The Hunter and the Mage (The Raven and the Dove #2) - Kaitlyn Davis Page 0,8

lost was his magic—a gift he'd never even wanted. The one that had kept him alive while his parents perished. The one that had labeled him as other. The one that had delivered him into the arms of a woman who could never be his. The one that had healed every wound except those that mattered most—the shattered pieces of his broken heart.

"How about Scowl, since it’s all he ever seems to do?" The voice belonged to the milky-eyed girl he'd left downstairs. She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the frame.

"Scowl?" the captain repeated, tossing a pointed glance at the girl.

She just shrugged.

"Rafe," he finally whispered, voice hoarse and raw. "You can call me Rafe."

"Rafe?" the girl asked. "What in magic's name is a rafe? At least Scowl stands for something."

"It’s short for Ravenson." He swallowed, meeting the captain's eyes. Her irises darkened with understanding as she nodded. He might not have wings, but he was still a bastard born of the sky—it was the one thing about himself he could never hide, could never change, no matter how he wished it were different.

"Rafe it is," Captain Rokaro said, authority oozing from her tone. "Brighty, introduce him to the crew. I have a ship to steer."

"I still think we should call him Scowl," the girl grumbled as she stepped forward. Then she offered him her hand. "Name's Brighty, short for Bright-Eyes, which I'm sure you already noticed. My father thought I was blind when I was a kid, so he set me up to beg on the streets. When my magic came in, I started to see just fine—well enough to become the best pickpocket the king's city has ever seen, if I do say so myself. Then I got in a bit of a pickle, and that's how I ended up here, with Captain Rokaro on The Wanderer. Got it? Good."

Before Rafe had time to speak, or even breathe, she looped her arm through his and pointed to the auburn-haired woman across the deck, who still held a ball of flame in her hands, the stark light drawing attention to the freckles spotting her cheeks. "That's Pyro. She's a pyro'kine, a fire mage, and I wouldn't get on her bad side if I were you, especially since she knows you can’t burn. Well, I guess technically you can, but it wouldn’t be permanent. Anyway, she's a bit of a nutter, but she's our nutter, so we love her."

"I can hear you," the woman drawled, darting her seafoam eyes in their direction. She waggled her fingers at Rafe, fire flaring with the movement.

"And that's Archer," Brighty continued, spinning him toward the man with silver-streaked dark hair and evergreen magic at his fingertips. He shifted his gray-blue eyes in their direction at the sound of his name, something within them warmer than Rafe had expected. "He's our resident ferro'kine, or metal mage. He's a bit quiet sometimes, but if you plug him with a few shots of dragon's breath he opens right up. Just make sure there aren't any daggers close by, because funny guy thinks it's hilarious to throw them at your face when you're not looking and it'll scare the piss right out of you. And before you ask, yes, I'm speaking from experience."

Down the line she went, making Rafe dizzy with the sheer volume of words spilling from her lips. She wasn't peppy by any means, more dry-witted and energetic, with enough humor that she almost made him crack a smile.

The short, somewhat rotund man he'd seen kneeling by the plants was Leech, an earth mage who knew medicine and apparently had a nasty habit of stealing blood for experiments. Next came Spout, a water mage with reddish-brown skin and bright honey eyes who was allergic to just about everything. When she sneezed, the ocean tended to erupt and land on whoever happened to be close by. High overhead was a young boy, all scraggly limbs and shaggy blond hair, whose name was Squirrel. He had no magic—yet—just a knack for scrambling across the ropes. Then there was Jolt, who needed no introduction because as soon as Rafe turned toward her, something zapped him in the ass, making him, well, jolt. According to Brighty, she was a relentless tease, something he learned for himself as her dark-mocha gaze raked up and down his half-naked body. She sauntered when she walked, curves on full display, something charged about the