She’s a monster of myth and legend
A century ago, the minotaurs exploited harpy Enyo in their schemes against the centaur race, and her sisters paid the price. Now, she won’t rest until they’re free—and she seizes retribution from the minotaur who deceived her. But her plans for vengeance crumble to ash when a beastly warrior tries to thieve what’s hers. She can stave off the passions scorching between them and survive his fiery embrace, unless he learns what and who she truly is.
He’s a warrior sworn to slay her
Dragon shifter Lord Demoleon of Krete has vowed to recover the mythical sword of Aegeus, the one weapon capable of destroying a minotaur. Without the blade, his brethren stand no chance of victory against the vile King Minos and of reclaiming their rightful centaur throne. But an enticing vixen also seeks the sword, and they can’t both have it. When he discovers she played a part in the decimation of his people, he’s bound to eradicate her and her entire race. Yet, his heart has other ideas.
Engulfed in the flames of their desires
Enyo and Demoleon must work together to save both their races, but a hatred this primal threatens to squelch their love. When War descends and the wills of their families clash, the only way to save one is to destroy the other.
Fire’s Mark
Lords of Krete #4
Rachael Slate
Contents
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Piercing Cry
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Glossary
Acknowledgments
Meet Rachael
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Also by Rachael Slate
Preview of Aether’s Mark
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Rachael Slate
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
First Edition November 2017
Edited by Kelley Heckart
Cover design by NovelArt Designs
Tribal Artwork by Alyssa Renae White
Formatting by NovelArt Designs
Epub: ISBN 978-1-988396-28-6
Kindle: ISBN 978-1-988396-27-9
Piercing Cry
When the Olympian gods overthrew the Titans, they divided the rule of the world. Zeus proclaimed himself Supreme Ruler and governed the skies. Poseidon claimed the oceans. The Underworld, and the souls of the dead, fell to Hades. All were content with the arrangement.
Until Hades met Persephone.
Their forbidden love blasted through Mt. Olympus, initiating a cataclysmic rift between the gods. The imbalance in the heavens nearly shattered the fragile human world below. In punishment, Zeus cursed Persephone. Nine months of each year, she would remain by her mother’s side, tending to the human harvests. The other three months were hers to spend with her husband, Hades, in the Underworld.
The arrangement pleased none.
Centuries have passed. As humans turn their devotion to Science, the powers of the Olympian gods diminish. In an attempt to regenerate their divinity, the gods have procreated, breeding new species of being—such as centaurs, winged ones, and mermaydes. With the unique strengths of their individual godly parents, these descendants have thrived in their own worlds, alongside humans but hidden from view.
The rift in Olympus widens as each god gains new strength. When the Fates intervene with a damning wager, these descendants become the answer to Persephone’s curse. Hades and Persephone’s quest to reclaim their love will pit god against god, in a tournament unmatched since time began. Victory will lie in the union of warriors—exceptional females who control the elements and the males whose love makes them strong.
If they succeed, love will be theirs to claim.
But if they fail, their love will fall to ruin.
It is the eve of war, and the battle for the power of the Piercing Cry begins now.
Chapter 1
Below Mount Ida, Isle of Krete
Year 100 of the reign of King Minos
The sword was his. Demoleon, Lord of Krete and Commander of Fire, wiped the sweat from his brow and gawked at the famed blade. The sword of Aegeus. The one weapon capable of vanquishing a minotaur. Without it, his centaur race would have no hope of victory.
He tugged his lips into a grin and chuckled. This had been easy. Well, not for anyone but him, as his abilities had allowed him to sear a path through the rock, down into the depths of Mount Ida, where the famed sword had been lost after the hero Theseus had used it to kill a minotaur so many eons ago.
Now, it was his.
Demoleon leapt from the tunnel he’d carved onto the rock floor of a subterranean cavern. The sword’s silver hilt glinted at him from across the vast chamber, its blade embedded in a man-sized boulder. He shook out his hands and rolled his shoulders, the ochre flames dissipating from his flesh. This blade was precisely the hope they required. It would bolster his people. Especially when it rested in the hand of their rightful King, his bloodsworne brother, Rhoetus, as they descended upon the battlefield together.
Aye. He couldn’t bloody wait. Demoleon strode forward, rubbing his hands together, sparks jumping off his skin in anticipation. At the base of the boulder, he blew on his hands, once, and wrapped both around the hilt of the sword.
Power sang through his blood. He jolted, but gritted his teeth and concentrated on freeing the blade. On saving his people.
He gave one swift, legendary tug.
Nothing happened.
