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"Four Stars! Untamed is another thrilling romantic by author Jaide Fox, who truly knows how to weave fantastic tales of other worlds and creatures that will capture your imagination as surely as it will capture your heart. Untamed is book one of the Shadowmere saga, followed by Seduced by Darkness. An exciting and erotic novella that will have you on the edge of your seat." Historical Romance Bookclub
"Four & 1/2 Stars! I found this tale enchanting and very sexy. I long to know more about the people of Shadowmere that were mentioned in this tale and hope there will be more stories forthcoming! I found the characters very well rounded including the supporting characters and the story itself was truly amazing." Scribes World Reviews
“Four Stars! This is a very fast-paced story that grabbed my attention from the first page and held it through the last. I definitely recommend this story to all lovers of paranormal erotica.” Timeless Tales Book Reviews
“UNTAMED is a walk into darkness -- a brave introduction to the world of Shadowmere and the darkly dangerous Beastmen who dwell there. Fox pulls off an excellent adventure incorporating a solid plot, vivid characters, and a tightly- woven romance, never letting up on the tension or the intensity. Though UNTAMED is a long novella, not a novel- length work of fiction, it doesn't disappoint. Everything winds up nicely at the end, though there are the obligatory appearances of the other extremely sexy shapeshifters that, the reader hopes, will appear in future stories.” Sensual Romance Reviews
"4 1/2 Roses, Reviewer's Choice! UNTAMED is a wonderful paranormal erotic tale filled with creative characters, rich environments and non-stop action and adventure. There is never a dull moment! If you love erotic romance with a paranormal twist, then try UNTAMED. Ms. Fox promises to be a high rising star in this genre." Miriam, Love Romances Reviews
"Four Hearts! Blaisen is a sexy shape shifter who doesn't let Ashanti get away with anything. Torn between her feelings for Blaisen and the curse that holds her captive, Ashanti must make the decision to either live in fear or believe in love." The Romance Studio
"UNTAMED is pure fantasy. The characters are wonderful together, and graphic in detail. You wish you could take Blasien home with you. UNTAMED will leave you crying for more. It is a very good story; I look forward to future stories by Ms Fox." Sensual Romance Reviews
"Well written dialogue, with a touch of sarcasm and wit on both the characters parts that kept the flow smooth. Interesting in setting, and premise, a quick way to pass the time on a chilly winter’s eve!" A Romance Review
UNTAMED
By
Jaide Fox
(c) copyright January 2003, Jaide Fox
Cover art by Eliza Black, (c) 2003
New Concepts Publishing
4729 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
ncp@newconceptspublishing.com
CHAPTER ONE
“Lady Ashanti, we have captured a beastman. The curse that plagues you will soon be broken.” Lord Conrad’s voice echoed through the marble hall as he entered, the sound of his heavy booted stride preceding him.
Astonished, Ashanti dropped the heavy, leather bound Grimoire she’d been studying, her fingers gone weak at his announcement. It landed with a dull thud on the plush carpet covering the marble, forgotten.
A smile that chilled her blood slashed across his dark face.
Ashanti returned his smile hesitantly as she rose unsteadily from the scattered pile of pillows she’d been resting on. The light golden chains of her skirt jingled softly as she moved.
She had always hated the garments Lord Conrad insisted that she wear, which were more revealing than concealing. Under other circumstances, she might have found some appeal in the jewel colored, gossamer veils and intricately wrought, golden chains that made up her costumes, but she could scarcely stomach having Lord Conrad look at her at all. The lustful gleam that entered his eyes each time he looked upon her near nakedness made her feel far more than indecent. It made her feel befouled, and yet her mind was such a jumble from his pronouncement that she was only vaguely aware of the conflicting emotions that generally assailed her in Lord Conrad’s presence.
An end to her torment!
Or would it be just the beginning? She knew he planned to claim her once the curse had been broken—if it was even possible.
“How can this be? The beastpeople are forbidden to enter this land, as we are theirs.” An uneasiness assailed her at the implications and she frowned. What had he done?
