Get excited for the release of Raven's Birth

Take an exclusive first peek at Chapter One of "Raven's Birth," the eagerly awaited debut novel by Jami Breton.

In my line of work, getting shot at is inevitable. So is getting shot. Sooner or later, it happens—no matter how high-tech or fancy the armor they issue us. And getting shot always sucks, one way or another.

But this time was different.

The impact hit harder than anything I’d felt before, but there was no pain. Not from the bullet, anyway. I must’ve been knocked off balance—maybe fell—because I slammed my head hard against the ground. The world started to fade, black creeping in around the edges, silver stars dancing in welcome.

My stomach felt warm. Odd. I touched the heat and my hand came away crimson.

Beautiful color. Just not one that should be covering my hand.

Then I heard shouting.

“Lidia! Jesus, Lidia, are you okay? Cameron, get the shuttle here now—man down!”

My last thought before the black took over?

I’m not a man. 

Chapter One

 Chapter One

It must’ve been the raised voices that brought me back. I couldn’t tell who they belonged to or what they were saying, but I must’ve moved—something—because one of them shushed the others. Footsteps hurried toward me.

A male voice, close now: “Lidia, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

I didn’t recognize the voice, but I wanted to see who it belonged to. Opening my eyes, though, was harder than I expected. I fought for it—managed a crack—and instantly regretted it. Wherever I was, it was blindingly bright. I flinched and shut my eyes again.

Too much movement. A searing headache bloomed behind my eyes.

The voices returned, still nearby, but I couldn’t make out the words. They faded, and then—nothing. Oblivion took me.

The next time I came to, there were no voices. I wasn’t sure if the last time had been real or just a dream, but I wasn’t taking chances. This time, I opened my eyes slowly, bracing for the light.

It didn’t take as much effort. Maybe it had been a dream after all.

I blinked into a dark room. The sterile smell, the soft beeping—I figured I must be in a hospital. I didn’t know why.

Opening my eyes had been easy. Moving my head wasn’t. I managed to spot a figure slumped in a chair across the room before I gave up trying to look around.

Was it just my head that wouldn’t cooperate? I tested the rest of me.

My left arm refused to move. My right felt like it was pinned under a mountain. Pain shot through my shoulder and chest when I tried again. I must’ve made a sound, because the figure stirred.

He rushed to my side.

The man standing over me had a fiercely handsome face, but I had no idea who he was.

“Oh Lidia, thank the stars you’re awake.” His voice, which was low and gravelly, caught in his throat.

I felt like I should’ve known him, but I didn’t. His face, his voice—strangers. But the way he looked at me said otherwise.

He bent over, did something above my head, then turned his attention back to me. He took my right hand, kissed it gently without lifting it far from the bed.

Was it that obvious how much pain I was in?

He spoke softly now. “We weren’t sure you were going to wake up. I’ve been so worried about you. We all have. There’s so much I want to tell you. So many things I have to say.”

But before he could say any of it, an army rushed into the room and everyone started talking all at once.

It was all too much. The effort of waking, of moving, caught up to me. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

This time, though, I fell asleep.

Progress, I guess.

The next time I woke, opening my eyes was easy.

I had no idea how long I’d slept, but when I finally came to, my hospital room felt like the place to be. A doctor and a nurse flanked my bed, and behind the nurse stood three men in uniform. They were watching the doctor closely, though from where I lay, I couldn’t see what he was doing.

I tried to speak, but my throat was bone-dry. Nothing came out. I tried to swallow a few times but couldn’t produce any saliva.

No one had noticed I was awake. Not until I started coughing uncontrollably.

All five of them jumped.

The doctor spoke first. “Ah, Major, nice of you to join us again. I’m Doctor Kane. I’ve been in charge of your care since you were brought in.”

Major? Major what?

I knew this man was the doctor from the white lab coat he was wearing. He appeared to be middle aged, maybe forty, and about average height. His eyes were a flat brown color, with hair that matched. The smile he gave me was warm and gentle.

