The Raven (The Raven Four Series Book 2) Read online

“Jesus,” he whispers, reaching out and tentatively touching my skin.

  He starts at the top, tracing each letter marking my flesh with his fingertips, slowly working his way to the bottom. When he reaches the fresh wound, he pauses, his gaze traveling up to mine. “He did this to you last night?” he asks, his gaze searing into mine.

  “I never said it was a he,” I reply coolly, my guard going back up.

  He gives me a tolerant look. “You may have not said the words aloud, but we know your uncle did this to you.” He strokes my cheek with his knuckles. “It’s okay to say it aloud. Whatever he threatened you with to keep you silent, we won’t let him do to you. We won’t let him hurt you.”

  “He didn’t threaten me with anything.” Which is the truth. “I just know that no one’s gonna believe me.” With him being a cop and me being a once accused killer, that’s the real truth.

  He dips his head, leveling his gaze with mine; his expression soft, cautious. “I’ll believe you. I promise I will.”

  “Because of the rules?” I question with cynicism.

  “No, because I know that ugly exists in this world and that people who are supposed to love and take care of us end up being the worst tormentors.”

  His words strike a nerve inside me, but I can’t get the words—the truth I’ve been carrying inside me for years—to leave my lips.

  “Hunter … I …” I trail off as he cups my face between his hands.

  “Just trust me, like I trust you,” he says, his gaze searing into mine.

  Trust. What the hell is it even? I have no plans of finding out, but he just keeps on staring at me, waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

  “Trusting people is hard,” I finally confess.

  “I know,” he agrees. “But sometimes, when the person is trustworthy, it can feel really fucking good to trust them.” For a brief moment, I swear guilt flickers in his eyes. But it happens so swiftly that I wonder if I imagined it.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I mutter, feeling so damn tired.

  Of fighting. Of everything.

  When I look back at this moment, I won’t be able to say why I decided to confide in someone. But something definitely changes in me the second I utter the words aloud. Whether it’s a good change or a bad one, I haven’t got a damn clue.

  “I came home from you guys’ place, and my uncle had found out I’ve been stealing from his drug stash,” I start, feeling terrified, a completely new feeling for me, which seems crazy considering I jumped off a bridge yesterday. But that seemed easy in comparison to trusting someone. Trust is fucking scary. “He pinned me down on the bed and carved that”—I gesture at the word disappointment—“into my side.”

  Frowning, he gently touches the scars on my side again. “Why didn’t you call us? Didn’t Zee give you the card?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t have my phone, remember? And we don’t have a house phone.”

  Remorse crosses his expression. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that. I’m so damn sorry, little raven. I really am… I’m going to make it up to you somehow.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t need to do that. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have called you anyway.”

  “You should always call us when you need help,” he insists in what I’m assuming is a stern tone for him, but it’s filled with too much gentleness. “In fact, promise me you will.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “Then we’re gonna stand here all damn day.”

  “Fine, I promise.” It’s a total lie, though.

  Asking for help… trusting people… It’s definitely my thing.

  With his lips pressed into a thin line, he looks down at my scars. “Did your put all of these on you?” He doesn’t remove his hand, keeping it on my scars just underneath my shirt.

  “Yeah, he started doing it years ago. He does it when I do something that really pisses him off. Although, he’s been doing it more frequently the older I get. But that might be because I get in more trouble now than I used to.” I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, wavering. “I don’t know. He kinda seems to … get off on it, so maybe he just likes doing it.”

  His brows furrow, his eyes crinkling at the corners as sunlight hits him directly in the face. “What do you mean by that exactly?”

  “That he seems to like doing it to me.” I shrug as the wind blows wisps of my hair into my eyes. “I think right after he cut me last night, he went and had sex with my aunt, so … yeah …” I shrug again.

  He sucks in a shaky breath through his nose, and then gradually releases it. “I think we need to get you out of that house.”

  I blink at him. “What?”

