Kronos’ Concubine (Dominant Gods #1)

Prologue

Shelley Roper

Tugging the scarf tighter around her neck, Shelley stumbled along the street. The wind was colder than she remembered, shriller, as though each icy blast was destined to hold her back. Sniffing back her tears, her lips twisted at the irony.

Everything in life seemed fated to bring that same bitter conclusion.

Every time she thought she was inching closer to something akin to contentment, each time happiness peeked out from behind its veil, it was grasped from her reach again.

“Like Joel…” She whispered his name into the breeze, turning her collar up against the gale. “I really thought he was the one. Really thought we had something good, but…”

Her words trailed away, lost to the choking emotion caught in her throat.

If Joel wasn’t happy, then why hadn’t he sat her down and talked to her about his needs?

She’d have been eager to hear them, eager to please.

Instead, he’d been flirting with Leanne from Accounts for the last few months, and it had taken until that morning for him to find the balls to actually tell Shelley.

And only then because she’d noticed a text message from the new lucky lady on his phone.

Blinking away her tears, Shelley drew the strap of the rucksack higher on her shoulders.

She didn’t blame Leanne. Not really. No doubt she was only the latest woman to flatter his ego and catch his eye, just as Shelley had once been.

The responsibility lay with Joel, a man whose birth certificate claimed he was almost forty, but whose emotional maturity rivalled most teenage boys.

He was the one who’d made promises to her about monogamy.

If he’d changed his mind about their relationship, then he should have been the one to tell her before she’d found the errant message on his device.

Glancing up, the twinkling lights of a nearby café drew her attention, and seeking shelter from the freezing gusts, she opted to go inside. She checked her watch as she yanked open the door, acknowledging there were still forty-five minutes before she needed to catch her bus.

Plenty of time for one drink.

The tinkling bell over the door welcomed her, as did the rush of warm air and noise of other patrons that hit her in the face when she walked inside.

“Good afternoon.” The man behind the counter was unusually tall and well-built with a kind face, his lips curling as the door slammed shut. “Come out of the cold.”

“Thank you.” Shelley wiped her eyes hastily with the heel of her hand.

Hours of crying meant her face must have been red and swollen. She hadn’t intended to stop for a drink, but something about the cozy place had drawn her in.

“Are you okay?” The man’s tone was sympathetic. “Do you need a tissue?”

He produced a box from behind the counter, thrusting it in Shelley’s direction.

“Oh, thank you.” Shuffling closer, Shelley took one, dabbing the paper at her eyes.

Fleetingly, it occurred to her how strange it was that a café kept tissues by the till, but she swallowed back the thought. The stranger was only being thoughtful. She should have been grateful.

“What else can I get you?” Withdrawing the box, the café-owner gestured to the blackboard behind her head.

“Just a hot tea, please.” Shelley cast an eye over the board, scanning the list of tempting homemade cakes. “It’s so cold out there.”

“One pot of tea.” His smile grew. “Take a seat. I’ll bring it over to you.”

“Thanks.”

Turning to choose a seat, Shelley was struck by how empty the café was. She was sure the place had been teeming with customers when she’d walked in, but scanning the rows of tables, she saw they were all vacant.

That’s odd.

Her brows knitted briefly, but she instantly pushed the oddity away. Either she’d misjudged the volume when she’d walked in, or perhaps some people had left since she’d been chatting to the man at the checkout.

But I would have heard the bell if anyone had left.

Her focus flitted to the tiny silver chime waiting over the doorway. She’d distinctly heard it on her way in, but it hadn’t rung again since.

“Here you go.” The man appeared behind Shelley, clasping a tray including one small teapot, a china cup and saucer, and a small jug of milk. “Will you need sugar?”

“Er, no.” Flustered at being unable to deduce a logical reason for the abrupt emptying of the café, Shelley forced a smile. “This is perfect.”

“Sit down.” He nodded to the table behind her.

“Thanks.” Pulling back a chair, she dumped her huge bag on the floor beside her and sank onto the seat, watching as he unloaded the items from the tray. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, there’s no rush.” Tucking the tray under his arm, he dismissed her with a small flick of his large hand. “My customers always pay on their way out.”

“R-right.” Shelley’s heart rate accelerated at the peculiarity of the unfolding events as she watched him wander away.

