The Black Prince (Shadow Unit Book 5)

by Tigris Eden

  “Enri,” Yewa whispered.

  “What? I’m not lying. She’s the reason we’re not on task now. We should be back in the gardens—plotting Hades’ and Erebos’ demise—not mated. I have other, more important things to be doing than dealing with this bullshit.”

  He didn’t miss her flinch.

  He wasn’t going to let it bother him.

  Her emotions were not his concern. She needed to toughen up if she was going to continue to be around him.

  The first step on the vine had his body swaying rather violently as he gripped the sides meant to be used as leads. He wasn’t afraid of heights. He had wings, but his neck was tight with apprehension. And when he turned back to look at Yewa, he knew why. He was seriously fucking worried about her. Like, deathly worried about her.

  “Yewa.”

  Her eyes snapped to his at the sound of his voice.

  “One foot in front of the other, yeah?”

  She gave a sharp nod and placed a tentative step on the vine while gripping the leads in a knuckle-tight grip. She didn’t look down, and when she was almost to him he turned and continued to move forward. One foot in front of the other.

  “Mnemosyne,” Enri said to the open air. “I want you to restore my memories.”

  A chuckle drifted on the breeze, followed by a strong gust of wind.

  “The sisters are never wrong. They said this would happen and I, for a change, thought for sure they were incorrect. I’ll play along. When would you like me to restore those memories, Lord Chaos?”

  “Immediately.”

  “As you wish.”

  A gust of air shook the narrow bridge, rocking them to and fro. If it kept up, the vines would propel them off. Like a pendulum, they swung forward and back. It would go full circle, upending them. Yewa let out a startled scream as sharp stabs of pain pelted his head. The feeling of a hundred ice picks drilled inside his brain. His mind went blank for a moment and then flooded with thoughts, memories, pictures. All at once, they came. It was too much. He heard before he felt the snapping of the vines. They were maybe halfway out, but he couldn’t stop the barrage of images and thoughts piercing his skull.

  “Enri, you have to stop,” Yewa yelled.

  Over the fog in his brain, he could hear her. He could also hear Mnemosyne cackling with unrestrained glee as the vine snapped and they both went plummeting to Yewa’s doom. He couldn’t be killed.

  She could.

  There was hardly any force in the feeling of falling. Everything felt weightless. Like floating along a lazy river in the jungle, or drifting out to sea with depths unknown. The insides of her body felt scrambled. If she could have screamed she would have, but the amount of air coming into her mouth allowed nothing to escape. She would pass out any minute. This is my time to die. Because she put trust in a man whom she promised to help. Sound said Enri needed her. He didn’t need anyone but himself, it would seem. She tried being nice to him, submissive, giving him the upper hand, and where had that gotten her? Death.

  She’d see her sister again, maybe. Because dying at sea every time you awakened from your previous death didn’t seem like something Andina would endure. She’d see her mother and father. They’d be waiting for her on the other side, but there was still so much more she’d wanted to do with her life. And her life was long. Not anymore. Death was coming, and she wasn’t ready. Her head felt light, she’d black out from too much air. Not lack thereof. He’d changed right in front of her. She’d heard Enri ask for his memories—they were painful and all-consuming. She saw the true Enri for what he really was—Chaos in its purest form. There was no way to accurately describe what she witnessed seconds before the vines gave way. But he was man, he was beast, he was everything and nothing all at once. She saw wings, horns, maybe even tusks at one point before getting tossed from the vines to plummet to her death. Was she ever going to reach the bottom?

  Yewa couldn’t open her eyes. They were glued shut by the force of her descent. But she hadn’t hit anything yet, and she hadn’t passed out. All she could do was fall and continue toward the unknown. If death isn’t coming to greet me, who will?

  “That’s no way to think.”

  “Enri?”

  She could hear his voice inside her head.

  “Who else would it be?”

  Of course, he was going to be a giant dick.

