Shadow Borne

by Rachael Slate

  He hadn’t yet confronted his mother about Psyche’s scars and he dreaded the conversation. Deep inside, he longed to believe some truth would redeem Aphrodite, and feared he wouldn’t find any. His mother, like any goddess, suffered a great deal of faults. Vanity, pride, selfishness. Never had he witnessed her be malicious.

  Instead of visiting her, when his mind churned in turmoil, he paced to the ballroom. Psyche’s rose rested, hovering in the air. The withered, blackened bloom floated pitifully, spinning ever so slowly. He knew better than to gawk at it, that the next minute wouldn’t produce any change, nor the minute after that. Still, it was hard not to hold his breath and hope.

  An odd bump bulged from one side of its stem. Plucking the flower gently, he twirled it around, prodding the lump. A blackened flake peeled from the stem, like ash, uncovering a vibrant patch of greenery.

  His heart rammed into his throat. How could this be? The rose was blooming. Well, not yet, but coming to life.

  No rose before it ever had.

  Psyche might break his curse and end his long suffering.

  She could be the one to love him.

  He stared at the green speck, fearing the next time he blinked, it would vanish. It didn’t. If anything, the green brightened, proclaiming the sway of Psyche’s emotions.

  Toward me.

  His throat tightened and he swallowed hard. No one had ever offered him their heart. What was he supposed to do with it?

  What if he did the wrong thing and caused her pain?

  The responsibility was too much to bear.

  Despite how he’d rather avoid her, there was only one person he trusted with the knowledge of love. He flashed straight to his mother’s chamber. She reclined, nude, on a chaise longue.

  “Eros, darling.” She cast him a coy smirk, not bothering to conceal her nudity. She was often naked, his mother. With his own erotic nature, he could hardly fault her.

  He averted his gaze from her form and concentrated on her face. No point in avoiding this confrontation. “How could you have harmed Psyche, Mother? She was but an innocent child.” He shook his head, unable to express the full extent of his rage.

  A somber shadow crossed her lovely features. “It is not what you assume, although I do accept full blame.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I will share with you the truth of what happened, and after, you may choose to judge me as you will.”

  He braced, shoulders tensed, too numb to speak, so he nodded instead.

  “It is true that the priestess’s slip of tongue irked me, yet you must trust, I did not blame the child. She was lovely, especially for a human child. A beauty to rival any of your siblings.”

  At the mention of his brothers and sisters, a knot twisted in Eros’s gut. He wasn’t the only child of Aphrodite to suffer a curse.

  His mother released a slow exhale. “I entered my temple with the intention of viewing for myself this child and the priestess who coveted her. The moment I stepped inside, I perceived my error. The temple was destroyed, utterly broken. Not a priestess of mine, but of our enemy was she. Her misspoken praise, a means to lure me in, where she might cause me harm.”

  “Oh, Mother.” He knelt and squeezed her hand, deducing the name she’d avoided speaking. Apollo. The sun god. A divine being with his sights set on Zeus’s throne. By destroying Aphrodite’s temple, he’d eliminated a means for her to replenish the energy she obtained from human prayers. This revelation also fueled Eros’s suspicions about how the Wind Borne had breached the mists.

  “She charged, I defended, yet the child somehow became entangled in our midst and suffered the brunt of our exchange.” Aphrodite’s shoulders deflated. “In the chaos, the priestess escaped. Afterward, I did what I could for Psyche.”

  “Why did you not report this to Zeus? Or at least Ares?”

  She snorted. “Why? So they would commence a war because of me? I discerned what Apollo had done and why, but he has no notion of my plans.”

  “Which are…?”

  She waved them off the discussion with an elegant sweep of her hand. “In time, my dove. In time.”

  Time was something they all coveted, so he accepted her vague answer. Relief eased the weight from his shoulders. His mother hadn’t been responsible for Psyche’s suffering, but she did have a hand in Psyche’s twist of fate.

  “I don’t know how you manipulated events so that Psyche would be the one inside my castle, but you did.” He stared her down, yet she smiled sweetly at him, unblinking.

