Chained to Darkness

by Raven Woodward

  Raven Woodward

  Copyright © 2020 Raven Woodward

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner/publisher of this book.

  All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Editing by Mariz C.

  ASIN: B0861N7YLG

  2020, this book is not for you. You’re an asshole.

  Part One

  The Beauty and the Beasts

  PROLOGUE

  In the beginning there was darkness, but she didn’t like to be called that. She was made of ice and loneliness, for there was no one else in the darkness—that she knew of. So she gathered the black nothingness and shaped it, forming first the galaxy and stars. They were beautiful to behold, but she wished to dwell within her creation. And so she formed the galaxy’s first planet, Auglibine.

  Though it was an icy place, it suited her needs greatly. There, she built a lavish structure from the frost where she could walk and lay her head. To best serve her in this new dwelling, she made creatures both big and small, filling their chests with icy breath. These subjects worshipped their creator and served her for a time, but still she felt incomplete.

  In the vast galaxy she created more planets, though these she made differently, filling them with life and vegetation. They would be hers to explore and her subjects would worship her all the more for her cleverness.

  When she returned to Auglibine, still she longed for companionship. In her own image, she fashioned upright beings that would serve her more intimate needs. She populated her planet with them, and they bowed at her feet. In rotation she took them all as lovers, spawning new creations that kept the worlds full.

  It was then another being with the power to create worlds appeared, called Dulphëur. She was taken with his ethereal beauty immediately, and she determined that he would be hers for eternity. When he took her for his mate, their souls were entwined—never to be unraveled. He told her of the galaxies he’d created and the many creatures that populated it. They traveled and explored the planets, creating mayhem as they went. For a god and a goddess were never pleased with simply creating. They craved destruction and sowed wickedness into the hearts of their people. Nearly all of their creations were destroyed, and so the two created more. Some were born with powers, threatening their rule, and were executed at birth.

  After many centuries, their people invented and became advanced, exploring neighboring worlds, but the two agreed to close off their galaxies with a wall, preventing them from mixing.

  Her people gave names to the planets the goddess created and built statues in her honor. They grew and multiplied on their own until her galaxy was full of life. With a powerful mate by her side, finally, she was happy.

  Until things began to change. Before long, the colonizations erected their own forms of government and worshipped gods and goddesses she’d never heard of, much less seen. She had become all but forgotten. Dulphëur suggested she march on the disobedient planets and demand they bow to her alone. But she had seen the weapons and armies these clever creatures had crafted, and she knew she would need an army. In the time it took to draw breath, she had turned every Auglibinian into a lethal soldier.

  The Goddess of Darkness took the first planet, Elvyia, with hardly any fight, casting every idol into the deep black nothingness from which she originated. The people bowed to her, and rumors spread of the mighty Empress of Auglibine who claimed herself a goddess. Enraged that they did not believe her to be the creator of their humble planet, she slaughtered them all and set her sights on the next.

  The wars were often short on each planet that she conquered. When every last citizen was in compliance with her wishes, she moved onto the next planet.

  On Couguar, she encountered the first race of creatures who were much more resilient than the rest. Beautiful men that lived underground, away from the sun, were able to transform into beasts with fangs and claws. Their venom was poisonous to her people, and soon, they were nearly wiped out. The battles were long and hard-fought.

  At dusk on the final eve, Dulphëur fought against a dozen of the monsters while she used her powers to freeze those she could—though in the hot sun, her ice melted quickly. When her mate’s shriek of pain rent the air, the goddess’s chest split in two. She watched the man—the god—she drew breath for, served, created, and destroyed for have his chest cleaved in half.

  Three hearts beat within, and the creatures ripped them out, carrying them away with a promise to hide them forever from her sight. Without them, her beloved would not heal as he had before.

  In her grief, her powers flowed out of her, binding these beasts to her very essence. They were to remain enslaved in captivity wherever she went. Across all the galaxies she searched high and low for his hearts, certain that if she drew close enough, they would beat for her, but she did not find a single one.

  So when her deadened heart set itself on Scondelade, the last planet in the galaxy, she took all of her accumulated armies and attacked without mercy.

  The cruel king and foolish queen fell all too soon.

  But for the eleven handsome princes, she couldn’t bring herself to slay a single one. Only eleven men could take the place of Dulphëur. And so, she bound them to her essence as well, granting them immortality. They changed according to her will, able to shift into a stronger, more brutal form—a powerful weapon for her to wield.

  When they refused to remain with her as her consorts, she cursed them according to the many moons that orbited their small planet. They were locked in their beastly forms, fucking and slaughtering until the moons had all vanished. Still they fled, first from her new castle, and then from Scondelade altogether.

  To keep track of them in the next galaxy over, where her powers were not as strong, she decreed that the use of any of her planets’ names or her chosen name aloud three times would allow her to see and hear any of her subjects.

  In order to summon her image, any of the eleven princes need only speak out her name three times.

  Onoliza.

  Onoliza.

