“How wickedly scandalous.” Eudora covered her giggle with her hand and scanned about the room, until her survey snared on Psyche.
“Oh, Psyche!” Eudora shot to her feet and waved her closer.
“I am so glad you’re awake.” Sophia smiled, then lowered her voice. “He isn’t, is he?”
“No,” Psyche peered over her shoulder into the empty hallway. “He’s asleep.”
“Good.” Eudora puffed. “Come and sit with us.”
Psyche complied, resting between the two on the sofa. “What did you mean by ‘wicked?’ ”
Both sisters shifted their gazes aside, hedging.
“We shouldn’t say anything,” Sophia offered after a moment.
“About what?” Psyche glared at the pair. “You’re my sisters. Please don’t keep secrets from me.”
“Well…” Eudora dug into her skirt pocket. “The real reason we came, dearest sister, is to warn you.”
Psyche’s stomach dropped and she fisted her hands to stop from being sick. Her sisters had never done anything selfless in their lives. This must be important.
Eudora removed a silk cloth and unfolded it. Inside, an odd scrawling spread across the silk. “At your wedding, your husband revealed himself to us.”
Psyche nodded, recalling how she’d covered her face.
“Well, our father was most troubled by what he beheld, so he consulted the Pythia—the Oracle.” Sophia gave her arm a compassionate pat. “You poor thing.”
Pity? From her sisters? She hopped to her feet and backed away from them. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but—”
“He’s a monster, sister,” Sophia hissed. “We saw it for ourselves. He has a grisly head, a flaming tongue, and a most gruesome, misshapen form.”
“Scales like armor, and fire spurts from his breath,” Eudora added.
“Read the scripture.” Sophia shoved the cloth at Psyche.
Hands trembling, she accepted the silk and squinted at the scrawling. Her name, along with a cross-like symbol of union, and the depiction of a scaled, hideous beast.
She yelped and dropped the cloth as though it were aflame.
It can’t be true.
Soren was no monster. No beast.
Her heart told her so.
What should she make of her sister’s claims and the Oracle’s prediction?
“The legends about him are true,” Sophia intoned. “If you stay, he will kill you. Just like the others.”
“Come with us, sister. We can free you from this dreadful place.” Eudora rose, plucked the silk from the ground, and offered her hand. “We can save you from the beast.”
“No.” Psyche tossed her head. “It’s not true. He’s nothing like what you described.”
Sophia narrowed her gaze. “For the sake of the babe growing inside you, you must do this.”
Psyche’s lips parted. “How did you guess?”
“You have a glow about you.” Sophia shrugged. “If you flee this place, the gods will reward your courage and bestow the child inside you humanity. You can save your babe.”
“If you don’t believe us,” Eudora pressed a hard object into Psyche’s palm, “see for yourself. View the monster you have wed and mated.”
Psyche lowered her focus to her hand and gasped at the blade in her grasp.
“Behold the true nature of the beast, sister,” Sophia hissed, “and destroy it.”
The next morning, the two sisters departed in his carriage, yet Eros didn’t experience any of the relief he’d expected he would. Psyche seemed…concerned.
She hadn’t been in their bed when he’d awoken this morning, and she’d avoided his embrace, shrugging off his caresses and his attempts to present her with flowers and sweet morsels.
What in Hades had those bloody sisters conveyed to her? It had to be horrible, for they were horrid beings.
His relationship with Psyche had been so easy and satisfying thus far, he hated losing any connection to her.
She sighed and closed the curtain as her sisters disappeared from their view. He spun to speak with her, but she strolled from the chamber, avoiding him.
Was she upset because he’d kept their presence from her? He’d only been protecting her, but he’d overstepped. Although he’d been careful not to permit them any time alone together, he couldn’t dislodge the irritating sensation that more had happened.
Once again, he had only one person to turn to. Eros flashed into his mother’s throne chamber. It was empty, but chiming laughter resounded from the adjacent bathing chamber.
Eros prowled inside, dipping his head. “Mother.”
