Earth Borne (17 page)

Murmurs shuffled through the room. Whether of agreement or dissension, he wasn’t sure.

“Too much uncertainty beclouds this for us to pledge our loyalty. No one speaks of when this war will take place.” Hector folded his hands on top of the table. Had his decision been made?

“Aye. The gods count time differently from us. We might train an army of soldiers, only to watch them age and die centuries later, without ever having been called upon.” Oreius snorted, seeming to side with Hector. Damn, another one lost. “To take those men from their families and fields without a damn good reason is unfeasible.” How would Thereus convince them when he possessed no valid argument for their concerns?

Cheiron remained silent during the entire discussion, which wasn’t unusual. His sire would weigh everyone’s opinions and make, as always, a wise decision. His father knew Gaven and Nazrin. Even though they were the sons of the frivolous wind god Zephyrus, their hearts were pure.

Thereus dropped his weary head into his hands and grunted a response as everyone headed to the dining hall for the evening meal.

He scowled. It was evening, and he’d missed Lucian, who would soon be asleep. He’d barely spent any time with his son today. What a pathetic father he was turning out to be. In the future, no matter how busy, he’d make time for Lucian. He’d missed his son’s first four years, he’d be damned if he would squander any more.

The urge to behold his mate shot through him again and he bolted to his feet. Thereus flashed to centaur form and wound through the halls to join the others.

Divided amongst three long tables, the dining hall crowded with dozens of centaurs, Lapiths, and numerous other descendant species. The fireplaces on either end were ablaze, casting warmth into the otherwise sterile alabaster room. The far wall displayed his father’s table, where his brothers dined with their mates and children. The tables overflowed with roasted meats, succulent and dripping with fat. Demeter’s gifts adorned them—loaves of bread, platters of vegetables and fruits. Enough ale, mead, and wine graced the tables to make even Dionysus intoxicated. He smiled. Too much time had passed since he’d attended a centaur feast.

The exhaustion swept from his mind the instant he spotted Kalliste. She was radiant, in a gown of indigo, her long hair loose about her shoulders. He grinned as he caught her gaze, flashing her a wicked wink. Striding to Lucian first, he patted his son’s head while the lad spoke animatedly with his cousins. The boy would not miss his company this eve.

At Kalliste’s side, he sniffed the air and caught a nervous tension seeping through her pores. Sweeping her hand in his, he reclined on the multi-hued cushions, his centaur form so enormous the table reached his middle as surely as his human form did when he sat on a chair.

Kalliste’s focus darted around the room. She was doing this for him, was here
for him
. He bent, intending to give her cheek a soft kiss. Once he inhaled her scent, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. She was far too luscious.

The people in the hall vanished from his vision, leaving his sweet nymph and him in their own world. He clenched his jaw, fighting not to kiss her.

Instead, he nuzzled her neck, her rapid pulse encouraging his own. Her breasts rose and fell, and he was damn near undone. Had he been in human form, he’d be so hard he wouldn’t be able to hide his erection.

“Eat, my Lord.” She waved to the plate in front of him. Food held no appeal for him at this moment. Only she sated his appetite.

“Everyone is watching us,” she murmured against his cheek.

“I don’t care. I’m not hungry,
Melita
, not for food. I need you.” She shivered under his words. Proof she felt the same.

“Forgive me,” he whispered into her ear.

“For what?”

“This.” He shot to his feet and tossed his mate over his shoulder, ignoring her exclamations and the gapes of shock on everyone’s faces. Like the savage centaur he was, he strode out of the hall with his pyrate’s booty.

Several of his brethren hollered and applauded, causing a satisfied grin to tug at his lips.

He shifted her slight weight to his arms and carried her up the stairs to his chamber. Safely locked inside, he set her on the floor. The horse and human inside him were at war. His animal half saw nothing wrong with what he’d done. His civilized side struggled to muster an explanation for her.

He steadied her teetering feet and met her gaze. Damn the human, his animal craved her. Now. He didn’t stop to contemplate whether her face was flushed from embarrassment or from having been carried upside down as his lips ravished her.

His bonding mark burned, a throbbing that pulsed through his entire body. “I’m so sorry.” He pressed stolen kisses along her silken flesh.

“No, you’re not.” She laughed.

