Ebony Rising (The Raven Queen's Harem 2)

“That’s a lot of questions, Morgan.”

“I’m just curious. I’ve never seen any of you speak to someone outside of the house before. Are you not allowed?”

“We’re not hermits,” he says, but his eyes are guarded and Professor Christensen’s comment about rumors of their activities lingers in my mind. “I shop for supplies—meet models in the park and shoot photography all over the city. I know the others do, too. We’re just dedicated to protecting you and everyone else. There’s not a lot of time left for socialization. We have one another—and you.” He gives me a wistful grin. “Although I could definitely go for a night out at the pub, you know?”

“Maybe we could go sometime?”

He links his fingers with mine. “Maybe.”

We enter the dining room. Clinton waits at the door and I give his hand a squeeze as we pass. The others wait, with drinks in hand, near their seats. I greet Bunny across the table and run my hand over Damien’s shoulder. Dylan watches my every move, waiting for me to take my spot at the head of the table. I’ve quickly learned that my guardians are a stickler for old-fashioned manners and never sit before I do. Sam pulls out the chair for me and I take my seat. The others follow.

Sue and Davis arrive with dinner, a steaming pan of lasagna, salad, and buttered bread. Generous glasses of red wine sit before each of us and I’m not shy about taking a drink. It’s been a long, complicated day.

The vibration coursing through the room tells me that everyone is aware of what happened between me and Dylan. Talking sex isn’t polite dinner conversation, so I dig around for a little guardian history.

“I have a question,” I say, allowing my pasta a moment to cool. “How did you become guardians anyway?”

Looks are exchanged down the table. No one answers right away so I fix my attention on Dylan. There’s no doubt he knows the answer. He takes a long gulp of his wine and says, “Mythology says we were created from the blood, bone, and ash left on the battlefield from your people.”

“The ones the Morrigan slaughtered?” That idea leaves an uneasy feeling in my bones. She killed them and then the gods bound them into an eternity of servitude?

“She was betrayed,” Clinton says, the muscle in his jaw tensing. “Cu Cuchulainn let th

e Darkness loose. Our ancestors were the victims. The gods created us to make sure it never happened again.”

I rest my fork on my plate, my appetite gone. “How long have you actually been alive?”

“Alive?” Bunny asks, his expression full of wonder. “It seems like since the beginning of time. First as blood. Then bone. Later, tears and ash. I lay on the ground, buried among the charred remains of death. A god scooped me up and placed me in his pocket. For a millennia, I settled in the warmth until he remembered I was there. He held me in his palm and blew his breath on me, like a strong wind, and I scattered amongst the clouds. Rain dropped me to the ocean until I was pushed and pulled into the waves of hurricane. The god declared me ready, snatched me from the air and molded me in his hands. I returned in the form of a raven, my mission set in my mind: Protect the world from the Darkness and the Darkness from herself.”

The entire table has taken a quiet, somber feel. I look at each guardian. “Did the same happen to each of you?”

“More or less,” Sam replies. “It was an honor to be chosen and created by the hand of a god.”

A lump forms in the back of my throat. “You don’t blame me—her—for this at all?”

A choking sound comes from Damien and it takes a moment before I realize he’s laughing. “I don’t think you understand what a gift it is to serve in this capacity.” His violet eyes flash passionately. “We’re blessed. Guarding you—providing an outlet for your energy and power. There is nothing more fulfilling.”

“We were a speck,” Clinton adds. “The gods made us a force.”

“Serving me and my--” I swallow, “--needs, cannot be that great.” I mean, I haven’t picked a mate. I won’t let them have sex with me—yet. The whole house is a ball of tension.

Dylan leans forward, elbows on the table. “You do not understand the extent of our abilities, Morgan. We’re more than what you’ve seen.”

“Then show me! You’re each amazing with your talent and art, but there’s something deeper inside. I can feel it.” I take a deep breath. “I feel it in your touch. In your bodies. You’re so strong.”

Expressions of pride settle on the faces of my guardians. Oh boy, they liked that. Dylan is the one to reply for the others. “It’s a double-edged sword. We are strong. We are beyond capable. And we do hone our skills each and every day. But if we have to show you what we can do, then we’ve failed.”

“Why?”

“It means the Darkness has slipped by us and the gates of hell have opened.” He gives me a hard look. “Don’t ask for something you can’t take back.”

I nod in understanding. For all their tough bravado, these men are playing with fire—me—and if they’re not careful they will set off a bomb they can’t contain. I pick up my fork in an effort to change the subject and move on with dinner.

What I don’t tell them is that during Bunny’s story, listening to the pain and the wonder of the gods’ decisions, the rune over my left breast burns like the fire of a thousand suns.

And I like it.

Chapter 11