Raven's Revenge: Paranormal Prison Romance (Paranormal Prison Series Book 2) Read online

  Raven’s Revenge

  Paranormal Prison Romance

  Book 2

  Naomi Martin

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  Chapter One

  Raven

  I take shelter behind the thick trunks of some fallen trees to catch my breath. The smell of smoke fills my nose and the heat from what seems like hundreds of little fires all around me sears my skin. Bracing myself against the trees, I survey the pitched battle raging across the field along this lonely stretch of highway. A feeling like a fist of ice inside my chest, squeezing my heart, nearly steals my breath.

  “It wasn’t supposed to go down this way,” I mutter. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  As I watch, the fireball blooms and rises into the sky, coloring the thick blanket of clouds above us in vivid shades of red and orange. All around me, the screams of the hurt and dying and the violent chatter of automatic weapons reverberate through the air. My skin tingles and the hair on my arms stands up as I feel the crackle of elemental energy. It sizzles and electrifies the air as bolts of that energy are unleashed, adding to the cacophony and chaos of the fight.

  I flinch as an explosion thunders nearby, shaking the ground beneath my feet. Another fireball blooms, the flames impossibly bright in the darkened sky. All around me, soldiers run. Supernaturals run. Men. Women. Those of us who are barely more than teenagers ourselves. Shadowy figures, all moving against the backdrop of fire. Bodies fall and the shrill cries tear apart the fabric of the night. It’s all I can do to keep myself from clamping my hands over my ears to shut it all out.

  This is what I imagine the end of the world will be like.

  I let out a sharp yelp as Gray drops down beside me, a half-crazed grin on his lips and a wild light in his eyes. Rivulets of sweat pour down his face, cutting lines of clean skin through the smears of dirt and soot that are caked upon him. His shirt is ragged and covered in crimson gore, but he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The damn lunatic actually looks like he’s having fun.

  “They’re really puttin’ up a fight tonight, huh?” he chirps.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I say. “This is a fucking massacre.”

  He shrugs. “We knew it was only a matter of time before they started beefing up their convoys,” he replies. “But we’re good, Raven. We’ve got it handled and we’re going to win.”

  I survey the field in front of me as if from a distance. Like I’m standing somewhere far away, a simple spectator. I see the wreckage. The carnage. On the highway, the cabs of four trucks are burning, the flames licking perilously close to the trailers and their precious cargo. I wish I shared Gray’s confidence. But as I look around at the bodies littering the field—some of ours, but more of theirs—all I feel is loss. And pain. And fear.

  I push it all away and give myself a sharp slap across the face, trying to pull myself back to the present. The din of the battle and the urgency of the moment both come roaring back. I stare, wide-eyed, at the scene before me, horror and rage coursing through me in equal measure.

  “We need to put those fires out,” I say. “This is all going to be for nothing if those trailers burn up.”

  Gray helps me to my feet, and we move through the smoke and the remnants of the trees that once ringed the field but have mostly been reduced to shattered trunks and smoking ruin… like most everything else tonight.

  We make it out of the trees and onto the highway only to find ourselves confronted by three men in the plain black uniforms I’ve come to despise. Their uniforms bear no rank or insignia, save one—a grinning skull wreathed in white ghost flames on the right breast pocket. It’s the patch of the group that’s become known as the Cleansers, Colonel Anthony Villa’s men. And their only mission is to find and eradicate supernaturals.

  “Get on the ground! Now!” one of them shouts, his voice tinny through the speakers in his helmet.

  My heart is thundering as I stare down the barrels of their weapons. Gray tenses beside me and I can practically feel the anger radiating off him like the heat from the fires that surround us. Even with the powers being a shifter affords him, he’d never make it to them before they gunned him down. I can’t even channel a flow of my elemental energy faster than they’d shoot me in the face.

  “Don’t you dare move, Gray,” I say. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “On the ground, or we’ll shoot you down here and now!” the soldier screams at us.

  There’s a sudden blur of movement behind them and before they even realize what’s happening, Zane is there. He tears the first soldier’s head completely off his body, sending a fountain of blood arcing high into the air, then spins and drives his fist through the chest of the second man. Zane’s hand explodes out of the soldier’s back. The man’s heart is gripped in his fist, blood and gore hitting the pavement at his feet with a wet splattering sound that chills me to the core.

  The third soldier turns and starts to bring his weapon to bear on Zane, but I’m already channeling my power as I step forward and launch a thick spear of fire at the man. He screams as he suddenly finds himself engulfed in flames and staggers around wildly, beating at his body in a futile attempt to extinguish the fire. His howling wails are piercing and echo through my mind before he falls to the ground, writhing and squirming. A moment later, he’s still and silent, his body a charred, smoking ruin.

