Dangerous passions, p.1
Dangerous Passions, page 1
Dangerous Passions
by
Elise Whyles
Dangerous Passions
Copyright © 2015, Elise Whyles
ISBN: 9781940744674
Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.
Electronic Publication: February 2015
Editor: Pamela Tyner
Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs
eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Back Cover Copy
Can bitter enemies find love?
Haunted by visions, Calypso sets out to find the man who stalks her dreams. Calypso, an ageless fae, is convinced this man will enslave and torment her just like the one who held her long ago. Determined to track him down and kill him, she’s prepared for anything, except for what she finds. The mortal male she encounters stirs embers she thought long dead, making her yearn for his touch.
Lucien has always believed himself to be a mortal slave. The truth, however, is more than he’s ever imagined. Born to a fae mother and a warlock father, he is a falock, a being of mixed blood hated by both races. And he’s destined for greatness…if he can survive the Roman gladiators’ games long enough to grow into his immortality.
When the slim beauty rescues him from the depths of his prison, Lucien comes face to face with the truth of who and what he is. Determined to protect the woman who rescued him, he’ll risk everything, including his chance at immortality.
Can a weary, distrustful fae and the falock she’s claimed overcome the obstacles in their path?
Content Warning: explicit sex, emotional turmoil, angst, and violence
Dedication
To Ciara—my bestest friend ever and my adopted sister! I’m so happy we are friends.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank several people for their part in this series.
My co-author Ciara Lake, who has stuck it out with my crazy ideas and endless desire to chat about the stories. You rock, girl!
To Pam Tyner, who has such faith in this series. It’s been a blessing to work with you, and I have the utmost respect and appreciation for all you do.
Chapter 1
Calypso’s breasts heaved with each breath she took beneath the supple black leather. Stretching out beyond the full-length windows, lightning ripped through the night sky as Calypso opened the french doors and stepped out onto the patio. The subtle glide of leather-overheated flesh sent shards of heat through her.
A fine shiver raced along her pussy and she gasped. Somewhere out there he waited...the culmination of all her lust. From behind her the sound of Angrail and his mate’s passion could be heard and it fired her own. Long denied, her lust stirred, slithering through her body like some beast she longed to kill.
She closed her eyes, the image playing across her mind... Sweat slicked skin heaved with each swing of a massive blade. Thin, black lines danced across his chest, swirling down into the curve of a hip, the bulge of his shaft behind his pants teasing her. Muscles bunched and flexed with each step, each blow. Powerful, deadly, his essence called to her, seduced her with its warmth and need.
Calypso stepped to the edge of the balcony and peered over the ornate banister. Beneath her the roaring of the falls drifted upward in a silvery cloud of noise and mist.
She glanced over her shoulder, her fists clenching with emotion. Centuries of service, of loyalty, had been rewarded with freedom, yet she didn’t yearn for such a gift. Nay, she yearned for what was beyond her. Angrail was content, he was loved, and out of her grasp. Accepting it hadn’t come easy, long nights of bitter envy and tears had come before she’d realized it was necessary.
Come to me. As soft as the wind playing with her braid, the whisper slipped through the chinks in her armor and shot straight to her heart.
With a soft sigh, Calypso hopped onto the banister and inhaled a breath. Arms outstretched, she stepped into mid-air, years of training and skill set in her muscles. Fresh, sweet wind flowed along her body, wrapping her in a warm shawl of familiarity. Without a sound, she landed on the rocks below, her knees folding beneath her as her body coiled in to brace itself.
Straightening, she glanced upward once, the impressive stone castle sitting high above crammed in between two peaks of the mountainside. She turned and slipped into the dense foliage surrounding the base of her lord, Angrail’s, palace.
Jogging through the shadows, she ducked and twisted among the branches. The breeze drifted over her face and throat, cooling the sweat. She paused, one booted foot on a log, her head cocked to the side as she listened to the sounds of the earth. Like the pulse of life, she could hear the beating hearts of the ancient ones who slept. She could taste their energy, feel their emotions. Calypso swallowed, the taste of the essence of this world heavy on her tongue.
Icy drops of water slid along the thick leaves to drip down the back of her shirt as she ducked beneath the canopy. Straightening, Calypso stared into the gathering darkness. She could feel something moving, a force that stroked along her nerves. She reached for the dagger at her side, pulling the thin blade from its sheath as she appraised every shadow.
“Come, whatever manner of beast you may be.” Pressing against a tree, she glanced around, searching the break in the foliage for any sign of who was out there. The rough bark pressed into the flesh of her back, a faint tickle revealing it had broken the skin. Still, the slight pain did little to distract her. Compared to what she’d once suffered, it was a minor irritant. Come, do your worst. I’ll not go back to the nightmarish prison Amuliana previously condemned me to.
Dead leaves and forest debris cracked beneath the weight of someone’s footsteps. The wind danced through the branches, stirring her hair. Whipping around, Calypso swallowed, fear rising at the glowing silver eyes staring out of the darkness at her.