He turned to the nurse. “Ellie, could you get Major Raven some water, please?”

Why does he keep calling me Major?

He looked back down at me, hope in his eyes, “How much do you remember about the incident, Major?”

There it was again. Major.

I assumed he meant whatever had landed me here. I took the water Ellie handed me. Never in my life had a drink felt so satisfying, so rejuvenating. I sipped until I was sure I wouldn’t choke trying to speak.

“I don’t remember anything, Doc.” I scanned the room, taking in the expectant faces. I didn’t recognize a single one.

I hesitated, then admitted, “I’m not even sure why you keep calling me Major. I haven’t even joined the Alliance Space Fleet yet.”

That was the plan. Ever since I was a little girl I would look up at the stars and dream about what was up there. I always knew I would join the Alliance. I was finally old enough to join the academy and that’s exactly what I planned on doing. Which was what was leading to my confusion. I was still a civilian and this man kept calling me Major. Just thinking about it made me woozy

The mood shifted instantly. Everyone’s expressions fell—from hopeful to heartbroken. Like I’d just told them their favorite pet didn’t make it through surgery. What had I said that was so upsetting?

Only Dr. Kane’s face stayed steady. There was something like sympathy in his eyes, but not much else. He pulled up a silver rolling stool and sat beside me, his tone heavy—like he was about to deliver a terminal diagnosis.

It couldn’t be that bad… could it?

“I—Major… Lidia,” he corrected himself, “you’re here because you were shot in the line of duty. About three weeks ago.”

I gasped. Shot? That couldn’t be right.

My head started spinning.

In what line of which duty?

My ears started to ring

 Three weeks ago?

I felt as if I might throw up on my nice clean bedding.

The doctor pressed on, not seeming to notice my distress, determined to get it all out. I could see this wasn’t easy for him, and I was trying hard not to interrupt by vomiting all over him..

“Yes, you’ve been here for three weeks. You were shot in the shoulder and abdomen. You also sustained a skull injury when you fell. That’s what caused the coma.”

Coma? I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.

 “We’ll need to run more tests, but I suspect it’s also behind your memory loss.”

Memory loss? He must mean not remembering the shooting.

He paused, then continued.

“As for the gunshot wounds… “

He hesitated as if trying to find the right words.

“The bullets were coated with something. It’s preventing you from healing properly. Your wounds still look exactly as they did the day you arrived—no scar tissue, no signs of recovery. The bullets have been sent to the lab. We’re hoping to identify the substance and find a remedy soon.”

What. The. Fuck.

He glanced at the three men in uniform, then back at me.

“Okay, Lidia—what questions do you have for me? For us?” He gestured toward the men behind him.

It was too much. I retched. If there’d been anything in my stomach, it would’ve gone all over the doctor’s nicely pressed pants. Instead, I dry-heaved, which wracked my body with pain, causing me to retch again.

My brain couldn’t process what I’d just heard. None of it made sense. My heart was pounding, and it was hard to breathe. I felt like I was drowning in air.

Coma. Memory loss. Mystery bullets. Three weeks in a hospital bed.

Was I starring in someone’s low-budget sci-fi nightmare?

I scanned the room—three men in uniform, a doctor with a gentle smile, a nurse who looked like she wanted to disappear.

Great. An audience.

“Who are all of you? And please… will someone tell me exactly what happened to me?”

If I thought their expressions were grim before, there were no words for what I saw now.

The man closest to me stepped forward. I hadn’t really noticed him until that moment, but as he began to speak, I took him in.

Tall—maybe 6’4”, give or take. He was probably in his late thirties. Built like someone who didn’t just survive combat but lived in it. His uniform fit perfectly—crisp and deliberate. From his arms alone, I could tell he wasn’t someone I’d want to fight.

Dark brown hair cropped close to his scalp. Brilliant blue eyes—like Earth’s sky on a clear, cold winter day. A face hardened by combat, but not cruel.

Then he looked down at me and said my name, trying to pull me back to the moment.

“Lidia, did you hear any of what I just said?”

