Paradise of Shadows and Devotion
Page 1
Paradise of Shadows and Devotion
Gaja J. Kos
Copyright © 2018 by Gaja J. Kos
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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ISBN 978-961-94374-4-5
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Published by Boris Kos
Celje
June, 2018
For all the soulmates out there
Contents
KOLOVRAT UNIVERSE
Paradise of Shadows and Devotion
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Thank you for reading Paradise of Shadows and Devotion
About the Author
Also by Gaja J. Kos
KOLOVRAT UNIVERSE
Paradise of Shadows and Devotion is part of the “future” portion of the Kolovrat universe. Several other works exist in the same sphere.
Each series/standalone title can be read individually, or as a whole for a more complex insight into the universe where myth and reality blend into one.
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PRESENT
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BLACK WEREWOLVES SERIES
Urban fantasy
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Novels:
The Dark Ones
The 24hourlies
The Shift
The Ascension
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Novellas:
Never Forgotten
Chased
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NIGHTWRAITH SERIES
Paranormal romance
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Windstorm
Blackstorm
Nightstorm
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FUTURE
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LOTTE FREUNDENBERGER SERIES
Urban fantasy
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Shadow Moon
Darkening Moon
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SHADE ASSASSIN SERIES
Urban fantasy
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Shadow World
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PARADISE OF SHADOWS AND DEVOTION
Standalone paranormal romance
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DESTINY RECLAIMED
Urban fantasy standalone novella, available exclusively through the Fall of Magic anthology
Paradise of Shadows and Devotion
Hunted for her present. Haunted by her past.
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As a mermaid stranded on land, Liana’s only goal is to survive this new world and not succumb to the call of the sea—unless she wants death to find her a second time.
Her struggle takes a turn for the worse when a PI tracks her down to the small cafe in Piran where she sought refuge. Her dashing Italian boss offers her a way out of the clutches of her past. In exchange for her honesty.
Revealing the taint of her previous life to Santino is terrifying enough, but with her lethal nature and the attraction brimming between them, growing close could become dangerous. Especially as she realizes there is more to him than meets the eye.
With Santino’s aid, Liana just might overcome her darkness. But will she be able to accept his?
1
Beautiful. My tail was beautiful, a gemstone birthed from the darkest depths… And the reason behind my current pitiful state of existence.
I glanced down at the soft spill of lilac and turquoise shimmering beneath the surface of the water, every scale unique as if lovingly touched by a master artist’s brush. The urge to feel the currents of the sea press against them was nearly overpowering, but I clamped down on the impulse to join with the endless blue and secreted it away in the overflowing drawer of broken dreams and hopes.
Too dangerous.
With my sisters listening for any bubble of my presence floating their way, I didn’t dare dip into the embrace of the sea often. Only every once in a while, when the bitter thought of resting here in this grimy, narrow bathtub threatened to drive me insane, did I allow myself to taste the freedom every bone in my body craved for.
I sighed and shook my head. Absurd or devastating. I couldn’t decide which description was a better fit. They seemed interlaced, the threads wound so tightly around one another it was impossible to peel them apart.
The only thing I was truly certain of was that with each minute I spent crammed in the bathtub, the talons of sorrow digging into my chest were getting worse. They carved me up, finding purchase in my flesh, and I knew that if I didn’t leave now, those jagged tips just might stay there forever.
And I did have forever. As long as I didn’t get caught.
No, getting through each day was already a hard enough task. I didn’t need my pain to grow any harsher.
I loosened a breath, then pulled the plug from the drain and watched the water spiral into its metallic, hungry mouth. Brooding would get me nowhere, and I’d already taken up enough time in the communal bathroom as it was. While few woke this early in the morning, scrambling out of the door in a hurry in case someone did come knocking was simply a luxury I couldn’t afford.
Since my mermaid tail wasn’t designed for moving around on dry land, I waited until every last drop of water trickled away, then snagged a dull, beige towel from the nearby rack I’d hung it over earlier and ran the rough material across my scales. Even after all the times I’d gone through the exact same motion, the sensation still rubbed me the wrong way, much like nails scraping down a chalkboard—although that was a sound I hadn’t heard in a century, give or take a few dreadful years. I hissed to alleviate the slight nausea creeping up the sides of my throat as the threads of fabric slid across the blend of lilac and turquoise, then continued to pat down my tail until not a hit of moisture remained.
Once I was certain I hadn’t missed anything, I lifted myself up on the edge of the tub, the fluke trailing across the worn tiles, and waited.
