Shadow Borne Read online

  Some shadows hide on the inside

  Gifted with the power of concealment, Psyche has made a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But when she stumbles upon the beast’s next sacrifice, Psyche sees a way to end this savage ritual. Determined to kill him, she trades places with the virgin maiden and enters his lair with dagger in hand. Only, the beast isn’t a beast at all, and he hides in the shadows even better than she does.

  He’s the god of erotic love, but she doesn’t know that

  A millennium ago, Eros, son of the goddess of Love, Aphrodite, sought amusement in a wager with his mother. A thousand years later, it’s the game playing him. He’s desperate for Psyche to be the one to end his bet, but an accident with one of his arrows consumes him with lust for her. All will be lost if he can’t overcome his nature and control his passions—and hers—before Psyche’s curiosity seals her fate.

  And learning the truth…will kill her

  Cursed by his beauty, no one has ever loved Eros for himself. To win the wager and free his soul, he’ll have to earn Psyche’s trust—and her heart—without her ever glimpsing his true form. Should he fail, it will be her soul condemned…and his one chance at love, forever lost.

  Table of Contents

  Free Read!

  Concealment

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Rachael Slate

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  Three unbreakable rules

  Two fated lovers

  And one enchanted rose

  An erotic twist on the tale of Beauty and the Beast

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Rachael Slate

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  First Edition March 2017

  Edited by Kelley Heckart

  Cover design by NovelArt Designs

  Tribal Artwork by Alyssa Renae White

  Formatting by NovelArt Designs

  Epub: ISBN 978-1-988396-16-3

  Kindle: ISBN 978-1-988396-15-6

  When the Olympian gods overthrew the Titans, they divided the rule of the world. Zeus proclaimed himself Supreme Ruler and governed the skies. Poseidon claimed the oceans. The Underworld, and the souls of the dead, fell to Hades. All were content with the arrangement.

  Until Hades met Persephone.

  Their forbidden love blasted through Mt. Olympus, initiating a cataclysmic rift between the gods. The imbalance in the heavens nearly shattered the fragile human world below. In punishment, Zeus cursed Persephone. Nine months of each year, she would remain by her mother’s side, tending to the human harvests. The other three months were hers to spend with her husband, Hades, in the Underworld.

  The arrangement pleased none.

  Centuries have passed. As humans turn their devotion to Science, the powers of the Olympian gods diminish. In an attempt to regenerate their divinity, the gods have procreated, breeding new species of being—such as centaurs, winged ones, and mermaydes. With the unique strengths of their individual godly parents, these descendants have thrived in their own worlds, alongside humans but hidden from view.

  The rift in Olympus widens as each god gains new strength. When the Fates intervene with a damning wager, these descendants become the answer to Persephone’s curse. Hades and Persephone’s quest to reclaim their love will pit god against god, in a tournament unmatched since time began. Victory will lie in the union of warriors—exceptional females who control the elements and the males whose love makes them strong.

  If they succeed, love will be theirs to claim.

  But if they fail, their love will fall to ruin.

  It is the eve of war, and the battle for the power of Concealment begins now.

  Twelve hundred years into Eros’s curse

  A Kingdom shrouded in mists

  This was the second worst decision Psyche had made today. Yet compassion had bloomed in her heart as she’d come across Elene, a chambermaid in her father’s household, writhing against a thick wooden post. Hands bound above her head with coarse rope, a thin white shift all that stood between her and…

  The beast.

  Elene had been chosen by him. Just like the others. One every hundred years.

  A virgin sacrifice.

  Blended in against the steep, rocky terrain, Psyche suppressed a snort. Elene was no innocent maiden, but that wasn’t why she was about to trade places with her. Psyche’s gaze dipped to the female’s abdomen. The babe inside her didn’t deserve such a fate.

  None of us do.

  Padding from the shadows, into the scattered moonlight, she pressed a finger to her lips for Elene to be silent. The woman’s blue eyes widened, round and frightened, until they narrowed in confusion.

  “I’m here to save you,” Psyche whispered. To save us all. It was time to end this brutal tradition. Legend claimed the beast would retaliate against the villagers if they failed to comply, but she wasn’t afraid of him or his threats.

  Let him try. She slid the blade from her boot and curled her fingers around its hilt. I’m ready.

  Swiftly, she slashed through the ropes and freed Elene, who tumbled forward. She caught the maid in her arms, but gave her a shove forward. “Run. Run from this place and never look back.”

  “Th-thank you.” Quivering, Elene nodded before sprinting down the long, winding pathway.

  Psyche wiped her hand across her forehead, striving to calm the trembling in her muscles. She hadn’t suffered an ounce of trepidation a moment ago, but now, she squinted through the dense patches of fog toward the ominous edifice comprising the beast’s lair and swallowed hard. Perhaps she ought to have stayed in her chamber, as her father had commanded, instead of stealing away. For the second time today.

