Shadow Borne

by Rachael Slate

  The other men backed away, unwilling to approach the now-flaming home. Eros stole one quick glimpse at Psyche, who nodded in encouragement.

  “Stay right here.” He barked the warning before sprinting toward the hut and searching for the child. Inside, he waved a hand and cleared the smoke, revealing a lad beneath a table. The child lay prostrate on the floor, unmoving. Eros clenched one fist at his side. If he healed the lad, would that interfere with the child’s destiny?

  What would Psyche advise him to do?

  The answer pounded through him and he cradled the child, exhaling into his mouth. His divine breath purified the smoke from the lad’s lungs and he choked, gasped, and then inhaled solidly. Scooping the child, Eros dashed from the building as its roof creaked and beams crashed to the ground. He carried the lad straight to his mother, who thanked him with tears in her eyes, the moisture streaming a clear path down her blackened face.

  After a reassuring nod toward her, he scanned the water line for Psyche. No approving smile or relieved sigh greeted him. He couldn’t spot her anywhere.

  The truth sank onto his heart, crushing him.

  At the very first opportunity, she had abandoned him.

  ***

  Psyche bit the corner of her mouth while the beast raced into the burning hut. She prayed he wouldn’t be too late. Moments stretched painfully. As she lifted onto her toes to get a better view from amidst the crowd, something seized her wrist and tugged. She whirled about in question, but choked on her words.

  “I thought that was you, my sweet. Your father proclaimed you’d disappeared, but I didn’t believe it.” Lord Gallus smirked at her, his grip on her wrist tightening.

  Panic flooded her. Gallus was the man who’d requested her hand after their encounter in the stables. He’d drag her to her father’s household. Away from the beast. “Why are you here?”

  “I might ask the same of you.” His cunning black orbs gleamed in calculation. “I was on my way out of the mists when the fire started. How fortunate I happened upon you.”

  Out of the mists? What does that mean?

  He yanked on her wrist, wrenching her from the crowd. She dug in her heels, but his grasp was firm. “Let me go. You’re hurting me.” Her pleas did nothing to assuage him, and he was unnaturally strong. Unless he released her, she couldn’t conceal herself. She had to determine another strategy to break free.

  Instead of leading her toward a horse, he hauled her into the open doorway of a barn around the corner. “This will do.”

  She wrenched backward, writhing to escape, and glanced behind her, praying the beast would note her absence. “What are you doing?”

  “Ensuring you don’t wander off again.”

  At first, she feared he intended to rape her, but as she adjusted to the darkness inside the barn, she spotted the hammer and length of chain he snatched from the workbench.

  “You can’t do this. My father would never permit you to treat me thusly.” She didn’t bother mentioning her mother. Damaris was a weak-willed female who’d never dare to counter a single of her husband’s commands.

  “Your father?” He snorted. “King Vasilios already sold you to me.” Gallus shoved her onto a pile of hay. “Along with a tiny chest of gold, too. Foolish man.”

  She fought against the bile rising in her throat at the idea of belonging to this fiend. Something about him was wrong. As though he were too much of a monster to be a man.

  Far more of a beast than the beast was.

  Her beast would find her. Save her.

  Psyche scowled at Gallus as he stoked the fire and pounded the metal end of the chain flat. What did he intend?

  She searched around her, palpating the ground for an object to use against him.

  “Don’t even dare, sweet,” he snarled, grabbed her about the shoulders, and hefted her into the air. The man possessed uncanny strength. So much so, she resembled a mouse squirming in his feline-like grasp.

  His features morphed, too, menacing and dark. Sharp pricks like talons pierced into the flesh of her upper arms while enormous black wings spurted from his back.

  She wriggled, struggling to steer away from him. So, he wasn’t human. Not that she was wholly surprised. What was he? Not a god, for no divine entity could be so monstrously hideous. A demonic being then.

  “Care to know how I found you?” He inhaled against her hair, a growl escaping him. “Your luscious, innocent scent. My, but you’re going to be such a tasty treat.” Without further explanation or goading, he tossed her inside a stall, the bolt slamming the door locked.