  Onoliza.

  HARLOW

  The first thing Harlow noticed was the ache in her skull. The second thing she noticed, as she peeled her dry eyes open, were the dozen or so gorgeous men staring down at her. And the third was that she didn’t recognize any of them.

  A spark of fear ignited in her chest, and she sat upright. Her vision blurred, stomach churning from the sudden rush. Lifting a hand to her head, trying to steady herself, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a few deep breaths.

  When she opened them, there were still twelve insanely sexy men crowding around her—closer than before.

  “W-what—?”

  One of the men started forward, stopping at the edge of the queen-sized bed she sat on. His eyes were a cool blue-grey, his lips twisted into a mischievous smirk. Harlow tried to retreat, only for her back to press against a warm stone wall.

  “No need to fear, Puppet,” the man said with a voice of silk and sin that warmed her insides. But only a little.

  Wait, Puppet? That was her name? Why couldn’t she remember her name? She knew that she ought to have a name. Everyone did. Yet none came to mind for herself, or the men.

  “Who are you?” she asked, searching each perfect, chiseled face. Her gaze snagged on a blond man off to the side who looked at her with a sort of expectancy that she couldn’t understand. It was his icy blue eyes that drew her in.

  Her pulse sp
iked, causing her breath to hitch.

  “You don’t remember any of us?” the steel-eyed man asked, drawing her attention back to him.

  She shook her head slowly. “I can’t—” She paused. “What’s my name?”

  “Harlow,” breathed the familiar blond man with ice-blue eyes.

  Harlow. A bolt of stabbing pain slammed through her temples, and she winced. Every man in the room leaned toward her in unison, then froze when she jerked back against the wall. Her heart beat harder, painfully so.

  Yet the exaggerated thumping of her life organ hadn’t been caused by fear—even though she’d reacted in such a manner. It was that they’d all seemed to sense her pain and wanted to go to her. What would have they done if they’d reached her?

  Imagining twelve pairs of rough, masculine hands roving over her sent heat pooling between her thighs. She squeezed them together, hoping to quell the throbbing taking place completely against her will. Was it that her body recognized them, though her mind did not?

  “Who are you?” she asked again, this time more forcefully.

  “I am Oricus,” the man with stunning golden hair and eyes somewhere between blue and grey said. His smirk grew, highlighting a cleverness in his expression that she seemed to recall from somewhere.

  A large, dark-haired man with leather armor around his broad shoulders and massive chest stepped forward, almost cautiously. “I am Rasimus,” he said in a deep, gravelly, accented voice that did weird things to her insides. “I must admit, I’m disappointed that you don’t remember me, pet.” He winked.

  Harlow cocked her head curiously. Judging from the ghost of a smirk on his lips nearly hidden behind his trimmed dark beard, and the heat rising to her cheeks, they’d once been intimate.

  There were three other men that stepped forward, all with the same golden hair as Oricus but in varying lengths.

  “I’m Geoff, gorgeous,” one said in a lazy drawl that nearly made Harlow’s toes curl. He’d pronounced his name Gee-off, which seemed about as strange as Oricus and Rasimus. Geoff’s eyes were a light seafoam green, a metal bar piercing a pale brow; his hair was artfully styled back in a golden sweep. He was a leaner build than the rest, but his jaw was just as sharp as Oricus’s. They looked to be brothers.

  In fact, the two other blond men who had yet to say their names, as well as Rasimus, Oricus, and another dark-haired man, all seemed similar.

  “Are you guys related?” she asked, searching them for any more similarities.

  One of the men with long, golden hair grinned. Tattoos snaked from under his rolled-up shirtsleeves, coming down his toned forearms and decorating the tops of his hands. “A few of us are, love.” He gestured to the same men her gaze had pinpointed. “You’ve met my charming brother Oricus of course, Geoff, and Ras. Then there’s Tadaj.” He pointed over his shoulder to the dark-haired man that looked almost identical to Rasimus, just less bulky. “I’m Lefayon, and that’s Xalicur.” He nodded to the man next to him who had the shortest golden hair of the brothers—nearly equal in length to that of the man at the very back, who had white-blond hair and dark eyes. They narrowed to slits when he registered her taking him in.

  A man with sandy-brown curls smiled next. It was infectious, and Harlow felt the pull of her own lips as they broadened. “I’m Arodis, and this is me brother, Darrow,” he said in a thick accent. He indicated to another man on his left, slightly shorter, with bare, bulky biceps on display.

  Harlow dipped her head in response to them both. Darrow sent her a nervous smile, and she wondered what he had to be nervous about. Surely she should be the only one nervous here. Yet the presence of all twelve guys made her feel comforted. Safe.

  Oricus leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. His touch sent a jolt of heat licking through her insides again. Her brows creased and she suddenly felt the urge to remove the pesky silky nightgown she wore, which covered too much skin as it was. As she shifted uncomfortably, a rumble of manly laughter spread through the room. Her head snapped up, looking around in confusion.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

  Oricus’s grip released her shoulder before he brushed a fiery red curl from her face. It was such a tender gesture that was at odds with the smile that never met his eyes.