“Eros, sweetling.” Aphrodite swam, nude, to the ledge and beamed at him. “Another visit! What a fortunate mother I am.”
He scoffed at her false sarcasm. If anything, the more meddling his mother performed, the happier she was. “I require your expertise.”
“Oh, we’re listening, godboy.” From the far end of the pool, Ares snickered. He reclined lazily, his brawny arms braced on either side of the ledge and his massive erection bobbing in the water.
What he wouldn’t give for a leaden arrow… Eros glowered at him. Ares liked to think himself Eros’s father—a presumption Aphrodite refused to verify, to either of them. Regardless, Ares taunted him with such diminutive terms.
“I would speak with my mother, alone,” Eros ground.
“Be nice, my loves.” She twirled a finger and formed a bubble around them, then she kicked out, flapping her legs leisurely. “Speak freely.”
“How should one respond when, well, ah…” He raked a hand through his hair and plopped onto the tiles. “One’s wife claims nothing is amiss, yet she is distant and cold?”
Aphrodite snorted. “I hope you realize something is amiss.”
“Of course.” He scowled. “Else, I would not seek your counsel.”
“Hmm.”
He rubbed his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do, but I loathe the idea of her angry with me. It tears me apart to behold the uncertainty in her eyes. I…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, unsure of how to express what this distance was doing to the insides of his chest. Psyche’s aloofness stabbed tiny holes into his flesh, through which he was certain his melting heart leaked.
“Have you spoken with her?”
“Yes.”
“Flowers?”
“Yes.”
“Gifts?”
“Aye, Mother. I have tried everything.” He stomped his foot in agitation. “I fear it isn’t what I have done, but rather, poisonous words whispered by her viperous sisters that have wedged between us.”
“Oh.” Aphrodite drew her fine brows together and hummed. “That is most unfortunate, indeed.”
“And…?” he grated, impatient to be finished with this game.
“Well, you clearly have not attempted my first suggestion.” Aphrodite folded her arms over her breasts and floated in the clear waters.
Speak with her. “Of course, I told you I have.”
“No, my dove,” Aphrodite cast him a sly smile. “You truly haven’t.”
***
Psyche wrinkled her nose at the blade Eudora had handed her, and her mind flashed to that first night, when she’d been so determined to kill the beast.
He wasn’t one…was he?
Could she be so completely wrong about the man she’d wed? The father of her child? The one so close to claiming her heart?
She didn’t wish to trust her scheming sisters, but dare she discount the Oracle? What of Aphrodite?
The questions pounded into her mind, causing an ache to spread through her temples. In the weeks she’d spent with Soren, he’d not once been deceptive or false with her. In comparison, a lifetime being raised alongside her sisters had taught her not to trust a word they uttered.
She was happy in this castle, in this life, with her husband. Her sisters had likely loathed witnessing her contentment and attempted to seize it from her. As for the Oracle and Ap
hrodite, well, no point in reading into prophetic circumstances she didn’t fathom. Such would only drive her mad.
Psyche straightened her spine and solidified her faith.
No. Soren wasn’t a monster or a beast. Even if he was, she wouldn’t care.
He’d shown her his heart and it was true.
She refused to be weak like the other maiden sacrifices and succumb to her curiosity. Psyche marched to the open window and flung the blade, hard. It whipped through the air and landed in the snow below. Gone forever. Good.
Satisfied, she brushed her hands of this temptation and concentrated instead on the child growing within her. She sensed its purity and innocence. Surely, the gods wouldn’t curse a babe unborn. Sighing, she padded to the door. How she wished to share the news with Soren. Where was he?
Suddenly tense, she treaded through the barren corridors, no sounds permeating the silence save for the patter of her bare feet. The castle seemed so cold and devoid of life when he wasn’t near. She shivered and rubbed her arms, heading for the library. It proved unoccupied as well. In fact, the whole castle was vacant, save for herself and the automatons.
Where did Soren go when he vanished like this?
