Stone Crest: Rise of a Raven

14. Chapter 14

Chapter fourteen

Locke

I ’m angry. Not at Raven, but at myself. I knew she was close. I could sense her the second she stepped foot on my property. I was careless. I just wanted a glimpse of her and I fucked up. I scared her, and now she’s hurt. My arms clutch her small body to my chest, the scent of something sweet flowing off of her skin masked with something like peppermint. I inhale, and my wolf howls inside my head. He’s practically strutting around, celebrating being this close to her. He needed to cut that shit out. I’m just being nice. She’s a wounded student.

And our mate.

I almost trip over my own feet at his declaration, but instead I deposit Raven onto the back patio.

“Thanks," she says dryly as I stalk past her.

She’s not my mate. She can’t be. It’s impossible. I accepted the fact years ago. When I was cursed to a life of damnation.

I open the patio door, leading Raven into the sitting room, and through the formal living area.

“Wow.” She says. “Very…. modern… vintage.”

“Yeah. Declan was in charge of decorating.” I step past the twelve-seat dining table and into the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back,” I call out over my shoulder.

I reach the half bath and grab the first aid kit. I don’t even know why we really have this. Wolves and vampires heal extremely fast. Sirens as well. We rarely have open wounds that last longer than a few hours. Callum is the only one we’ve used it for. That incident almost caused Hendrix to relapse. He was just getting stable not having human blood. It was ugly.

Taking a deep breath, I head back into the kitchen where Raven is clasping her bleeding arm.

Placing the kit on the counter, I grip her hips, lifting her body to place her where I can have better access.

“Hey!” She shrieks. “You don’t have to man handle me.”

She glares, blood still dripping down her arm and she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Which again, makes me furious.

“Give me your arm,” I instruct.

“Are you always this pleasant or am I just special?” She deadpans.

She holds out her arm, while I use the towel by the sink to clear away the blood.

“You bring it out in me.” I shake my head. “This may sting.”

I continue to clean the cut, glancing up every few seconds to find her watching me closely.

“This is a big place.” She drops her eyes to my lips. “You live here alone, professor?”

“Locke.” We are in my home. As much as I need to be reminded that she's my student, right now, the need to take care of her is taking liberty. “You can call me Locke.”

I meet her eyes, and she asses mine carefully.

“I didn’t take you for a man who was indecisive.”

I ignore that. “I don’t live here alone.”

Her eyes lower, and she clears her throat.

“My buddy Declan lives in the west wing.”

Her eyes move back to mine. I can smell her sweet scent. Hear her heart rate increasing.

It’s her. My wolf urges me.

“You think I would’ve taken your offer if I wasn’t available?”

She lifts a shoulder. “You aren’t available.”

That cruel reality is the only thing dangling between us. Between this.

The sound of the front door opening breaks our moment.

“Speak of the devil,” I mumble.

“Two million. That’s how much money I lost today," he bellows out into the house. “All because that secretary in a pencil….”

He trails off, coming to a complete stop in the opening of the kitchen. His eyes go from mine to Raven’s exposed wound, then back to mine.

His nostrils flare, and he flexes his fingers with a light shudder.

“Declan, this is Raven.” I tear open the butterfly bandage.

Raven waves. “Sorry. Blood makes you squeamish?”

Declan’s lip tugs up into a smirk. “Something like that.” He glances at me with a lift of his eyebrow.

I look away because I know exactly what that look says.

You have a student sitting on our kitchen counter?

“It was nice to meet you, Raven. If you will excuse me, I haven’t had dinner.”

Declan strides away while I close the kit.

“Two million. Hope the secretary was worth it.” Raven snickers. She examines the bandage. “Not bad work.”

Hopping off of the counter, she reaches out to gather up the gauze and trash.

“The pantry,” I nod.

She throws it away before turning to face me. “I didn’t mean to disrupt your evening.”

“You didn’t.”

Which is true. The only plans I actually have tonight involve watching her from the woods outside of her apartment. Of course, she doesn’t need to know that. That I’m borderline obsessed.

“You like photography?” I ask.

It was the reason I had ventured so close. The smile on her face when she was behind the camera.

“It’s kind of my thing.” Her smile is there but it doesn’t reach her eyes now. “It may not be any more considering I think I busted my camera.”

Casually she reaches out her hand. “Thanks, professor. I owe you one.”

I take her hand, her silky fingers sliding under my callused ones. She sucks in a breath when I tug slightly, causing her to stumble into my chest. “Don’t make me remind you again. It’s Locke outside of that lecture hall.”

Her breath fans out along my throat and I have to provide enormous effort not to move. To not crash my lips to hers. To not jerk of those jeans and remind her what it feels like to be filled with me right here on this kitchen island.

“Isn’t that a bad idea?” She asks.

“A terrible one,” I respond honestly.

What this is, is my resolve slipping. And I’m not sure how much longer I can withstand.