Typically, the tinkling sounds of her chains drew Lord Conrad’s attention. He ran his gaze over her body, his eyes a soulless black as lust filled him. Careful to conceal her revulsion, she endured his look, pushing it to the back of her mind as she generally did. “Please do not tell me you risked your men to enter Shadowmere.”
Much as she despised him and her virtual imprisonment, she couldn’t abide the thought of bloodshed and endangerment so needless. She wondered how many men he’d lost to his obsessions but knew it didn’t bear thinking on.
Lord Conrad continued smiling as if she hadn’t spoken, his black eyes glittering like a serpent’s. She refrained from shivering, knowing it would not help her cause. He crossed the distance spanning them and clasped her in his arms, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that she went rigid, trying to hold herself aloof from his armor clad body. His musky scent filled her nostrils and she breathed through her mouth to avoid his familiar scent. His clammy hands smoothed over the bare skin of her waist, his clinging fingers bringing to mind leeches.
“Your concern touches me, beloved. Rest assured, we were careful and not detected. He shall not be missed. I suspect he was naught more than a rogue hunter, for the condition we found him in....He was easily taken.” He chuckled, his cruelty seeping out like oil, tainting her with his foulness. She wanted desperately to be free of him, to go and bathe his stench and touch from her skin.
She’d learned in the time she had been with him, however, not to allow her revulsion to show, or to let it rule her life. She knew, despite his cruelty, or perhaps because of it, that the certainty that she found him vile would not persuade him to release her. More likely it would only inspire him to torment her more, and if she allowed these feelings to dominate her, she simply could not endure her captivity. She would go mad.
Moreover, she felt a strange compulsion fill her that forced everything else to the fringes of her mind, felt, but tamed by a need even greater than the desire to escape Lord Conrad’s invasive touch.
She felt the need to see the creature that was to be sacrificed so that she might live.
She had never seen one of these creatures of legend, but it was far more than curiosity that sparked inside her and grew quickly to a desperate need to behold what few mortals had ever seen and lived to tell about.
Myth held that they were loathsome to look upon, that even when they assumed a human-like form, they appeared more monstrous than human, that only to look upon one was sometimes sufficient to drive one insane with pure terror. There were other tales, as well, that, with only a look, or touch, they could fell a powerful man….for what purpose could only be guessed, for in general they shifted and, in their beast form, slaughtered all within their path.
It was insane even to consider going near one of her own will, and yet she found that the need was near overwhelming. Perhaps because she hoped it would cleanse her of the guilt that was burgeoning inside her that it was to die only for the possibility that it might cure her?
Knowing it was useless to even try, yet unwilling to abandon the hope that he’d heed her, she dared to request something of him. Her voice muffled by his proximity, she said, “I would like to see him.” Ashanti felt him stiffen, his arms like a rigid wooden cage, trapping her.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes, his expression a mixture of suspicion, reluctance and pleasure. “You are certain?”
The pleasure, she understood. He seemed to suffer from an overwhelming need to brag about every accomplishment and there was little doubt in her mind that he was eager to show her his prize.
His reluctance, she might have put down to concern for her safety, but she knew him far too well by now to allow that as a real possibility. More likely his reluctance stemmed from his suspicions, but she was at a loss to fathom how her motives could be suspect, or what he thought she might do.
Perhaps he suspected that the sight of the creature might deprive her of her wits and feared he would end up with a blubbering lunatic?
The thought almost brought a smile to her lips. She suppressed the urge even as she dismissed her anxieties about his suspicions. She didn’t care what he thought, what he suspected, or how it might affect her in the future. She felt that, regardless of possible consequences, she had to see the creature.
“You will take his life. I wish to see the beast who sacrifices so much for me.” It was rare that she made a request of him, and she hoped this time he would oblige her wishes.
He turned to go, and she felt defeated, but then he held his arm out to her. “Very well, but I warn you, ‘tis not a fair sight.”