As she frowned into the ashen hearth, it flamed to life. Whirling about, she gasped at Soren’s shadowed figure. “Where have you been?” She crossed her arms and stamped her foot.
“Forgive me, I had matters to attend.” He strode forward, extending his hand. “Psyche, please, tell me what has been troubling you.”
“Matters? Of what nature?” She pursed her lips, unsure where this irritation stemmed from but unable to squelch it.
“I cannot say.”
“Just as you kept my sisters’ presence from me? If you’d told me, I would have been better prepared for…” Aha, that was it, the root of her annoyance. Soren had never before withheld a secret from her, well, one he could share.
“Aye, I was wrong, and I apologized already. Sweetling, will you not forgive me?” He huffed and plopped into an armchair.
She wished to. Her trepidations stemmed not from Soren’s terse mannerisms but rather the obstacles towering between them which appeared unsurmountable. She hated being forced to keep her pregnancy a secret. Even worse, she didn’t fathom how to love the man she couldn’t know. She was weary of having her destiny controlled by the gods. Just once, she longed to choose for herself.
The knowledge of their child made this more difficult. With a babe growing inside her, she couldn’t even contemplate appealing to Eros. Yet if she didn’t, would she one day tell her child he would never meet his father? Was this what Aphrodite demanded of her?
No, this deception wouldn’t go on forever. Someday, everything they’d hidden would be brought to light. On that day, would Soren still care for her as he did now?
Or would their entire world be ripped from their grasps?
She cherished all of the parts of him he revealed, but until she learned of his true self, he would never claim the entirety of her heart.
And therein lay the sad, sad truth.
***
Eros sighed, frowning at his hands. His talk with his mother had done nothing to soothe him. Upon his return, Psyche was even more distant than earlier. No point in denying things had changed. The easy flow between them was disrupted.
Would it ever run smoothly again?
He longed to be the man she considered him. Honorable. Worthy. A protector who would defend her against all threats.
What if the greatest threat…was himself?
The way Psyche regarded him had changed. Before, her innocent perusal had been full of wonder and allure. As she studied him tonight, an emotion deeper than lust overwhelmed the depths of her green eyes. She demanded more from him. It was as if, somehow, sharing his bed was no longer enough. Not in the same manner as the other maidens. Psyche didn’t pursue greater passion, greater pleasure.
Her stalking gaze pierced him, hunting within his soul for truths he couldn’t yet bestow her. He feared if he didn’t, he would lose her long before she had ever been his.
“I hate this curse.” She fisted a slender hand at her side. “I fear I am not strong enough to persevere. That I will succumb to weakness sooner or later.”
“No, Arete.” He rose and sheltered her within his embrace. “This curse has tested us both, and trust me, you are far stronger than I. So many times I have been tempted…” He shut his eyes, forcing aside the notion. “If you can but wait a while longer, we’ll devise a path out of this. Together.” He curled his finger beneath her chin and tilted her face to his, sampling her honeyed lips.
She broke their kiss. “What if such a time never comes?”
He dropped his hand to hers and squeezed. “It will. I have faith it will.”
Nodding, she lowered her lashes. “Forgive me for having doubts.”
“Nay, they are no more than I have suffered every day. The one thing I am certain of, is that the path to our freedom is through our trust in each other.” For once, she didn’t inquire about Eros, and he was glad. After scooping her into his arms, he strode to their chamber. Once, he would have sought to coax her affection through pleasure. Tonight, however, he merely endeavored to soothe her anxiety and reassure her of his commitment.
Psyche was his wife, but she was more. How much more, well, that was what he was determined to find out.
Eros slipped her gown above her head and bared her to the moonlight. The gleaming beams drifted across the chamber floors, casting them in soft illumination. One day, he would make love to her in the full light of day, and never hide in the shadows again.
Tonight, he savored her beauty offered to him as she twisted about, searching for his location. Her dark curls bounced, shielding her breasts and then exposing them.
“Where are you?” She laughed, whirling about, the milky cream of her skin dancing in the moonlight.
