Devon's Revenge

By Jade Archer

Devon never wanted to be free. He never wanted to leave the safety of the harem. Forced out of the only home he's ever known, he's cold, hungry and...angry for the first time in his life. Revenge needs to be very sweet.

Faced with an impossible choice, Devon threw away his only chance of returning to his Master and the sheltered life of a pleasure slave. Now, abandoned and abused, Devon is struggling to find his way alone in a strange new world—Earth. Being a stray certainly isn't easy, and replacing his Master is proving almost impossible. Then he meets Nate.

Nate isn't looking for a mate. He certainly didn't expect to find him in a club about to go down on another man! But something about Devon calls to him like no one ever has before. Now if he can just make sure Devon isn't the most dangerous kind of shifter—the kind that would do anything to return to their master—perhaps they can work on exploring the mutual attraction that's simmering between them, ready to explode.

Unfortunately, there are more challenges still ahead for Devon. More for Nate and Devon to face than learning secrets and earning trust with a new mate. There are enemies moving in. Some they never knew existed, and some that still haunt Devon's nightmares. And they're ready and waiting to take any chance of a happily ever after away forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Apr 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9780857155160

Jade Archer

Jade Archer was born in 2010 after a prolonged pregnancy and labour of over 34 years! I've decided she is about 24, enjoys long walks in the country because she does not have five kids and a husband to care for, eats as much chocolate as she wants because she never has to worry about putting on weight (must be all those long walks!) and can often be found planning her next whirlwind world tour or endlessly typing away (without any interruptions) on another hot and steamy erotic romance. It might be space pirates; it might be shifters or a lonely vampire with a hunger for the girl next door, one thing is for sure, she loves variety and cannot wait to meet the next characters destined to fall in love.

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A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Devon’s Revenge

ISBN # 978-0-85715-516-0

©Copyright Jade Archer 2011

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright April 2011

Edited by Andrea Grimm

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content, which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

Portals

DEVON’S REVENGE

Jade Archer

Dedication

For M.E., because you were always brave and now you are free.

Prologue

You stupid slut! Master Gailin screamed as he slapped Mirra’s cheek and sent her sprawling across the cold flagstone floor.

Trembling in shock and fear, Mirra barely resisted the urge to curl into a ball and screw her eyes shut—a futile attempt to make it all go away, but still very tempting nevertheless.

She couldn’t believe the Master had found them. She’d thought the disused root cellar would be the perfect hiding spot. So far from the main living area of the castle, it was almost in the catacombs and nearly lost to living memory. It had taken her weeks to find it. Yet somehow they had still been discovered.

Covering the side of her red, throbbing face with a trembling hand, Mirra crawled back to the small wicker basket in the centre of the little stone room she had chosen so carefully. She cowered over the woven rim protectively, but with a deep sense of foreboding.

While she didn’t make a sound, the two tiny kittens inside—little more than bundles of black and brindle fur—weren’t so circumspect. They mewled pitifully, giving voice to their distress as they huddled together against the side and tried desperately to reach her.

They were so frightened. The Master’s anger—something she’d managed to shelter them from since their birth nine days earlier—was overwhelming. And Mirra knew just how they felt. Her own terror clawed at her insides—demanding she get away and hide somewhere dark and safe. She wanted so badly to grab the kittens up and run as far away as possible. But she couldn’t. There was no escape. Master Gailin would find her. Master Gailin always found her.

She couldn’t even risk touching them to offer comfort in case it made the situation worse. But then, as Master Gailin stepped up to tower over them—his dark eyes flashing with rage, his thin face white and drawn tight with anger—Mirra knew it probably couldn’t get much worse than it was right now anyway. She stayed still and silent regardless, long years of training and experience locking her in place.

Did you think you could hide this from me? Master Gailin roared, his fists clenched tightly by his side as his entire body vibrated with fury. Turning, he paced away furiously.

Mirra simply hunched her shoulders—instinctively trying to make herself as small a target as possible. She knew better than to try to defend herself. All she could do was keep her eyes carefully lowered in submission and hope the Master’s tirade would burn off some of his anger.

The hardest part was not to comfort and console the terrified kittens. All she wanted was to pick them up, cuddle them close and gently stroke their soft, new fur. Tears burned her eyes, the pain of denying her instincts lodging in her throat and making it hard to breathe. But she kept her trembling hands to herself.

