Unchained by a Forbidden Love
Felicity Heaton
Unchained by a Forbidden Love
Lost to the darkness, Fuery wages a daily war against the corruption that lives within him, constantly in danger of slipping into the black abyss and becoming the monster all elves fear. Work as an assassin gives him purpose, but what reason is there to go on when he killed the light of his life—his fated mate?
Shaia has spent forty-two centuries mourning her mate. Tired and worn down, she agrees to wed a male of her family’s choosing, following tradition that has always bound her as a female and hoping she will be able to gain just a little freedom in return. But as she resigns herself to being the mate of a male she could never love, fate places an old friend in her path—one who tells her that her lost love is alive.
Will Shaia find the courage to break with tradition and leave the elf kingdom in search of her mate? And as a ray of light pierces his soul again, can Fuery find the strength to win his battle against the darkness or will it devour him and that light of their forbidden love forever?
OTHER PARANORMAL ROMANCE BOOKS BY FELICITY HEATON
Stories in the Eternal Mates romance series
Book 1: Kissed by a Dark Prince
Book 2: Claimed by a Demon King
Book 3: Tempted by a Rogue Prince
Book 4: Hunted by a Jaguar
Book 5: Craved by an Alpha
Book 6: Bitten by a Hellcat
Book 7: Taken by a Dragon
Book 8: Marked by an Assassin
Book 9: Possessed by a Dark Warrior
Book 10: Awakened by a Demoness
Book 11: Haunted by the King of Death
Book 12: Turned by a Tiger
Book 13: Tamed by a Tiger
Book 14: Treasured by a Tiger
Book 15: Unchained by a Forbidden Love
Stories in the Guardians of Hades romance series
Book 1: Ares
Book 2: Valen
Book 3: Esher - Coming in 2018
Stories in the Vampire Erotic Theatre romance series
Book 1: Covet
Book 2: Crave
Book 3: Seduce
Book 4: Enslave
Book 5: Bewitch
Book 6: Unleash
Stories in the Her Angel romance series
Book 1: Her Dark Angel
Book 2: Her Fallen Angel
Book 3: Her Warrior Angel
Book 4: Her Guardian Angel
Book 5: Her Demonic Angel
Book 6: Her Wicked Angel
Book 7: Her Avenging Angel
Book 8: Her Sinful Angel
Stories in the Vampires Realm romance series
Book 1: Prophecy: Child of Light
Book 2: Prophecy: Caelestis & Aurorea
Book 3: Prophecy: Dark Moon Rising
Book 3.1: Spellbound
Book 3.5: Reunion
Book 4: Seventh Circle
Book 5: Winter's Kiss
Book 6: Hunter's Moon
Book 7: Masquerade
Book 8: Hunger
Books 1-3 are also available in one anthology ebook: Prophecy Trilogy
Stories in the In Heat romance series
Book 1: In Heat
Book 2: In Heat: Mating Call
Discover more available paranormal romance books at: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk
Or sign up to Felicity's mailing list to learn about new titles, be eligible for special subscriber-only giveaways, and read exclusive content: http://www.felicityheaton.co.uk/newsletter.php
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About the Author
Paranormal Romance Books by Felicity Heaton
Copyright
CHAPTER 1
It was never a good day when he woke with the taste of blood on his tongue and no recollection of how it had got there.
Again.
Fuery stared up into the darkness, cold sweat trickling over his exposed chest and sticking the thin black bedclothes to his legs. He breathed hard, each heavy desperate exhalation shattering the silence, rasping in his ears together with his thundering heartbeat.
Icy claws gripped him, sinking into the blackened remains of his heart, attempting to pierce deep enough to reach whatever fragment of light remained in him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, dragged down a shuddering breath and held it, unwilling to let fear pull him into the darkness. He would not let it win. He couldn’t. He exhaled slowly, a measured pace that created a sliver of calm, enough to give him the strength to shake the grip of his fear and allow him to extinguish that emotion.
Because fear was a weakness.
He did not feel such things.
He hadn’t in a long time.
Not since he had hardened himself to the world.
Not since that night.
Fuery screwed his eyes shut even tighter, his lips drawing into a grimace that flashed his emerging fangs as the darkness welled again, pulling up memories from the abyss. They surged and fought for freedom, and he growled as he pushed back against them, battled and resisted them. The fight took longer this time, strained minutes in which the fear slithered back in and wrapped around him again, squeezing his lungs tight and hissing whispered taunts in his ear, words about the terrible sins he had committed that had the memories surging harder, almost breaking to the surface.
He gripped the sides of his head and squeezed hard as he snarled through his clenched fangs. Tears cut down his temples, hot against his chilled skin. He didn’t want to remember, but he could never forget either.