“So the bitch sends another of her servants for me.” Sneering, Calypso shifted, her body coiling with tension as they moved. Her fingers slid over the hilt of her weapon, her grip steady, light, the weapon an extension of her. “I’ll send you back to her without your heart.”
“Calm yourself, little one. I have no desire to hurt you.” As soft as a feather, the whisper teased along her mind. “You’re hunting in the wrong place. The one you seek is hardly within the realm death himself has claimed. He cowers before such as the ones you serve, pleads for mercy and life much as some vagrant would for coins.”
“What do you mean? Who are you?” Calypso adjusted the handle of her dagger in her palm, the warm wood gliding across her flesh. A quick toss and her stalker would be dead. She followed the soft patter of footsteps, her racing heart slowing with each breath.
“If you desire the one who desires you…” Warm laughter filled the air. “Then seek his master in the realm of the Boyne. He resides there.”
“Who? Give me his master’s name.”
“You will know him when you meet him, fae. He has hunted your kind before and has lost favor with the gods who watch over his kind. Take care, little one. He will not allow life—not for you or the one who calls to you if he reaches all he can be. There is great power to be had with his death, and yours.”
“Why would you aide me? Come forth, show yourself, unless you are too fearful of my wrath.”
“I do not fear your wrath, my dearest. It is not time for you to know me. Seek the master of the one who calls to you in the realm of the Boyne, he is there when he is not in the mortal world.”
“Where do I find him in the mortal world? If he be in this world, I will hunt him down,” Calypso ground out, her grip tightening on her weapon. Narrowing her eyes, she peered out into the night, the rain creating a silver curtain. Unlike mortals, she could clearly see what the rain would hide, yet her stalker eluded her sight. She caught the flash of white beyond the eyes and shivered.
“Look to Ratae, but you will need to find a portal. It is many days journey from here.”
“A portal?” Calypso shuddered as a chill raced over her. When her captor had stolen her, he’d used a portal to drag her into his dungeons and endless torment until Angrail had freed her.
“Indeed, look to the west in a full moon’s cycle, then the gatekeeper will allow you entrance for free. Or pay her three bits of gold to pass. To claim the falock who haunts your dreams you must kill his master. Destroy the one who would destroy you both and reclaim that which was stolen from you so long ago. Claim the one who speaks to your heart and bridge the distance between two worlds. It is within you to do, Calypso.”
Calypso patted the small pouch tucked in her belt. She closed her mouth at the whisper of sound as the voice had faded into the night, leaving her alone. “Ratae. I will find him, and he will beg for death before I am through.”
* * * *
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Ephynia snuggled closer to Angrail, her fingertip drawing circles around his nipple. Her gaze was on the rain falling beyond the window of their chamber, the soft patter echoing in the pounding of her lover’s heartbeat.
“Calypso?” Angrail yawned, his arm tightening around her. “Yes, she’s stronger than she looks. I have no doubt she’ll be fine. I do worry about her reasonings for this journey, however. A fae going on such a journey is rarely done. They p
“You think she seeks to find the one you saved her from? His treatment of his slaves was quite cruel.”
“Nay, he is long dead. I took his soul many years past. She saw me do it. She seeks something else. Calypso has spent many years in service for payment for something she was entitled to. She spends her time wanting something she is not even aware she wants.”
Ephynia pushed herself up onto her elbow and stared down into his face. Concern tightened her voice until it cracked. “She has served you so loyally for so long. This must be hard for her. She’s loved you.”
Angrail shook his head and lifted his hand to cup her jaw. “She did not love me. Fae are not so foolish as to fall in love. I’ve always found fae to be loyal, but they do not love like this...in the manner to which you speak. They do not look on love as something beyond appearances.”
“True, but she is not like others of her kind. Calypso did love you. I could see it in her eyes. She has been withdrawn since the last meeting of the gods. Avoiding the mirrors, avoiding you and me. As a woman in love I can see the truth behind her actions. She loved you but knew it was not meant to be.”
“She was loyal because I saved her from a fate far worse than the caves. Nothing more.” Angrail brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, a smile on his face. He stroked her cheek, his thumb tracing over her jaw. “You have nothing to fear, my love. Calypso is loyal to you and I. You needn’t fear that she would ever betray us.”
“The thought of her betraying us has never crossed my mind. I worry for her as a woman. To leave all that is safe, to venture out where the dangers are many... Amuliana won’t be kind if she stumbles upon her.”
“She will be protected by Flidais, it is the nature of their kind. To search for answers is as important to them as serving our masters is to us. Her quest is all consuming for her.”
“I can only hope she finds peace. If she doesn’t, we may need to save her from herself. If my lord condemns her, I cannot refuse…” Ephynia shuddered at the idea she’d have to take the soul of one so loyal to her husband. “I shall offer prayers to Nerafail and Seraphine, perhaps they can assist Calypso.”
“She is a fae. They worship their own gods, serve their own beliefs.” Angrail rolled, pinning her beneath him. “We will both offer prayers for her, but for now, wife, let us think of other things.”