  She leapt to her feet and smashed a fist against the door, but it was solidly barricaded. The slats of the stall were stacked so close together she couldn’t even peer through them to observe her pitiful fate.

  Spinning around, she examined the walls. They were too high for her to climb, and no footholds existed to give her a boost. She might conceal herself against them, but if he’d spoken truth, he would simply scent her out. Damn, she was cornered. She didn’t even have the dagger she’d brought to kill the beast with.

  A sprinkle of rain pattered outside, chiming off the stone rooftop. The beast. Hope leapt into her chest. Was it too much to dream he’d caused the rain?

  The low rumble emanating from the barn’s entry proved the answer.

  He came for me.

  Psyche rushed to the stall door and propped against it. The slats were too narrow to view through, but the sound carried.

  “Where is she?” The beast’s familiar rumble sent joy spiraling through her.

  “Nowhere you can reach her. She’s mine.” Gallus’s haughty tone raked across her skin.

  Rather than more words, scuffling and the crash of fists into flesh rang through the barn. Snarls, growls, and clanging metal objects bounced off the walls, as though two dogs fought instead of two, well, monsters.

  “Yield,” the beast snarled, “or I’ll tear each of your limbs from your body, pluck out your eyes, and feed them to you, one after the other.”

  A man’s panicked scream rent the air.

  Psyche jolted as the hairs on her neck spiked and the blood in her veins chilled. What was the beast doing to him?

  “You think your puny claws frighten me?” the beast roared. “Behold the true face of horror.”

  “She’s…in…there,” the male whimpered. “I beg your mercy. Please, let me live. I swear I’ll never touch her again.” Wheezed promises made by a man petrified by fear.

  Psyche backed from the stall door, trembling. Sweet gods, what could be terrible enough to terrify a monster?

  ***

  Eros braced his fist above the Wind Borne’s face, sneering at the pathetic male. Not so menacing now, cowering beneath a god’s wrath.

  Pleading and bargaining for his paltry life.

  I should end him. The male had already viewed his face. He’d be a threat.

  If he ever mustered his courage again.

  Psyche hid in that horse’s stall, listening. He’d tracked her scent to this barn and detected her rapid heartbeats emanating from within the stall. Slowly, he backed off, releasing his grasp on the male’s wing. “Never set foot here again. Next time, I’ll not show you mercy.”

  The Wind Borne scrambled to his feet, casting one last glower in Psyche’s direction.

  “Go,” Eros boomed, and the male scampered off. How in Hades had the devious cur found a path through the mists to begin with? The circumstances of this attempted abduction bothered him, though it might be his uncharacteristic response that irked him more.

  He bowed his shoulders, examining his hands. As the god of romantic passions, he’d rarely had cause to raise his fists in anger. He left the warring to other gods better suited, like Ares. What Aphrodite fancied about the war god, Eros couldn’t fathom. This rage burning through his veins was an emotion he’d rather not experience again.

  It was so…distasteful.

  He had no desires to kill, maim, or injure. Such effort was much be
tter spent sorting out one’s differences in bed.

  After calming himself and settling within his shadows, he strode to the stall. “Psyche?” A spike of panic jolted him. What if she were harmed?

  He’d regret not killing the Wind Borne then.

  “I’m in here.” Her voice came soft as an uncertain whisper.

  He tossed aside the bolt and wrenched the door open. She’d adhered her back against the wall, arms wrapped about herself.

  Defensive, frightened.

  “You’re safe. Come to me.” He extended his hand, but she didn’t grasp it.

  “What did you do to him?” Her lips pressed tight, paling.

  “I sent him off, with a good scare, in the hopes he’ll not have the ballocks to return.”

  “He was monstrous. How did you terrify him so?” Her question hung in the air. “You revealed your true face to him?”

  “Aye.”

  She drew her brows together. “Are you more fearsome than he?”

  “That’s a matter of opinion.” He chuckled, hoping to soothe her obvious concerns. “I would never harm you, Psyche. You can trust me.”