  He skims his knuckles across my cheekbone. “You need to move out of your aunt and uncle’s house. In fact, I think it’s extremely important that you do.” He dazes off a bit, seeming in pain.

  “As appealing as moving out sounds, it’s not gonna happen. At least not until I’m eighteen. Even then, my uncle will put up a fuss if what Zay said yesterday was true, about my uncle getting money for taking care of me when I graduate.” I sigh heavily. “Plus, I’ve got like a total of a hundred bucks to my name. That’s not enough to rent an apartment. I could try to steal some from my aunt and uncle, but they don’t keep a lot of cash in the house. And getting a job is a pain in the ass since I have no car, don’t know how to drive, and there’s no real bus system in this town.”

  “We can take care of all that,” he assures. “Jax has already been calculating a way for us to take care of your uncle like we promised. But this way we can take care of two problems at once. Your uncle loses his money, and you get to move out of that house. It’s a win, win.” He gives a short pause, his gaze dropping fleetingly to my side again. “Not that we’re not gonna make him hurt. We’re gonna make sure that asshole more than understands the pain he put you in.” A dark smile turns upward at his lips. “You can even help us if you want.”

  “You want me to help you hurt my uncle?” I question. “For reals?”

  He nods, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You wanna do that? Hurt him like he hurt you?”

  God, do I want to. But I’m also bit apprehensive over the idea, wondering if I unleash that kind of darkness inside me, will I end up killing someone?

  Like I killed my parents.

  Murderer.

  “You don’t have to help us if you don’t want to,” Hunter adds when he notes my hesitancy.

  I shake my head. “No, I want to. I’m just wondering how you guys plan on doing that without getting arrested. And, how are you going to help me move out of the house? Because, like I said, I have no money and no real way to earn money, so I can’t afford my own place. Unless you guys wanna be my own personal taxi and drive my ass to work and back.”

  “It won’t be that difficult making your uncle pay. We just gotta be calculating and careful about it. Jax is really good at that shit, so I know he’ll figure something out. Plus, he’s really big on an eye for an eye … As for driving your ass to work and back, that’s what Zee’s for,” he explains, reminding me of the card Zee gave me last night. He had told me to call him if I needed anything and I considered it while my uncle was carving me up, but I didn’t have my phone. “But it doesn’t even matter ’cause you don’t need to worry about money.”

  “Dude, quit being crazy. If I’m gonna move out, I need to make earning some money my top priority.”

  “No, you don’t. You belong to us now and vice versa, so all of what’s ours is yours, meaning our house.”

  What the shit? Is he being serious right now? He sure as hell looks like he is.

  I promptly shake my head. “No effing way.”

  His lips spread into a grin. “Yes fucking way.”

  I shake my head again. “No. There’s no way in hell I’m moving in with you guys.”

  He juts out his bottom lip. “Why the hell not?”

  “Well, for starters, I’ve known you guys for less than twenty-four hours. And I�
�m not a charity case. I can take care of myself. I have been for quite a while now.”

  “Oh, I know you can take care of yourself. You’re one of the most strong-willed people I’ve ever met, which is saying a lot. But as far as you not knowing us for very long, that doesn’t mean anything. You can know people your entire life and still not really know them. While some people you barely meet, yet you feel like you’ve known them your entire life. It’s how I felt when I met Zay and Jax. It was like the stars aligned and all that shit.”

  “How very romantic,” I joke in an attempt to change the subject.

  His grin broadens. “Isn’t it?”

  A soft laugh slips from my lips, a surprising noise after the heaviness we were just talking about.

  “Your smiles are gorgeous,” he tells me as he strokes my cheek again. “Do you know that?”

  Uncomfortable with the compliment, I roll my eyes. “And did you know you have a weird obsession with my cheek?”

  “That’s because I’m an obsessive kind of guy. Once I decide I like something, I have to have it.” He smooths his hand across my cheek again. “But your skin’s also really soft. I can’t help wanting to touch it.” He dazzles me with a flirty smile.