  I turn to see Zane licking the blood from his fingertips, his face a ghastly mask of crimson. He gives me a wide smile, his crystalline blue eyes sparkling in the firelight and his body wreathed in a soft, pale nimbus. He’s fed well tonight. I suppress the shudder that runs through me and turn away from him.

  Without a word, I stride over to the burning wrecks that litter the road. Channeling my power of water, I unleash a forceful torrent and douse the flames. Other water Elementals rush over to do the same. It’s not long before thick white clouds are rising from the ruined carriers, and all the flames are extinguished. The trailers—and the precious cargo inside—are safe.

  The chatter of gunfire dwindles and then dies out completely. The battle is over. Gray was right; we won. But the thrill of victory eludes me as my eyes fix on the shadowy forms strewn all over the ground. It seems like there are bodies everywhere. I can’t look anywhere without seeing battered and mutilated corpses, or simply just parts of corpses, lying in pools of blood.

  Elementals. Vampires. Shifters. A host of supernatural beings caper around the battlefield, cheering our victory and putting an end to any of Villa’s men who survived the fight but lay wounded. We won, but it’s a victory that came at a cost—a cost that mig
ht not have been so high had I taken the time to properly scout the mission before I demanded we hit this convoy.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Gray asks as he stands.

  I’m not okay. I’m really not okay at all. I hate being surrounded by death. I hate this war. I hate losing people I care about. And, most of all, I hate Colonel Anthony Villa. I hate him more than anything. What he’s done and continues to do to my people is monstrous. He murdered my parents in cold blood, as he has murdered the parents of many others.

  There’s no word in the English language that adequately describes the evil of Colonel Villa. And hatred doesn’t even begin to cover the depth of what I feel for him. I will kill him before this is all said and done. And I will feel righteous when I do.

  Pushing the increasingly morose thoughts from my mind, I try to focus on the here and now. I feel Gray standing next to me and take heart in the warmth and strength of his body. Stretching out with my feelings, I can sense both Zane and Elliot through the bond we share, and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. They’re both alive. Zane feels euphoric; he must be feeding. Elliot merely feels ambivalent.

  “Well, let’s see about our spoils of war, then,” I say.

  Gray and I walk around to the back of the first trailer and find a large steel padlock hanging on the handle. I look over at Gray and he flashes me a grin.

  “Isn’t that kind of like asking me to take the lid off a jar for you?” he asks. “The man-hating feminista club would demand you hand in your membership card, you know.”

  “You’re such an asshole,” I say with a grin. “I might be a feminist, but I obviously don’t hate men.”

  “Well… not all men.”

  The first genuine laugh I’ve had in what feels like forever bursts from my throat. Gray is looking at me with eyes that are shining with the depth of his love for me, and it makes me feel like I’m floating on air.

  “I don’t hate men,” I tell him. “I think you boys have your uses, but you’re just better seen, rather than heard.”

  His laughter fills my soul with a lightness and joy that’s been absent for a while. I’ve been stuck in such a dark place for so long, I’ve almost forgotten what real laughter feels like. I look up at Gray, a smile upon my lips, and tug him down into a gentle kiss. When I pull back, his lips are curled upward in a smile of his own.

  “There she is,” he says softly. “I remember you.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately.”

  His smile is warm, and it feels like home. “You’re going through a lot,” he replies. “We all are.”

  I take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His understanding means more to me than he’ll ever really know. He lays a gentle hand on my cheek and looks into my eyes for a moment, then turns and uses the strength being a bear shifter grants him to tear the lock off the back of the carrier like it was made of paper. He flips up the handle and pulls the doors open, then takes a step back.

  At first, I see nothing but darkness. I raise my hand, palm flat, and channel a thin flow of fire energy, creating a ball of glowing, pulsing light in my hand. The flickering red-tinted illumination dispels the inky shadows that fill the trailer, revealing faces that are terrified, beaten down, and resigned to their fate. All I see in their expressions is hopelessness and despair.

  I give them an encouraging smile. “Come on out. You’re safe now.”

  Chapter Two

  Raven

  The night is dark, and fat, fluffy clouds drift through the sky overhead. A cool wind blows softly, stirring my hair and cooling my skin. In the distance, lightning flashes, silhouetting the peaks of Three Point Mountain against the horizon. It’s dark and foreboding, yet somehow stable and calming at the same time. It’s probably because those peaks have been the most constant thing in my life since the night my parents were murdered by Villa and his men.

  It’s been about eight months since we blasted our way out of the Pit in the Badlands of South Dakota and took our freedom back from Colonel Villa and his band of government-sanctioned murderers. And we’ve spent almost every day since then fighting back, helping save others like us who they want to subject to evil experiments, or simply outright murder. Just because we’re different.

  I feel her step through the door behind me before I hear her footsteps. Like Zane, she’s so light on her feet, she practically floats on air. It’s one of the gifts of being a vampire. But I’ve been with Zane long enough now that I can detect the subtle vibrations in the air when he’s about; it’s become an almost subconscious response in me at this point.

