Ravaged
An Eternal Guardians Novella
By Elisabeth Naughton
1001 Dark Nights
Ravaged
An Eternal Guardians Novella
By Elisabeth Naughton
1001 Dark Nights
Copyright 2015 Elisabeth Naughton
ISBN: 978-1-940887-58-6
Foreword: Copyright 2014 M. J. Rose
Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
BOOK DESCRIPTION
Ravaged
An Eternal Guardians Novella
By Elisabeth Naughton
Ari — Once an Eternal Guardian, now he's nothing but a rogue mercenary with one singular focus: revenge.
His guardian brothers all think he’s dead, but Ari is very much alive in the human realm, chipping away at Zeus’s Sirens every chance he can, reveling in his brutality and anonymity. Until, that is, he abducts the wrong female and his identity is finally exposed. It will take more than the Eternal Guardians, more even than the gods to rein Ari in after everything he’s done. It may just take the courage of one woman willing to stand up to a warrior who’s become a savage.
ABOUT ELISABETH NAUGHTON
Before topping multiple bestseller lists--including those of the New York Times, USA Today, and the Wall Street Journal--Elisabeth Naughton taught middle school science. A voracious reader, she soon discovered she had a knack for creating stories with a chemistry of their own. The spark turned into a flame, and Naughton now writes full-time. Besides topping bestseller lists, her books have been nominated for some of the industry's most prestigious awards, such as the RITA® and Golden Heart Awards from Romance Writers of America, the Australian Romance Reader Awards, and the Golden Leaf Award. When not dreaming up new stories, Naughton can be found spending time with her husband and three children in their western Oregon home. Learn more at www.ElisabethNaughton.com.
ALSO FROM ELISABETH NAUGHTON
Eternal Guardians
(paranormal romance)
MARKED
ENTWINED
TEMPTED
ENRAPTURED
ENSLAVED
BOUND
TWISTED
Aegis Series
(romantic suspense)
BODYGUARDS IN BED
FIRST EXPOSURE
SINFUL SURRENDER
EXTREME MEASURES
LETHAL CONSEQUENCES
Against All Odds Series
(romantic suspense)
WAIT FOR ME
HOLD ON TO ME
Stolen Series
(romantic suspense)
STOLEN FURY
STOLEN HEAT
STOLEN SEDUCTION
STOLEN CHANCES
Firebrand Series
(paranormal romance)
BOUND TO SEDUCTION
SLAVE TO PASSION
POSSESSED BY DESIRE
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Book Description
About Elisabeth Naughton
Also by Elisabeth Naughton
Foreword
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Eternal Guardians Lexicon
Also From 1001 Dark Nights
An excerpt from Twisted by Elisabeth Naughton
Special Thanks
ONE THOUSAND AND ONE DARK NIGHTS
Once upon a time, in the future…
I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.
I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and
the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast
library at my father’s home and collected thousands
of volumes of fantastic tales.
I learned all about ancient races and bygone
times. About myths and legends and dreams of all
people through the millennium. And the more I read
the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered
that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually
become part of them.
I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher
and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I
would not be telling you this tale now.
But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off
with bravery.
One afternoon, curious about the myth of the
Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to
see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar
(Persian: شهريار “king”) married a new virgin, and then
sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written
and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,
the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand
women.
Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived
in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged
places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had
never occurred before and that still to this day, I
cannot explain.
Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have
taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can
protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to
protect herself and stay alive.
Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.
And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a
point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.
And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that
he might hear the rest of my dark tale.
As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new
one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before
you now.
“There will be killing till the score is paid.”
― Homer, The Odyssey
CHAPTER ONE
Time was irrelevant on Olympus. Something Daphne was grateful for today.
The sun set low on the horizon behind the shimmering white marble of Zeus’s palace as she lifted the magical bow and arrow all Sirens wielded, pulled the string back for the umpteenth time, and zeroed in on her target a hundred yards away. Holding her breath, she released the string. A sting echoed in her finger, and she jerked her hand back and winced as the arrow flew through the air toward the trunk of a tree carved into the face of the god of the Underworld.
A thwack echoed across the space. The arrow grazed Hades’s right earlobe.
Daphne frowned. She’d been at this for three hours
and still couldn’t hit the stupid god anywhere deadly, let alone between the eyes where she was supposed to tag him.
