Page 11 of Raven

I tried to study. I sat and stared at those damned pages for what felt like hours, but I couldn't get my head off Tia, or her out of it, or... fuck, it didn't matter. I'd never brushed paths with or kissed another panther before. I felt her there, still against me. The softness of her lips, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the way her scent enveloped me—it was all burnt into my memory.

I'd kissed girls in the past, slept with them, but this was a whole new thing, and my panther relished it. Yet, it was also so confusing, I think, just because of that lack of contact we'd had in our lives. My mind kept replaying the moment her legs hadwrapped around my waist, the feeling of her hands on my sides. Christ, I wanted more. I wanted to explore every inch of her, to feel her panther's energy intertwining with mine.

After grappling for an agonising forty-five minutes with my studies, which meant reading the same paragraph so many times and still having no idea what it was about, I'd given up and sprawled out on my bed. My thoughts drifted back to Tia, to the softness of her skin under my fingertips, the way her eyes had darkened with desire. I imagined what it would be like to have her here, in my bed, our bodies tangled together, panthers and Humans alike revelling in the connection.

That was the mistake.

My first class wasn't until ten, but I had to be out of the house and meeting Malcolm by six. Malcolm was the head of the preternatural council and alpha to the tiger pack—alpha of everything, really, and God, pretty much. If he asked to meet, you met. No excuses.

Part of our lease agreement had been that I worked for him on some things when he needed me. Especially in matters involving the others who lived in the underground. Technically, they weren't meant to. They thought they lived there without him knowing.

Ha.

While he ruled and his word was law, he was also not a cruel man. He was the reason my mother and I had our flat and weren't huddled as strays ourselves. He accepted our light donations to Society and allowed me to study. In return, I ran small errands, and every penny I earnt from the alpha went straight into my tuition.

I had no idea what time it was, nor how long I'd been asleep when I felt, or rather, heard my mother's presence. She'd come home and it'd pulled me out of a doze. She was an angry blip onmy radar, and that pushed into my dreamless sleep, tugging me back into the real world.

Drowsy yawns crawled over me as I lifted my arm over my face to look at my watch. "What time is it?" My mother was back early, her steps never echoing around the room.

"Quarter past six."

"Shit." My eyes sprang open, and I flung myself off the mattress, almost losing my balance in the rush. "God. I'm so late." I yanked off my Spy Glass work shirt, threw it on the bed, and swapped it for a plain blue one. As I changed, my mind flashed to Tia again, to how it felt to have her hands on my bare skin. I shook my head, trying to focus.

I went to dash past my mother, but she stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. I knew better than to try to push past her, but I didn't have time for anything. But the expression she held, plus her emotions came off her. You didn't need my ability to be able to feel the anger rolling off her.

If I could see it, I'd picture a scarlet snake coiling itself, venom coursing through her veins. Her fury pulsed like bass drums against my skin, as her jaws clenched, and she sauntered into the room. She held the tissue I'd used to clean Tia's wounds. "Who is she?" The anger came off her like tar, thick and oozing, reeking into the air. "I smell her all over the place." Her nostrils flared. "I can smell her on you too."

"Who? I've got to go." I tried to get past her, but she mirrored my moves, a barricade in the doorway. I wasn't suicidal enough to shove past, not with the storm scrawled across her face. Inside, I was panicking. How could I explain Tia to her? How could I describe the electric connection, the way my panther yearned for her touch? "Please. I'm already late. I'm meeting Malcolm. We'll talk later." I hoped hearing Malcolm's name might make her move, but no such luck.

My mind raced, torn between the urgency of meeting Malcolm and the lingering thoughts of Tia. Her scent still clung to me. Part of me wanted to tell my mother everything—about the attack, about helping Tia, about the kiss that had set my world on fire. But I knew better. Some things were better left unsaid, at least for now.

She shook her head, her finger jabbing at me. "Malcolm can wait. I want answers and I want them now. Don't you dare tell me lies. I can taste them. Who did you have in our home?"

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I shuffled from foot to foot, itching to leave. Malcolm couldn't wait, and she knew that. I'd never been late for him before, and I feared if I was, the deal we had would be off. You don't keep the alpha of everything waiting. "Please, mum. We can talk when I get back." I’d plead my case to Malcolm, offering to pick up the slack later. I'd beg if I had to. Lying on the bed was a mistake. I’d have been out before she got home if I hadn’t done that.

My mother stepped in front of me, positioning her body firmly to prevent me from passing. Although she was smaller than me, she had an aura of confidence that made her seem larger than she was. Her long legs and lithe frame did nothing to diminish the wild beauty of her, though. Cascading blonde hair, made brighter by perfect green eyes that glowed when her panther appeared. Even if someone wanted to push past her, they’d know better. It was clear from the way she moved and the look in her eyes that she was not to be toyed with.

"I will decide what is important here. You don't leave this place until you answer my questions. Do I have to ask you a fourth time, or would you rather I hunt the girl down and ask her myself?"

Her eyes burnt into me, her disappointment pushing, and I had to fight not to squirm under her gaze. My cheeks flushed atthe thought of my mother confronting Tia. How the hell would that look?

Any attempt to escape, though, would look like a challenge, and challenges in the Other world were punishable by death.

I spoke slowly and carefully, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible, "She's just a girl from college. Her name is Tia. It's no big deal."

My mother stared at me; her expression unreadable. Finally, she broke the silence. "What's her surname?"

I bit my bottom lip, considering the ramifications of lying to my mother. She'd see right through it. "Tia," I said again.

My mother raised a brow. "Tia what?"

"I don't know. Just Tia." I felt her irritation mount within me like the floodwaters at high tide. She scowled at me, her gaze narrowing as her lips became two thin lines.

"You invited a stranger into our home without even bothering to ascertain her identity. How stupid can you be?"

I shrugged a little too nonchalantly, shaking my head, and almost sighing with it—a move perfected by teenagers, as if instilled in us as soon as we turned thirteen. "I don't know, mum. I don't interview everyone I talk to."

Her glare intensified with each word I spoke. "Why was she here? Why are there blood-stained tissues and what seems like silver fragments in our bin?"

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