Unlike the first time it happened—although I presumed my own shock was partially to blame for that—the sun-and-salt scent of magic washed over me almost instantly. Fascinated, I observed as a shimmering haze enveloped the scales and fluke, obscuring them from my sight until all I saw was the splash of gradually muting colors. When the misty film dispersed in a rush of invigorating heat, I was left staring at a pair of long, slender legs.
Slowly, I wiggled my toes, waking up the tendons from their magic-induced slumber. While I didn’t understand the exact process of the shift, I’d learned the hard way that taking my time to flex these human legs was crucial, even if the tail had only replaced them for a few bitterly short minutes. And given that I had no desire to plunge headfirst onto the dirty tiles lining the bathroom floor, I really had no choice but to take my time.
Seconds ticked by, but eventually I felt secure enough to stand on my own. With bare feet, I padded across the cool floor, wondering if I would ever get used to the oddness of the touch I once knew, then believed to be lost for good. If I would ever grow accustomed to feeling anything aside from raw eleme
nts of nature brushing against my skin.
A century had passed since I last walked on dry land before my sisters decided to run me out of the morass that had become my home. The few weeks of adjusting to this new environment simply weren’t enough to ease the sense of strangeness I felt, living once more as a human.
Or, at least, a rough approximation of one.
Then again, given that when I’d crawled up on shore, exhausted and terrified, I found myself not only devoid of the water’s embrace, but stranded in a world that had very much changed since the early 1900s. I should probably be grateful I’d come as far along as I had.
With a soft sigh, I pulled on a simple pastel blue sundress that reached just above my knees and shoved my feet in a pair of black flip-flops. The gummy material all but molded to my soles, and while the sensation was odd, it wasn’t unpleasant. I smiled.
Not all was bad in this world.
Somewhat more satisfied, I finger-combed my long lilac hair, then picked up the ghastly, dull towel and marched outside. It was still early in the day, so the hallway with its chipped plaster and foul-smelling rug seemed even grimmer without the lively mass of people rushing about. I quickly made my way to the far end of the corridor, not wanting to linger in this place even a moment longer than necessary.
The curtain was drawn since my roommate was still asleep on the top bunk, but in a room as small as ours, light wasn’t really a prerequisite to find what I wanted. Careful not to bump into anything and wake Liza up, I tossed the damp towel on the foot of the bed, then swiped my purse from beneath the pillow. It was light, nothing more than a pouch that carried my room keys and what little money I’d managed to earn so far, but it helped with keeping up a human appearance. I swung its long chain across my shoulder, eased back out of the door, and all but ran downstairs to the promising scent of untainted, early morning air.
The languid slosh-slosh-slosh of the sea that stretched just beyond the road greeted me the instant my feet hit the pavement.
For a moment, I closed my eyes, battling the impulse to dive into its enchanting satin and enter the world I belonged to. With each breath I took, the craving subsided, but didn’t disappear entirely. It never did. My affinity for water was a fundamental part of me, a need that only became more pronounced once I had been gifted the tail.
Or, perhaps, I’d merely failed to notice how much I craved the embrace of the currents until I’d lost them.
I opened my eyes and forced them away from the sea, taking in the architecture instead. Piran hadn’t changed all that much since the previous turn of the century, its narrow, colorful houses and red rooftops making me feel as if I hadn’t lost all that time in the morass. But the people were different now, and the shops and cafes dominating the ground floors of the buildings were decidedly modern, if carrying a hint of the old seaside charm.
And I loved every part of it.
Often, I wondered if it was the town’s link with history that had driven me to come here. I certainly had no real destination in mind after I fled from my sister’s deathly talons, only a desire to get as far away as I could. Somewhere comforting.
Piran certainly was that.
I followed the embankment from the boarding house towards Tartini Square, saying a few quick hellos to the vendors opening up their shops. Since my arrival here, they started to treat me as one of their own—just another local girl, working her way through the summer. As they all did. It was a beautiful sentiment, but somehow, their kind, sun-loved faces made me feel even more out of place than I already did. Despite the hollowness burrowing in my chest, I returned each and every greeting, even accompanying them with a smile, adamant to not let the shadows of my past win.
Not this silent battle.