Of course I hadn’t. I’d been too busy admiring the man standing over me. Embarrassing. I felt my cheeks flush, but I didn’t look away. I had to salvage some dignity.

Then he gave me a sly smile—the kind that said he knew exactly how I’d been looking at him.

So much for dignity.

“I’m sorry,” I said, smiling back. “Could you repeat that?”

“I’m Commander Mark Avery, commanding officer of the Space Vessel Aurora—and your commanding officer. I was part of the team with you on the surface of Maccara when you were shot.”

He paused, watching me. Like he was waiting for something—recognition, maybe. Or forgiveness. If he was waiting for forgiveness, he’d be waiting a while. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to be angry about.

“There’s a refinery there that supplies a fueling depot orbiting the planet. We were sent to investigate some suspicious, unidentified ships that had been harassing the depot and possibly sabotaging equipment. We were ambushed when we hit the surface.”

He reached down, his hand hovering near mine. At the last second, he pulled back. Like he wanted to touch me. Needed to. But something held him back—duty, maybe. Or fear.

“I’ve been worried sick about you. We all have. We didn’t know if you were ever going to wake up. If…” His voice cracked, and he let the sentence trail off.

Then he looked at me. Really looked. Like we were the only two people in the room. In the universe. There was something in that look—something I couldn’t quite name. Longing, maybe. Or regret.

It made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the gunshot wounds.

Then, as if remembering we weren’t alone, Mark stepped back from the bed. He cleared his throat—sharp, deliberate—and turned to introduce the other two men.

Maybe he hoped no one had noticed what just happened. I, for one, was still trying to figure out exactly what had just happened.

Mark introduced the man standing next to him first. He was shorter than Mark, but still tall—maybe 6’1”. Judging by his build, I figured they must’ve been workout buddies. He was in great shape. I guessed he was in his mid-thirties. He had dark brown hair like Mark’s, but worn a bit longer. His eyes were the color of honey—warm, but distant.

His face wasn’t hard like Mark’s had been. It held sadness. The kind that settled deep, like it had been there a while. And I wanted to fix it. Was that a normal trait of mine?

This time, I didn’t get lost staring—though he was just as beautiful as Mark. Mark introduced him as Major Cameron Carey, weapons officer aboard the Aurora. Cameron had also been part of the ground team when I was shot.

He glanced from Mark to me and gave a small nod. Like he didn’t trust himself to say more.

The third man stood on the other side of the bed. If Mark and Cameron looked fit, this guy looked like he lived in a gym. I’d never seen so much muscle on a person before—or at least, I didn’t think I had. His T-shirt strained against his frame, and I wondered if he wore shirts like that on purpose or just couldn’t find ones that fit.

Standing alone, I pegged him at 5’11”, but when Mark stood beside him, I realized he was closer to 6’4”. His bulk made him look shorter—interesting.

Tattoos covered both arms, and one peeked out from his collar. Light brown hair, cut in a standard military high-and-tight. (How did I know that was standard?) A scar ran down the right side of his face, somehow enhancing his rugged appeal. His eyes were chocolate brown—not as striking as Cameron’s, but still pretty. I would have placed him in his early to mid-twenties.

Was it a requirement for men on the Aurora to be beautiful?

Mark introduced him as Lieutenant James Doral, the ship’s security officer. James had been the last member of the ground team.

As Mark spoke, James’s eyes locked onto mine—intense, expectant. It was uncomfortable being stared at like that by a stranger.

Except… it didn’t feel like a stranger. It felt like something I’d forgotten how to miss.

James didn’t let Mark finish. He grabbed my left arm and nearly shouted, “Come on, Lidy, you have to remember me. There’s no way you could forget.”

Pain shot through me as he moved my injured arm. I cried out. Mark grabbed James and practically threw him off me.

But the damage was done.

The pain was overwhelming.

I felt myself slipping.

As my vision blurred, I saw Mark and Cameron leaning over me—faces tight with panic. Then came the very distinct sound of someone being punched.

Men.