  This evening hadn’t gone well for any of them. Suitors had come to call on her two elder sisters. The rule was, Psyche was to remain in her chamber until they’d been dismissed. Only, she hadn’t. She’d made the unwise error of visiting the barn instead, at the precise moment the suitors had made their arrival, and she’d dashed straight into one’s arms. He’d growled at first, but as he’d taken in her appearance, his demeanor had morphed into that of a gentleman.

 
Instead of requesting her sister’s hand, he’d insisted on hers.

  Her sisters Eudora and Sophia had thrown monstrous fits. Rather than face their wrath—and a potential proposal—Psyche had stolen away again.

  Only to stumble right onto Elene.

  The sacrificial post rested outside a set of foreboding wrought-iron gates that surrounded an enormous estate. Dozens of twisting spires arose from the crown of the castle looming ahead, mirroring the imposing precipice upon which it was situated. The only way out was through these gates, or down the sheer cliffs that encompassed its other three sides.

  Every century, the villagers would tie the maiden to the post, and then…

  Right. Psyche squeezed her fists together and squared her shoulders. Her plain blue dress wasn’t the virginal white shift the beast demanded, but she doubted he would even notice before assailing her. She slipped one wrist through a loose knot in the rope and braced her other hand beside it, gripping her dagger behind her head.

  Now, she would wait until the beast arrived.

  And then kill him.

  ***

  Eros, god of erotic love, prowled through the gardens of his manor. He scoffed. My prison. As usual, tonight, he was torn. A century was a bloody long time to wait for yet another attempt at winning the wager with his mother, Aphrodite. Goddess of love.

  She’d tricked him more than a millennium ago. Taken advantage of his arrogance.

  His scrutiny drifted toward the gates and the sacrifice bound to the post. In the end, it wasn’t he who suffered.

  Mayhap, she will be the one, the voice of hope chirped in his mind, but he stomped it down. She wouldn’t be any different from the others. Soon, her corpse would testify to that.

  The shadows absorbed him and he stepped forward, out of the gardens and toward the main gate. He extended his hand forward and sighed in resignation. Darkness consumed his soul, so it was fitting the blackness should swallow him whole, too.

  Billowing silk caught his eye as he stalked closer. Blue. Not white. He narrowed his stare at the irritation. Damned villagers hadn’t passed down his proper demands.

  The maiden didn’t move at his approach. Not dead already, he hoped. No, his ears detected the rapid drummings of her heart. Of course, a lifeless sacrifice wouldn’t have been fair sport for his mother. The maid’s breath hitched as the inky mist surrounding him condensed and swirled before her.

  Though she couldn’t see him—part of the wager—he well viewed her.

  Beauty.

  Aphrodite had outdone herself this time. The lass’s figure was pleasantly slender with lush breasts and an ample curve to her hips. Her dark brown locks fell in rolling curls to her waist and framed a face so lovely he almost deemed her a goddess. But no, she was mortal. No ethereal glow bloomed from within her creamy flesh.

  She regarded his shadows, her large, sparkling dark green depths rounded with concern. Thick curled lashes lined her eyes and swept her cheeks as she fluttered them. Fine delicate bones formed her heart-shaped face, her high cheekbones dashed with a kiss of pink from the chill night air.

  He hesitated, considering not bringing her inside. What if he did things differently this time? What if…

  Nay. He whipped his head to the side. There was only one path out of this game. He had to win her heart.

  Before she succumbed to his curse.

  The muscles in the graceful column of her ivory throat clenched. He reared while she drove forward, metal glinting in her hand.

  “Where are you?” she grated, slashing a dagger through his mists. “Come out so I can kill you.”

  Feisty wench. He would have grinned, except that she intended his death.

  Foolish mortal.

  If only he were the one who could die.

  Still, he rather admired her bravery. He’d asked for a chambermaid and he’d gotten a warrior.

  The maiden braced her dagger with skill, poised on the balls of her feet, ready to strike.

  He cocked his head and prowled behind her. “Good luck with that.”

  She whirled around, slicing her blade, but he simply stepped to the right. It wasn’t fair, him hiding in the shadows while she fought for her freedom.

  A privilege granted neither of them.

  Amused, he strolled through the castle gates. “If you wish to kill me, lass, you’d better find me first.”

  ***

  Psyche shivered at the rumbling voice trailing away from her. Through the gates. Deeper into his lair.

  Of the horrors she’d anticipated, a mist-cloaked monster was not one. The general consensus determined the beast to be a dragon. In the legends from centuries ago, the villagers had rebelled and the beast had destroyed their fields. Burned them to ashes.

