by S. A. Gibbs
Revelation
Redemption of the Underworld
Book 1
S.A. Gibbs
Table of Contents
Title Page
Revelation (Redemption of the Underworld, #1)
Acknowledgements
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
About the Author
Notes from the Author
Revelation © 2019 S.A. Gibbs
This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Introduction
One girl, three immortals and the underworld to redeem.
Amberleigh Shade refuses to believe she’s Hades’s daughter.
But the mark on her wrist proves otherwise.
Thrust into a world full of lies and deception, she has no alternative but to trust the three banished immortals who inform her she’s destined to claim the underworld’s throne.
With the reigning queen hot on her tail, and each of her protectors weaving a place in her heart, it’s time to choose...or is it time to break all the rules?
Amberleigh will have to fight to not only find love...but the truth of who she is.
Revelation is the first tantalizing book in the Redemption of the Underworld series.
This is a slow-burn reverse harem.
Acknowledgements
Writing may be solitary but putting out a book is not. I’m blessed to have such amazing people help me on my author journey.
Chryse Wymer, your editing is amazing, you make my words shine and sparkle. I’d be lost without you!
Orina Kafe, thank you for the gorgeous cover.
And finally – my husband – thank you. None of this would be fun without your love and support.
Chapter 1
Amberleigh
Mr. Dreamy, Mr. Hot, and Mr. Ooh La La were the fantasy names I’d given the three gorgeous guys who sat in the same booth every Friday morning at La Belle Café. I opened the door and hid my smile behind my fluffy gray scarf. Joining the line, I waited for my order. It was eight twenty. Thank God for the café’s preordering app.
The mirror behind the counter provided me with an excellent view of Mr. Dreamy’s broad shoulders. His raven hair—perfect as always. Mr. Hot sat opposite him, wearing one of his habitual blue ties. Pale flecks on a navy-blue background. Nice. Any shade of blue looked gorgeous on that fair-haired man. And finally, there was Mr. Ooh La La. Well, what more could I say. His rich brown hair was shaved short at the sides and a little longer on top. His closely trimmed goatee was slightly darker. I sighed. Somewhere out there were three lucky ladies.
Moving to the counter, Josh, barista extraordinaire, passed me my order. “Morning, Amberleigh.”
“Hi, Josh.”
“Skinny cap, extra hot, two sugars. Long macchiato and a toasted ham, cheese, and tomato on whole.” He placed the cardboard holder on the counter and slipped the cups into the slots, before handing me the bag with the sandwich.
“Thanks, Josh. Have a great day.”
“You too.”
I glanced at my watch. Eight twenty-five. Good, still plenty of time. I couldn’t bear to face another “you’re late again” lecture in Mr. Camden’s office.
Sneaking a final peek at my guys, I headed for the door. Well, they were my weekly eye candy. Mr. Hot flashed me a grin. I flinched. He was staring right at me. My heart raced and warmth flushed my cheeks. I quickly smiled back, then hurried for the door.
Stepping outside, the cold air hit me like a slap in the face after the warmth of the café and Mr. Hot’s smile. Stuffing the sandwich bag between the two cups in the holder, I tugged my scarf up over my mouth, my breath providing me with a little extra warmth.
The hubbub of engines and honking of horns drowned out the sound of my heels on the sidewalk. Shouts of someone hailing a cab and the bustle of foot traffic rebounded off the city buildings. Getting to work in the morning was hell for most people. I tucked the cardboard tray in the crook of my arm and briskly headed for Way Street. It was a good ten-minute walk, and the sandwich, I could guarantee, would be cold by the time I arrived, but Jed wouldn’t care.
The early morning chill, combined with a light breeze, soon sucked the heat from my cheeks. Waiting with the crowd to cross at the lights, I wondered: how the hell could Jed still stand living on the streets after all these years?
The slow beep of the “do not walk” signal changed to a buzz, and the light flashed green. I hurried across the intersection, along with the crowd. Jed’s spot was a little farther up the sidewalk. I glanced at my watch: eight thirty-one. I’d have time for a quick chat before continuing on my way to work.
Navigating to the left side of the crowd, I slipped out of the flow and into the entrance of the alley. Rumple, Jed’s black-and-white collie, jumped to his feet and rushed over. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out his homemade treat. His butt instantly hit the pavement, his tail clearing the leaves caught in the gap between the asphalt and the old stone building. He held up one paw and I shook it. “Good boy.” He took the biscuit gently. “Enjoy.” His fluffy coat was cool beneath my fingers.
“You spoil that mutt.” Jed used that grumpy tone that I knew he didn’t really mean.
“I believe a little breakfast never hurt anyone.”
Jed rolled his eyes, hiding his smile. I wished he’d wear the warm jacket I’d bought him. The old one was moth-eaten and torn.
“And speaking of breakfast.” I handed him the sandwich.
