by it. Said she didn’t pick it, remember? I’m willing to bet it is her real name.”

Athan pointed at the papers in her hand. “What about the rest of her information? You think she’s a thirty-four-year-old vampire? I seriously doubt it.”

Rhaena smoothed the papers out on the table and leaned over them. “No criminal record. There’s an address!”

“Bingo,” Athan said, snapping his fingers.

“Are you gonna go?” she asked, raising her face to look at him.

“I’ve got my own copies to take to Sarah. I figured I’d let you do your thing, and then take these home and let her decide where she wants to start. The other night she said she still wanted to go to Seattle, but then we had some other ideas on things we could look into.”

“Like?”

“Like the Poe museums and exhibits.”

Rhaena lowered her brows and folded her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “Why Poe? I mean, I get that’s a thing between you two, but is there any particular reason?”

“If John Allan is an elder, he’s old. I’ve known a lot of people in my life, Rhaena.

However this ties, Poe always seems to be the common denominator.

There’s gotta be some clues laid out for us to find in this shit heap.

Otherwise…what’s the fucking point? What does he want?

A relationship with her? Why not just reach out?

Sykes obviously makes contact with him somehow.

He could have easily contacted Sarah without sending dead fucking birds to her front door.

He’s sending us on a scavenger hunt. He picked me for his daughter. He’s trying to make me work for it.”

“Does that not bother you, Athan? This all seems incredibly sketchy. You don’t know this man. Whether he’s her father, or not…this whole thing feels off. I still find it hard to believe.”

Athan stared at the table, chewing his bottom lip. “Believe what you hear, and only one half that you see…”

Rhaena scoffed. “Whose logic is that?”

He finally met her eyes, smirking. “Poe’s.”

Wren came through the door a moment later with a bag full of small boxes, and Rhaena looked like she might puke.

“Alright. Grab a cup you don’t care about and let’s head to the bathroom,” she said, raising the bag.

Athan stiffened, tightening his mouth. “A cup?”

“To piss in,” Wren confirmed.

“What the fuck. No .” He stood from his chair, pushing it back under the table as he glanced at Rhaena.

“It’s gonna be fine. Let me know…okay?” She nodded, taking a deep breath.

“You need to call him. No matter what these tests say. I’m not sticking around for this part, but I’ll be here for you for whatever the aftermath brings. ”

“So, periods and pee? That’s your Achilles heel?” Wren grinned. Athan shoved her in the shoulder as he headed for the door.

“It’s not as embarrassing as a fine-smelling lawyer,” he jabbed, opening the door as Rhaena giggled from the kitchen.

“Oh…okay. Yeah, cheap shot, Crapula.”

It had been a little over an hour since she’d gotten back from the store, and the apartment was still rife with the smell of garlic cloves, tomatoes, fresh basil and brewing coffee.

He’d absolutely hate her for this hidden talent when it was still evident that poor Athan would never learn how to make toast, let alone cook an entire meal.

She wasn’t gonna tell him about the added ingredient to the scratch-made red sauce still simmering on the stove, in the hopes he’d figure it out on his own and know that she meant this meal for them and them alone.

He should be walking in the door any minute, and hopefully…

whatever has him in a somber mood will be forgotten.

Sarah turned the pot to the lowest heat, smiling as she topped it with the lid and sucked the bit of sauce off her thumb and padded to their bed.

Athan’s journal sat on her nightstand beneath the deep, red-shaded lamp.

She’d been poking through it a little more since they’d found that ledger, a bit more eager to delve into what he was like back then.

Sometimes it broke her heart. Sometimes it intrigued her.

While she knew a great deal about him by now, Athan Kane was still a walking mystery in a lot of ways, and every added piece to his puzzle continued to paint him into someone extraordinary.

Mate or not, this man was undeniably unique—and uniquely hers .

Every scribbled word made her fall harder.

She covered herself in that worn out black and white checkered blanket and slid the journal off the edge of the nightstand into her palm, finding her marked place and reading his carefully worded thoughts.

Everything in this damned book seemed so sad.

She remembered telling him that the first night she’d peeked through it.

The first night she’d crossed that scary line he’d drawn and tasted that sinful mouth.

All that pent-up sorrow bled out into her, and she swore that ever since that night—even after she’d found out the truth hours later—something in Athan had been freed.

It was like his soul had been locked in those pages, and she was the only one with the key.

And then he completely surrendered that soul to her in every possible way.

She felt so undeserving, even if he’d been the one that took her life.

After meeting him, her life would seem so empty if he were no longer part of it.

Even if cooking wasn’t one of his talents, his way with words was a force to be reckoned with. It was no wonder he was so inspired by Poe’s darkness. He wrote things so similar; one would swear they were the same person. Enter casing point. Sarah narrowed her eyes and read down the page.

A tonic so infused it begs the Devil to bargain the ache,

One’s heart can scarce be broken if it’s not alive to break.

How small tonight this river seems, so vast it kindly be,

Its icy swell a thief, taunting what she was to me.

Darkness do surround me, baptize me in your night,

For her soul has left me empty, drowning all the light.

My own soul trembles, angst; Succumbing to my strife,

While her mortal shell decays, devoid of human life.

A withering coil of merriment surrenders and is dead,

A single token of memory in a stone that’s washed in red.

No word so fitly spoken as at last she said goodbye,

No night forever darkest as the one that claimed her life.

A dark fowl perched to watch me while I entombed her in the earth,

Content to steal my sorrow and give me second birth.

I only wish she hadn’t…and that God had smite me first.

Her heart seized and felt every ounce of his pain. Try as she may, she couldn’t fight off the burn of tears behind her eyes. He had been so broken and lost. This had to have been about his mother. The dark fowl…a black bird.

Dahlia…