  “You are starting to feel what we’ve all felt for nearly a month.” Oricus’s warm fingers stroked her cheek and she found herself leaning into his touch, on the verge of purring like a cat.

  Well, at least she remembered cats, though she couldn’t recall if she’d ever seen one in person.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, sounding more breathless than she’d meant to.

  The pale blond man who’d said her name straightened in the corner of her vision. Finally, he stepped toward her, and though he looked like she might shatter if he got too close, she felt herself drawn to him. Her hand lifted of its own accord; realizing she was reaching for him, she dropped it instantly. He raised a blond brow and her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Don’t apologize, babe,” the man said good-naturedly. He sat on the edge of her soft, wide mattress and took her hand in his. “Do you remember my name?”

  Her lips parted, a thought—a word—rushing through her mind, but it disappeared before she could process it. She pursed her lips together and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no.”

  “I’m Rex. We’ve known each other for a while now. We met when we were kids, actually.”

  His touch, along with Oricus’s, felt so perfect. So right. She looked at the others, including those whose names she didn’t yet know, and wished they’d touch her too. It was as if she needed to feel them in order to feel whole.

  “Why don’t I remember any of you?” Her eyes burned, a swell of emotion choking her. She could feel the pull to each of them. So how could she have possibly forgotten all of them?

  “You were hurt,” Oricus answered automatically, but something about his statement felt…fake.

  A lie.

  She had opened her mouth to say so out loud when Rasimus spoke up, his deep, rumbling voice filling every inch of her body with delicious heat. “We’re all here to help you recover. You’ll get to know us all again in case your memories never return.”

  “Never?” she echoed.

  The mammoth of a man stepped forward too, his spicy scent washing over her, making her mouth water. The small glimpses she got of his olive skin beneath his funky attire made her scoot forward. All around her she picked out smells unique to each of the men.

  She felt their collective heat.

  Biting her lip, she balled the sheets in her fists to keep her from climbing into someone’s lap.

  Glancing down at her trembling hold on the bedding, she asked, “Are we… Am I…”

  “Ours?” Rasimus answered, somehow sounding even more sensual.

  She nodded, flushing yet again.

  “Yes,” Oricus said, a smile in his voice. Something else tinged his response, but she couldn’t quite place it.

  Stunned, she looked around at the faces fixed on her. “All of you? How does that work?”

  “Well, technically we’re all bonded, but we haven’t mated yet.” It was Rex who spoke this time.

  The man with short, golden hair—Xalicur, she thought—added from his spot at the foot of the bed, “Don’t worry about the details now.” His eyes, a stunning grey-green—like his irises couldn’t decide on a color—were locked on hers. She had to force herself to breathe. “For now, you need to get your strength up and when you’re ready we’ll have our mating ceremony.”

  Harlow swallowed hard, trying to imagine what all that entailed, but then her mind ran away with images of the twelve sexy men naked and glistening with sweat while they touched her body. Her heart nearly pounded right out of her chest.

  She was certain her entire face and neck had gone beet red from the chorus of chuckles that passed through the men.

&
nbsp; “I still don’t know all your names,” she said, pushing away the graphic thoughts.

  “I’m Kel,” a black-haired man said. His skin was the darkest and for the briefest of moments she imagined running her tongue up his neck where black ink marked it. She thought it looked like skeleton fingers wrapping around his neck, but she couldn’t be sure from the distance.

  Koen, almost identical to Kel, introduced himself next, and lastly, Viktor—the man who’d glared at her. His raspy voice was undoubtedly thick with a Russian accent.

  Her head was swimming, trying to put names to faces and actually remember them all. It was a lot to process, but one thing was certain: not everyone in the room looked as though they actually liked her. Viktor especially. Koen looked bored and Lefayon watched her like a lion watches a gazelle. Yet when they spoke, her insides melted. It took everything she had not to stand up and go to them. Either to smack their smug faces or hug them.

  Yuck! Her nose wrinkled. Since when was she so touchy-feely?

  Had she always been this way? For some reason, she didn’t think so.

  The four men closest to her backed up when she made to stand. Swaying slightly, she batted away the hands that reached for her. When she straightened, every pair of eyes grew hungry, zeroing in on her tits. She didn’t have to look down to know her nipples were trying to rip through the thin fabric as it was. They’d grown heavy with need; the sensitive buds rubbing against the material nearly drove her crazy. She folded her arms across her chest, attempting to hide them.

  “Can I get dressed. And maybe shower?”

  Simple things like hygiene hadn’t been lost to amnesia thankfully.

  “Need any help washing, pet?” the behemoth man, Rasimus, asked with a wicked grin.

  “If anyone is going to help her bathe, it’s me,” Rex snapped.

  Harlow blinked at the two men glaring at each other; both seemed to expand somehow.