He didn’t want to go back into the darkness, refused to sink into oblivion again and do the vile bidding of the darkness that lived inside him. Not again.
He grappled with fear, wrestled with the darkness, and fought the tide of memories, and somehow, the gods only knew how, he managed to subdue them and vanquish the raw agony and the sheer terror that threatened to push him back over the edge.
He panted hard, body trembling from the exertion of overcoming the darkness and clawing his way back to the light.
Couldn’t think about that night.
Never look back.
The past was pain.
A constant source of it that scoured his blackened soul.
No looking back.
He inhaled and exhaled, keeping them measured and deep, struggling for calm again as his past and his present churned inside him, rocking him and trying to keep him off balance, on the brink of teetering back into the abyss.
No looking back.
Fuery chanted it in his mind as he sought the calm—the quiet.
It was slow to come while the darkness roared inside him, drawn out by the fear that had paralyzed him, weakened him and opened him to it. Its inky tendrils snaked around his heart and squeezed it in his hollow chest.
Attempted to claim his soul.
Calm seem
ed an impossible dream while blood coated his tongue.
But gods, he wanted it, reached for it, desperate to shirk the grip of the fear and the darkness again.
They combined to overpower him and he could feel himself slipping again, skidding down that terrifying slope towards the cold forbidding darkness where it reached for him, beckoned him with promises of oblivion and an escape from the madness.
From the pain.
No looking back.
The past was a nightmare.
The past was pain.
Always pain.
He opened his eyes and stared up into the darkness as he forced himself to see where he was in a vain attempt to focus on the present. He was here, in the guild, in the free realm of Hell. He was far away from there. Leagues from the elf kingdom. Centuries away from his past.
Light streaked across the darkness and his eyes swiftly adjusted to the onslaught. A shadow made the slim vertical shaft flicker and then brightness exploded in the room, driving back the darkness entirely.
Just as the male on the threshold of his room drove it from his soul.
Hartt looked at him through sleep-filled eyes and murmured huskily in the elf tongue, “I felt you stir. Everything alright?”
Fuery went to nod, because any other response would leave him weak. Vulnerable. He stopped himself, paused and stared at Hartt where he stood dressed in only a loose pair of black cotton trousers and scrubbing a hand over his short sleep-mussed black-blue hair, yawning the whole time.
He didn’t need to protect himself like that with this male.
Hartt knew the truth of him. Knew his secrets. His story.
Fuery slowly shook his head.
Hartt yawned again, smacked his lips together and rubbed sleep from his violet eyes as he stepped into the room. He quietly closed the door, descending the room back into darkness that lasted only a second. A soft glow burned in the glass lamp on the low round wooden table near the window to Fuery’s left and gradually gained strength, driving back the shadows again and drawing some of the darkness out of the black plastered walls, softening the bleak colour.
Hartt’s doing, because Fuery’s own powers were unpredictable.
Unreliable since that night.
The male padded silently barefoot across the stone floor towards him and sat on the edge of the bed on his left, causing Fuery to roll towards him. The warm light chased over Hartt, throwing the left half of his face into shadow.
Hartt’s violet eyes softened as they met his. “Tell me about it.”
Fuery sank back into the double mattress on a sigh and averted his gaze, pinning it back on the wooden ceiling. Gods, he didn’t want to speak about it. Everything in him screamed to protect himself by making the male go away, but that light Hartt always seemed to draw out of him emulated the lamp, fought to grow brighter and drive the darkness back.
He had to speak about it. Years of experience had taught him that. Holding it inside would only give the darkness a firmer hold on him, making it harder to shake it and increasing the risk of him sinking into that terrible oblivion again.
He didn’t want to go there.
So he forced himself to speak.
“I woke…” His hands tensed against his bare stomach, fingers curling into fists, and he pushed onwards. “I woke with the taste of blood in my mouth.”
He could still taste it now.
He dropped his gaze to his body. No trace of crimson on his torso. He uncurled his hands and lifted them, stared at his fingers and his callused palms, scouring them for a sign, some evidence that he had lost himself to the darkness and had killed.
There wasn’t a single fleck of blood on him.
But it was there in his mouth.
Coppery. Vile.
“I think I did something terrible,” he whispered and shook his head, numbness sweeping through him and bringing fear in its wake, a stronger wave this time, one that threatened to pull him under. Break him. “I don’t remember. I can’t recall how I got to my bed.”
He shifted his gaze to land on Hartt.
The pity shining in Hartt’s violet eyes drove shame through his heart like a spear and he quickly looked away.