  She leans back against the railing, her every movement oozing sensuality. Dora is tall and lithe, with hair the color of gold, pert, full breasts, and curves that would make a grown man blush. She accentuates her body with clothes that tantalizingly hug the swell of her hips and breasts. The woman is sex personified. I mean, I’m straight and she makes me look twice.

  Dora pulls out a cigarette and puts it between perfectly-shaped plump lips that just look like they were made for kissing. I channel a thin finger of fire and light the cigarette for her. She gives me a small smile and takes a deep drag, then exhales a plume of smoke. I watch as it rises into the darkness of the night, reminded of the fire coming off the trucks out on the highway last night.

  We got back from our rescue mission in Montana a couple of hours ago and I’ve had just enough time to shower, grab a meal, and put on a fresh clothes before coming up to my usual brooding spot on the roof of the hotel we’ve called home for a while now. I knew this conversation was coming. Been dreading it, really. So, I just wanted a little time alone to sort myself out.

  “What the hell happened out there?” Dora asks.

  Her voice is even and without the tone of judgment I expected it to hold. Dora’s never been my biggest fan, and it’s a mutual feeling. We get along well enough for what we’re doing, I suppose. We can communicate like civilized people. But I don’t think we’ll ever be besties.

  She’s the leader of this chapter of a nationwide, organized resistance that protects supernatural beings—the Breakers. The Breakers are part of a larger organization that has multiple arms that do multiple things. But the Breakers have just one mission: to rescue as many supernaturals as possible while taking out as many of Villa’s assets as we can.

  When they heard what we did in South Dakota—destroying the Pit and all of its medical facilities, then freeing all of the supernatural captives—they came looking for us. Looking for me, specifically, since I’m a rarity: a Pure Elemental.

  All Elementals are able to channel flows of the basic elements: earth, air, fire, and water. A few can tap two elements. But there are very few of us who can channel all four, and have the ability to channel the fifth element—Spirit. It makes us unique among the Elementals and powerful beyond measure.

  Dora knew, when she heard it was a Pure who destroyed the Pit, that I would be an invaluable weapon against Villa and his army of Cleansers, so she headed out to the Badlands to find me. Finding me in the company of three men—a vampire, bear shifter, and a fire Elemental—was just a nice bonus for her. Dora can never have too many fighters at her disposal.

  Of course, just because she needs me doesn’t mean she likes me. Dora can be catty as hell, and there has been no shortage of snarky comments and bitchy attitude from her. Gray and Elliot both tell me it’s just the natural arrogance of vampires and that I shouldn’t take it personally. That may be true, but it doesn’t make Dora any easier to deal with.

  “They beefed up their convoy security and were ready for us,” I explain. “They came ready to fight.”

  Dora nods. “We knew they would,” she says. “Frankly, I’m surprised it took them as long as it did.”

  “Yeah, well, we lost seven of our own.” The tone of self-recrimination is thick in my voice. “It’s the most we’ve lost on any one raid since I’ve been here.”

  “But you saved eighty-three,” she counters.

  “Yeah, but—”
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  Dora turns to me and holds my gaze. “There is no ‘but,’ Raven. We all go into this with our eyes open and know what we’re signing up for. We know what it may cost us,” she says, her voice earnest. “Nobody here is under any illusions and we know any of us can be killed at any time. But we do this work because it’s too important not to do it. We’re all part of something bigger than ourselves.”

  It’s the first time Dora has ever been anything remotely resembling gentle and encouraging with me. Her eyes are soft, her expression genuine. Frankly, the shift in her demeanor is kind of freaking me out.

  But at the moment, I’m too far down in the depths of self-loathing and self-flagellation to warm to her words. This shadow war we’re fighting is draining me, has been draining me for months now. I’m tired of the death and the killing. All I want is to go somewhere I can find peace. Somewhere I can spend my time surrounded by the men I love and who love me back.

  The emotional toll this battle is exacting on me is brutal. And it’s making me push those men away. I wouldn’t blame them if they decided to walk away from me. Most days, I expect to wake up to an empty room. But they’ve stayed. They continue to stand by my side, putting up with my wild mood swings and the lack of intimacy. Against all odds, they keep loving me.

  I know I’m fortunate to have such amazing men in my life. And I know I risk losing it all because I can’t get out of my own head. But I don’t seem able to stop myself.

  “What I’m trying to say is, don’t beat yourself up. We’ll mourn our dead, but don’t take this on your shoulders. It’s weight you don’t need to carry,” Dora goes on and then her eyes harden slightly. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but it’s well past time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself, Raven. Take heart in the good you’re doing here. Or, if you can’t, maybe it’s time to move on, because you’re not going to do anybody any good if you can’t get out of your own head.”