Cadie and Samuel: In the Interim: A Children of Corvus Short Story: The Children Of Corvus, #4

By L.E. Harrison

The events in this short-story take place during the weeks between the novels Merula and Corvus.

He is about to be named the new leader of the tribe of the Children of Corvus, and considered a god on earth. She is his spiritual Guardian. Neither can fight the overwhelming attraction they feel for the other, but Cadie fears that a relationship with Samuel could threaten her position within the tribe and her hard-won autonomy.

Samuel is aware of the many obstacles—all the reasons that make acting on his feelings for Cadie a very bad idea. The restless beast that lives inside him is not the least of those reasons. When he is near her, however, he can't seem to control his lust for the beautiful Guardian. Will they ever be able to overcome the weight of their pasts? Or will duty and the expectations of the tribe be what ultimately tears them apart?

Focusing on Samuel Singleton and Cadie Maxwell's brief romantic interlude, the story adds depth and understanding to their complicated emotional connection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.E. Harrison
• Release date: Sep 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386851714

L.E. Harrison

L.E. Harrison is the author of the award-winning contemporary fantasy trilogy The Children of Corvus, From the Uncollected Thoughts of: L.E. Harrison a collection of previously published poems and short stories, and Kindle Vella serials Reyna (The New Order of Corvus), and Jarren (The New Order of Corvus). She lives in a one-hundred-and-sixty-year-old farmhouse in rural Pennsylvania, where she is working on the next chapter in the fictional universe of Soluna’s children. Sign up for L.E. Harrison’s Author Newsletter and get a free ebook copy of Cadie and Samuel: In the Interim (A Children of Corvus Short Story) - https://storyoriginapp.com/giveaways/5da0fd94-fe67-11e9-86d5-17b66e2d9bb6

Book preview

Samuel Singleton

Blackwater Hills

I STOOD IN THE DOORWAY of the dilapidated cabin, my gaze fixed upon the clusters of snow and ice that had fallen through cracks in the warped wooden siding.

Streams of sunlight filtered through the dirty windows—dull gray, chalky blue, smudges of burnt orange—and collected in blocky patterns on the plank floor. Outside, miles of forest and the ring of snow-capped mountains reached toward the endless expanse of sky.

The only world I'd ever known, Blackwater Hills. Both my home and my prison, I was coming to realize.

Cadie rubbed her gloved hands together, and gazed at me speculatively. Are you... all right?

Her voice had a texture like pouring honey, warmed by the sun, with a slightly husky undertone that resonated somewhere deep within me. Her dark eyes sparkled, reflecting the fading sunlight. Glossy, black hair fell in soft, curling waves, framing her beautiful face, tinted pink from cold. Her tongue darted out, wetted full lips chapped bright red by the wind.

A burning started, low in my gut.

My heart skipped a beat. I looked away.

Fine, I lied. Why wouldn’t I be?

She shrugged. I don’t know. I was just curious how you feel... after.

I didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about, even though I didn’t want to discuss it with Cadie. Didn’t want to discuss it with anyone. Wanted to pretend like it wasn’t there.

But it was there, and she had seen it. Twice. It hadn’t frightened her to the point of leaving me, so what did that say about her? Did it make her courageous or a fool? Careless about her own safety, or more concerned for mine?

I couldn’t express how it felt to change from man to beast—and back again. It was too surreal, too painful, too frightening. Things I couldn’t say to Cadie. I wanted to keep it locked inside, hidden from everyone, even myself.

She sighed. It’s sort of unbelievable, isn’t it? You’re now considered a god-on-earth, and I’m the Guardian of the Dead and leader of the priesthood.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, I warned. I’m not a god, quite yet. Not until you or your brother find those scrolls.

Her laugh was tinged with bitterness. You don’t know how badly I wanted to stay in Ashland. Since I’ve come back, I’ve had to talk myself out of leaving so many times.

You should go, I wanted to tell her. Forget about the tribe. And me, especially.

But another part of me was glad she stayed. I had always been alone. It had never bothered me—in fact, I preferred it. I’d never felt this invasive connection, this insistent need for another person,