Furrowing his brow, he wrenched again. And again. But the blade wouldn’t budge.
What in Hades? The Oracles and elders he’d consulted had mentioned a minor enchantment, but this seemed far more complex. Grunting, he released the sword and straightened, frowning at the blasted thing.
“Nice try.” A soft snickering resounded from up above.
Demoleon staggered backward, craning his neck. No one else was supposed to be down here. No one else could be.
He tilted his chin, higher and higher, until he caught sight of a figure perched on an overhanging ledge. A pair of feathered wings framed the creature, shadows obscuring all details save for the luminescent, glittering golden orbs trained on him.
“The sword is mine,” the creature, nay, the female, hissed.
“If ’tis yours, lass, why haven’t you claimed it?” He backed to the blade, positioning himself between it and the maiden.
“Argh!” She swooped, spiked claws swiping at him. “I’m no lass.” Her wings beat a rush of air between them w
hile he blocked her blows with his forearms, ducking this way and that.
One claw caught his upper arm, slicing through his flesh like a blade. Damn.
He grimaced and grabbed for the creature, but he snatched leather instead. Shrugging, he tugged, and his opponent screeched, crashing into the ground. He leapt atop her, winding the leather strip around his forearm and pinning her against the rock. Without her wings lashing between them, he finally caught a glimpse of her.
By the gods.
He swallowed. Hard.
She was a beauteous thing, and not a lass? Ha! Not a stitch of clothing on her. It didn’t take a second scan to determine her sex, not with those full breasts straining from each of her heaving breaths. Or the delicate scent of nectar perfuming from the soft flesh between her legs. Strangely, two matching arm bands wound across her upper arms, long strips of leather dangling from each. He seized hold of the other one, winding it, too. Just in case.
“Are you quite finished leering at me?” she snarled, writhing beneath him.
He jerked his stare from her breasts. “Ah, forgive me.”
“You’re not forgiven. Now, get off me, you filthy beast.” Those shrewd orbs narrowed, the pupils were slits like those of a raptor. She was a predator.
The female shook her head, waist-length tawny locks woven with several intricate braids thrashing against the ground. Her small nose, with a slight hint of a break-like curve, she scrunched at him in distaste.
“Afraid I can’t do that, lass. Not until you agree not to attack me again.”
A perfectly sinful smile crossed her blood-red lips. “That’s a promise I’ll never make.” Then a faint bluish glow spread about her as she opened her mouth wide and a piercing cry shattered his ears.
* * *
Enyo of the harpies scoffed and shoved the howling male off her, dusting herself and rising to stand. “Ignorant, assuming, thieving, lecherous beast,” she hissed.
He rolled onto his back, braced his hands over his ears, and grimaced. “You forgot obstinate.” The male kicked out his leg toward hers, crashing her onto the floor again.
Before she had a chance to respond, he was upon her once more, caging her in against the rock wall.
“That sword be mine, sweetling.” His breath was close enough for her to inhale and his lips were full and firm, with a wickedly seductive tilt to them. Who was this male?
“I’m not your sweetling, either.” Ugh. On either side of her, his arms were thick and brawny, bulging and rippling with muscle. Upper chest bare, he wore dark leather breeches and tall boots. There was something off about his gait, a slight limp and favoring of his left leg. She made note of the weakness.
Eyes that swirled like molten copper studied her and the timbre of his deep lilt continued to rumble through her. Glints of copper glimmered in his tightly clipped locks, too. Despite her animosity, he wasn’t displeasing to admire. Not even with the scorched markings across his left cheek which lent to his fearsome presence.
Or perhaps, it was a century of being captive that made any new flesh appealing. Yes, that must be it. Surely not the rough edge of his firm jaw nor the way his thick brows drew together above his hooded depths, darkening his stare into something lethal and predatory and…possessive. He was a large male, burly and powerful, far bigger than she. A formidable opponent, but she would best him yet.
She curved her lips into a smug grin. “You tried to remove the sword, and you failed. It isn’t yours to claim.”
His attention centered on her, assessing. “Can you unsheathe it, then, Siren?”
Ha! He mistook her species for another race. Sirens. Granted, most confused the two. Sirens were also birdlike females, who lured sailors into the depths of the sea with their enchanting voices, where they feasted on their flesh. Harpies were far more terrifying than that. They were the hounds of Zeus, sent to crush his opponents.
Let the male conclude what he liked. He would soon join the others, those who attempted to thieve from a harpy.
“Argh!” She lashed out at him, thrusting him backward, and steadied for his attack.