“Oh? Like what?” Ephynia arched into him, her body throbbing with renewed lust.
“Saving me.” Angrail thrust against her.
“Hmm, indeed my lord, you are truly in need of saving. Perhaps I should take you to the very gates of paradise.”
“I’ve been to paradise before, it pales in comparison to your touch,” Angrail whispered.
* * * *
“If we do nothing, we will die here.” Lucien glanced out the small opening of their cell before turning back to his cellmates. The flickering light of the torch crept through the opening to reveal one was a dark-colored male from the east, the other a thin, pale man who spoke very little.
“If we defy him, he will kill us.”
“What would you rather?” Lucien shifted, the rattle of his chains loud in the silence. “Our master has no use for us beyond his own amusement. I heard him, Dagenet. He is going to sell us to Marshelit. I am not willing to die for sport, and the man is a monster.”
“Marshelit will not allow us to be killed. To die would cost—”
“Nothing. Slaves are replaceable, worth nothing to them. Sport has more meaning.” Lucien straightened as much as the cramped confines would allow, his spine cracking from squatting too long. Pain streaked along the backs of his legs, his buttocks, and into his hips. Forcing his tall body into a small space had drawbacks and he was feeling every one of them. “We need to get weapons to defend ourselves. Dagenet, if we do nothing, your woman will remain within bondage to be used by whomever the master agrees to. She is yours, and yet you—”
“You have made your point.” Dagenet waved a hand to halt his words, his dark face twisted into an ugly mask. “So be it. When?”
“The best chance we have of escape is when they move us at daybreak. The mistress said a wagon will be arriving in two days to take us east. Between the three of us we can surely overpower the guards and escape. It’s a four day ride to Marshelit’s home.”
“Four days is a long time. We could slip away at any point.”
“Yes, we cannot rush this. There will be six guards, all armed. Plus the handler.”
From the darkness came another voice. “And what of Dagenet’s woman? If we do this beyond the gates, what becomes of her?”
“She will be going with us.” Lucien turned toward the door, the slight shuffle of feet slipping through the cracks. His heart pounded as he waited, his breath heavy in his chest. It escaped in a rush as the guard moved on. He waited until the soft thud of the doors ensured the man’s departure before turning back to his fellow slaves. “I put the word to a couple of females, they’ve been whispering to the mistress.”
“Two days, no more. If we get closer to Marshelit’s then we’re as good as dead.” Dagenet huffed a breath and stretched out, his chains rattling. “Two days, Lucien. We’d best pray we are not found out, else we’ll all suffer. I will not risk death unless you are certain we can obtain our freedom.”
“It will be so. I have no doubts.” Lucien eased back against the wall and closed his eyes. Silver eyes stared at him and the soft whisper of a woman’s voice played across his memories as he settled in. Two days until he could begin his hunt for her. For the woman who called to him each night. Just a few days more and he would be free to kill the bastard who chained him, and claim what was rightfully his.
* * * *
“Well? Has he yielded yet?” From across the length of the scarred table, Marshelit stared at the frail-looking man wheezing in his chair. Impatient to be underway, he toyed with the goblet of wine at his side, he didn’t want any issues with the purchase.
“He’s still denying his place amongst the other gladiators.”
“I will not tolerate disobedience.”
“Have no fear, obedience is something Lucien is very familiar with. He will do as you command. He resists leaving those he has served so faithfully all these years.”
“Good, good.” Marshelit lifted the glass and sipped at the sweet brew. He swallowed, masking his distaste for mortal spirits with a press of his sleeve to his lips. Humans had no idea how to make a fine wine.
Rising to his feet, his long cloak rustled as he paced toward the fireplace. He knew what this human didn’t. Lucien wasn’t a mere mortal, he was more, and soon he’d break and Marshelit would have all the mixed breed’s power. Very, very soon, he would feed upon the gifts given to his latest slave by his lineage.
Marshelit stared into the flames, a twisted laugh creeping up through his chest. Ah yes, he knew more than any would suspect. He could still see the fair-haired fae who had given birth to the boy, the sightless eyes, the dull, lifeless skin that hung from her bones...he’d taken great delight in stealing every dram of her powers, and he’d grown stronger. When he took Lucien’s he’d be invincible and the goddess he sought would have to pay him homage.
“Instructions have been given, your goods will be delivered in four short suns. You need not fear, sir, I am a man of my word.”
“I do not fear your treachery.” Marshelit opened his hand, his palm glowing with a sickly green and black light. He turned, a startled scream trapped in the human’s throat as he struck hard, fast. A pale curve of smoke rose from the chair as the human’s soul slipped soundlessly through the air into his palm. “It was you who should not doubt me.”
His cloak snapped with his movements as he strode from the room. The stone beneath his feet cracked and crumbled as he made his way through the dank hallways. In four days he’d have unlimited power at his command. He would destroy his enemies and claim Amuliana for himself.