  Damned Goddess of Love.

  Which brought him back to the rose and the spark of hope lighting his chest. “She loves me.”

  “Not yet, she doesn’t.” Aphrodite patted the seat beside her. “Sit with me.”

  Like a child, he obeyed, more confused than ever. “The rose is blooming.”

  “No, it has come to life, but it hasn’t bloomed. Just as the maiden’s heart hasn’t opened. You have awakened her, Eros, but you have not earned her love.” Aphrodite stroked his locks. “If you nurture her affections, she will grow to love you. In time. Similarly, if you cast her aside, you will crush any hope of sealing her devotion.”

  That made sense, but didn’t clarify his next actions. “Yes, but when should I seduce her?”

  Aphrodite chimed a laugh. “Oh, my dove. If I told you that, I wouldn’t be very adept at wagers.”

  He glowered at her but conceded she was right. No one could tell him how to proceed except himself and Psyche.

  “Thank you, Mother.” He kissed the top of her head and flashed from her chamber, back into Psyche’s. She lay curled on the bed, beneath the covers.

  He snuck in beside her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. The thin silk of her shift molded to her soft curves, making his cock pang.

  No, not tonight. This night, he would simply gaze upon her beauty and savor the bubbling spark of hope inside his chest.

  Tomorrow, well, that was another day.

  In the morning, Eros located Psyche in the library, reclining upon the sofa with a book in her lap. He studied the cover and nodded in approval. “An arousing choice, Arete.”

  A kiss of blush spread across her cheeks as she lifted her face and trained her focus on his shadows. “It is rather fascinating.” She gave a small shrug and smiled.

  He stalked closer. “Ah, and which page fascinates you most?”

  She slapped the book closed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  Saucy wench. He chuckled. “Actually, I very much would. Why, every day I grant you three questions, yet today, I would request three of my own.”

  A furrow knit in her brow and she straightened. “What would you like to know?”

  What, indeed. Many things intrigued him about her. Psyche was a King’s daughter and as such, she’d been surrounded by comforts. She’d been pampered, but not spoiled with affection. Instead, she’d been treated like a fine jewel to one day be set on display. But there was so much beneath her surface that shone even more brilliantly. He cocked his head. “Why did you trade places with the chambermaid I chose? Surely, you must have questioned whether you would be able to kill me, since you believed me a dragon.”

  She crossed her legs, elbows on her knees and chin planted in her hands. “How lucky for me that you aren’t one.”

  “I never said I wasn’t.” He prowled, circling her. “Answer my question.”

  A long sigh deflated her shoulders. “My father intended to wed me to Lord Gallus. When I happened upon Elene, I didn’t think. I simply acted, out of fear and rebellion, I suppose.”

  “Fear?” He snorted. “Into the beast’s lair when most would have fled the other way.”

  “Yes.” Thick and curled, her lashes fanned across her cheeks. “I’m glad I did.”

  “And you stayed.” He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing. “Why did you stay? Why not kill me that first night?”

  She jerked her chin, eyes flashing a vibrant green. “Because I believed you. And perhaps,” she lowered her to
ne to a murmur, “because I saw myself in you. You’ve been hiding, just like I have. I wanted to learn why.”

  Her words shot into him, bearing more truth than he was willing to admit. He cleared his throat and slid a finger along the collar of his shirt.

  “What’s your third question?” She eyed him, empathy in the upturned corner of her mouth. It was as though she understood how hard opening himself to her was. Undeterred by his shadows, she penetrated through his fortified layers and saw him. Suddenly, he was desperate to reciprocate.

  Eros stepped behind the sofa and stooped over her shoulder. “What page?”

  A slight hitch in her breath, she cracked open the book in her lap and spread the pages to reveal an illustration of a woman on her back, legs parted and a man’s head between them, his fingers spearing into her core while he sampled her. “I want this.”

  “Arete.” Eros groaned at her admission. “All of it? Are you certain? If my fingers penetrate you, they will break your maidenhead.”

  An assured dip of her head. She traced her fingertip across the page. “I wish for you to claim my virtue. I don’t want it to belong to anyone but you.”