This is bad. Oh! This is so bad. She cinched her arms around her thin waist and barely resisted the need to begin rocking herself.

Her mind worked frantically. Had she been careless and betrayed the kittens somehow? Or had she been betrayed by someone in the household? Was it one of the other cat shifters, jealous of her position as current favourite amongst the harem slaves? She would gladly give the ‘honoured’ position to someone else, she thought miserably. How could someone betray her little family?

Panic hit her hard and fast at the thought. If she had been betrayed, what else might they have told the Master? Could her mate be in danger? Through sheer force of will she stopped herself from looking over at the tall, silent warrior by the door, but it was almost painful to deny the impulse—her mounting terror for her lover nearly overpowering her.

Somehow her growing fear must have communicated itself to the kittens, because she suddenly felt two raspy tongues bathing her forearms. Hanging onto the wicker edge precariously they had managed to clamber up the side of the basket and now offered tiny wet kisses—as if trying to ease her worries—before they both tumbled back in.

Oh! My poor babies, she moaned softly to herself, crouching down lower in a desperate attempt to hide them and their innocent antics.

Abruptly, the Master stopped pacing—his long, flowing robes billowing out around him. Arcane symbols of power glowed faintly over the material.

Never a good sign, Mirra fretted.

Who dared to betray me? the Master demanded of the warrior—her mate, her lover, her only reason to live before the kittens were born—as he stood guard by the door. I will have names and heads, Dante. How could you let this happen while the household was under your supervision?

Mirra suppressed the sob of relief that bubbled up inside her as the potential threat to her mate’s life skipped over them—at least for now. Their Master couldn’t know, or Dante would be dead already.

Dante simply bowed deeply from the waist, his fist pressed over his heart in the customary symbol of obedience and servitude. I beg your forgiveness, my Master.

Dante’s calm, stoic demeanour made him appear aloof and detached, but Mirra knew better. Even the deep timbre of his voice affected her. What she wouldn’t give to be in his arms right now.

The Master continued to fume, too caught up in his own anger to notice either Dante’s apology or his continued submission. He began to pace back and forth across the tiny cellar again.

If I wanted more kittens, he ranted. I’d have had more kittens bred! He flung his arm in the kittens’ direction with a look of disgust on his face. Look at the mongrel things. Not a hint of good breeding in them, the Master spat contemptuously, missing the dark flash of anger in Dante’s eyes and his jaw clenched in a rage every bit the Master’s equal.

Abruptly, Master Gailin stopped and turned on Mirra as she cowered on the floor. Who was it?

Mirra curled in on herself, preparing for another blow. The question she had feared the Master asking ever since she had discovered she was pregnant hung in the air between them all as she remained silent and refused to answer.

How dare you! Master Gailin bellowed, sending out a wave of energy so strong it slammed Mirra back against the rough stone wall with a bone jarring thump.

Pain radiated out from where she had hit, and now she was pinned by her throat to the cold stone wall. The kaleidoscope of agony blossomed out and fluctuated as muscles tensed and strained to try to absorb the impact. Even having steeled herself for the attack, Mirra couldn’t completely stifle her cry. It joined with the kitten’s increasingly distressed whimpering.

She saw Dante’s fists clenched tight, his knuckles standing out white with strain. Mirra prayed he would have the sense to remain quiet. Nothing could be done. If the Master wanted to kill her, she would die. But someone had to protect the kittens. Keep them safe.

As the Master maintained the pressure against her throat, stars of multicoloured light tunnelled in. Her vision dulled around the edges. A grey fuzz settled in, threatening to darken her sight forever if she continued without air for too much longer.

Unexpectedly, the pressure was released and Mirra gulped oxygen convulsively—coughing and spluttering helplessly as she rubbed at her abused throat. She saw Dante’s tense frame relax ever so slightly out of the corner of her eye as she collapsed to the floor—still struggling to breathe, but grateful to be alive.

If you weren’t so valuable I’d make an example of you! the Master hissed, sounding more like a cat than she was. As it is, if I ever discover the other’s identity…

And that was exactly why Mirra had remained silent. While the Master left the threat unfinished and hanging ominously in the space between them, there really was no need to elaborate. Mirra knew, as every one of the Master’s slaves knew, what would happen if her lover was ever revealed. It would be a slow, torturous death, carried out in full view of the household, probably over many days. She would rather die herself than for that to happen.