“Better.” Sappheire, Athena’s right-hand Siren and the leader of Zeus’s female warrior army, nodded at Daphne’s side. “You keep practicing and you’ll get there.”
Daphne wasn’t so sure. All Sirens went through rigorous training in a variety of different areas—combat, seduction, warfare, strategy—and she’d passed each section with high marks from her trainers. But she couldn’t take her final Siren vows until she conquered the marksmanship exam. And at the moment, her aim wasn’t even close to one-hundred percent, which was why she was out here now, on the training field behind Siren headquarters, working on her shot long after the other recruits had retired to the mess hall for dinner. So far she’d failed the test three times. Until she could hit a target repeatedly dead center—without injuring herself—she was SOL. Which meant her dream of being a full-fledged Siren kept hovering in the distance, just out of reach.
“That’s a nice thought,” she said, lowering her bow and shaking out her hand. “I’m not sure how realistic it is, though.”
“Persistence will pay off.” Sappheire’s luxuriously sleek mane—a mixture of blonde and chestnut and ginger locks—swayed as she turned Daphne’s way, and those brilliant blue eyes for which she was named sparkled. “If this is your calling, it’ll happen. Just don’t give up.”
Dressed in form-fitting black pants, a tight, black, low-cut tank that showed off her cleavage and muscular arms, and kick-ass stiletto boots that elongated her legs, Sappheire pressed the button at the end of her bow, shrinking the weapon down to a six-inch metal bar. She’d lost the leather breastplate and arm guards she usually wore in the field, but she still looked as menacing as any warrior. And not for the first time, Daphne was glad this Siren had taken a liking to her instead of harassing her as she did some of the other recruits.
Slipping the weapon into her boot, Sappheire added, “Athena’s been watching you.”
Watching her fail? Daphne winced. She wasn’t sure she needed to know that, not when she already felt like a major loser.
Daphne shrank her own weapon. She was dressed the same as Sappheire—tight black pants, fitted black tank, crazy high boots it had taken her years to learn to walk in—but where Sappheire wore the outfit with confidence and grace, Daphne still felt awkward in the take-notice-of-me-now getup. “Well, if nothing else, I’m sure she’s entertained.”
“Perhaps.” Sappheire peered back toward the white painted building of Siren headquarters, less stately and ornate than the structures on Olympus, but still intimidating. “I think you’re being summoned.”
Daphne’s gaze followed as she slid her bow into her boot, then focused on two figures standing on the back porch of the building. One she knew on first glance. The goddess Athena and head of the Siren Order flicked her curly chestnut locks over her shoulder and waved her hand in a come-this-way move. She was striking and gorgeous and every bit the goddess Daphne had imagined her to be as a child. But it was the other figure that made Daphne’s pulse skip. The seven-foot tall, dark-haired god at Athena’s side, commanding all with just his stately presence.
Zeus.
“Don’t stand there dumbfounded, girl.” Sappheire nudged Daphne toward the building. “The last thing you want to do is keep the king of the gods waiting. Go already.”
Right. The king of the gods...
Swallowing hard, Daphne put one foot in front of the other and headed for the building. Behind her, the sun dipped below Zeus’s palace until the sky above was nothing but a warm pink glow, but she didn’t even notice. She was suddenly too scared that Athena and Zeus had finally figured out she wasn’t Siren material and were going to kick her out of the Order.
She stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at the gods. Steeled herself for the inevitable. “My king.” She bowed, then nodded toward his companion. “My lady Athena. You called for me?”
Zeus, every bit as handsome and muscular and intimidating as always, rested his enormous hands on his hips and peered down at her. “She’s not been altered.”
“No,” Athena replied. “This one did not require any special enhancements.”
Heat rushed to Daphne’s cheeks as Zeus’s gaze rolled over her breasts, slid down her waist to the flare of her hips, then followed the line of her legs to her feet. She wondered if he remembered her. Doubted that he did. Though Zeus occasionally came to the training fields, he rarely paid her any attention. In fact, she’d bet he didn’t even remember meeting her as a child.
Slowly, as if he could see through her clothing to her nakedness beneath, he raked his eyes back up her body until every inch of her skin was hot and trembling. “This is even her natural hair color?”
“Yes,” Athena answered. “She was born with the dark mahogany locks. No makeover necessary.”
