Ebony Rising (The Raven Queen's Harem 2)

I laugh because even my creative writing degree is a crapshoot. I just lucked out and got into a graduate program. There’s no assurance I’ll ever make a dime from my writing. “I’m sure it will all work out. So tell me how things are going back home.”

Shannon launches into details about our small group of friends, most of whom I haven’t thought of since I left. Living in New York, writing all the time and then discovering I’m some kind of goddess who has the power to take down humanity has kept me distracted.

“I saw Ryan the other day,” she says.

“Ryan?” I ask, hardly paying attention. Seriously, I’m the worst kind of friend. I’d dropped my pants and inspected my legs. The runes are still gone but a large, pinkish hickey is forming on the soft flesh of my upper thigh.

“You know, the hipster-hottie from the school paper you were sort of dating before you left?”

“Duh,” I say. “The train was ratting by. I just didn’t hear you. How’s he doing?”

“Not much—he got that internship at the Atlanta Journal.” She pauses. “I think he misses you, too.”

I almost laugh. “Shannon. He does not miss me.”

“No, seriously, Morgan. I saw him the other night. He asked about you.”

“We didn’t even part on the best of terms, you know.” I think of Ryan and his little hipster glasses and thick beard. I crushed on him hard even though he was a bit of a douche about my writing. Too whimsical and juvenile. The image of that boy back in college compared to the men living in his house? Talk about juvenile. I bite my tongue and say, “Ryan’s great, but I don’t think I’m interested in a long distance relationship.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Shannon?”

“Oh my God. You met someone!”

“What? No.”

“You did!” she shouts. I hope she’s inside. “I can hear it in your voice. Tell me all about him.”

Tell her? I fight back a real laugh this time.

Tell her about him?

Or rather them.

How do I even begin to explain what’s happening in this house? In the world, even? How do I suggest that I’ve got a smidge of goddess in my soul and she’s not a good one? Hell no, she’s the Queen of the Ravens, the Goddess of War and wrathful as hell. With the energy and power coursing through me right now I’d chew up a guy like Ryan and spit him out.

I take a deep breath and say, “There’s no guy. I’m just busy. Living the city life, you know? Studying and working my ass off. Figuring out how to live with a bunch of housemates. It’s just crazy and there is no time for a relationship right now.”

“Housemates?” Shannon was my roommate for four years. I’m not surprised she’s curious.

“Yeah, five guys.”

“You’re living with five guys.”

“Are they hot?”

I drop in the chair in my sitting room and lean back against the pillow. Dylan told me I needed to keep in touch with my friends. So that’s exactly what I do.

*

“You’re late,” he says when I finally get to his room. The door is ajar, clearly left open for me to enter when I arrive. Dylan sits in a buttery soft leather chair near his attic fireplace. The ceilings are huge and vaulted—it must be freezing in the winter. A thick book rests in his lap.

“Sorry.” I struggle to catch my breath from running up the steps. “I got a phone call. From my friend Shannon, you know, the one you told me to stop ignoring.”

He raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. Everything about Dylan is perfect. He’s tall. Muscular, but not bulky. Short, jet-black hair. Brilliant cobalt eyes. Other than Clinton, Dylan is the only guardian I find intimidating. He’s smart, quick, and I lose myself when I’m near him.

“You’ve missed your lesson,” he says, ignoring my excuse. “We’ll be a day behind.” As I step closer I notice him take a sharp inhalation and his eyes narrow.