Page 2 of Ravished By the Ravens

“Good . . . uh . . . costume?” Asher says, unable to look away. It doesn’t look fake.

“That’s better.” The man steps closer, brushing the back of his fingers along Asher’s cheek. “Now try again and say something nice about Magnus.”

“Who?”

“That’s an owl-noise, not very raven-esque,” the man says, smiling at his own joke. “Magnus would be sad.”

This must be a dream.

That’s the only explanation for a man in a very realistic Halloween costume telling him to compliment a raven by the name of ‘Magnus’.

The winged man—who still doesn’t have a name—whistles a short melody, instantly getting a reply from Magnus the raven. Asher blinks, eyes ping-ponging between the two. It must be a dream. He must have passed out when he fell earlier and ended up in one of Grandma’s stories.

Magnus—why has he just accepted that the raven’s name is Magnus?—takes flight again and lands right on Asher’s shoulder. He instantly raises his shoulders and freezes.

“What’s it doing?” He asks.

“He. ‘What’s he doing?’ Magnus doesn’t like being called ‘it’.” The man moves closer, letting his hand slide down Asher’s body to his waist, while he lets the raven gently pick at the other. “And the answer is that he’s just saying ‘hi’.”

Hello, the raven croaks. How does it sound so human?

Asher still doesn’t move. The raven on his shoulder moves its—his—beak through his muzzled curls, and the hand around his waist heats his body in a strange way. It’s only now Asher realizes he’s cold. The cool wind of the fall night slinks past his meager clothing—he wasn’t expecting to be outside this long—and he can’t stop a shudder.

“You’re cold,” the man says. With a coo and a quick gesture, the raven leaves Asher’s shoulder and flies back to a nearby branch. “Come here.”

Still clutching the locket, Asher finds himself turned around and pressed against a broad, naked chest. The man’s arms slip around him, pulling tight.

“I don’t even know your name yet,” Asher says. “It feels like we’re skipping a couple of steps.”

Laughter rumbles through the man’s body and into Asher’s. It’s strangely soothing. “I’m Hanan. And you?”

“Asher.”

The raven squeaks.

“And that one is Magnus, as I’ve already said multiple times.” That last part, Hanan shouts over his shoulder at the raven, who croaks his dissent.

Muscles play beneath Hanan’s skin, and the sound of rustling feathers fills the air. Asher peeks past Hanan’s tattooed body at Magnus, but the raven is sitting pretty on his branch, preening his feathers.

Instead, the source of the sound soon flickers past Asher’s field of vision as Hanan’s giant wings swoop around them and shelter them from the wind. They’re incredibly soft as they brush against the exposed parts of Asher’s body, and he shudders again—just not from the cold this time.

“What are you?” Asher whispers, almost scared of the answer. His grandma’s warnings echo through his mind. He also feels a strange kinship with one Bella Swan.

Hanan laughs again, pushing against Asher’s body to create some space between them again. He stares into Asher’s eyes. “We’re ravens. Or shifters, as you’d probably call us.”

“No, you’re not.” Asher decides to ignore the very real-looking wings currently wrapped around him, the feathers stuck to Hanan’s face without any trace of glue, and the much too sentient raven sitting nearby. “That’s not possible. Only stories. Fiction.”

Really? Magnus croaks, pulling Asher’s gaze to him.

“Magnus, no! Don’t do it,” Hanan says, voice dripping with exasperation. “He’s not ready yet!”

Flapping his wings once, Magnus croaks back and takes flight. Mid-air, his body starts elongating, and his feathers morph into ink-stained skin. His beak shrinks back, and a mouth takes its place. Hair sprouts from his head, and thick, muscly arms appear from nothing.

Asher blinks once before his world promptly turns black, and he passes out.

Chapter 2

“Itold you not to do it, and what do you do?”