  “You really know how to work that smile, don’t you?”

  He nods shamelessly. “And that’s not the only thing I know how to work.”

  “Oh, good God,” I groan, bobbing my head back. “Do you ever stop?”

  He chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the corners. “Don’t pretend you don’t think I’m amusing.”

  I want to tell him that he’s not, but he really is.

  When I make no effort to disagree with him, he smiles, but that smile fades as he brushes his fingertips along my side again. “I think you should tell Jax and Zay about this. But I’m not going to tell you that you have to—that’s more their thing.” He carries my gaze. “But if you do, I promise they’ll understand. They get stuff like this. In fact, they have their own scars.”

  I squirm at just the idea of showing them. It was hard enough with just Hunter, who’s the least intense of them all.

  “I’m sure they do, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I mean, this—the scars … the new cuts—it makes me seem fucking weak and I’m not.”

  “I know you’re not,” he promises. “But I understand why you feel that way. I really do.”

  My gaze drifts to his side where I now know scars are hidden. “Why’d you show me your scars? You barely know me.”

  His lips quirk. “Do I really need to give the barely-knowing-people speech again?”

  I shake my head, my lips tugging upward. “No, but …” I waver. It’s not that I don’t believe him; it’s just that, with some of the stuff I’ve overheard, I wonder how no one has seen his scars before. “Can I ask you something …? It’s about your scars.”

  He gives a hesitant nod. “Yeah, go ahead.”

  I scratch my wrist where another series of scars are hidden. “How is it possible that no one else besides me, Zay, and Jax have seen your scars? I mean, from what I understand, you seem like the kind of guy who …” Shit, how do I put this without seeming like a total perv? But the more I think about it, the more I realize being blunt might be the only option here. “Who likes to take his clothes off in front of others.”

  He wrestles back a smile. “You mean, I seem like the kind of guy who likes to fuck?”

  I sigh. “Fine, yeah, you seem like the kind of guy who likes to fuck.”

  His eyes glint with amusement. “There are plenty of ways to fuck with your clothes on. It’s actually really convenient for quick fucks, which is all I do. Plus, a lot of times when people fuck, the lights are off.” He pauses, assessing me with a drop of humor in his eyes. “You’re not going to blush on me, are you?”

  “Nope. That’s not my style.”

  “Such a shame.” He sketches the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip then across my cheekbone. “I bet these cheeks would look even more gorgeous all flushed to match your innocence.”

  I quirk a brow at him. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not innocent? I’m just as rough and badass as you guys. Yesterday on the bridge more than proved that. No, actually, I proved I was more badass, since I jumped off while it was freezing, something none of you guys have done.” I flash him a snarky smile.

  He shakes his head. “You’re so feisty. I think I really fucking like it.” He stares at me, rolling his tongue in his mouth, a contemplative look on his face. “Can I ask you something?”

  That curious look on his face has me wanting to say no, but since he was cooperative with my questions, I decide to nod.

  “You said you’ve only kind of been kissed, right?” He observes my expression closely.

  I nod, a little concerned with where he’s going with this, if I’m going to end up having to explain how that doctor pressed his lips to mine once. Well, at least I think it was only once. My memories are a bit hazy when it comes to my time spent there.

  “What did you mean by that?” he treads cautiously.

  “There was this doctor at the psych ward I stayed at. He tried to kiss me once.” I say it like it’s no big deal, and as long as I don’t think about it too much, it isn’t. But when I think about it too much, it starts to consume me, and then the darkness inside me ends up seeping out, and I do shit like try to cut my wrists open to bleed the pain out.

  His eyes widen. “What do you mean tried? Did he …? Did he force himself on you?”

  I start shake my head then hesitate. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I mean, I can remember him pressing his lips against mine, but then he pulled back and that’s about all I can remember … I have other memories of him saying some weird stuff to me and looking at me for too long, but that’s about it. But I have a shit memory, so …” I shrug.