She’d never seen the café by the bus station before, but for some reason, she’d decided to come inside and buy a drink.

Not too unusual given the wintry clime, but she wasn’t normally someone who wasted money on drinks and meals out.

Coupled with that was how weird it was that the man had produced a tissue for her, seemingly on demand, and then the way the shop had gone from being busy to empty without her even noticing the exodus.

It’s just a strange day. Shaking her head, she poured a drop of milk into the cup before filling the rest of the vessel with rich-colored tea. I’m exhausted over Joel. It’s nothing.

Nothing that had transpired since she’d found that text on Joel’s phone had turned out the way Shelley had expected. That was why she was headed to the bus station in the middle of the gale in the first place.

Pulling in a deep breath, she dragged the teacup closer, thankful for its heat as she wrapped her hands around it.

The bus didn’t leave for another forty minutes, and the station was only around the corner.

There was time to enjoy that one small luxury before she boarded it and her life turned the page on yet another despondent chapter.

She lifted the cup to her lips, breathing in the aroma of English tea before she took a sip.

Reaching into her coat pocket for her phone, she checked her messages, foolishly hopeful that Joel might have changed his mind and left her a groveling message begging her to come back to the apartment they’d shared, but there was nothing.

No pleading missives and no signs of regret.

“Fuck him.” She mouthed the words, peering out at the darkening street as she drank more tea.

Sitting there, the idea cemented. If Joel wasn’t man enough to communicate his feelings to her, that was his problem. She hadn’t expected to be moving out of town so close to the holidays, but his behavior had made the decision for her.

What would be, would be.

She’d finish her drink and move on to a brighter future, even if it did mean moving back in with her mum until she found the deposit for a new place.

Resigned to her situation, her sadness morphed into a new emotion, something steadier and more determined. There were no more tears as she poured herself another cup, and only the faintest glimmer of a headache as she supped at the intense, chocolate-colored liquid.

Funny.

The beverage had been steaming hot at first, yet over the few minutes she’d been ruminating, it had almost cooled entirely. It was good, though, a point she acknowledged by draining the remainder of her second cup and checking the teapot for the possibility of a third.

“Would you like more?” The man’s question echoed from behind the counter.

“No, thank you. I have a bus to catch.”

Shelley emptied the teapot and swirled the liquid around her cup, watching the motion of its ever-decreasing circles. Her grandmother had read tea leaves when Shelley was a little girl. The matriarch had been something of a local oracle, advising other women who visited looking for advice.

There was no such wisdom in the bottom of Shelley’s cup, though, only her recognition of a swell of surging heat and a sudden wave of exhaustion that began at her feet, rooting her to the spot.

“I should go.” She considered reaching for her wallet at the top of her rucksack, but turning her head seemed to shake the walls of the café around her, the table and window trembling as she straightened.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere.” The man’s laughter snaked around her, but even then, as the normal world bled away, there was nothing ominous in its tone.

“But my bus?” Shelley’s head was pounding by then, her chin difficult to raise when he floated closer.

“There are no buses from here.” His compassionate expression was back, the only fixed point in the room as Shelley’s mind desperately grasped for answers to the disturbing riddle.

What was happening to her? Why couldn’t she get up from her chair?

“Not for you, Shelley.”

“Wh-what?” Shelley stammered. “How do you know my name?”

“I know who you are. I’ve been waiting for you, Shelley-Ann.” His hazel eyes bored into her, their hue lingering even as her gaze slid closed.

“Nobody calls me Shelley-Ann, except my mum.”

She thought she murmured the words, but it was possible she only dreamed them. Reality had been lost to whatever toxins were swimming happily in her system. A product, she supposed, of the only thing she’d consumed since she’d seen that awful text from Leanne—the tea from the café.

The final thing she acknowledged was being lifted from the seat and thrown, rather unceremoniously, over someone’s shoulder.

She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes and confirm the disconcerting sensations, the weight of her lids too heavy to assist, but she reasoned it was why her limbs hung free as she moved through the air.

Then, at the moment that sickly sleep came to claim her, she heard his voice again, her brow creasing as she made sense of his words.

“He never deserved you anyway, Shelley-Ann. You’re right where you need to be.”