She’s as fluid as water
Cyane of the Pegaeae, spring nymphs, can cure any disease. Imprisoned for her powers not once, but twice, she’s determined to return to her people. But that means escaping her second captor, the formidable Lord of a race of crab shifters, who has no intention of letting her go. Not until she’s healed every last one of his people—a task which will drain the last drops of her powers.
He’s as rigid as stone
Theron, leader of the Karkinos, has vowed to save his people from a brutal disease, no matter the cost. So when a scintillating nymph with the power to heal them all falls into his lap, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her within his grasp—and far from his heart. Betrayed by those closest to him, Theron’s hardened his shell so much, no one can penetrate his armor. Not even Cyane, though that doesn’t stop her from demanding the one thing he’s sworn he’ll never give to anyone again—his trust.
Only she can crack through his shell
Unquenchable passions crash them into each other, binding their destinies, and their hearts. If they can stand together and fight the darkness claiming him from the inside out, they might find a way to save not only his people, but hers as well.
Water’s Mark (Zodiac Shifters: Cancer)
Lords of Krete #1
Rachael Slate
Contents
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Disease-Curing Waters
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 Earth’s Mark
Preview of Cursed in Love
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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 June 2017
Edited by Kelley Heckart
Cover design by Raven Blackburn
Formatting by NovelArt Designs
Epub: ISBN 978-1-988396-20-0
Kindle: ISBN 978-1-988396-21-7
Disease-Curing Waters
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 Disease-Curing Waters begins now.
Chapter 1
Lapith lands, southeastern Thessaly
Year 223 of the reign of Lord Theron, leader of the Karkinos
Cyane of the Pegaeae, spring nymphs, crept through the narrow tunnel toward the hidden vault. Pausing to listen for guards, she pressed against the wall and rubbed her chaffed wrists. Blasted King Philaeus and his vendetta against the nymphs. She’d spent the past week in his dungeon, bound and bled of her powers. Tonight, the Amazons had stormed the castle and freed the nymphs, including herself. She shouldn’t have lingered here, but that fiend had poached her powers and she wanted them back.
Philaeus’s minions had hauled her to this vault many times, to be drained of her energy. Usually, a dozen sentinels stood guard. Yet this eve, the space was eerily quiet.
Even so, the smooth ebony walls revealed her image, like a looking glass, making her edgy. Squinting at her reflection, she tucked a stray lock under her hood. Hopefully, her masculine garments would fend off any unwanted attentions on her journey home to the Isle of Krete. After I retrieve what’s mine.
Stealing forth once more, she peered into the vast, shimmering cavern. Shelves brimming with glowing vials lined the walls. And one of those bottles was hers.
There. On the fourth row, in the middle, rested a radiant azure flask. My powers.
As she was about to slink alongside the wall and fetch her bottle, a figure prowled into the chamber from the opposite side and headed straight for that exact shelf.
Oh, no, don’t you dare.
The imposing masculine form stalked through the shadows. She rocked on the balls of her feet, praying he sought something else. But no, he halted right in front of her vial, his large hand reaching for it. Why mine?
“Argh!” Cyane charged forward, her form morphing in and out of solidity while she transformed between water and woman. A power Philaeus hadn’t been able to steal.
She shot toward the male, knocked the flask right from his fingers, into her hand, and sprang to the far side of the cavern.
“Give that back!” He spun around, snarling, but she smirked at him from the other end of the enormous chamber.
“Why, it’s mine, you thief.” Scoffing, she waved the bottle and sashayed toward the tunnel. Easy.
The male growled from across the room, and the next moment, his roar resounded in her ears as he charged straight into her and swiped the flask out of her grip.
Oomph! She crashed to t
he floor, wheezing, and curled her hands into fists. Ho, this wasn’t finished yet.
Cyane rushed toward the male again, this time hopping astride his back and wrestling with one massive arm. Sweet gods, his grasp was iron-tight. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held on while he bucked and whirled about, trying to fling her off.