  “Can I?” Her scrutiny flashed to him, and though he fortified his shadows, he sensed her penetrating stare, burrowing into his soul. “What was he? A demon?”

  “No, a Wind Borne. They’re predatory creatures, half-man, half-raptor. Descended of the wind gods. Ruthless bastards, too.”

  “Is his companion one as well?”

  “His companion?” Oh, damn. One Wind Borne was a nuisance. Two…

  “Yes, I believe his name was Lord Borasco.” She wrung her fingers. “If not to marry me, what did he intend?”

  Borasco. The name pinged in his mind, blending with images of brothels, symposiums, mercenaries, and all manner of unsavory characters. “To sell you.” His gut pinched. “Borasco is a slaver of the vilest breed.” A beauty like Psyche’s would fetch a fortune in gold. Add in her innocence, and well…

  He didn’t know Borasco, but Eros hoped like hell his identity as a god would dissuade the fiend from attempting to capture Psyche again.

  At least, by his side, he could keep her safe.

  “Sell me? To whom? For what purpose?”

  He sighed. “As a slave, likely to a brothel. Many a male would pay handsomely for your virtue.” He offered his hand again, not wishing to discuss the topic further. “Let’s go home, Arete.”

  She drew in a shaky inhalation before tentatively brushing her fingers against his.

  He tugged her into his embrace, clutching her to his chest and stroking her locks. “He’ll never get his talons on you again, I promise.”

  “I never knew such monsters truly existed. I thought they were alive only in legends.” She shuddered. “He mentioned mists. Of what was he speaking?”

  He tensed, but it wouldn’t hurt her to learn the truth about her realm. “This place we exist in, your father’s Kingdom and those adjoining it, the villages, and my castle, it’s all part of my curse. There’s a vast world beyond, where creatures like the Wind Borne aren’t the only fantastical beings.”

  She shifted back, her lips parted in awe. “A world beyond.”

  “Yes. A veil of mists conceals us, both in location and in time. I’m not sure how he was able to pierce it.” But he did have an inkling as to who had aided him. A god, likely that righteous sun god, Apollo.

  “Can you leave the mists? Can I?”

  How he wished she could. He’d love to show her the view from Mount Olympus, to watch the sun set over the world together. The mists had been erected to prevent the other gods from interfering with their wager and to shelter the inhabitants within from the truth. “I’m afraid not, but there are books in my library we can read together.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Come, let’s go home.”

  They stepped through the barn, and then out into the street, the rain sprinkling down upon them.

  Halting, she tugged on his hand. “Why didn’t you kill him?”

  “Would you have preferred me to?” He cocked his head at her. “I stood above him, ready to strike, yet all I could think of was what you would wish of me. Since I have met you, Psyche, you’ve challenged my assumptions about my conduct, my character. I would strive to be worthy of you.” He seized both of her slender hands in his.

  She squeezed them back. “Of course you are. I’m proud of your actions. You showed a great strength of benevolence.”

  His heart leapt at her praise. He longed for her to gaze into his eyes and speak those words. However, he’d have to settle for peering into hers, those sparkling depths shining in earnest.

  That his actions had consequences had never troubled him before. He perceived he was in the midst of a great lesson.

  Psyche would be his teacher.

  She licked the rainwater from her lips, staring at him. “I wish I could see your face.”

  He wished it, too. Even if she never looked upon him, he might still share himself with her.

  “Close your eyes.” Eros affected a short beard to conceal his true face. Then he bent forward as she obeyed and feathered his lips to hers. He clasped her hands tightly, so she wouldn’t attempt to touch him and learn of the shape of his face.

  Her soft, silken lips parted, and he thrust his tongue inside, flicking alongside hers. A moan echoed in her throat, and he sensed this spark of yearning was one they shared.

  Deeper, harder, he kissed her, seizing every inch of her mouth she yielded, only pulling back once her knees had grown weak and her breath strained.

  “Mine,” he growled. “Say you are mine.”

