Anya's Raven

Raven clamped his jaw hard as he listened to the grating drone of Syril Har'Boken's monologue. The man inspired his fury at the best of times, the need for restitution forming a small, hard knot at the pit of Raven's stomach. But none of this was evident from Raven's carefully blank outward expression.

"...she thinks she's running free, her will her guide, but every move she makes is according to my plans. Only a matter of time, now, and we'll rein her in..."

The man was an idiot, but that didn't lessen the damage he was capable of. The magnitude of Syril's ambition was frightening to behold. And there wasn't much that frightened Raven these days.

Syril Har'Boken spoke of his daughter, of course. The girl, woman, he amended himself, had been a fixation of Syril's of late. She had been more than a middling nuisance when it came to the Har'Boken holdings in South Tract, disrupting the slave trade there with stunning finality.

Raven stifled a moment of admiration for the girl. Woman. He hadn't expected her to cut and run when she did those years ago, nor to survive so long outside of her privileged upbringing. An unacknowledged part of him had hoped she would be back.

He had successfully kept thoughts of Anya to a minimum, thinking it easier to forget her existence then wonder whether she lived or died. Syril had raged for weeks at her disappearance, but then suddenly his ire had cooled, and his business had carried on as if he had never had a daughter.

But these past few months Anya's actions couldn't be ignored, and Syril had drawn Raven's attention back to the girl who had changed the course of his fate. Raven had never understood the link between them, resenting the attraction to one of Syril's blood. He had fought it with every ounce of his strength. But there were times when Anya had been an oasis in a world of bitter ugliness, and he emerged from those times to wonder at her place in his existence.

He had assumed the track of her life had passed permanently from his. Perhaps that was naïve, considering.

"Did you hear that, slave? It is time to retrieve my misbegotten offspring. Despite her wayward motives, she must take her place in her House." Syril's face had suffused with blood at the force of his conviction.

Raven acknowledged Syril's words, if not his purpose. He had his own reckoning to settle with Anya. To follow Syril now would serve Raven's objective without arousing suspicion.

He wouldn't allow Syril to taint Anya with his depravity. Though Syril was correct in thinking it was time for Anya to come to terms with her bloodlines. And Raven had no qualms about using Anya for his own ends. The time to vanquish Syril's hold on him had come.

Raven only hoped he could come out of it with what remained of his soul intact.

*****

Gathering just a few necessary belongings, Raven prepared for the journey north. Collating the information from his network of agents, he had picked up Anya's trail just east of the Mere mountains. His hand shook slightly at the thought of finally going after her.

He had woken this morning to a crushing headache, his cock swelled to painful intensity. Images washed through his head, but he hadn't been able to grasp them, and they faded into the ether as quickly as he was aware of them.

Only one thing he knew for sure. They had involved Anya.

Something had changed last night, and Raven feared what it implied. He could almost feel her, which left him relieved that she was alive. But the part of his mind that had always been aware of Anya felt raw and abraded. Urgency to see her was growing within him.

Satisfied he was ready, he slipped from the House.

*****

Three weeks of careful tracking and Raven felt her. She was close. The knowledge didn't ease him.

Burning thoughts of her had filled his dreams every night, so that he woke each morning tense with need. His body was strung tight, pent-up energy making him jumpy. Though he could push her from his thoughts during his waking hours, she claimed his sleeping mind, keeping him on the knifepoint of control.

It was relentless, and it was urgent, leaving his emotions raw, and his groin heavy. The last few days he had felt something more. Disquiet settled over him, as he tried to pinpoint the significance of his dreams.

Picking up her trail at the Mere mountains, Raven had followed the evidence of her movements. He noticed she was unusually sloppy in her travel, haphazardly covering her tracks, but then seemingly indifferent to remaining unnoticed.

As the gap closed between them, he found it easier to follow her without looking for clues. An internal compass directed him without fail, and as soon as he learned to trust it, he gained on her quickly.

Now he stood on the edge of the Grove, and Raven was troubled at the thought of entering. The Grove was a place of harmony and magic. Rumors of mysterious happenings had abounded here for centuries, and the thought of Anya enveloped in the Grove was natural. His own presence in the Grove was another matter.

Raven felt the discordance of his life even at the edges of this place. He had killed, and worse. Regardless of the reasons, he felt a certain rejection from the Grove.

Steeling himself, Raven entered the cool shelter of the wood. He didn't worry about where he would end up, letting the pull of Anya direct him.

Reluctance pushed at the edge of his thoughts. The Grove was resisting his movements through the wood, and a long ignored part of him was saddened by it. But the urge to see Anya was stronger than the persuasion of the Grove, and anticipation raced through him as the distance between them closed.

With the anticipation came the familiar feeling of domination he felt whenever he was around her. He neither questioned nor resisted the compulsions when they came over him. Try as he might to fight his attraction to Anya herself, he relished the strange trance that came over them, his will suddenly subduing hers. He had never understood it. But the exhilaration it brought was addictive.

His balls ached with all the thoughts of her lately. His cock was swelling right now as he recalled how she had looked the night before she was gone, round breasts lush with pleasure, nipples hard from her teasing fingers, the glistening folds of her sex pulsing wither her arousal...

Closing his eyes, Raven attempted for control. The same kind of iron control he had had to enforce to step away from her that night. Back then, it had been too early, Syril's schemes too closely achieved. But now...Gods help him if he would have to step away from her now.

He meant to resolve what was between them. He meant to sink into her folds as he had dreamed about for years. He wanted to plunge his prick into her mouth, her cunt, her ass. He needed to feel her coming around him when he did it.

Groaning, Raven squeezed his fist together, the short nails of his fingers biting into his palms. After a few more huffing breaths, he felt ready to move on.

*****

Anya rested her head against the tall oak in front of her, dizziness washing through her as another spell came on. Sweat beaded her brow, her body reconciling the torn changes to her spirit. Nothing had been the same since the ritual.

She didn't know what was real anymore, her progress escorting Valdine's body to the Grove a hazy collection of disjointed images. Sometimes she felt Raven was with her. Other times he felt so distant as to be non-existent, and she realized how naïve she had been to think that he had ever been separate from her at all.

Steadying herself as she swayed again, Anya opened her eyes to gaze in front of her. She was sure Raven must be here. His presence was vivid, and she longed for him to be real. She needed to rectify the terrible changes she had wrought in herself. She wondered if Raven had been affected.

Anya longed for Raven so badly she thought she was hallucinating when his form appeared out of the trees. Her vision blurred as tears misted her eyes, and she blinked hard to clear them. But he was still there.

"Raven?" she croaked.

And suddenly he was there beside her, arms gripped around her and tipping her fevered head back.

"What have you done, An?" Raven asked. He was beautiful, beautiful, and her heart soared at the same time the gateway opened in her mind.

She screamed at the pain of it, her world exploding in fiery concussions, arms scrabbling to grasp futilely at her head.

Raven held her upright, repeatedly asking her things, words she could neither understand nor entertain. Anya thought she would burn up, the world spinning faster and faster, pain lancing through her thoughts as her damaged connection to Raven reverberated chaos through her skull.

Blackness closed in, and Anya lost consciousness with Raven's arms still around her.