One Last Rainy Day (Ravenhood Legacy #1)

by Kate Stewart

A side of me he’s terrified exists because it means, at one point, it will put me in the line of fire, where I fully intend to be.

“Time will tell,” he taunts, trailing me as I start to take the stairs two at a time and stop on a dime just a few steps down—the hairs on the back of my neck spiking in awareness while an uneasy feeling spreads through me.

I go to look for my letter opener as Tyler produces a pocketknife. It’s unique but severely dated.

If this is what infatuation feels like, it’s meant for lunatics.

It’s all I need as I thrust into her like it’ll be the last time—and chances are it will be.

“Just waiting on a unicorn to do a fly-by and drop a crown in my lap,”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, Cecelia, especially when you come apart for me.”

“The meaner they are, the harder they fall.”

She’s trying to domesticate me!

Love is a four-letter curse. No bird I know of—who’s been struck by it—has ever flown quite the same way.

I. Will. Not. Be. Domesticated.

I’ve been domesticated. Somewhat. To a small degree. Minuscule, really. What’s worse is that I actually don’t mind it that much.

So, this is adoration.

“Oh, my God, Dom . . . is this what I think it is?” “It’s no big deal,” I interject, “just—” “—a crown made of honeysuckle vines,”

“Here’s my confession . . . I know what I’m holding,” she murmurs, “I know his worth.”

“Don’t be offended that you’re a chameleon. You change colors to blend with the company you keep, and it only proves just how intelligent you are. But you’ve allowed others to give you the impression and current idea of what you deserve. You’ve been dodging looks your whole life,”

Especially the secret that the congressman who taught him how to fasten a necktie is an original raven Tobias attended prep with. An original on the fast track to becoming president—and still is.

when we wait for someone to do something no one ever fucking shows up.”

“I might have lost your trust, but I would hand you my firstborn, Dom, no questions asked.

I used to question why I don’t fear for my own safety.

“Cecelia,” I rasp out, the cadence in my voice taking me aback as the low-lying burn in my chest ignites at the thought of what future rainy days would look like without her.

I’ve been struck fucking stupid by the four-letter curse. I’m. So. Completely. Fucked.

“I told you that I would take whatever you could give me, and I meant it, so give me something, Dom.” I search myself frantically because I know she means it. “French bulldog,” I blurt, and she jerks back in confusion. “What?” “That’s the dog you should get,” I say. She crosses her arms. “I’m listening.” “They’re companion dogs with good temperament—easy going, alert, sociable, patient, smart. They’re so ugly that they’re cute. It’s the dog Sean should have gotten, but he got an idiot instead.”

This is love, and I’m dangerously consumed by it.

Staring into her eyes as we share breath, I’m filled with the conviction that I’m looking back at my twin flame.

Struck down with the four-letter curse or not, I’m still a motherfucker, and embracing it.

The image of Cecelia with a loaded gun at her head sends a shiver through me, making me physically ill as I pound down the steps and start my Camaro.

“I love you,”

Instead, I press a promise into her as I take her lips in a kiss—a vow without words that I’ll protect her perfect heart as much as I can. A vow without words but a promise just the same. A promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep. Looking into her eyes, I vow she’ll never know about the monsters she can’t see because I’ll slay them all before they have a chance to get to her. Even if that monster is me.

“I get it, but isn’t there something you want?” I’m holding it.

“Why won’t you let people know you?” You’re my people. “You know me.”

“I want in. Please let me in.”

“You are in.”

She loves me.

She loves me. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

“It’s okay, Cecelia. I’m as close to happy as a man like me deserves.”

“I have to let you go for now, but I don’t fucking want to . . . I don’t have a choice, but everything I do now, it’s for you.”

“If she ever fucking forgives us, let’s fucking marry her.”

She sought me out, fed my starving heart, and resurrected it. She dragged the weakening organ out, kicking and screaming . . . but it’s out, and it steadily beats for her. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

So, this is heartbreak.

“You gutted me, baby,” I croak in confession as my chest caves. “But I can’t say I don’t deserve it . . .” I falter, grunting through the pain consuming me. “You thrive on love, and I . . . we fucking starved your heart . . . we just left you here.”

“We both know I didn’t deserve you . . . but you made me feel like I did . . . even if I wouldn’t fucking hold your hand,” I admit. “I was going to,” I sniff. “I was going to try to be that guy. I was that guy. I just . . .” I slide my thumb along hers, the burn unbearable. “I would give fucking anything for one more day. Just one.”

Cracking wide, I bend over her, pressing my forehead to hers, “I’m sorry.” Feeling the shatter of finality, I press a salty, damp kiss to her temple, my whisper for her ear, my last confession, far, far too late. “I love you too, Cecelia.” No more rain.

Ha! You are so fucked, big brother!

“We love rainy days, don’t we, baby?” “We do,” she croaks, voice breaking.

“Nous savions tous les deux que je n’allais jamais voir mes trente ans, mon frère. Prends soin d’elle.” We both knew I was never going to make it to thirty, brother. Take care of her.

“Tobias,” she interjects, “the N stands for natural.” “Yes, Trésor, we’ve considered that, but—” “That’s what it is,” she presses. “Natural Enemy.”

“You’re thinking of a man’s natural enemy.” She bends to whisper in his ear. “What is a raven’s natural enemy?” Fingers hovering over the keys, Cecelia types in each letter. BALD EAGLE