  Bloody hell. He eased back and scratched his jaw. The honor and privilege smacked him in the face, sobering him. “Are you certain, sweetling? Once taken, it cannot be restored.”

  “I am.” She shut the book and set it aside on the table. “I’ll not possess anything of worth to them. I won’t be their victim, or anyone else’s. After all, isn’t this why you choose virgin maidens? So that you can devour them?”

  “Aye,” he conceded. “The innocence of their bodies makes it easier to awaken their minds.” He closed his fist and the sconces extinguished. Heavy drapes towed across the expansive windows, swallowing any hint of light. “Are you ready to awaken, Psyche?” At her nod, he trailed his fingers along her arm, causing her to shiver and writhe. Though darkness sheltered him from her view, he beheld every inch of her beauty.

  “First, let me taste you. Like the pictures.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, her lashes fluttering in response. Then he feathered his lips lower, over the curve of her breast and nipped at the pebbled peak, before shrugging aside the strap of her chiton. “Bare yourself to me. Show me the treasure between your legs.”

  Lying on the sofa while he devoured her was easy.

  Engaging in his games, obeying his instructions, would heighten the thrill.

  “Soren, I…” She bit her lip as though to refuse, but then, shyly, she snared the hem of her gown and slid it upward along her thighs, to her waist.

  “Good,” he purred, “now spread your legs wide so I can see all of you.”

  “Wait? You can see me?”

  “Yes, sweetling, I can see everything.”

  Her shallow panting halted as she draped one quivering leg to the side, opening herself to him. He growled at the glistening slickness of her pink sex, the petals so pretty and shapely, and already he detected the blossoming of her bud.

  Prowling around the sofa, Eros palmed her knees and coaxed them apart, then settled between them. The honey of her arousal drifted across his nose and his tongue was desperate to sample her. Urging her legs wide, he glanced at her face. “Tell me where to lick you, where should I stroke my tongue?”

  She moistened her lips once before dipping her hand between her legs and caressing her nub. “Here.”

  Ah, she was a most eager pupil.

  He grinned in satisfaction and flicked his tongue once.

  She gasped. “Again.”

  He obeyed, this time not withdrawing his mouth from her as he laved several times, sucking at her sweet flesh. Grazing his teeth along the tightening bud, he coaxed it to awaken.

  Hands on either side of her body, she clutched the cushions, and her hips bucked against him. He slapped his hands across hers, restraining her movements, and continued to drink from her.

  The heady gloss of her passions coated his lips and he delved his tongue inside her, thrusting as his cock longed to do.

  Whimpering mewls escaped her, hips writhing against the bed. Pausing, he allowed her a moment’s respite.

  She widened her legs further and cast him a determined wink. “I’m ready now. Take me, Soren. I’m yours.”

  ***

  The decision had been surprisingly easy. After her encounter with the Wind Borne Gallus, Psyche had no desire to ever be an object worth stealing.

  Even more, the only male she’d ever trusted rested between her thighs right now. If not him, then who? If she had to leave him someday, to return to her family, they would only sell her to another male, and she refused to gift that husband anything of herself.

  Soren leaned back, the absence of his delightful tongue producing a panging in her sex, so she wrapped her legs about his neck and urged him nearer. “Mmm. I want more. I want…all of you.”

  “No.” He unwrapped her legs and lowered them on the sofa.

  “No?” She shot onto her elbows and scoffed in disbelief.

  “Lust is clouding your mind. I will give you what you need, not what you want.” In the shadows facing her, he chuckled. “I’ll take your innocence, Psyche, but I’ll not claim you. Your first coupling will belong to the male who one day claims you as his wife.” His gentle fingers fondled her leg from calf to thigh. “Mayhap it will be me, or some other fortunate bastard. There are so many things I can teach you before you ever have to give yourself to another. After you’ve learned them all, then, and only then, will you be able to make that choice.”

  Aha, so he wished to provide her an education? The images from his erotic novels flipped through her mind, tantalizing. “I accept.”