***
As they stepped into the dungeon and the heavy wooden door closed behind them, Ashanti noticed with some relief that a small circle of light surrounded them, provided by a solitary flickering torch. A guard sat in a rickety chair just inside the dungeon that occupied the nether regions of the castle. Stout and prone to drink, he stumbled awkwardly to his feet as they entered, bobbing his head more out of fear than respect. Lord Conrad fixed him with a long, cold stare but said nothing. Instead, after that one, hard stare, he seemed to dismiss the frightened man, turning instead to pick up a torch, which he held to the one on the wall until it, too, flickered to life.
Beyond, the dungeon seemed to stretch into an eternity of darkness. Ashanti shivered, but not from the cold and damp that permeated the air, crawling across her scantily clad form like the lifeless hands of a dead lover. The place reeked of sickness, torture and death. The darkness seemed almost a tangible thing.
Without a word, apparently oblivious to her distress, Lord Conrad strode down the narrow corridor leading to the cells. Closing her mind to the possibility of other occupants, Ashanti followed him, staying close only because the heavy blackness was even more repellent than Lord Conrad’s proximity.
An odd sort of anticipation blossomed inside her as they traversed the narrow, twisted corridors that seemed to lead off in every direction with no apparent design. A part of her mind counted the paces and turns they took, an instinctual reaction rather than through conscious effort, as it flickered through her mind that it would be all too easy to become lost in this labyrinth of darkness.
She was more conscious of the tempo of her heart, which seemed to outstrip their pace. Fear? Unaccustomed activity?
She dismissed the last almost as soon as she thought it. Despite her affliction, she was not such a weakling as to become breathless and weak from so little exertion, so that her heart labored to support her.
The fear….She acknowledged she felt some, and had every right to it, all things considered, but she knew there could be no real threat or Lord Conrad would not have brought her…would not have come without men to protect them. He was not a coward, but neither was he a fool.
At any rate, it was more than just fear. It was anticipation, and it grew stronger as they progressed, more powerful, until she could not dismiss the fact that it was not altogether a product of her own mind. Something was reaching out to her, touching her in a way she had never been touched before.
She tried to dismiss those thoughts as purely fanciful imaginings, but, in her heart, she knew it was more than that. It was as if she was rushing to meet a long, lost lover.
That thought was so stunning that she stumbled and almost fell.
Lord Conrad stopped. Briefly, she thought it was because he’d heard her. Then she noticed he’d stopped before a cell and was staring fixedly at something within.
A rush of mixed emotions filled her. Almost reluctantly, she moved forward until she was standing beside him.
“Why is he naked?” Ashanti asked, her steel blue gaze drawn to the creature …the man… within like a magnet despite the dimness of the cell.
Lord Conrad blinked, as if awakening from a daze, but instead of answering, he turned and thrust the torch he held into a rusted iron brazier bolted to the wall outside the cell. The flames flickered, casting eerie shadows.
In the dappled light, she could see the trussed man who dwarfed even the large cell. His massive arms were stretched above his head and manacled with heavy chain to the damp stone. The muscles of his chest and shoulders strained in pain and the effort not to collapse, his legs spread and chained to the wall as well. Ashanti remained well away from him, the bars a barrier between them, but his size was still impressive even with the distance. He was tall—no—huge, towering above her height at least a foot, and she was as tall as any man. Ice blond hair, like pale gold, fell past an impossibly wide chest and clung to his narrow waist, baring and hiding tantalizing bits of tanned flesh. His sex was thankfully covered with a loincloth, but otherwise he was naked.
“This was how he was found. No doubt clothing restricts their capabilities. He’s a monster, is he not?”
Knowing agreement with Lord Conrad was always an expected thing, Ashanti nodded slowly, absently, wonder widening her eyes as she looked over him again, letting the sight sink into her mind.