“You have to stop spoiling us.” He put his tin cup by the wall, flipping the edge of his tartan blanket over it. Standing, he took the bag and cup. “Thank you, Amberleigh.”
I smiled. I had to watch what I said because he hated me bringing up the past—how he’d found me and taken me under his wing, showing me how to survive on the streets. A coffee and a sandwich were the least I could do for the man.
I sipped my brew. It was heaven. Josh was a wizard with that coffee machine.
“By the way.” Jed reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white box tied with a silky pink ribbon. “Happy birthday, Amberleigh.”
“Oh, Jed, you shouldn’t have.” I took the tiny box. Stuffing my coffee in the top of my bag, I undid the shiny ribbon and pulled off the lid. Nestled on the soft velour was a coin, an obol, a thin silver chain threaded through the clas
p. My eyes blurred with tears, and I looked up at him.
“I thought you’d like it, seeing how you’re an Aquarian and all.”
I flung my free arm around him, pulling him close. I didn’t have the heart to correct him that working with artifacts was actually called an antiquarian.
“Here, let me help you put it on. She said you’d like it.” He took the box while I pulled off my scarf.
“Who said I’d like it?” Lifting my long auburn curls out of the way, he placed the chain around my neck; the cool metal coin rested against the exposed skin on my chest.
“The gypsy lady at the market. Let’s have a look at ya, hey.”
I turned to face him, my fingers toying with the coin. “It’s truly beautiful, Jed. Thank you.”
He gently held me by my arms, how I imagined a father would. “You’re beautiful. You’ve come a long way, lass. Happy birthday. Now you’d best be getting to work.”
I glanced at my watch. Eight fifty-five. “Shit!” I was going to be late again. I gave Jed a quick hug and hurried off with my scarf in one hand and coffee in the other.
LEAVES BLEW ACROSS the marble floor when I opened the front door to Camden & Sons Antiquities, and I stepped in from the cold. Glancing up at the clock on the wall behind Sheila, our receptionist at the front desk, my heart sank. It was ten past nine. Shit!
Shelia smiled. “He’s called in sick. You’re safe, Amberleigh.” Her brilliantly whitened teeth flashed between her bright red lips. She was immaculately groomed, as always.
I threw my empty cup in the trash basket and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God, I didn’t have to try and sneak past Mr. Camden’s office. Even better, I wouldn’t be hauled in and read the riot act. Maybe fate was on my side today since it was my birthday.
Hurrying to the elevator, I called over my shoulder, “I’ve booked Towers for six o’clock. You’ll finally get to try that incredible giant brownie.” Sheila loved anything sweet. She’d only been with the company for four months, and tonight was the first time we were going out for dinner.
The steel-paneled doors to the elevator slid open, and I stepped inside. The Camden & Sons building consisted of three levels: the ground floor, an upper level containing a showroom, and a basement, which is where I worked.
The subfloor light dinged as it lit up. Stepping out onto the cerulean-blue carpet that showed every speck of dirt, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the tiny kitchenette. I hung up my coat and bag and headed to top up my caffeine addiction. “Morning, hon.”
Tracey ceased humming the latest tune stuck in her head as I entered, and raised an empty cup. “Coffee?”
“Thanks, I’m frozen to the bone.”
“You’ll defrost.”
The basement and showroom were kept at a constant temperature to preserve the artifacts in pristine condition.
“Gena called in sick.”
My shoulders slumped. “Really?” Leaning against the refrigerator, I released a prolonged moan. Tracey and I would be expected to pick up the slack.
“Yep.” She added sugar to my cup, splashed in the milk, and handed it to me. “Ooh, that’s cute.” She lifted the obol on my necklace and turned it over. “Where’d you get that?”
“Jed gave it to me.”
“He didn’t steal it, did he?” She giggled.
I playfully slapped her hand away. “Don’t be silly.” Jed didn’t steal anymore. We’d put that all behind us.
“Did you book the table at Towers?”
“Yep. Six o’clock.” Cradling my coffee, I relished its warmth and glanced through the kitchenette’s pretend plastic window. Shit. There was a long wooden box on my desk.
Finishing my brew, I did the ritual washing of hands and wandered over to my desk. I flicked open the metal latches on the warped wooden box, lifted the lid, and sighed. It contained rows upon rows of paper packets. Each contained a coin of some sort. “Where did Mr. Camden get this lot?” I still had over fifty coins left to process from the last collection. And Tracey’s perky humming was already annoying me today.
“I think they were auctioned from an estate.” She flipped the lid down. “Yep, that’s the box.”
Jesus, it’d take me all day just to catalog them, let alone add them to the store’s online site so Joe, one of Mr. Camden’s sons, could price them.
Picking up one of the paper packets, I turned it over, delighted to find all the information about the coin written on the back: maybe not the best idea, but the paper was acid-free. Could my luck get any better?