  “That’s so unlike you. Now you’re resorting to name calling?”

  “I told you the vine wouldn’t hold us both. You said it would. Then you asked for your memories back at the most inopportune time. Why must you be so childish and inconsiderate? Do you always think of yourself?”

  There was a long pause of silence before she heard his unrepentant chuckle.

  “Always. Hang tight, I think I see you.”

  Before she could respond, something strong latched onto her waist. She couldn’t look up, because her body jerked and the air once again left her, causing her to choke as the arm around her stomach tightened.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “Get used to it.”

  She tried to wiggle, but Enri squeezed harder, making her halt her movements.

  “Don’t fucking move. Flying with you is no easy task.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Fuck if I know. We’re basically flying blind.”

  “Where is Aurora?”

  “She didn’t follow. I don’t expect her to. She’s always been a bit of a coward. It was the reason I isolated her. I was trying to get her to grow a pair. Guess it didn’t work.”

  Their descent was starting to slow and the pressure from the air became an annoyance. Yewa tested her eyes by slowly peeling them open. All she saw was gray. She could hear water along with wind, but the smell—the smell assaulting her senses was sickly sweet. It hurt her stomach to breathe it in.

  “What is that smell?”

  “Fermenting plums and grapes with honey nectar.”

  “It’s really strong.”

  It was potent. To the point it was having a funny effect on her. Her head felt light, her body was warm, relaxed. Too relaxed. She could even taste the multiple smells. The sugar from the plums and grapes had long since turned to alcohol. The honey’s sweetness was vicious. The air was thick with its taste.

  “We are going to be landing soon.”

  “Good. I need to think of all the ways I’d like to taste you.”

  Enri’s gripped tightened around her waist bringing a rush of warmth that flowed easily through her body. Yewa’s temperature rose pleasantly. Had she just told Enri she was going to taste him? Yes.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Are you okay?” she asked, trying to divert his question. A lot of good that did. Something was happening to her body—something foreign, but vaguely familiar. It was like the time she’d been kissed—or almost kissed—by one of the boys, back home in Africa. When she would have taken things further, Omari had interrupted. She was feeling exactly like that, only ten times more—and then some. Plus, she knew how well Enri could kiss. She was doomed.

  Enri landed in a soft patch of grass and Yewa swayed as he released her. Her legs buckled and she almost fell, but Enri was there to catch her.

  “Whoa. What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

  Oh, they were back to talking and now she could feel the guttural tone of Enri’s voice in the pit of her stomach.

  “Your voice pleases me.” She giggled.

  “It does, does it?” There was a peculiar look in his eyes. Eyes that were now back to their piercing blue. Gone was the sky, and its nightly inhabitants. He moved forward. Didn’t step, but he stalked almost hesitantly, as if he were testing a theory. A slip of a grin graced his lips.

  Very kissable lips.

  His mouth could destroy hundreds of lives if he weren’t careful. His words alone could render a person speechless or introduce them to an untimely death—but his mouth could also bring pleasure.

  Yewa knew first hand. Stop t
his. That was the stable part of her mind, trying to grasp at anything that would reign in this undeniable feeling she was having toward the male.

  One part of her—the smart part—was watching on the sideline warding her off—holding up the big sign of doom. Reminding her things between them would go nowhere. But the relaxed and bold part of her urged her forward. Propelled her to take the steps that would put her back in his arms.

  She was safe there.

  Protected.

  Even if his protection came with consequences.

  Yewa licked her lips as the air seemed to moisten around them. Dewdrops sat on branches, reflecting the light. Everything took on a hazy feel. Yewa scanned the area. Behind her was a waterfall. It’s color, a warm purple flowing like silk over black rock. There were large blossoms of a flower she’d never seen before. Each petal perfect and vibrant with color. Sprinkles of light on danced on the ground. Yewa looked up. She noticed they were beneath a canopy of trees. There were only snatches of light here and there. Ropy vines—like the ones they tried to walk across—looped around massive tree trunks or hung on branches. Dead vegetation littered the ground all around—downed trees hidden by moss and new growth would cause problems for anyone not paying attention.

