Raven blood, p.1
Raven Blood, page 1
part #1 of The Red Masques Series
CONTENTS
Chapter 1 - Vegas
Chapter 2 - Vegas
Chapter 3 - Blue
Chapter 4 - Vegas
Chapter 5 - Bandit
Chapter 6 - Vegas
Chapter 7 - Blue
Chapter 8 - Vegas
Chapter 9 - Grover
Chapter 10 - Decimus
Chapter 11 - Cosimo
Chapter 12 - Rocket
Chapter 13 - Booker
Chapter 14 - Kodiak
Chapter 15 - Vegas
Chapter 16 - Blue
Chapter 17 - Vegas
Chapter 18 - Cosimo
Chapter 19 - Vegas
Chapter 20 - Decimus
Chapter 21 - Blue
Chapter 22- Vegas
Chapter 23 - Vegas
Chapter 24 - Lucida
Chapter 25 - Booker
Chapter 26 - Vegas
Chapter 27 - Rocket
Chapter 28 - Vegas
Chapter 29 - Byron
Chapter 30 - Vegas
Chapter 31 - Vegas
Chapter 32 - Edwin
Epilogue
VEGAS
“I didn’t know,” Laurence whimpered in a pathetic small voice, “I was doing what I was told to.”
“You didn’t know your fucking product was laced?” Grover growled in a low dark voice. His hand was firmly fixed against the man’s throat like a shackle.
“Product quality isn’t my job,” he responded in a strangled voice.
With mild disgust written across his features, Grover dropped the man to his feet and stepped back. I could see the sweat that had built up on the man’s forehead and the mild tremor that worked its way through his spine. I didn’t exactly look down on his fear, Grover could be absolutely terrifying, but Laurence had placed himself in this situation. What type of drug dealer doesn’t confirm their product quality?
“Laurence,” I spoke quietly in the darkness of the ally, “you are going to accompany my friend Blue over here and show him every single person you sold to tonight. You’re going to explain your idiocy and give them back their money.”
“But my contact-“
“I don’t care how this affects you,” I responded mildly, “just go.”
Blue’s smile was utterly deceptive. His dimples made him appear harmless, but the malicious glint in his baby blues told another story. Out of all the Ravens, Blue had the darkest streak. He pressed a kiss of my temple and grasped Laurence by the back of his hoodie. The two of them made their way from the ally.
“Want me to drop you off? I think Blue’s got it covered,” Grover asked quietly.
I knew he wanted to go back inside. Grover loved to be the center of attention. He had been that way since high school and never failed to fall into that position.
“I’m going to call Rocket,” I murmured while pretending to send a text, “get your ass back to drinking.” Grover chuckled and squeezed my shoulder lightly before walking through the ally entrance. I heard the loud music being emitted from the bar and the smell of alcohol that permeated the chilled autumn air.
My sneakers scuffed lightly against the gravel. I had no intention of being picked up. These long peaceful walks were the only quiet I had throughout the day. The large Victorian the nine of us lived in was always filled with noise and destructive pranks. I didn’t mind the chaos, but these 3 am walks were essential to maintaining my sanity.
As the unspoken leader of the Ravens, my responsibilities were numerous and time-consuming. From assuring all members maintained active school status to late night quality confrontations, there was very little room in my life for relaxation. As the university grew in size, increasing rapidly in just the past three years, so did our responsibilities. We served as the unofficial justice system for the baser population of the school. We monitored illegal activity and stepped in only when needed. Specifically, we stepped in if drugs were being laced with unknown products and clients were purchasing these products unaware of the possible danger.
I liked to think of us as a Robin Hood group. Lawless justice and all that jazz.
At some level, even in high school, we understood that stopping drug sales was an impossible feat. Hell – most of us used them. However, avoiding unnecessary deaths was something we took pride in. Mostly because of her. She was the reason, I was up at 3 am each morning. Her death changed everything for me. For the 10 of us.