I HANDLED EACH COIN with cotton gloves, photographed both sides, and then placed it in a brand-new acid-free pouch, completed the spreadsheet, and uploaded the required data. Tedious? Yes. Boring? No. My imagination ran wild, thinking of where each one might have come from. They were artifacts of a bygone era, and if they could speak, they’d each have a unique story to tell. The old worn coins captivated me the most. How many hands had they passed through? I imagined thousands. They could have once graced the palm of a lowly woman buying food in an ancient dusty market, before being passed to a brutish overlord who in turn paid a crew of motley thugs he used to keep law and order. Maybe these men spent their pay drinking in seedy taverns or in the “houses of heaven,” enabling a woman of the flesh to feed her offspring or squirrel away enough coin to escape and begin a new life. The possibilities were endless.
The trill of my desk phone made me jump. I snatched up the receiver. “Amberleigh speaking.”
Sheila’s bubbly voice hummed in my ear. What was I wearing? I grinned. “You’re a weirdo.” A smile danced across my lips, and I relaxed back in my chair. “I happen to be wearing my pink twin set. The frilly ones with the crotchless panties.”
Her screams of laughter echoed through the phone.
“Oh, you mean tonight.” I glanced at my watch: four fifty. Where had the day gone? “Jeans and probably something with long sleeves. What’s the weather like up there?” Every moment of the day seemed the same in the basement. Artificial lighting, climate control. Even the air held the same nonspecific odorless smell until one of us turned the coffeemaker on.
A scrunched ball of paper bounced off my ear, and Tracey giggled. “Is it raining? We’re supposed to get rain.”
I shook my head and covered the mouthpiece. “Windy. Are you nearly finished?”
“We’ll be up in ten.” I slipped the handset back in the cradle. “Sheila’s ready to lock up.”
The coins needed to be stored in the vault over the weekend. I stacked what I could onto the shopping cart while Tracey lugged the rest over and unlocked the heavy steel door to the walk-in depository.
“I brought my stuff,” Tracey said. “Can I get ready at your place?”
“Sure.” She usually did when she went out on a Friday night. “Are you planning to pick up someone tonight?”
She flashed me a smile. “When does a girl like me ever plan on going home alone?”
My eyebrows lifted, and I cocked my head a little to the side. “When it’s their best friend’s birthday?”
“Still doesn’t mean I have to be lonely.”
Tracey was never lonely. The guys flocked around her no matter where we went. She just sort of oozed charisma. Me, on the other hand—I was used to going home alone. In fact, after Dan, I’d sworn off men forever, and it had been almost a year.
With the coins safely stowed away, we were done. Tracey passed me my coat. “You, girlfriend, need to get laid. You know, clean out those cobwebs.” She grinned.
I rolled my eyes. “Come on. Sheila’s waiting.” I flicked off the overhead lights and checked that the auxiliary night-light had turned on. When the elevator doors opened, I pulled Tracey inside and then pushed the button to take us up to the ground floor.
We stepped out on to the main level, and Sheila waved us over. “Come on. I flagged a cab. He’s waiting.”
Hurrying over, I peered through the squeaky-clean glass doors. The rain pounded the sidewalk so
hard that it bounced back up. I’d worn my ankle boots, and my pant legs were going to get soaked. Oh well, I’d probably be drenched before I made it into the cab anyway. So much for a quick change before heading to the restaurant.
Tracey and I headed for the cab while Shelia set the office’s alarm and locked the doors. Soaked, I almost fell into the back seat, as I tried to avoid the swirling water that raced along the gutter like a mini river about to flood its banks.
“She came down pretty quick.” The driver gestured toward the black clouds. “Lucky your friend hailed me as soon as it started. Plenty a people are gonna’ get wet before this storm’s over.”
He switched the fan on the dash to high, and warm air blew into the back of the cab. My hands were already freezing. I shivered as droplets of water seeped through my hair, trickling down my back.
The front passenger door opened, and Sheila slid into the seat gracefully. She closed her umbrella, seemingly untouched by the downpour. “Thank you so much for waiting.”
“Where to, ladies?”
“124 East Ryder Street,” I told the cabbie as Sheila fiddled with her seatbelt until it clicked into the buckle.
We merged into the traffic among a honking of horns and sped off through the rain. It wasn’t far to my place, and before long, the cab pulled up in front of my building.
The rain had eased to a drizzle, and while getting out of the cab, movement in the ground-floor window caught my eye. I waved. Mrs. Evans, my kind but nosy landlady, had obviously seen the cab pull up. The curtain fell limply back into place, and I hurried up to the front door.
It flew open before I had the chance to shove my key in the lock. “Come in out of the rain, girls. Why, Amberleigh, you’re drenched.” She gave me a stiff smile. The one she used to remind me she didn’t appreciate rowdy visitors.
I briefly smiled back. “Thanks, Mrs. Evans. We’re just changing before we head out for a meal.”
“Yes, dear. Well, it did come down suddenly.” Her face softened.