The Lost Siren: Rise of the Drakens Book 1, Raven Storm [surface ebook reader txt] 📗

“Benedict, no, she is not our enemy!”

He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me up, and it was hard to tell which pain was worse; that or the rest of my body. I hung there, unable to fight him. I understood his pain; understod what I represented: the one who had taken everything from him.  The other drakens began to speak up, incredulous at his treatment of me.

“She fought with us—"

“Bled for us—"

“Kept us together in time for you to come!”

“The black magick would have killed her if she were a traitor!”

“Sabien trusted her. You aren’t going to let his death mean nothing, are you?”

Gelf was the last to speak, the three elder drakens the only ones who dared to reproach their king. Benedict slowly released me when it became obvious he was about to have a mutiny on his hands. I crumpled to the ground and Kieran caught me, saving my head from meeting a large rock. He pulled his hand back, wincing at the amount of blood pouring from the back of my neck.

“Heal the fang marks, Benedict.”

The king of the drakens was already storming off, and Kieran chased after him, leaving me on the ground to Ronan’s gentle hands. Gelf blocked Benedict’s path, his face so ferocious looking that Benedict paused.

“Heal the fang marks, or I will challenge you.”

Benedict laughed, an ugly sound that echoed loudly off the stone walls.

“And if you defeat him, I will be next.” Wyrren’s large hand landed on Gelf’s shoulder.

“And then me,” Pirth added. Benedict stopped laughing, his face ugly.

“And then us.” Kieran and Ronan both stepped in front of me, and then as one every draken rose to their feet, clasping shoulders.

“And me.”

“And us!”

“My whole family would be dead without her. Fight us if you have to.”

Benedict backed away, his pride warring with his sense of duty. I knew he wouldn’t do anything that hurt his people, and so did Gelf. Benedict backed down, and roughly grabbed me.

“I do this only for my people.”

He bit down again into the back of my neck, and I shrieked in agony.

SEVENTEEN

I awoke abruptly, gasping. Benedict hovered over me, the smell of blood and death in the air. I tried to sit up, but his hands pushed me down. My neck at least felt better, but the rest of my body felt like it had been dropped off the edge of the mountain. His face lingered by my ear, his voice a deadly hiss.

“You’ve taken everything from me; my uncle, my cousin, my brother, my people, and my hope.”

His hand squeezed my neck, his fangs promising murder.

“‘I know," I admitted weakly, unable to stop him as he grabbed my short sword from where it lay at my side.

“I should have known this would happen. I can’t believe I ever cared about you.” My heart froze, elation clashing with utter despair as his eyes filled with such hatred. I didn’t care: if there had been a moment at some time where he had cared for me, it would make all of it worth it.

“You’ve disrupted everything. For over six hundred years I’ve ruled my people, and at first glance you nearly send me to my knees with your eyes, your scent. I was disgusted with myself. I still am.”

I writhed against him, but his hand across my neck squeezed lightly in warning.

“Then I tasted your blood, and I knew I was in trouble. I obsessed about it, I got in fights with the others, for no reason, and every thought I had was just another scheme on how to make you bleed. That day in Dark Haven when you gave out a distress call, I realized I would have happily murdered every one of my subjects  if it meant saving you."

His hands slid down to grip my waist underneath the breeches, inching closer to that place that ached, that burned for him. Because despite his hatred, despite his pain, I had never wanted anyone else in the world more than I wanted him at this moment.

“You liked it...liked being with me,” I whispered, a faint echo of hope stirring to life within my chest.

"I obsess over being with you."

I moaned as his tongue dragged across my neck, healing the little scrapes and lesions from the fight.

“My every waking thought is of you. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and every muscle vibrates in anticipation of the feel of your skin against mine. You've ruined me."

His chest heaving with exertion.

“And now, I’ve failed my people in every way. The Overlord knows where we are, and the siren is still lost to us. I am a failure.”

My dagger gleamed as he held it in his hands, and in one horrifying moment I knew his intention.

“No, it isn’t your fault! None of this was your fault! Your uncle tries to murder you and take your people and it’s your fault? You’re fucking psychotic!”

The other drakens muttered at the tone of my voice, but Benedict grabbed me, and we disappeared.

He dropped me on the ground, and I was startled by the feeling of the wind on my face. The sky above me pelted me with cold rain, while the storm raged around us. Thunder roared, making it impossible to hear anything other than the fury of nature.

“Rhyfel’s sacrifice was simple,” Benedict began, yelling over the tempest. “The lost siren would be protected as long as I stayed away from her, as long as I refused to claim her. If I kept my people in this mountain, no one would know where she was. If I just kept away, she was safe.”

A small bit of my heart cracked, hearing him speak so fondly of anyone, even if it wasn’t me. It was a distraction from the pain riddling my body, at least. I vaguely wondered why he was telling me this. He continued, a snarl marring his face.

“I fucked it up,