“I’ve no wish to fight you, Strinklia.” Screech. Oh, he had no notion of the force of her cry. She could kill a man with one piercing scream, if she so chose.
Enyo opened her mouth, her body illuminating with the use of her gift, another shriek forming in her throat, but the male lunged forward and snared her lips with his, muffling her cry.
She froze. His lips were firm, hot, and the taste of him was delectable. She snatched his shoulders, digging her claws into solid flesh, and dragged him harder against her mouth, fervent, demanding. Despite their opposing goals, she would have his kiss.
The male growled and retaliated, cupping her cheek and throat with both hands, directing her head, and thrusting his tongue inside her mouth to stroke hers.
She moaned, consumed by unbidden desires for this male. Why, oh why, hadn’t she eliminated him before he’d kissed her?
The ground vibrated beneath her, small rocks sprinkling down the cave walls. She pulled back, panting, and relief rushed through her. No harm done. It wasn’t too late to get rid of this male. They would do the task for her.
* * *
Demoleon’s chest rose and fell with his straining respirations as he attempted to process what had just happened between him and this vixen. She hadn’t balked at the scars on his cheek, hadn’t flinched or hesitated to touch him as most females did. He blinked, and the grin on her lips seemed almost victorious?
Hell, that was what sirens did, wasn’t it? Seduced males to their deaths.
A rumble thrummed beneath his feet. He squinted at the vibrating pebbles on the floor, and up again, only to discover the maiden had retreated to the safety of her perch.
Abandoned him to battle whatever was coming.
He braced for an attack.
An inky nebula flowed across the ceiling and walls, amassing toward him. At first, the wave appeared to be some form of shadow, but as the blackness neared, he detected minute parts.
Holy Hades, it was a rush of ants.
“Myrmekes,” the female sneered. “They assume you’ve come to steal their gold.”
“I’m not here for bloody gold,” he snarled.
“Try telling them that.” She barked a haughty laugh.
These were no ordinary insects. Some were the size of small canines. Others, as large as a boar.
Dozens of them charged toward him.
Demoleon tossed his head. One way to end this. He performed the morphos into his dragon shape and blew a rush of fire toward the pests, scorching their flesh. They shrieked and receded, only to swarm the female instead.
She yelped and leapt onto the opposite boulder from him. One glance at him, then she lunged for the sword.
By Zeus, he was not letting her have the blade. After shifting into his human form, he lunged toward the weapon, his fingers wrapping around the hilt, above hers.
A blast of light erupted through the chamber. Stinging jolts pierced his flesh. The blade lifted free, into both their grasps. The female grunted, her grip as firm and unrelenting as his.
One ant charged toward them and together they swiped the sword at the creature, slicing it in twain amidst a blaze of radiance.
The other ants wailed and, squinting at the fierce illumination, skulked into the darkness. An agonizing pang slammed into his left foot as the siren smashed her foot down onto his lame one, causing his hand to spring open. On instinct, his body changed into his natural centaur form.
Instead of the siren stealing away the sword, it flung from their hands toward the boulder, embedding itself once again in the rock.
He gaped at the female’s wide eyes and rounded lips. She looked him up and down, terror seizing her panicked features, before she raced from the chamber.
Demoleon glowered at the blade and at the path she’d taken. He couldn’t retrieve the sword on his own. That much had been proven to him. Somehow, they’d been able to extract
it together. Damned if he didn’t haul her here to remove the blade. Hell, he’d shackle himself to her and the sword, and then cart them both to his brothers if need be.
He’d do whatever he must to secure this most precious weapon.
Determined, he pounded his hooves through the winding tunnels, twisting this way and that through a near blinding blackness, until vine-like tendrils latched onto his limbs, winding swiftly across his ankles and wrists. He performed the morphos into his human shape but, even as man, he couldn’t break this hold. The coils closed, tighter and tighter, before the ropy manacles hefted him upside down, fifty feet into the air.
Mercilessly trapping him.
For all eternity.
Chapter 2
Four months later
Enyo pressed a hand to the amber wall and frowned at the forty-five shadowy figures suspended in the radiant stone. My sisters. How I have failed you.
One hundred long, torturous years, her sisters had been trapped within this amber entombment. All because of me.
She sighed, gliding her hand down the stone as she sank to her knees. Huddling her arms around her legs, she rested her head against the wall. “I can’t free the sword. Forgive me.” Every time she attempted to wrench it from the boulder, she failed. How she’d wielded the sword together with the centaur remained a mystery.
Fire's Mark (Lords of Krete Book 4) Page 1