The Ravens were well known through campus and well-liked for the most part. Unless you were a drug dealer. Then we were probably pretty frightening. To keep tabs on that group of the populas, we had Rocket act as an intermediate between some of the larger drug groups and clients. He often took the product given to him and tested its product quality in our lab. A basement lab, creepy right? That’s my mad scientist for you.
While each member of our group was essential to our purpose, they were’nt chosen. No, it had been the 10 of us since freshman year of high school. After her death, we had only grown stronger. The strength was not only showcased in our emotional bond but our developed skill set. I liked to think that was in part due to me. I always tried to encourage them to pursue interests outside of the Ravens. The response back usually consisted of an eye roll, scoff, and/or chuckle. Apparently, no one had an interest in expanding outside of our little family.
I loved our family, even if it was unusual. When you place 10 forgotten foster kids together at a young age – they usually stick together. It had always been the boys, Lucida, and myself. I heard the rumors about the 10 of us but found myself bored with their insinuations. Why did I care about their useless, unimportant opinions?
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop me from noticing. Noticing what? Everything. I liked to think my unusual perceptive nature made me a better friend. I wasn’t confident it did though. Paranoid? Absolutely. A good friend? Maybe. Then again, I wasn’t positive about anything.
I heard, felt, and saw so many different emotions and opinions that my empathetic nature often felt overwhelmed. So instead of dealing with the chaos in my head, I focused on others. Specifically, Lucida and my boys. We were an isolated bunch.
On the small chance that someone outside of the Ravens was brought over, they were usually met with uncomfortable glances and suspicious questions. Lucida’s girlfriend was one of the only exceptions, and she lived in Chicago. The boys had made an unofficial rule that outside of Lucida and me, other girls were not allowed on the property.
So what was dating like for me? Hell.
Actually, that didn’t even quantify the problem it caused within the house. Could I go on a date? Sure. Would I be followed? Absolutely. Could I bring them home? No fucking way. So that’s fun.
In high school, I had been with one guy. He had been sweet and fun until he wasn’t anymore. After losing my virginity to him in an entirely anti-climactic way (literally), he had broken up with me. I had landed myself a bruised ego, and he landed himself a broken rib curtsey of Grover. Since then I had managed one or two hookups. Each one of them had avoided me after. If it weren’t for the overprotective masculinity hovering around me at all times, I would doubt my ability in bed.
It was sort of bullshit since I knew, fucking knew, that the boys weren’t avoiding hookups. Well, the only one I had confirmation on, with that, was Grover. Even then it had only been once. I just can’t imagine my boys not dating. They were an exceptionally handsome group of men. Men like that hooked up.
“Vegas,” a deep baritone voice called from ahead of me. My eyes shot up from my sneakers to the large Victorian that loomed ahead.
“Rocket,” I grinned. I could tell he was upset I hadn’t called for a ride. Then again, when was Rocket not broody? He was such an asshole. Like all the time. It didn’t help that he was a socially inept genius.
“Why are you so fucking stubborn?” He growled quietly. I had felt my phone buzz several times, it must have been him calling. Even now he held keys to one of our family cars in his left hand.
“Because you love it,” I sighed. He was dressed in lounge clothes, as usual, with an oversized hoodie and joggers. His position on our high school soccer team had dictated athletic wear like a fucking uniform. The habit stuck.
I narrowed my eyes at his messy hair as we began trailing up the driveway. Rocket was usually quiet, but tonight he just seemed exhausted. His hair either needed a trim or he had been doing that thing where he runs his hands through his hair a million times. If I had to guess it was both.
“I don’t need a haircut,” he mumbled quietly. The man noticed everything.
I snickered and lifted a hand to his hair in a playful ruffle. It was the color that women paid thousands for. The sides of his hair were short and dark brown while the top of his head was a mess of tussled blonde and dark brown waves. It was a delightful contrast that was accented further by his dark brows and angular face. It was the type of face that companies searched the globe for. The man was gorgeous. If it weren’t for his inability to talk to women outside of our group, he would probably be getting laid regularly even though he was a jerk most of the time.
