Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Scar’s mind was racing.
Meridian’s voice was low and gravely, carving his instructions into Scar’s bones. “Being a Raven is ninety-nine percent positioning, observing, acquiring, then disappearing. Engaging but being unmemorable. If you play it too safe, your mission will fail. If you go all-in too hard, you become the hunted.”
Scar’s mouth went dry.
Meridian stood and buttoned his suit jacket.
“And here comes your hunter.”
Scar turned to find Anya sauntering toward his table, another button undone on her blouse, a slip of paper between her fingers, and determination in her gaze.
When he looked back, Meridian was gone. Dissolved into the room the way smoke vanishes into the air.
Scar panicked, because the gray pantsuit woman was already standing and signaling for her check.
He met Anya halfway to his table and took her hand into his like a gentleman, steering her back toward the bar. He raised his voice enough to carry to the end of the bar.
“Listen,” he said, smooth as he could manage, “you’re gorgeous. But you’re a little…young.”
Anya blinked her false lashes. “Excuse me?”
Scar glanced past her to his mark and heatedly held her gaze when she finally looked at him.
“I like refined,” he continued, his voice warm and persuasive. “A woman who’s independent and seasoned.”
His real mark kept staring.
The bartender’s face tightened. “Wow.”
“I’m just being honest.” He smiled at her as if he were sorry.
He licked his lips at his mark, and increased the heat in his gaze, and to his relief, gray pantsuit sat back down.
Black Ravens
Ex
Ex woke with a chill in his bones.
Not the frustrating, pull-the-covers-up-higher kind.
It was the cold feeling that meant Meridian had never gotten into their bed.
The clock read 1:07 a.m.
He lay there for a few minutes, listening, but there was no life inside their home.
Ex hadn’t asked where Meridian was taking Scar or what he’d planned to do with him. Meridian wasn’t the kind of man who explained himself or justified his actions.
Ex dragged the charcoal goose-down comforter off the bed, wrapped it around himself, and padded barefoot through their condo.
It was dark, and the terrace doors were wide open, allowing the winter air to creep in and curl around his calves.
His better half was sitting bare-chested on the patio couch in front of the firepit, with a diamond-cut glass of dark liquor hanging loose in his fingers.
They’d been partners for almost a decade, and the sight of Meridian—the light from the flames outlining his endless lines of muscle—still made his heart stutter.
An oversized jet-black Russian sable was draped over his bare shoulders like the night wrapped around perfection. Silk pajama pants rode low on his hips, exposing the dark trail of hair below his navel.
His lover wore the forty-thousand-dollar coat as if he didn’t give a damn if killing animals for clothes was morally wrong or not.
Ex had always been drawn to Meridian’s permanent scowl and eyes so dark they swallowed light instead of reflecting it, but the tension in his shoulders and the tightness at the base of his lover’s throat made unease stir in his stomach.
Meridian was a master at concealing his stress, but sometimes the weight of his authority, responsibility, and command of the Ravens couldn’t be hidden.
Meridian never told anyone, or the world, that he cared or loved, but he showed it by how viciously he fought for them.
He was about to drop the comforter and go to him when a sharp knock at their front door interrupted his thoughts.
Meridian didn’t move or even turn his head as he slipped one of his cigarettes between his lips and lit it.
Ex snorted. “Who have you pissed off now, lover?”
He opened the door, and Jo stood there—looking immaculate as always—flanked by two of her shadow operatives and her intelligence director.
Her long black hair was flowing down her back to the waistband of her tailored pinstriped skirt. The purple silk blouse didn’t have a speck or wrinkle despite the late hour.
“Where the hell is he?” she snapped.
Ex opened the door wider, and Jo’s gaze locked on Meridian’s silhouette beyond the glass doors.
She stalked across their Nero marble floor in her lavender stilettos.
She didn’t bother with a preamble before she went in.
“What the fuck were you thinking, sending Scar after a mark? He’s been here a grand total of five goddamn minutes. He had no recon, backup or a clean exit. You just sent him into the field bare-assed.”
Ex leaned against the wall, watching.
Fuck, Meridian looked good like that. Stoic and completely unbothered.
Midnight-black fur framing the golden skin over his throat. Expensive liquor and white smoke easing past his lips, with amber lighting licking over his chest.
“Well, he did retrieve the data,” one of the intel techs offered.
“Shut the fuck up, Feed!” Jo yelled. “That’s not the point.”
Meridian took another slow sip of his drink. “Scar is smarter and more resourceful than you think.”