“Hm….” The king of the gods moved down the three stone steps and circled Daphne. Her pulse shot into the stratosphere and her stomach caved in as he examined her from every angle. “Curvy. I like that. Nice ass, small waist.” He stopped in front of her and stared at her tits, desire flaring hot in his black as sin eyes. “And these. Enticing.”
Daphne kept her arms at her sides. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t show any response. But her nerves kicked up even higher. It was normal for her to react to an attractive male. All nymphs did. But this wasn’t a male she was even the least bit interested in, and not for the first time she cursed her overly sexual lineage.
“Ahem.” Athena cleared her throat. “The matter at hand?”
Scowling, Zeus turned to look up at the goddess. “Seduction training?”
“Completed,” Athena answered. “She received high marks from her instructor.”
Zeus looked back at Daphne, and once again, his lusty gaze scalded her body. “I’m sure she did. She’s a purebred Naiad. The spitting image of her mother.”
So he did remember her. Images of her mother and the day Daphne had lost her filled Daphne’s mind and tugged at the heart she kept carefully closed off.
“Marksmanship has proven to be a limitation for her.” Athena moved to stand at Zeus’s side and crossed her arms over her chest in a clearly perturbed manner. “If you’d rather see some of the others—”
“No.” Zeus held up a hand but didn’t once look away from Daphne. “This one will do. Tell me, female, have you taken a new name since being on Olympus?”
They were finally talking to her. Daphne had no idea what was going on, but so far it didn’t sound as if they were going to kick her out of the training class. And as much as she hated the mention of her mother, especially in combination with Zeus’s lusty looks, she knew the probability of the god-king propositioning her was slim. She wasn’t her mother, even if she did resemble her. And Sirens, thanks to Athena, were the only females that were off limits to Zeus. “No, my king. I go by my given name, Daphne.”
“Ah, named after the nymph who was rescued from my son Apollo’s unwanted advances and changed into a laurel tree. Tell me, Daphne, do you wish to become a laurel tree like your namesake?”
“No, my king.”
“I should hope not. Your skills would be extremely wasted in tree form.” He clasped his hands behind his back and eyed her carefully. “Sappheire has had nothing but good things to say about you, and so far your training scores have been stellar. Aside from marksmanship, that is.”
“I’m improving,” Daphne said quickly. “I’m working very hard. If you just give me a little more time—”
“Relax.” Zeus held up a hand. “What we need from you does not involve marksmanship.”
Daphne’s gaze darted between Zeus and Athena. “What you need from me?”
Athena shot a frustrated look at Zeus, but he didn’t bother to glance her way. “We’re in need of a Siren with your talents for a special mission. Are you interested?”
She had no idea what kind of mission they were talking about, but something
in her gut said never to say no to the king of the gods. “Yes, of course.”
“She’s too naïve,” Athena mumbled.
“That’s exactly why we’re going to use her.” Zeus’s eyes flashed. “You’ve heard of the rogue Argonaut loose in the human realm? The one they call Ari?”
Daphne’s mind skipped over snippets of gossip she’d heard from her Siren sisters. “We all have. He’s a monster.”
“Yes, he is.” Zeus’s jaw clenched. “A very dangerous monster that needs to be stopped. Unfortunately, our conventional attempts at dealing with him have not worked. Which is where you come in. We want to send you in undercover for the Order.”
Daphne stared at the god’s face for several seconds, sure she had to have heard him wrong. “Me? But I-I’m not even a Siren yet. I haven’t taken my final vows. I’m—”
“You are a nymph. A voluptuous, alluring nymph, like your mother. Aristokles has but one weakness: sexy, vulnerable nymphs. You will pretend to be in jeopardy, let him take you back to his lair, and when he least expects it, kill him.”
Daphne’s heart beat hard, and her hands grew sweaty. This was a suicide mission. She’d heard horror stories about the crazed Argonaut and what he liked to do to Sirens. “But...my king...he tortures and kills Sirens. I’ll not make it past—”
“You are not a full Siren yet,” Athena cut in. “You have not been inducted, you do not bear the marking, and because of your nymph heritage, your body was never altered. He will not sense that you are a Siren, because you are not one...yet.”
“If you succeed in this mission, however,” Zeus added, “you will be inducted immediately upon your return. Regardless of your marksmanship scores.”
Daphne’s pulse roared in her head. This was her chance to belong. To finally be one of them. Her stomach swirled with excitement and apprehension. “Wh-what would I need to do?”