“Who’s home?”
Our house was lit up far more than usual for 3 am. The Victorian wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was home. The structure was long and tall with dark blue siding and a black roof. The porch was a little shaky and the appliances dated, but nothing could compare to the feeling of warmth that accompanied its presence.
Rocket followed me through the front door as I realized the need for such a bright light. Accompanied by the smell of pai nt and shifted furniture, Booker turned to greet us. I immediately let out a laugh.
“What?” He asked with large grey eyes. Rocket and Booker shared very similar slate gray eyes, angular features, and soft structured lips. However, their matching qualities ended with those three features. Rocket was built of lean, defined muscle. Booker was far more bulky and muscular. Rocket was nearly 6’5, while Booker was only 5’11. It wasn’t fair to compare them because the conclusion was always the same – they were both very handsome.
Our resident artist and musician, Booker, was a shirtless paint mess. He often worked shirtless, but as of late it had grown more distracting. Can you blame a girl? You try to stay focused with a muscular tan god walking around in only a pair of acid wash ripped jeans. I brought my attention back to the paint and not his impressive set of abs. The bright purple had taken residence in his shoulder blade length hair. Despite his failed attempt to pull it back, the dark blonde pieces were plastered against his golden skin.
“Booker, you do realize you’re covered in paint, right?” I asked curiously. Our second-hand furniture was all pulled to the left side of the narrow room. Rocket had his laptop and a beer set up. The two of them were rarely away from one another. Both boys enjoyed the solitude of silence.
Booker looked down and chuckled, “I guess I am, how perceptive of you Vegas.”
I rolled my eyes at Rocket’s chuckle. Booker turned back to his lavender wall and sighed with disappointment. I moved to stand next to him while distancing myself from the paint mess that was my friend.
“Not the base color you wanted?”
“I want this mural to be perfect,” he groaned with frustration, “I just can’t find a paint color that matches what I am seeing.”
“Why don’t you make the color?”
Silence.
“Absolutely brilliant,” Rocket sighed from his laptop. I looked up at Booker. His smile and bright eyes were sparkling in anticipation.
“This is why,” he grinned again and pressed a kiss to my cheek.
I didn’t ask the why but assumed it was something along the lines of this is why you’re my best friend and the most amazing exceptional person on this damn planet. Well, I hoped it was.
“Alright boys,” I sighed, “I have exhausted my genius for the evening.”
“Night,” Both of them called out.
My feet scuffed along the newly varnished wood that Grover had completed this previous summer. I dragged myself up the stairs with exhausted movements and muttered groans. I heard the front door open behind me and braced for impact.
“Beautiful!” Blue whined. My feet went from being planted on the ground at the top of the steps to being lifted off in one swift movement.
“So tired,” I muttered. There was no point in fighting him. He was a hugger and cuddler. I let him carry me along the dark hallway to my designated bedroom. My lips were pressed against his neck as I breathed in the scent of cinnamon. It reminded me of fireball whiskey.
“Hey you ginger bum,” another familiar voice muttered. From my room, I might add. Blue put me down as my narrowed sleepy eyes focused on the person occupying my bed. Fucking Decimus.
If Blue was a bright flame, Decimus was absolute darkness. Both were intimidatingly tall and muscular. Both smell like different alcohol – fireball and tequila. One was a sweetheart, the other was a total asshole. One hid his dark streak, the other embraced it. Both were co-dependent needy shits. They were also my cuddle buddies.
I knew. I knew what it sounded like. Honest to god though, I had never kissed either of them. It wasn’t from a lack of attraction though. Decimus, or Deci, had beautiful ebony hair that he wore combed back. His features were dark and masculine with beautiful ivory skin and honey-colored eyes. Deci had come from a massive Greek family before foster care and spoke in fluent Greek when angry. It prevented any of us from being offended. The man had a terrible temper, so he spoke Greek often.