  She reclined onto the mattress once more, her blood thrumming rapidly through her veins, and gasped at the swirling flick of his warm tongue.

  “Rest easy, Arete,” he murmured against her flesh, “this will not hurt.”

  His large hand spanned between her legs, caressing. She stiffened at the first prodding of her opening, but relaxed when his fingers proceeded no further and instead his tongue continued to plunder her. The heaviness increased, carnal urges building inside her, while his tongue laved, first in delicate strokes, then in harder circles.

  The pressure at her entrance renewed, more demanding, but the urgency in her grew more forceful, too. Her hips fell wide of their own accord, bucking forward and upward.

  His fingers worked inside her, urging inside against the tightness of her sheath. A slow burn spread through her core, but the stroking of Soren’s tongue soothed it away.

  A moment later, his warmth departed her flesh and a gentle whisper caressed her ears. “Now, Psyche, you are awake.”

  ***

  After he’d claimed her virtue yesterday, Soren had been absent from the castle and she’d spent the day wandering its lonely corridors. The next morning, Psyche wandered into the library in search of Soren. Though she’d fallen asleep alone, the warm spot on the bed beside her this morning suggested he had joined her. As she passed into the library, she was not disappointed. A large table rested in the center of the chamber, the top scattered with paintbrushes and palettes of paint.

  “Good morning, Soren. What are we going to do today?” she hummed, excited by the prospects of her next lesson.

  “I am going to paint,” he murmured behind her.

  Shivers coursed down her spine. “I don’t see any canvasses.”

  “Allow me to clarify. I am going to paint. You.”

  She swallowed thickly, her body rushing with erotic sensations. “On a canvass?” Oh, but she had to ask.

  “Clever Psyche.” He stroked one finger across her shoulder, nudging aside the strap of her chiton and pressing his lips to her skin. “I think you can guess on what.”

  She exhaled shakily, tensing for him to continue undressing her. No man had ever viewed her nude form, and this time, there were no curtains to shield her modesty. “Paint me, why?”

  “Why not,” came his enticing reply. “I promise you�
��ll enjoy it.”

  Instead of continuing to strip her, however, his shadowed figure strode to the table and he plucked a brush, dipping it in blue paint. “Undress for me, Psyche. Let me bask in your beauty.”

  “Undress? Me?” Oh, how very wicked of him to suggest that. Even more than him disrobing her. This required her active participation—her seduction of him.

  “No curtains today,” he droned. “Unless you’re afraid? Incapable of rising to my challenge?”

  The provocation in his voice was too much. She’d never backed down from any dare. Never succumbed to any of her fears. Certainly never relinquished the chance to defy her opponents.

  “No, not at all.” She marched into the sunny rays beaming in from the large windows, basking in their warmth to surge her confidence. He’d not accuse her of concealing herself within darkness.

  Her back to him, she slipped the straps from her chiton and clutched the silk to her breasts. Her heart pounded, her breaths coming shallow.

  “I’m waiting, Arete,” Soren purred as his footsteps stalked toward her. “And I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Biting the inside of her cheek, she dropped the chiton, its flowing silk fluttering around her hips and sinking into a pile at her feet.

  A pained groan grumbled from behind her.

  “I don’t like to wait, either,” she whispered, spinning to face him.

  The paintbrush dropped to the floor, splattering blue ink across the mosaic tiles.

  Psyche resisted the urge to cover herself, instead meeting him full on, and a surge of power bloomed in her. The entirety of her nude form had caused that reaction in him, to fumble and groan in anguish. Her beast wasn’t the only one capable of playing games.

  “I thought you were going to paint me.” She angled her head, claiming one step forward.

  He cleared his throat, coughing deeply. “Forgive me, but your beauty undoes me.”

  The paintbrush rose into the air and he grasped it in his fist. “Come closer.”

  Flooded with confidence, she sashayed her hips and strolled to him. “I’m ready.” In so many ways. Since venturing to this place, it was as though she’d spent her entire life swimming beneath the surface and only now had she learned how to break free. Her body awakened to new sensations and these stimulations proved utterly intoxicating.