  He remains quiet for a second “Have you ever been diagnosed with anything for that?”

  I shake my head. “Other than being crazy, nope.”

  A frown forms on his face. “I wonder if we should look into that.”

  “You mean, like have me go to shrink?” I swiftly shake my head. “No thanks.”

  He offers me a sympathetic look. “From what you just told me, I totally get your apprehension, but we can make sure to find a good one. One who understands that if he lays a hand on you, he’ll lose that hand. And we can get one who specializes in memory loss.”

  “There are doctors who specialize in that kind of stuff?”

  “Yeah. Zay actually had to go to one for a couple of months.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Because when he was about eight or so, he couldn’t remember like two months of his life.”

  I can’t help thinking about the dream. I’m really starting to wonder if it wasn’t a dream. But how do I bring that up without looking crazy? I mean, what do I say? Um, hey, Zay, I had a dream about you last night and I think it might be a memory, but I don’t really remember.

  “Did they figure out what was wrong with him?” I ask quietly.

  “No, but to be fair, he quit way before he was supposed to. Zay’s never been really good with that sort of stuff, so no one was surprised.”

  I nod, understanding way more than I wish I did.

  Silence skips by, the wind twirling around us and a bird caws in the distance.

  “So, how do you feel about it?” he asks, watching me cautiously.

  “With seeing a therapist?” I ask, and he nods.

  Well, on one hand, I hate the idea of being around a therapist again, but on the other hand, it might be nice to know what the hell is wrong with me, other than I’m crazy.

  “Can I think about it?” I tense when he wraps his fingers around mine.

  He nods, trailing his fingers down my hand. “Of course you can.” He sketches his thumb along the elevated scars that only Zay knows about. “Your uncle didn’t do this to you, did he?”

  How did he know they were there? Did Zay tell him?

&n
bsp; I want to lie. Tell him he did put those scars on me, too. But the lie won’t leave my tongue, so instead, I shake my head. It’s beyond annoying, this inability to lie to him. I think it might be that he’s been so honest with me and it makes me feel guilty enough not to want to fully lie to him. Who would’ve thought some blond-haired charmer would be the one to crack the icy wall I built around myself?

  Sadness masks his expression as he reaches up and molds his palm to my cheek. “I’m sorry you’re in so much pain.”

  My heart is beating so loudly I can barely hear over it. I don’t like this. Don’t like him being able to see beneath my mask, able to see the ugliness all over me, inside me.

  “I wasn’t in pain. I was just … tired.” Tired of my life. Of living in my own head. Of hating myself.

  I don’t like these feelings he’s bringing out in me. I need to shut them down. Bleed them out if I have to.

  He sketches his thumb along my skin. “That kind of tired can be painful.”

  “You say that like you’re speaking from experience,” I mutter, wishing we’d get off the subject of me.

  “Maybe I am.” He looks at me. And I mean, really looks at me. And then he’s leaning in and his lips are touching mine.

  I tense, knowing I should probably pull back. Instead, I stand there, letting his lips linger on mine. It feels sort of good, not that I’d ever admit that.

  Still, it doesn’t mean I should just let him kiss me.

  I start to pull away, but before I can get very far, he’s leaning back and his eyelids lift open. He doesn’t speak right away, but his expression is filled with a frenzy that matches the crazy thudding of my heart.

  He takes a breath then another, slowly calming down, and I discreetly do the same.

  “Don’t tell Jax I did that.” The corners of his lips kick up into a small but sad smile. “I mean, you can if you want to, but he’s gonna be pissed we both just broke a rule.”

  “Hey, you kissed me. I just stood there.” Thankfully, my tone comes out even. “And I don’t know anything about these rules, nor have I agreed to obey them. But I won’t tell Jax you broke his rules. But only ’cause I’m not really a rule follower.”