“Don’t smoke in my room,” I growled softly. My room was larger than most in the house. Without a conversation, the boys had placed me in the massive master bedroom. The tradeoff? I often came home to one or two of them wanting to cuddle. I never locked my room because I honestly didn’t mind one bit. Human affection and love was something we grew up with very little of.
“Fine,” he growled back.
My room was dark as I stumbled around to find sleeping clothes. I was confident the shirt wasn’t mine originally. The instant I smelt vanilla, I recognized it was Grover’s cologne. I wondered briefly how late he would be out.
Without concern, I pulled off my half top and bra. My back was to the boys, but they had seen me in nothing but a bra and underwear before, I wasn’t concerned. I pulled on the oversized shirt and then unbuckled my jeans. Both boys were whispering and didn’t make a note of my changing.
“You both sleeping in here?”
“Absolutely beautiful,” Blue responded. His dimpled good boy smile was intoxicating. His ordinarily neat red hair was messy and laid haphazardly around his masculine jaw. I would bet he was as tired as I. Neither of us slept much.
I closed the door slightly and shuffled toward the large dark bed. The minute my knees hit the bottom of the bed, my body gave out. I laid on my stomach with a relieved groan. Decimus chuckled and grasped my waist. He hauled me up to the center of the silky sheets that were warm from their proximity.
“Nighty night Vegas,” Blue cooed. His long pale arm wrapped around my waist as his muscular chest pressed into my back. My head buried into Decimus’s side as he began to massage my hair gently. The tangy scent of tequila and fireball floated around me in comforting waves. Decimus whispered something softly in Greek before the darkness consumed me.
Vegas
I was immediately aware of the heavy warmth that overwhelmed me. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew Kodiak was wrapped around my waist with his head buried in my stomach. He was an absolutely massive man and no one else emitted body heat as he did. He was very bear-like and not just in name.
“Kodiak,” I complained while squinting open my left eye. I was right. A large head of soft chocolate brown hair was nuzzled into my bare stomach. Always my bare stomach. Even if I wore a sweater, the man would find a way to push it up and away. Decimus’s light snores were to my right and Blue’s even breathing to my left. I wasn’t worried about waking them up. Kodiak though – he could be woken.
“Vegas,” he mumbled a complaint. His tanned skin was pale, and glasses were strewn across the bed. Despite his usual gruffness, Kodiak was a total teddy bear. A large green-eyed teddy bear that totally had a fever.
“Hun,” I whispered shaking his broad shoulders. I could tell he had been out hiking last night. His shirt was wrinkled, and he smelt faintly like pine. Those large hands clasped my waist in a tightening vice grip.
Shit. His forehead was so hot and feverish.
“Deci,” I murmured. The stupid man just rolled over.
As if summoned from the heavens, my bedroom door opened to reveal a very sleepy Cosimo. I snorted at the tall lengthy man’s floppy black hair and heavy, bright blue eyes. In his hand he held a blanket and pillow, which meant only one thing – he had come to cuddle.
“Could you grab me the thermometer? Kodiak has a fever,” I mumbled out. The sleepy Spanish man nodded and shuffled into the bathroom. Cosimo looked every bit the foreigner he was. Despite being put in the American foster care system at 15, he had initially grown up in Spain. When his family had moved here and were tragically lost in a fire, he was placed within our foster home.
He gave me the thermometer and rolled onto the bed. His head rested against Blue’s shoulder for barely a second before his snores joined Deci’s own. I shook my head at the pile of puppies before I lifted Kodiak’s chin and forced his mouth to make a fish face. Despite his growling, I slipped the contraption under his tongue and pressed it on.
“Shit Kodiak,” I murmured, “you gotta wake up, you have a 102-degree fever.”
The shithead groaned and tightening his grip on my skin once more. I let out a troubled sigh before ruffling his hair gently in a soothing motion. Cosimo muttered something in Spanish before rolling into Blue further. The heat increased to almost unbearable.
“Grover!” I called out. It was loud enough that Kodiak groaned. Cosimo mumbled some choice English curse words and Deci frowned in his sleep. Blue? He kept sleeping.