  Psyche melted into the beast’s kiss, drinking in his taste that mingled with the rain water. His lips were human, framed by short, soft bristles of a masculine beard.

  Was he human? A creature like the Wind Borne? Or simply another cursed being?

  Did it matter? Despite the frightening vision he’d revealed to Gallus, she didn’t fear him. The entirety of her heart beat with the certainty he would never harm her. He’d fought to protect her and now, he proclaimed her his.

  Mine.

  She longed to be, but a part of her suppressed the desire, unable to comply with his request. Not because he wouldn’t unmask his face to her, but because he wouldn’t share the truth of his identity. How could she fall in love with a male who kept secrets from her? The uncertainty split through her. One half willing to leap and one half still clinging to the ledge.

  The beast kissed her deeper, his heat thawing through the ice of indecision. Her lashes fluttered at the bliss tingling from her lips down to her toes, swirling in her core. This magnetic attraction to the beast held her captive. Her heart whispered the truth. He might not entrust her with his past yet, but in time, they could face the world beyond together.

  Was that what she had to give him? Her blind faith?

  He bent his forehead to hers and rasped, “Psyche. I was so afraid that you had left me.” The yearning in his deep tone speared through her, and she vowed she would do whatever he requested of her.

  Seize whatever leaps she had to.

  She might not be able to offer him her heart, yet, but she would be the first person to grant him her trust.

  “No, beast, I would never leave you. I am yours.” The rain soaked through her cloak and chiton, chilling her damp skin. “Home?” She regarded the shadows of his face, and an instant later, he whirled them about in a dizzying spin. He opened his arms and braced her shoulders, her feet tottering, in the library of his castle.

  “How did you…?”

  “The powers of this place,” he murmured. “Easy.” He steadied her and peeled off her drenched cloak. She shivered, but the hearth burst into glowing flames, their warmth soaking through her chilled bones.

  “Drink.” He passed a steaming cup to her lips and she blew gently before taking a delicate sip. The hot liquid slid down her throat, soothing away the last of her chills.

  “Thank you.” She tilted her head at him, studying the
shadows. “You caused the rain, didn’t you.”

  He didn’t answer, instead removing the cup from her hands and setting it aside. “Does it matter what abilities I may or may not have? You still cannot break my third rule. I forbid it.”

  “Oh, you forbid it.” She laughed at his obstinate tone and bumped her hip against his, but he seized her wrist.

  “I am serious, Psyche.” His somber tone crushed the smile on her lips. “I won’t lose you.”

  Lose me. There it was again, his declaration of claiming her.

  “Like the others? How did they die? Who came before me? Tell me her name.”

  “Are those your three questions?” Though his tone teased, she nodded. She longed to learn of his past.

  “Yes, I lost the others. They disobeyed my third rule. One brought a lantern into my bedchamber and lit it while I slept. Another thrust open the curtains. Yet another swam underwater with me, promising not to open her eyes.” He scoffed, a blast of air rushing past her as he stepped behind her. “The last maiden’s name was Apphia and she gathered a jar full of fireflies.” He puffed. “Does that satisfy your questions?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, hating how her inquiry had induced such anguish in his voice. How could she convince him she wouldn’t succumb as they had, when she wasn’t certain herself?

  “Now, will you trust that the secrets I hold from you keep you alive?” A weary sigh and a kiss pressed to her shoulder. “I meant what I said. I cannot lose you.”

  Such an odd choice of words. Lose. “I’m not yours to find or lose, beast.” She frowned, hating calling him such an inhuman title. “Tell me a name. It doesn’t matter if it’s not your true one.”

  He paused for a moment before murmuring, “Call me Soren.”

  “Soren.” She rolled the name off her tongue.

  He leaned in close, his large, masculine form towering above her. With the lightest of brushes, he stroked through her locks and along her cheek. “Yes, now sleep, Arete, and dream of the world beyond.”

  ***

  Eros departed Psyche’s side before he lost control and seized onto this relentless lust. She was safe in his castle, at least from everyone but him.