Irksome male. She gritted her teeth. Well, if he wished to play foul… She might be disguised as a lad, but she was a nymph. Flashing the extent of her seductive powers through him, she struck the male with a fierce blow of lust.
“Ughn.” He crumpled to his knees, and she wrenched the flask free of his fist. Only one way to end this.
Cyane uncorked the vial, brought the rim to her lips, and guzzled the shimmering liquid. “Many thanks for the amusement.” She flung aside the empty vessel and strutted past the male.
Cool metal enclosed her right wrist, snapping shut. She swiveled about, only to have another clasp close around her left wrist. Panic fluttered inside her chest, but she forced herself to calm and concentrate on transforming into water.
The morphos wouldn’t come, and the dread clambered higher. She wrenched, but the metal wouldn’t bend.
Gods, no.
“Heh, lad. The amusement’s only begun.” His deep, rumbling voice rolled through her, clenching her stomach. “You’ll be coming with me.”
Theron, leader of the Karkinos, scowled at his captive. This vial wasn’t the only one the lad had consumed, or how else could Theron explain the bolt of passion that had shot through him? The thief had probably sampled a good number of those nymph powers. Wait until he told his brother Talos about this vexatious imp.
No matter. These healing waters were their last hope. Although the stripling had consumed them, they might still study the powers, perhaps extract them, and find a way to save his people.
Which meant, the lad was coming with him.
He rose, yanked on the five-foot long adamantine chain, and strode from the chamber, dragging the male behind him. After he transported the youth to his people’s healers, they’d determine how to proceed.
Once outside, Theron stuck two fingers between his lips and whistled. An instant later, his warriors joined him, a dozen massive, iridescent blue crabs shrinking and blending together to form a conveyance.
“Release me. I’m not going anywhere with you.” The stripling squirmed and squealed, his face concealed by the shadows of his hooded cloak.
“Aye, well, you should have thought of that before you left me no choice.” He tossed the lad into the rear of the wagon, shut the lid, and hopped aboard the seat above. The crab-driven conveyance propelled forward, faster than one drawn by horses, into the woods. Toward their home.
As the fiery rays of dawn scattered across the sky, they pulled to a halt inside Karkinos territory. What might appear to be an ordinary shoreline to foreign eyes was in fact an extensive network of above- and underground structures. A vast array of tunnels connected the system, linking the chambers together.
This was the current home of his people, the Karkinos. Once spurned by the gods, they were all that remained of the mythical race of crab shifters.
All that remained, and they were dying.
He fisted his hand, snatching on to a flutter of hope. The vial the youth had consumed—it contained the power to cure disease.
Like the one afflicting his people.
Or so the rumor claimed. This was their last chance. None of the healers, Oracles, or gods he’d beseeched had been able to offer them a cure. None, until yesterday, when one of his scouts had reported a nymph kept captive by the leader of the Lapiths, King Philaeus.
Theron would have bargained, traded, pled, offered every treasure in his possession in exchange for the nymph, but when he’d arrived last night, he’d discovered the nymphs already freed. By those blasted Amazons. His lands bordered theirs and they’d often butted heads about hunting grounds.
It had only been by divine governance that a fleeing nymph had answered his questions, whispering about the chamber of vials—and the one he’d sought.
His last hope.
Too many had already perished and he refused to lose even one more soul.
Theron hopped from the conveyance, barking to the guards, “Bring him to the throne room.” He tore off his leather arm greaves and shrugged out of his chest plate, depositing them into the arms of his steward. “Gather the council. Find Talos. And someone crack open the bloody reserves of mead. We have a victory to celebrate.” He marched through the tunnel that led into the throne chamber and plopped on top of his crushed shell throne, dropping his head into his hands. This had to be good news. He refused to condone anything less.
With swift efficiency, his servants obeyed his commands. One set of guards dragged the writhing youth into the chamber, his boots digging through the dirt the entire way. A flare of empathy sparked in Theron’s chest, but he quickly snuffed it out. The notion of explaining their circumstances to the stripling flitted through his mind, which was even worse. This male had no reason to help them.