“I put you here,” Hartt said softly, his deep voice a bare whisper but one that soothed Fuery, easing his fear and the grip the darkness had on him. “You had an… episode… and I brought you home.”
Relief bloomed inside him, sweet and warm, but the darkness still refused to release him and worry continued to slither inside him like a living thing, hissing in his ear that Hartt was lying, that he had killed and the male was covering it up.
Hartt seemed to see it, because he sighed and jerked his chin towards him. “Open your mouth.”
Fuery didn’t hesitate to do as he was ordered. The male leaned over, peered into his mouth and lifted his top lip with his left hand. When he prodded Fuery’s tongue on the left side, sharp pain lanced the length of it and he flinched, almost biting Hartt’s finger. The male was too fast for him though, reacted in a heartbeat and had his finger clear before Fuery’s fangs could pierce his flesh.
“You must have bitten your tongue when you were thrashing around. That’s all.” Hartt eased back.
Gods, the relief that hit Fuery this time was like ambrosia. It poured through him, washing away his worry and easing the chill from his blood.
Hartt’s lips tugged into a smile and he slowly shook his head. “For a male who makes a living taking lives, you are oddly affected by the idea of killing.”
Fuery knew it was a paradox, that Hartt was right and he had no qualms about his life as an assassin.
But there was a vast difference between killing when he was in control and murder when he was lost to the darkness.
He had felt that way for many centuries.
He had felt it since that night.
Now he couldn’t bear the idea he might kill someone innocent during one of his blackouts.
He looked to Hartt and saw in his eyes that he wouldn’t tell him if he did. Hartt was noble in his desire to protect him from the pain of the things he did when the darkness was in control, but Fuery didn’t want his friend to lie to him, to cover the truth and spare him like that.
He needed to know the things that he did. He had to know them. He could never atone, but he could bear his sins.
Because all that he had done, and all that he might do, paled in comparison to the sin he had committed.
That night.
CHAPTER 2
Shaia despised having to walk with the male beside her, hated the way he treated her as if she was fragile and liable to break. He never spoke to her as an equal, never entertained her when she tried to converse about things he believed she didn’t need to know about purely because she was a female.
It annoyed her.
Almost as much as the ridiculous outdated traditions of elf society that had bred those opinions into him.
But he was necessary.
She had put off her family for so long that they had finally reached the end of their tether and were determined to marry her off at last.
They had found a suitable male for her, had negotiated with him, and now it was time to seal the deal.
She cursed elf society.
It treated her like a possession or an asset.
Not a living, breathing thing with free will.
Shaia scoffed under her breath at that. Free will?
She looked around the rolling green landscape bathed in light, at the fields that lined the worn earth road, and the males who toiled in them. Males. Ahead, in the village that nestled between one of the hills and the broad stream, the stalls of the market and the mills would produce the same results.
Males.
Not a single female ran a store or a mill. Not a single female toiled in the fields to turn the earth or harvest the crops, restricted to tasks like sowing seeds that society thought fitted their more delicate constitutions.
Not a single female fought in the ran
ks of the elf army.
Her heart plummeted in her chest and she pushed away from thoughts of the legions, but she wasn’t quite quick enough to spare herself the pain that came whenever she thought of that noble duty or saw soldiers passing through the village.
She felt Eirwyn’s eyes on her as a vile shudder over her skin and glanced across at him. Concern lit his violet eyes. Concern she could almost fool herself was real. Perhaps she was misreading him again, mistaking frustration for concern. He often became annoyed with her whenever she fell silent, drifting along in her own world and captured by her own thoughts rather than talking with him about whatever dull topic he had chosen and believed suited her feeble female mind.
Males.
Gods, she wished she had the strength and courage to stand up, tell her family that she would never marry and she was going to leave this small world behind and search for a meaning in life in the greater one beyond the borders of the elf kingdom.
Borders that had been her cage for her entire life, one she had never quite been able to break free from despite her best efforts.
She had travelled the length and breadth of the kingdom, had visited every region but the one around the palace, but not once had she managed to muster the bravery to do something her family would view as unforgivable.
Something society would view as disgraceful, and akin to committing a damned crime even though males could do it freely and without consequence or scorn.
She had never crossed the border.
She had reached it once, had stared down from a high mountain peak into the valley beyond, knowing it was part of the First Realm of the demons. She had gone back and forth for hours, fighting with the idea of setting foot in it and breaking with convention, flouting the rules of her family and society.
In the end, she had lacked the courage to take that step.
Her family were all she had, and although their relationship was strained by the things they had done, the thought of them turning their backs on her because she had done something society would view as disrespectful towards them, and unladylike of her, hurt too much for her to dare go through with it.
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