At the sound of Lord Conrad’s voice, the man had looked up, his wild features hardening into a mask of hatred and rage. She felt Lord Conrad stiffen beside her. The prisoner’s gaze then shifted to her, and she felt as if she’d been struck a blow to her solar plexus, the air knocked out of her lungs. She gasped, trying to retain her composure, but it was nearly impossible with him looking at her. Her heart quickened, the beating pulse pounding in her ears.
She shook her head, covering her eyes momentarily. Ashanti had never seen one of the creatures of legend. That he looked as human as she did startled her. She’d expected him to look like the beast she’d always been told they were…terrifying even to look upon.
But although his body was that of a human, his eyes betrayed the untamed animal hidden inside.
Ashanti looked away, her heart slowing as she did so, her breathing relaxing once more. Strangely, she felt as if he’d spoken to her with that one look, almost as though he begged her help, but he looked too proud a man to ever beg for anything.
“Damned animal. Do you see his defiance? I’ll be glad to break the beast.”
A well of sickness invaded her throat at Lord Conrad’s comment. One of his many pleasures was tormenting animals…in fact any creature weaker than himself and although the beastman looked to be a capable warrior, he was chained and unable to defend himself should Lord Conrad yield to his propensity for torture.
Ashanti swallowed against a painfully dry throat to speak, eager to distract him, yet in too much turmoil to choose her words as carefully as she should have. “How can you be so certain that he is a beastman? He looks so...so human.”
“You’ve doubts? I admit he is not nearly so impressive as he is when in leopard form.” He removed a key from his belt and opened the cell door, moving to a table with implements of torture laid across it in ascending order of size, shining metal flashing in the light. “I will allay your fears, beloved.”
Inexplicably, the endearment sounded more foul in the strange man’s presence, even more so when she realized her careless comments had precipitated just the situation she’d hoped to avoid. She felt a sick feeling in her stomach when she saw him pick up a cat ‘o nine tails. He fingered the braids lovingly. Surely he didn’t mean to use it? But she saw that he had every intention of torturing the man. Even as she cried out for him to hold, he whirled around and slashed the wicked barbs across the man’s chest again and again.
Ashanti screamed, and he ceased his barrage, chest heaving, blood flecked across his face like a butcher’s block. The braids dangled to the floor and she thought he’d strike again, but he returned the whip to the table. She darted a glance quickly to the man and covered her mouth to keep from cursing Conrad and inviting his wrath. Jagged splits of red cut across the man’s tan flesh, blood flowing to the cold gray stone. The man jerked against his chains like he would tear Lord Conrad apart, silent, hating. His pain ripped Ashanti to the core. How could she have ever doubted Lord Conrad’s intentions? The man had no conscience.
Bile rose in her throat, but she choked it back.
Suddenly, even as she watched in horror and pity, the man’s bleeding slowed, then stopped completely. Her eyes widened in astonishment as the skin began knitting itself up, becoming whole once more, leaving naught more than angry welts.
It was true then. He was a shifter.
If the witch Lord Conrad had consulted could be believed, this man’s blood would heal her curse. The time of the hunter’s moon was fast approaching. If she was to live, he would have to be sacrificed. That was what she’d been told and what Lord Conrad held as truth. Nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted, and he’d lusted after her her entire life.
Apparently drained of energy by the effort to heal his newest wounds, the man’s head slowly drooped, his chin resting against his chest, his defiant glare shielded as his eyes slowly closed. Ashanti thought he must have passed out. How could he have borne the pain so silently? She looked down, realizing that there was already dried blood on the floor. How many times had this happened?
And how had Lord Conrad captured the unattainable in the first place? They were more than human, faster, more savage, and could heal any blow save one made by silver. She knew if released, he would likely kill his tormentors, for that was the way of a caged animal. He was wild and deserved to be free, not taken against his will and sacrificed on the off chance that a girl’s life could be saved.
No matter that she wanted to live, Ashanti knew suddenly that she could not allow the atrocity Lord Conrad proposed. She could not bear an innocent’s man’s death on her conscience. She’d had enough death in her life.
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