Dante! Take these… the Master sneered down at the kittens as they continued to cry pitifully, still distressed and now huddled together seeking comfort. Take these creatures and drown them.

No! Mirra screamed. Please, Master! She tried to catch hold of his robe, but he whipped the material away with an angry jerk.

Make her watch, he added spitefully. She’ll think twice before defying me like this again!

Mirra looked up into Dante’s eyes desperately and saw the barely perceivable shake of his head that their Master missed in his malice. Mirra held her tongue, but it was nearly impossible with the threat to the kittens hanging over them all.

We leave at first light for the Capital. It will be done by then, and you will both be ready to go. From now on, you will be coming with me while I travel, Mirra. I’ll not trust you again to remain behind while I attend business. You can keep me company on my trips, Master Gailin leered.

Mirra didn’t hear or care—drowning in tears as the Master mage swept from the room.

* * * *

A storm was coming. The trees were tossed about like the rolling, tumbling waves of the ocean. Leaves and loose wood fell all around them as they stepped off the road and into the forest.

Mirra trembled. She could smell the faint trace of ozone in the air. Could see the flashes of lightening and hear the echoing boom of thunder. But the torture of her soul was far more devastating than the approaching storm could ever be.

She clutched the basket with her precious babies tightly to her chest as they came to a stop in a clearing just off the road.

Dante’s expression was set in a firm, inflexible mask. It’s the best I can do, Mirra. It was the only house I could find that might take the kittens in on such short notice.

Dante! I can’t! I can’t just abandon them. Especially not here, Mirra pleaded. Her eyes misted with tears and her throat was raw and husky. They’re just babies. Our babies, Dante.

We have no choice, Dante countered tightly. He was trying to appear strong and determined, but Mirra could tell he was hurting. Unfortunately, seeing how distressed her mate was only made Mirra’s pain worse. If we take the kittens. If we run. He’ll find us, Mirra. You know he will. And then what? He will definitely kill them. Slowly and painfully, to teach us a lesson. Dante stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, cradling the basket between them. We won’t have an opportunity like this again, Mirra. This is the only way to save them. We live for today and hope for tomorrow.

But why this house? Of all the houses— Mirra’s voice, shrill even to her own ears, caught in her throat.

He will see that they are fed and sheltered. I’ve spoken to the steward. Master Nevin is hungry for power. Gywen is sure they will be taken in. And what more can we ask for? Come on, sweetheart, the servant will be here any minute. Dante leant forward and kissed her brow tenderly, then quickly lifted his head and stepped back when they heard someone coming towards them through the forest.

What more could we ask for? Mirra wondered silently as her grief slowly turned to a molten rage and hot tears spilt down her cheeks. Was it too much to ask to love and be loved openly? Was the freedom to have children, to laugh and hold each other as a family more than they should ever hope for? Was the chance to grow old and die surrounded by the ones they loved more than they could ever expect?

Mirra looked down at the basket she had hidden the kittens in and gently pulled back the blanket she had wrapped around them. The ginger brown tabby lay curled on his side asleep. His tiny paws twitched occasionally, perhaps in a dream of running wild and free, chasing his brother. He took the storm and the unexpected journey in his stride.

The other kitten, the pure black one, however, stared back at her plaintively. Pale blue eyes peered up out of a tiny, ink black face. Tears pooled in her eyes again as he mewled softly, lifting one paw out to her.

What’s wrong? he seemed to say. Don’t be sad.

Sniffing back the tears, she tried to be strong for him. She reached down and stroked his silky soft head lovingly.

Stay safe, little one. Be a good boy… her voice faltered.

Leaning down quickly she kissed the top of the kitten’s head, wrapped the blanket back around the basket and placed it gently on the ground before letting Dante drag her away.

She blocked her ears to the kitten’s cries of distress as he tried to call them back.

Chapter One

Don’t go! Devon heard himself calling out in a hoarse, raspy voice as he slowly regained consciousness.

Damn! He’d had the dream again. He couldn’t even escape its clutches in unconsciousness.

Moaning softly, he forced himself to roll over onto his side and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the threadbare carpet.

How long have I been out this time? he wondered, carefully wiping the blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand and wincing when he encountered a split in his lower lip.

Heaving himself up into a sitting position, he knew from experience that it was a rhetorical question. There was no real way of knowing how long he’d been out. Unconsciousness was a blissfully empty void—a small reprieve to appreciate while it lasted. It was ironic that in all the years