Revealed (House of Night #11)(57)

Stevie Rae tried to get off the bed. An electric field crackled and zapped through her, making her cry out in pain and cringe back. “Dallas, this is crazy! Shaunee’s going to be here any second.”

“It’ll be a second too late for you. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure Shaunee gets what’s coming to her, also. First, it’s your turn.” His eyes were flat. His voice was filled with hatred. “I’ll kill her fast, with just one quick zap. But not you—you deserve to suffer. You cheated on me with a f**king freak of nature—now fry for it!”

Dallas tugged hard at the cord, untying the blackout drapes. Pulling his half of the curtain open, but being careful to keep himself covered, he stepped back.

Daylight flooded into the room through the open, uncovered window, directly onto Stevie Rae.

It was like she had stepped into the mouth of a furnace. The electrical field pinned her to the bed as the sunlight began burning her skin. Stevie Rae covered her face, writhing in agony, and she began to scream.

Then everything turned super crazy.

There was a terrible screeching, so loud that it penetrated through Stevie Rae’s agony.

“Ahhh! Get the f**k off me!” Dallas was yelling and staggering around the room.

The electric field that had kept her prisoner evaporated and Stevie Rae rolled off the bed. She pressed herself against the side of the bed, escaping into the cool shadow.

Dallas lurched past her, obviously trying to get to the door, but the huge raven’s attack was relentless. Completely shocked, Stevie Rae watched the bird draw Dallas’s blood, raking claws over his upraised arms as he beat the air with massive wings and shrieked in anger.

The door burst open and Shaunee ran into the room.

“Stevie Rae! What the—”

Dallas grabbed her, holding her before him, using her as a shield.

“No, Rephaim, don’t hurt Shaunee!”

The raven drew its claws in at the last second, just grazing the side of Shaunee’s face as the momentum of his attack had him hurtling past her and into the wall.

Dallas shoved Shaunee away from him and at the bird and then he ran, darting through the door and slamming it closed behind him.

Shaunee scrambled across the floor to Stevie Rae. “Ohmygod! Your skin! Oh, Stevie Rae, you’re burnt bad! Don’t move—don’t move. I’ll close the drapes and get help.”

Stevie Rae grabbed her hand. She was panting in pain, but she forced the words. “Let Rephaim out first. He’ll be scared.”

Shaunee didn’t have to look for the raven. He flew at them, skimming above them so close that Stevie Rae felt the air he stirred. He landed on the footboard of the bed. Perching there he peered down at Stevie Rae, cocking his head.

“Go on,” she said, trying to sound calm and normal. “I’m okay. Go on outside.” Stevie Rae lifted her hand, making a weak gesture toward the open window and ignoring the fact that her hand—her arm—and she was sure her face—were all scorched bloody. “Shaunee’ll take care of me now. I’ll see you at sunset.”

He cocked his head again and made a soft croaking sound.

Stevie Rae thought he was the most beautiful bird she’d ever seen.

“I love you, Rephaim,” she said. “Thank you for saving me.”

As if that had been what he’d been waiting for, the big raven spread his wings and soared out the open window.

Shaunee ran to the window, closed it, and then tugged the blackout drapes together, tying them quickly and securely.

She crouched beside Stevie Rae. “Want me to lift you into bed?”

“No. Just get help.”

As Shaunee sprinted from the room Stevie Rae pressed her face against the floor and prayed that she would pass out.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Neferet

Nyx has taken from me the only thing I love. In her den, the words whispered around her, causing the tendrils of Darkness to quiver against her skin. Cocooned in their cold, sharp touch, Neferet’s consciousness traversed time and dimensions, skipping like a stone over a still lake, as she touched the past.

As a fledgling she had already been respected and valued. After her Change to vampyre, it was inevitable that Neferet would become a High Priestess. She hadn’t had to seek out the title. It had come to her effortlessly, as she so richly deserved.

So, too, did the Warrior come to her.

His name had been Alexander. She remembered her first sight of him at the Summer Games. He’d become a Sword Master that day and defeated all challengers to take the crown that was an olive wreath woven with scarlet ribbons. As the youngest High Priestess of the House, Neferet had placed the wreath on his head and bestowed the ceremonial kiss of victory on his lips.

She remembered she could smell his sweat mixed with the blood of the opponents he had defeated. His eyes had followed her the remainder of the ceremony. Later he told her that he never would have attempted to seduce her that night—not when he was unclean, still covered with gore from the competition pit. But Neferet had seduced him—had not allowed him to wash and prepare himself for her.

He would smile and retell the story over and over—how his High Priestess had been so desirous for him that she hadn’t wanted to wait for him to bathe. What Alexander had not understood until it was too late was that Neferet had been so desirous for him because of the blood and sweat in which he had been covered.