Chapter Two

Noah sent out the raven

M oving his hands behind his back, Sebastian fisted them in an attempt to push his claws back into place, determined to bring the simmering wolf under control. He drew a deep breath once, twice before relaxing his grip so as not to draw blood. Ravyn would know if he spilled as much as a drop, and he was determined not to let the ancient seductress know how close he constantly was to losing control around her. She could already monitor his breathing and heart rate if she chose to, and even if he couldn’t control those parts of him, he refused to show a complete lack of control.

Calling her a seductress, even in his mind, was a cheap shot—especially since the raven-haired beauty had made no such attempt on him; not really anyway. She teased and tormented, but it was an act used to deflect from the real problems they faced, as well as her fears.

It wasn’t her fault he was drawn to her in an inexplicable way. It wasn’t her fault that his wolf had grown confused over the course of watching over her. His wolf guarded her with the ferociousness reserved for a mate. He’d pretty much given up explaining to the beast that watching Ravyn was a job. It had led to an already confined wolf straining against the constraints placed upon them in the city and suburbs. Both parts of him were happy to bask in her presence; just being in a room with her kept the dual sides of him content. Mostly.

In fact, if he were being honest, most of the time it seemed like she either picked on him as one might a little pup or attempted to drive him away. Which, if he were still being honest, didn’t bother him half as much as he led her to believe. It secretly made him smile inside when she called him Thor.

Of course, at first it had confused him. Sebastian had thought her feeble minded and kept repeating his name to her in case her memory actually was the problem. Before they met in person, she’d never seemed to have a problem remembering his name; she often purred it over the line in a way that made his wolf chuff happily. After an embarrassing length of time, it finally clicked that she was teasing him about his size and unruly blond curls. The realization had brought a warmth through him despite how unusual it seemed coming from an ancient vampire.

Before he met Ravyn, Sebastian had assumed she would be stoic and boring like the old vampires in Europe whom their security team usually catered to. Even though those vamps were half her age, they embraced acting aloof and above damn near everything; unless, of course, they were in the thralls of blood lust. During blood lust all bets were off. At those times, he and his team were literally locking them into place and running damage control. Most of these jobs required them to protect their charges from danger as well as protect humans from their charges. It was a fine line to walk, but Bash liked to think they’d been able to balance it well for the past several decades.

Ravyn wasn’t like that, though. He found her habit of refocusing or thinking while counting adorable. She acted as if no one noticed it, so they all pretended not to notice her affinity toward counting and organizing items. Her control impeccable, never had she as much as bared her teeth at a human since they’d taken to patrolling her. Not that she would need to; her beauty would draw any man or woman to her like a beacon. No need for mind control when all she needed to do was crook her finger and smile. Like moths to a flame.

Sebastian shuddered to think that if she decided to use her power for evil or against them, there would be no taking her down. His wolf huffed at the thought, and Bash swore that when this was over, he would take a long vacation back home to get their heads on straight.

Typically, each security team consisted of two wolves and two vampires on all shifts except for the hours when the vampire weakened. A few wolves were typically stronger than a single vampire, but if a powerful enough vampire were able to maim or destroy the wolves, a few vamps might be the only way to either restrain or cut down a weakened creature. The balance worked, creating teams that melded strengths and filled in weaknesses. Typically, Ravyn’s security details were a cakewalk. For ten years, they’d followed her on set and to parties, living with her and around her, occasionally redirecting an overzealous human fan turned stalker or clearing a path smoothly to make her travels easier. Sometimes they did a deep background check on those who were in her inner circle or trying to be.

Ravyn liked her blood warmed with spiced wine or occasionally with black coffee. Admittedly, she’d very occasionally drunk from the source of a well-rewarded lover. A lover who generally left the bed satisfied albeit unusually tired but sent safely on their way well fed, with a nice gift waiting for them when they least expected it. An unclaimed check made its way to them from some unknown source, an unexpected win, or a special assignment on a different movie set were a few that had been reported, but Bash was certain there were more, none of which could be traced back to Ravyn. She was clever that way.