“Over here,” he purred from one corner, then flashed to the opposite one. “Or perhaps, over here.”
“Hmm.” She bobbed her head thoughtfully. “Well, if you won’t join me, I shall just have to pleasure myself.” Shifting one foot behind the other, she glided to the bed and eased backward on top of it. Her hand drifted between her thighs, which crooked, obscuring his view.
He growled deeply. “Spread your legs. I want to watch.”
“Good.” She laughed in victory. “Then you may only watch.” Her dark brown locks fanned around her, framing her pale skin.
He edged forward as her legs drifted apart, a corresponding ache swelling in his ballocks. The lovely pink flesh between her thighs glistened, and his mouth grew dry as he inhaled her nectar-like fragrance.
Her fingers explored, rubbing across that silken nub, causing it to bloom. He sensed it all—her quickened breaths, her clenching core, the spikes of desire jolting through her veins.
So damned tantalizing.
Sometimes, it was a bloody curse to be the god of erotic love.
Any other male might easily withdraw from such an exhibition, but for him, it was purest torture. He experienced everything with her, unable to actually participate.
Any second, he was going to perish from the excruciating torture.
Psyche mewled, her hips undulating and the tips of her breasts pebbling into tasty little nibbles.
His heart racing, he tore off his breeches and gripped his steel length. If he was forbidden from touching her, at least he could imagine he was.
“What are you doing?” Psyche droned, spreading her legs wider. “I told you to watch.”
He groaned, squeezing himself, and grated, “I am watching.”
“Seems like more to me,” she hummed, those greenest depths piercing. “Either you stop, or I will.”
“Psyche,” he grunted, uncertain if her proposal wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. Perhaps it was because her soft lips uttered it, but he was completely consumed.
“Fine.” Aching, he lowered his hands to his sides and fis
ted them. “Come for me, Psyche, and let your screams fill my ears.”
And then she did.
***
Psyche tossed onto her side, her eyes flashing open. Odd. She’d been blissfully asleep, exhausted from hours of lovemaking with Soren, yet something had jolted her awake.
Slowly shifting to sit, she scanned the room. A chill drifted in from the window, its curtains open. Strange. Hadn’t Soren closed them before they’d retired?
She didn’t wish to wake him over some foolish fancy, so she slipped from the bed to shut them. The cool air puckered the skin on her legs, raising bumps across her flesh. She shivered and wrapped her arms about herself.
At the window, she grabbed the heavy drapes and tugged them together, but halted as a glint caught her eye.
What is that? Psyche bent forward and peered at the metal object gleaming on the floor. She gasped as she recognized it—the dagger she’d flung into the snow.
No, it couldn’t be.
Yet there it rested, glinting at her. What evil machination was this?
She reared, tangling herself in the drapes. Wrenching them aside, she broke free, only to face a mechanical bird with molten orbs perched on the windowsill. The small, raven-like fowl opened its mouth as though to screech, yet instead of squawking, streaming flames spurted forth. Twisting about, the bird lighted the drapes, setting them aflame.
Psyche stumbled backward, tripping and crashing onto the floor.
Within seconds, the fire engulfed the walls, spreading through the chamber.
Then the raven swung its head toward her and opened its beak. She seized the dagger on the floor, slashing it in front of her. Instead of spewing flames, the bird attacked her, scratching at her arms with its razor talons. She scrambled away, rolling onto her front to shield her babe. As she did so, she twisted toward the bed to shout for Soren’s aid.
Her lips parted, devoid of sound.
A male slept in her bed, not a beast at all.
The light from the flames flickered across his flawless features. A thick, square jawline as strong as if it had been etched from marble. Straight, aquiline nose. Firm, sensual lips. High, youthful cheekbones framed by a heavy, prominent brow ridge. Long, golden locks curled about his neck and shoulders. Darkly lashed eyes curved in predatory eroticism. He rested on his side, head braced on one outstretched arm, his brawny bicep bulging enticingly. A warm glow emanated from his skin, bathing him in magnetic radiance.
Shadow Borne Page 12