A few minutes later and feeling steadier than before, I crossed Tartini Square, then ventured into one of the adorable, narrow streets Piran was so well known for. Laundry hung from strings beneath the windows that boasted white wooden blinds, and the stucco of the buildings—pressed intimately to one another, forming a single, uninterrupted line—was more often than not chipped. Yet the lack of flamboyance didn’t diminish the charm at all. In a way, the contrast between the colorful tourist-ridden areas and the somewhat grimmer, residential section of town reminded me of my own life.
Two sides of the same coin. Staggeringly different. Irrefutably connected.
I breathed out a sigh and pushed on, the quiet slowly giving way to voices once more. The street spewed me out on the edge of a square, small, but just large enough to harbor a single cafe with its tables stretched out across the widespread patio. While the location wasn’t prime, I noticed over the course of these weeks that more than a few tourists, eager to escape the blazing sun down by the seaside, tended to wander through and enjoy their refreshments in the moderate shade. Between them and the locals who preferred the quiet life, business was thriving.
A tall, tanned brunette greeted me as she carried out another chair and placed it next to a blue-topped table. She picked up her empty tray and sauntered over, a smile blooming on her face.
“Morning, Liana.”
“Hi, Eva.” I returned the smile, then nudged my head towards the slightly overweight tabby cat resting in the shade by the bar’s entrance. “I see Giorgio is already in position.”
Eva snorted, brown eyes alight with mischief. “I don’t think that lazy ass even moved since last night.”
I chuckled and walked towards Giorgio. Eva was more than likely right. He was spoiled rotten and enjoyed it.
The cat’s striking green eyes followed my every move, tail swishing languidly across the white tiles. A smile teased my lips. While Giorgio was still very much attentive whenever I was nearby, at least the look he was giving me wasn’t predatory any longer.
It took a few days to convince him I wasn’t a meal. Luckily, with our shared love for seafood, the little critter realized getting on my good side would benefit him to a far greater extent than trying to take a bite out of my flesh as if I were some walking tuna.
I scratched Giorgio behind his ear then padded inside and deposited my purse in a drawer behind the counter before pulling out a pastel blue apron from another. Once I secured the straps, I tied my hair up in an improvised bun, and walked over to the ice cream cart to start with my usual morning routine.
While Eva worked the cafe, my station was here, filling up cones and cups with the delicious swirling colors and tastes we had to offer. A quick scan revealed that two of the metal tubs were almost two-thirds empty, so I made a mental note to keep an eye on them and snatch new ones out from the back as soon as the morning rush subsided.
Just as I was about to check on the napkins, movement from the patio caught my eye. I glanced up, my gaze immediately falling on the tall, slender man, with skin of a rich, suntanned gold, and wavy hair of the purest silver.
My boss.
Heat crept up my cheeks, the stirrings of desire coupled with a slightly nauseating sensation curling in my stomach. Aside from the unusual hair color—unusual since he couldn’t be more than in his late thirties—Santino was the kind of man one would envision a handsome Italian to be. Charming, too, with that easygoing nature and winsome smile that never seemed to falter.
Sadly, he was also the exact kind of man my sisters would spell to his watery death without a moment of hesitation.
And, I thought bitterly, my gaze skimming Santino’s chiseled features, once upon a time, so would I.
2
The morning rush came and went, with only a few lone stragglers remaining out on the terrace. I brushed a lilac strand of hair from my face, drinking in the sudden lull. Aside from the soothing still of the dark, this was without a doubt my favorite time of the day.
During the long decades spent in the morass, I’d almost forgotten about the undulating waves of life—the way the towns seemed to have their own individual pulses, how each new day followed a steady pattern, yet never quite the exact same twice. The subtle differences breath
ed charm into the structure, a unique imprint that could never be replicated. It was what made going through the day so thrilling—knowing what to expect, but not being able to predict the path that would lead there.
This lull, give or take a few patrons, was one of those stationary points the world ebbed and flowed around.
The locals finished their morning coffees with a side of fresh air to sweeten the taste, then went off to their respective jobs—at least those who, unlike Eva and I, had the luxury of starting late. And the tourists were busy enjoying themselves down by the sea, the heat of the day still kind enough not to send them into the somewhat cooler interior. Somehow, the sudden ebb of people made it possible to hear the lively melody that was Piran’s own.
Beautiful was far too weak a word to adequately capture the sensation.
Breathing in the fresh, salt-tinted air, I did a quick sweep of the square. Eva was chatting up Marco, a balding man in his seventies who was by far our most loyal customer, while Santino hung around the till, going through the bar’s expenses with his fingers clicking rapidly against the keyboard set to the left.