And although the reports had spoken of it, during his short tenure he had yet to see her take a lover. Thankfully. He feared such a thing might put his confused wolf over the edge. His wolf had taken to forcing Bash to keep her well fed and her glass filled during her mealtimes. Ravyn had yet to realize he was doing so, but she always thanked him with a smile of appreciation and as time went by, it was less his wolf reminding him of her needs than him anticipating them.

This job was a cinch compared to so many others. His employees who got this assignment usually didn’t choose to leave. Babysitting a vampire actress who had impeccable self-control and no natural or supernatural enemies, based in California, along with travel and parties with other famous people? Simply put, it was a dream assignment. Until it wasn’t. Until the threats started. Still, they would lay down their lives to protect their client or their queen as needed.

Of course, the gifts didn’t openly appear to be threats, especially not at first. Some flowers delivered inside a locked and guarded dressing room. Beautiful blood red and golden yellow roses which instead of having traditional baby’s breath had an accent of gold mustard seed flowers. Unusual for sure, but annoying for a vampire. Written off as a lark, an unusual coincidence. They were followed by a bouquet of fresh and fragrant purple wolfsbane accented with its even deadlier cousin, pale purple vervain. No longer a lark or a coincidence, but a threat. A poison to werewolves and vampires alike, and a weapon often utilized by witches.

The rose of Jericho appeared, a dead-looking resurrection plant left in her secure apartment, waiting for life to be given back to it. And after careful examination, it was discovered the resurrection plant had been previously fed blood and magic, not water, by its sender. Water no longer revived the plant; it thirsted for the blood that it had grown accustomed to. These gifts hinted at much more than a human fan’s obsession.

Then things escalated A dead mouse. A vile of unidentified blood that when opened caused the lone vampire in the room to go temporarily feral at its scent. No one had yet to determine why or how.

Two dead rats.

“Gifts” continued until a pile of unrecognizable road kill found its way into Ravyn’s bed inside her very secure, top-floor apartment, past human security, past his own security as well as the cyber security that Oliver had insisted be installed.

But it hadn’t stopped there. That would have led them to believe their countermeasures were effective. A courier arrived with a half-dried ear, a tiny hoop attached to its decaying edges, blood long dried from whatever poor soul it had belonged to. The delivery woman’s mind had been wiped clean, no idea who arranged the delivery or where it had been picked up from.

Then came a puffy, gray bloated finger with a diamond-encrusted gold band shoved firmly up to its knuckle, securing it in place. Again, flecks of blackened dried blood crusted the sparkling diamonds, working their way deep into the grooves of the ring. This item had found Ravyn in her freshly warded and reinforced apartment, the one security had just cleared and led her into. It lay almost reverently on a crisp white napkin in the center of the cherry dining table. The same table that had been empty merely minutes before was now adorned with a grotesque parody of a macabre marriage proposal.

Sebastian had been present for the grand finale. Having flown in hours before, he insinuated himself as a door opener at the movie premiere, giving him a firsthand look at the first of the attacks on Ravyn, as well as the first time he laid eyes on her in person. The pictures and even the movies didn’t do her justice. They didn’t capture the wildness that lay just beneath her skin or the kindness that embodied her simple touches. She constantly touched people. Service people were granted a tiny caress on the hand along with a “thank you”; others she might lay a hand on a bare arm when she spoke to them, listening intently with her bright green eyes as well as her ears.

His wolf had howled sharply in his mind when she stepped out of the car, followed by a roar when the pompous has-been rocker had placed a possessive arm around her waist for pictures. And even though the jackass removed it nearly immediately after the pictures had been taken, it hadn’t been quick enough to calm the beast that paced inside him.