  Yewa focused in on Enri and watched him as he stared at her, his eyes assessing.

  “You feel better now?”

  She did. Maybe it was the sweet-smelling plums and grapes, or maybe it had been him all along. Her tongue was loose as the words spilled, unfiltered, from her mouth. “My insides are on fire and there is an ache in the pit of my stomach, right here.” She grabbed his hand, yanking him forward and placing his hot palm against her womb. “Right here, I feel you right here.”

  The saner part of her brain warned her this was a bad idea, but Yewa was floating farther and farther away from the part of her mind warning her to be cautious when it came to Enri.

  Heat from the palm of his hand seared through her jacket, which she no longer needed. She was burning up. Yewa tore off the jacket and moved Enri’s hand to peel off her sweater, careful not to remove her tank top. Much better.

  Enri stood staring at her. He didn’t look shocked, but he didn’t look normal either. His nostrils flared and his eyes widened before a smile spread across his face, turning his harsh features into something hauntingly beautiful. He was too perfect. Too masculine. Too virile.

  If one were to strive to achieve perfection in every way, they would first need to surpass Enri. He’d set the bar so high, and it breached the unattainable. Oh no. She’d been coveting him the entire time. When had that happened? Five minutes ago, she’d been all about ensuring she’d no longer subject herself to his brand of oppression.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Enri said, eyeing her as he leaned away.

  “According to you, we may never get out of this place so I think time is no longer a concern.”

  “You’d be wrong.”

  “Why, because you got your precious memories back?” Now she was the one with anger in her tone. “Did I play my part well? Did I give you exactly what you needed, Lord Chaos?”

  That got his attention.

  “You don’t want to play this game with me, Yewa.”

  “What game is that? Truth? Loathing? Despair?”

  Enri put his hands to his waist and glared, but Yewa held her ground. He could do his worst; she wasn’t going to cower or bow down.

  “You were the one who said you were going to help me, remember? I didn’t ask for it, but you pushed and pushed, and here you are. Right where you want to be.”

  “No, this is where you want to be. But it’s not the place you should be. You, Chaos, creator of life, rightful heir to the Throne of Creation, fucked up. You must have done something to end up without your memories. Pissed someone off. That’s what you do, right? Line up your pawns, place them where you want them. Like you did me and my family.”

  A sly smile slid over the arrogant mask he wore. “Don’t we have quite the dirty mouth. I see I’ve rubbed off on you.”

  “You’ve done no such thing. I’m not as sheltered as I appear to be. I chose not to use words that can do damage. But you seem to only pay attention when I say or do something out of character.”

  Her heart raced with the words she’d spoken. Stay the course.

  “You’re right. I place people where I want them. I control this game, even when I don’t know I’m controlling it. Comes with the perks. And yeah, sweetheart, I have my memories from the past, but do you really want to know why we’re here? It was of my choosing, you’re right, and it was because of your help, this is true. The Fates put you in my path as a distraction. A beautiful, wounded distraction. It’s not my father everyone should be worried about. Darkness will always exist, just as light will. But life...life can be undone and reworked. It can be unbalanced and broken. Darkness doesn’t sit on the Throne of Creation. He is merely the instrument that holds it all together.”

  He walked away, leaving her in the middle of the otherworldly rainforest. When she tried to take a step forward, she found she couldn’t. Her feet, rooted to the floor. She could still see his retreating form and when he stopped, she thought he’d come back to assist her.

  He’d proven that—if nothing else. He’d come back for her. But he didn’t. He raised his hand and without looking over his shoulder, he said, “You will stay here, until I return. You won’t move and nothing will harm you. I’m exercising my right, and my will not only as your mate, but as your creator. Now be a good little pawn, and stay.”