  But him? This creature mocked and teased her. Did he truly assume she’d flee like a coward?

  Grasping the hilt of her dagger more tightly, she treaded forward, jolting as the gates creaked closed behind her. One last look at freedom and she headed toward the maze of gardens. Did the beast hide within?

  He might be a dragon, but why the cloaking? Did he hope to frighten her? The unknown could be more formidable than the visible.

  The hairs on the nape of her neck rose while she pressed forward through the gardens, the evening fog condensing around her ankles. Her instincts told her dozens of beings tracked her movements, yet she encountered no one. Not even the beast.

  Where was he? What game did he play?

  Finally, she approached a wide ebony staircase and ascended into the castle, passing through the open wooden doors.

  No light permeated the entryway, so she paused. At least in the gardens moonlight had illuminated her path. As she inched forward, inky blackness enveloped her.

  Her senses pricked with awareness. He’s watching me. Yet, oddly, he didn’t charge her.

  A spark flared to life on her right, followed by a dozen more sconces, flickering down the corridor. Apparently, she should go this way. Steeling herself, she marched through the hall. Curiously, in the light, the silver walls gleamed, pristine and untouched, yet as the glow faded behind her, she caught glimpses of a much altered view. Spider webs clung to the candelabras. The floors neither sparkled nor shone through their thick coating of dust.

  Enchanted. This manor was cast under some sort of spell. She’d bet the beast had control of it.

  Finally, she rounded a corner and the corridor ended, opening into an atrium. Enormous golden columns grew wild like trees in the large expanse, framing a spacious bathing pool. Like the hallway, torches illuminated and warmed the atrium, their gilded light glinting off the water’s calm surface.

  The pillars provided ample shelters against which to employ her gift and conceal herself. However, such might be the beast’s thinking, too. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who liked to hide. She wasn’t as adept at being the seeker, the hunter, but she gripped her blade tighter, determined. Either he or she would depart this place, dead, and it certainly wasn’t going to be her.

  “Show yourself,” she called into the emptiness. “Unless you’re afraid of a sacrifice who might actually fight you back?”

  “Ah, but why fight,” a sensual timbre purred behind her, “when there are so many other, more delectable ways in which to resolve our differences?”

  She whirled about, slashing her blade, only to face an empty expanse. Blast it. What did he mean by delectable? Psyche spun, wielding her weapon as she’d been instructed since she’d been a small child. Sparring had always appealed to her far more than needlepoint. “Such as?” She squinted to detect his location, but he was simply too well-hidden.

  “Bathe,” the beast’s deep baritone commanded from across the open space. “And we shall see what happens next.”

  “Why? Do they bathe for you? Before you murder them?” She folded her arms. Was this part of the ritual? She tensed. Did the beast not devour his victims, but rather devour them? Toy with them and then break them?

  One truth was certain. No
female left this place alive.

  Doubtless, frightened for their lives, the other sacrifices had obeyed.

  But this beast didn’t scare her. Overmuch.

  “No, I will not.” Though the water looked lovely, she’d not forget her purpose.

  Kill the beast and free them all.

  “Bathe,” a low growl rumbled at her ear, the mists swirling around her ankles. She stiffened, not daring to move a muscle. “Cleanse yourself of your past. This is your life now.”

  She tilted her chin, the beast’s warm breath on her neck causing shivers to creep down her spine. “As your servant?”

  “As my guest.” The inky shadows pooled about her legs. “I would treat you better than your previous employers.”

  “I have no previous employ—” She bit her tongue, but it was too late.

  The beast snarled behind her, and a sharp restraint seized her wrist, whipping her around and yanking her hand upward. “Your skin is soft and perfumed. You are no chambermaid. She’s lied to me.”

  She? Who?

  Before Psyche could question him, the mists dispersed and the lights snuffed out, leaving her alone in the cold, empty atrium.

  ***

  Eros stormed into his mother’s palace on Mount Olympus. “You broke the rules,” he enunciated each word, grating them between his teeth.

  “Hmm?” Aphrodite arched a fine brow, peering at him through a mirror. The golden-haired goddess of love and beauty reclined in front of a large, gilded frame, admiring herself. As usual. Puffs of cloud-like fragrances perfumed across the marble and gold bathing chamber, both sweet and erotic.

  He scowled. “She’s not a chambermaid.”

  “No, of course not.” She waved off his statement with a delicate sweep of her slender arm. “A chambermaid wouldn’t be worthy of my son.”

  “This is not what we agreed upon,” he ground, struggling for control. “My choice. The maiden is always my choice.” If he surrendered to the vexation his mother caused him, he’d depart here no more victorious than when he’d arrived. The other maidens had been highly born. He’d hoped someone of a more common origin might not succumb as they did.