A punch to the gut nearly brought him to his knees when she turned to begin a slow walk toward the door he was to open for her. For the seconds before she turned to face the paparazzi again, he almost choked on the desire that she walk straight to him. “Mate,” his wolf snarled at him, and he fought the beast down, firmly denying the claim.

If he’d had to speak at that moment, he wouldn’t have been able to form a coherent word. But then a silent chaos erupted and the screams of the crowd dimmed in his mind as his wolf panicked, sending garbled thoughts of both danger and mate to him.

When the unseen entity attacked her and she faltered, he immediately went into protective mode, strong-arming her ridiculous date out of the way and whispering the code that marked him as one of her hidden detail. “Fenrir sends his regards.”

Glued to her side for the evening, he pretended that his employment forced him to stay when, in fact, his wolf refused to let him stand more than a step away the entire night. The evening was marked with him constantly scanning for danger and keeping his wolf from ripping apart anyone who ventured close to her or even those she approached. Despite his outwardly calm facade, he was on edge all evening, with his wolf ready to step in and take over at a moment’s notice.

The attack in Oliver’s home had almost ended him. His wolf simply couldn’t allow Oliver to place anyone’s safety over hers, and the two men nearly came to blows. Forgiveness came easily enough when Bash realized that Oliver fought for his mate, but forgetting still didn’t.

Dead end after dead end, it seemed. They simply couldn’t catch a break. Whoever this was, they were equally powerful and smart—not qualities anyone wanted in an enemy.

Striking down the band of witches who had kidnapped Eva, who had inadvertently been caught up in the crossfire, had given Ravyn a reprieve from the offensive gifts being left behind in securely warded areas. Clearly the main source of these gifts had been the old mage, who carried his secrets to the grave and beyond. But before his death, he’d revealed to Eva that he served a higher master and that Ravyn was meant for another. Despite the blow to the group the mastermind, the one the mage called “Master,” was still hidden from sight.

Decapitation of the revolting creature hadn’t stopped Oliver from having a necromancer revive him, but despite his decaying mess of a physical form, he’d been powerful enough to protect his secrets even after death. Muttering gibberish about a master and his queen, he melted into a hideous, laughing pile of goo. The old mage was just a servant; a powerful, magical source carrying out tricks for yet another master. He may have been the one somehow breaking through their every ward to deliver the tormenting gifts, but he wasn’t the one actually gifting them.

Apparently, this blasted stalker had now acquired the ability to scry either by honing the skill himself or by acquiring yet another witch or mage to work for him. None of these were cheap options, so at this point what they knew about the stalker was sparse.

The work-up they’d made was short, but at the same time specific. “This confirms, yet again, that he’s wealthy,” Sebastian muttered as he warily eyed the reflective surface of the windows before reluctantly drawing the drapes closed. “No one in my tax bracket could afford the skills he’s hiring out for.”

“I’m assuming the $250,000 ring he sent me with a finger still attached might have been the first clue,” Ravyn bit back at him, angry, as if he’d been the one hiding events from her. As if he wasn’t the one being kept in the dark about things.

Bash knew better than to take her anger personally; she was angry at the situation and herself. In the few months since he’d attached himself to her, she’d showed time and time again that she cared deeply for those around her and took any infraction as a reflection of herself. She was unlike any vampire he’d ever met before, and he’d met many over the years. Most of them were careless and self-involved. But not Ravyn. She’d been devastated and blamed herself when Eva was abducted. Even Oliver could be a bit standoffish and careless with those around him. Eva had certainly softened him, but that didn’t extend to everyone her vampire progeny met.