  Chapter 13

  She was drunk on the air. He remembered this location; he remembered creating it. Like Persephone’s garden, it was a place for him to take his lovers. It had been one of many. Fuck, but he was a bastard, and he couldn’t understand why it caused a slight niggle in his chest when he saw how upset Yewa had become. He could carve out some time. Help her to understand why he did the things he did. But he didn’t explain his actions to anyone. With a sense of comfort, Enri tested his reach. The area he occupied held all manner of creatures and they all knew him as their father—their creator. With a thought, he stopped all movement. Silence descended. In the stillness he could reflect, make hard choices, and decide once and for all which way was he going to go. His life wasn’t a series of rights and wrongs. His life was linear—with obstacles sometimes thrown in his path. He’d been out of character for far too long. Betrayed by those he’d felt most comfortable with and the instinct to do harm to those who wronged him weighed heavy on his chest. They might have removed his earliest memories, seen to it their lies and treachery remained hidden. But with every plan came a backup plan.

  Things were just starting to turn in his favor. New threats would emerge since he had full use of his abilities again. He had no reason to continue throwing things out of balance. Not in the sense of intermingling with the natives, no—in the sense of corrupting. He was soiling the very things he put in place. His purpose was becoming more and more clear. He would drink from the cup—but in doing so, things would never be the same again. Not for him, not for anyone. Enri was selfish enough to admit even to himself it was a task he wanted to take on. Everyone he’d come into contact with thus far hated him, despised his methods—and he was okay with that. What he wasn’t okay with was knowing he’d somehow developed some sort of conscience. Change was coming—and turning things in his favor. What he wanted would be his.

  In the beginning, he’d been open with his family. He might have started with a spark and from there, each of his thoughts—his ideas—might have manifested and bloomed further on their own, but they were all a part of his doing. He wasn’t that much of dick to have wanted to oversee everything he’d spawned.

  Erebos became jealous of him. Back then, they walked among his creations. Each one something different, or more than some of his first experiments. He’d once taken so much pride in his work. Everyone and everything had a place, a part to play. There were worlds upon worlds and realm
s that folded atop one another. He’d even kept a council of sorts. A committee of his greatest creations he’d consult on certain things. Should the grass be green? Or should it be red in this world? Shit like that. He also had those that rebelled. The Defiant Ones. Spawned children of the council. Locked away, they lay dormant waiting for their chance to rise. They were one collective idea, one thought, one movement, and one really fucked up way of looking at life. If they thought a creation was lacking, they’d seek it out and destroy it. Something he’d not given permission for. It was the reason they’d come to rest beneath the rocks of Le Mont Saint Michel. It was Erebos who’d put the idea in their heads and Enri’s errant council.

  Revenge was what he wanted—even before the loss of his memories. To admit he had a handicap—because that’s what it was, a handicap and not a weakness—was a hard truth to swallow. Most all of the players of the game were revealed. But there was one who rested on the outskirts of his peripheral. One he had yet to identify. He knew whoever it was, they were close. Too close. He needed all the allies he could muster. His only ally at the moment: an unlikely woman who’d moments ago attempted to rip him a new asshole. Good thing I’m made of sturdier stock.

  Chaos was about to do something he never did—apologize. The world was truly coming to an end now.

  “We’re really doing this shit?”

  “What other choice do we have, Royce?” Draven asked.

  “How about you flip the motherfucker the bird, and tell him to suck your cock?”

  Royce was seriously tired of all the back and forth. He was getting too old for this shit. By human standards, he should have been six feet under hundreds of years ago. But he was too smooth for death.

  “We need him to drink Jorunn’s blood, and he needs to do it from the cup. Once that happens, we can get the Sahidic,” Jes rationalized.

  “Has it ever occurred to anyone that maybe—just maybe—this Eremiel guy could be yanking our chain?”

  Jes glared at him. If her eyes were daggers, he’s have a huge asshole in his chest.