Theron had learned the hard lesson of not trusting in people’s good will. To save his race, he’d have to be willing to do anything.
He’d have to be rigid. Resolute.
Ruthless.
He clenched his hands and beckoned the guards closer with a jerk of his chin. “Release him.”
His men obeyed and the lad stopped struggling.
“Do you know why I’ve brought you here?” Theron rose from his throne and stalked toward the prisoner, who stiffened. Good. “The tonic you drank was mine. Therefore, you are now mine.” He prowled behind the male, hoping his actions intimidated as much as his words.
The youth balled his fists and tilted his chin upward.
“You will forget—” The words stuck in his throat as another eerie bolt of desire shot through his veins. What in Hades? He certainly hadn’t been abstinent long enough to explain away lusting after this lad. Theron seized the hood of the youth’s cloak, tugging it down.
Short, tight curls of ebony and blue framed a face too soft and delicate to belong to a male.
He reared and snapped his fingers at his servants. “Leave.” He’d been deceived. “You’re not male.” The creature wore a man’s clothing—dark breeches and an ivory tunic beneath a hooded jacket, and heavy boots. His, or rather, her slender stature and high-pitched tone could easily be mistaken for a lad’s. Right?
“Strange,” the female’s lilting voice chimed as she twisted to regard him. Thickly-lashed azure pools eyed him in dismissal. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”
Cyane huffed at the fiend who’d dared to capture her. In the dim torchlight of this modest earthen chamber, she examined him. Towering above her, the striking male was tall and broad, his chest bare. He’d removed his protective garments, but his bronzed flesh stretched across his expansive muscles, appearing thick and impenetrable, like plated armor. Burnished leather breeches encased his powerful thighs and he stomped about in sturdy boots as he prowled in a sidestepping fashion. His firm, sensuous lips parted in a snarl and his nostrils flared in suspicion. A tightness in his ruggedly sculpted jaw suggested mistrust. He raked a hand through his short, umber locks. Grey eyes, the hue of a stormy sea, pierced her with their foreboding promise of the tempest within.
Yet she’d caught him off guard and she wielded the upper hand. Bolstering her nymph powers, she perched her hands on her hips. “Release me. Surely, no honorable male would hold captive a female against her will.”
“Who said anything about me being honorable?” He snorted, circling her. Finally, he puffed and scratched his jaw. “Nay, this is even better. The powers belong to you, and that means you’re just the nymph I was looking for.”
Cyane swallowed against the tightness in her throat. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned confronting him. “Well, a pity for you, because I refuse to aid anyone so callous and full of greed.” She whirled about and stormed toward the archway, but
her wrists yanked backward, bound by the chain which seemed to obey him. Ugh.
“I brought you here for a purpose, nymph, and you’ll do exactly as I command. Forget everything else. You now belong to me.”
His words sent shivers coursing along her spine. He wasn’t the first male to declare such to her. Vile King Philaeus. If she were anything but a nymph, she’d seize the dagger in her boot and slice his throat right here and now. Sadly, the blood running through her veins prevented her from committing any act of violence.
Still, she could resist.
“No, I’ll never help you. Make me your prisoner. See how that goes for you.” She scoffed and dismissed him. He wasn’t worth the breath in her lungs. Thieving a nymph as though she were nothing more than a prize to possess. Ha. Her bloodsworne brothers would make quick work of him, if they were present. An image of Rhoetus fluttered in her mind and she prayed he’d found what they’d come for.
While she fumed in the corner, another male paused in the archway of the chamber, carrying a bundle, no, a person, in his arms.
A child?
Cyane’s throat dried as she observed the weak and sickly lad. Her senses told her instantly—this child suffered from a malicious disease. And she could cure him.
“Please.” The second male approached her and knelt before her with the child in his arms. “I don’t know what my brother Theron has spoken or done, but my son needs your help. I beseech you, save him.” Kind sea-green orbs glistened at her, pleading with the tears unshed of a grieving parent.
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