They’d traced the ring. It had been purchased in Beverly Hills by a young woman who, despite the heat, covered herself head to toe with layers, sunglasses, and a scarf. Maybe that wasn’t so unusual in a land where plastic surgeons marked every corner. The woman had also been careful to angle away from the in-store cameras, keeping her head tilted down or away, appearing casual to the service associate, but clearly avoiding the cameras. Filling out the buyer information for an abandoned building and a fake name hadn’t raised any suspicions. Nor did paying with a cashier’s check that had already been created to include the exact sales tax. The cashier’s check had been purchased by a street kid who hadn’t been seen since the transaction. The teen had excitedly told his friends he’d scored a big deal and, as so many deals went, they were unsurprised when he hadn’t returned to them. Just another day in the streets… His few possessions were divided up and his spot filled by another runaway who may or may not be there in a week.

In short, dead end after dead end.

“Of course it was,” Sebastian said evenly, “but that could have been a one-off. And having a mage of that caliber on staff could have been a debt owed. But also having a scryer? Serious money, unless he collects debts and calls them in all at one time just for the singular purpose of—”

“What? Singular purpose of what? Stalking me? Torturing my friends? Al’ama , so many better uses of money.” She swore softly, biting off the edges of her words as she spat them out. Damn.

Bash checked the background of every assignment that came across his desk. He knew Oliver had high expectations for the type of people to whom he offered cyber security or in-person security protection. It was one of the things that had first attracted him to the company. They were choosy about who they represented and who they protected. While no one was perfect and they’d been on missions with downright narcissistic clients, none of them were truly evil. Despite the fact that Ravyn was fast-tracked through the process as a close personal friend of Oliver’s, he’d still sifted through what he could find on her. And ultimately, she was a good person. That wasn’t a farce or a front.

“The hunt may be as important or more important than the actual capture,” Sebastian repeated, knowing full well that as a natural predator she understood that more than most; at least as much as him. “He’s enjoying the physical part as much as anything.”

Bash could imagine the psychopath gleefully envisioning the reactions he was getting to the gifts he was leaving as well as basking in the upheaval he caused every time he broke through a physical or magical barrier. A rich, powerful, absolutely bat-shit crazy psychopath who was obsessed with Ravyn.

“All we’ve done over and over is react to what he’s done.” Anger flickered through him. “We’ve been on the run, and that’s got to be encouraging him in some sick fashion.”

At one time, it had seemed like a good idea, moving from place to place, but even that didn’t matter. Ravyn had been found in every location they moved to, until they decided to just stay in her apartments, hoping he would make a mistake. The unsettling peace that they’d enjoyed after the death of his mage was now gone.

Constantly moving made them prey. Bash could vomit with disgust. Prey. Prey was weak, and weakness was toyed with until the predator got tired of the game and ended it. Better to stand and face them, if only the bastard would come out of the shadows.

“We need a witch in here to track him again.” He spoke the words out loud, but mostly to himself. The last attempt had been a simple track and search spell. They needed more, though; they needed to trace this magic. He wasn’t sure if the witch they had on staff had the capability to follow that type of magic back to its source. Tracing magic was a dangerous sport and numerous safeguards needed to be put in place, safeguards that Bash didn’t understand but knew offered some protection against traps hidden within the magic. There could be a magical backlash if the originator knew they were being tracked and decided to attack a vulnerable witch on their tail. Very specialized training, rare, but surely with their resources they could find a suitable witch.

“Delta has already touched the magic, and she can’t trace it. It’s unrecognizable to her and she’s the best,” Ravyn reminded him, referring to Oliver’s powerful in-house witch back in Chicagoland. “Bash, I just want to feel normal again.” She sounded weary, tired of this game of cat and mouse. It had gotten them nowhere.

Despite the solemness of the situation, Sebastian’s wolf hummed, reminding him of the pleasure of hearing his nickname for the first time from her lips. Too bad he couldn’t just enjoy the moment.

“I know you do, Princess. I wish it were as easy as that.” He focused on the curt nickname he called her that he knew she hated, just to remind himself that theirs was a relationship built from business. They weren’t friends or anything more despite what his wolf wanted.

Bash blocked out the low growl in the back of his mind as the wolf denied the facts of the situation. He was a paid protector, a bodyguard to a princess. No , he reminded himself, to a queen .