Page 61 of White Raven

Irritation surged up my throat, my spine straightened, my chin lifting. Fury crackled at her voice, her softness for the monster across from me, at even hearing his name.

My movement caught her attention, flicking her gaze to me. She went utterly still. Her eyes dropped to the marks inked down my neck. A small gasp hitched up her throat, her mouth parting. She reared back to Onyx, her expression pained and confused. Her form recoiling, as if she had been punched, when she took notice of the red, irritated skin on his hand.

“You—you⁠—”

“Just food this morning.” He cut her off, not responding to her reaction. He acted blasé, though I could tell he was uncomfortable. His shoulders were stiff, his fingers absently flicking at the knot embedded in the wooden table.

Frida didn’t move, devastation blinking her lids, her mouth quivering as she peered between us.

“Thank you,” he stated firmly.

She dipped her head, a tear escaping her eye as she twirled around and darted off, slipping into the jubilant crowd.

“Huginn and Muninn. What did you do to her?”

His glare leveled me.

“Well, you were rude,” I said, though it was me who sounded insolent. “She was really upset.” I stared after the retreating woman, yanking at the dirty bodice, trying to hide any of my newly acquired tattoos, which felt like they screamed from my chest in a chorus. “Why would she be so hurt over a thrall tattoo?”

“That is my business. Not something a thrall needs to know.”

“Clearly you had her believing whatever was between you was more.” I defied his cold tone, which told me he wanted to end this conversation. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Frida, even if part of me considered she made her own bed to lie in. What did she expect from someone like him?

“I had her believing and worshipping a lot of things that night.” He leaned over the table, his glare on me. “But I never led her on. They all know where they stand. I only fuck. Hard and all night. Nothing more.”

Flames sizzled up my back, my throat struggling to swallow, the memory of how my body responded to his, the feeling of him hot and pulsating against my stomach. How easily it could have crossed over into experiencing it for myself.

Bowls of food dropped in front of us, and I gladly took the interruption.

“Here.” An older woman snarled at Onyx. “Food.”

“Signe.” He nodded at the short, stout woman, the resemblance to Frida in her eyes and nose.

She glared harder. “You leavin’?”

“One more night.”

She huffed, folding her arms, not happy at his answer.

One more night? I figured we’d be moving on, getting to the Night Realm as soon as possible.

“Pay now or get the fuck out.” She held out her hand.

He licked his lips, hiding a smile. Pulling coins out of his pocket, he dropped them into her waiting palm.

She glowered at the money and him, like she was hoping he wouldn’t have the capital.

“You bother Frida again, and I’ll run you out of this town myself,” she barked, swiveling on her heel and marching away.

“Figuring that’s Momma?” I snorted, dragging the steaming bowl closer. “She doesn’t like you very much.” I poked my spoon at the identical porridge from the night before, my nose curling from the overcooked oats.

“Not that one, at least.” He scooped up a mouthful.

We quietly ate for a long time, as my curiosity grew with every moment, wondering more about his past.

“What about your mother?”

“My mother?” The spoon stopped at his lips, tension rolling over him. “What about her?”