“Aye, you’re right. I’m not.” He nipped at her rosy lips, but she placed her hands on his chest and peered at him.

“I need you,” he begged. He was bloody pleading. Had he not been in such misery, he would’ve howled at how ridiculous he’d become. At how low the mighty lustful centaur had fallen. At how weak
she’d
made him. Was it like this for every bonding male? He hadn’t ever appreciated how agonizing the process was.

“I know.” She smiled and her touch upon his cheek was utterly tender. Her fingers dragged downward, tracing the muscles of his chest. It took everything in him to remain still. Was she accepting him? He didn’t dare—

“Take me, Thereus.”

He growled, flashed to human form, and held her against the wall. His lips were everywhere, tasting her, savoring every inch yet devouring all of her at the same time.

His heart thundered, a steady pounding in his ears. How yielding, how sweet his nymph—he wrenched his lips from hers and cursed. Of course, that was it. She was a nymph. She couldn’t refuse.

What the hell was he thinking, anyway? Mating without the bond? For a centaur, such behavior was vulgar. Dishonorable. A centaur’s mate was to be cherished.

Claiming females was part of their nature, yet when it came to mates, there were rules. Unspoken codes. They weren’t to be treated the same as the wenches they took.

His entire body shook from the tremors of his hunger as he forced his hands to unclench the fabric of her skirts. To release her.

No matter how badly he ached for her, he refused to claim her without the bond. She deserved the best of him. He’d vowed as much and refused to break his oath.

“No, Kalliste. I can’t do this, yet. We must discuss something first.”

Though her lips were delectably plump from his kisses, he tore his attention from them to peer into those mahogany pools. Pain clouded their beauty, and instantly, he regretted this whole situation. Did she conclude he was rejecting her? How could he explain he was actually trying to accept her—completely?

Even more, what right did he have to ask her to join with him when she didn’t love him yet? She needed more time. He might not have any to offer her.

“Sweetling.” Glancing aside, he shook his head, unable to speak with her like this, when his lust overpowered his sanity. What was the best method for broaching the subject with her? Never in his life had anything terrified him more.

She frowned and he hated seeing confusion in her eyes. Hated that he’d put it there. He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I must speak with you.” He ran his hand through his hair as he shot her an apologetic grimace. “Well, let’s face it, I’m a bloody mess.”

She raised a brow, the corner of her mouth curving. “Indeed?”

Saucy wench.
“Give me an hour?” Gods, he hated how desperate he sounded.

“Of course.” Her hands trembled as she straightened her dress, betraying her light tone.

“Will you meet me in the atrium?” A public place, so he wouldn’t be tempted to take the coward’s way out and ravish her.

“An hour.” She tilted her head and glided away.

He sank onto the bed. With deep, steady breaths, he managed to calm his horse. Muttering, he rehearsed his speech. His arm burned, reminding him he was running out of time. The
lyssa
was becoming harder and harder to fend off.

He wasn’t worthy of bonding with her if she didn’t love him. Yet he might not have a choice.

Damn. It wasn’t merely him craving her affection. He was bloody terrified of becoming like Hector. Of bonding to a female who felt nothing for him.

At the very least, tonight he had to explain the bonding to her. She had a right to know what was coming. He prayed if she didn’t desire him, she would refuse. Her rejection would kill him, of course. Better to suffer now, when he might have a chance at freedom, than be bound to her forever.

With heavy footsteps, he trudged to the gardens. As his hand stretched to open the wooden door, out marched his brother Petraeus. A glint in his eye immediately set Thereus at unease.

“Brother.” Petraeus nodded once and strutted past him.

As he did so, Thereus caught a scent on him. A sweet honey scent belonging to
him
. His horse roared as he snatched his brother’s arm and wheeled him about. Grabbing him by the collar, he glared, nose to nose, his senses confirming Kalliste’s scent. His growling eliminated his use for speech. The other centaur understood his meaning.

No repentance shadowed the insolence in the bastard’s smirk. Petraeus brushed off his arms. “Tastes like honey, doesn’t she?”

Blood-dark fury colored Thereus’s vision. “What the hell does that mean?” It was more of a threat than a question.

“It means,
brother
, you’re not the only one who’s begun a new life. I’ve made an offer to Kalliste, which I’m confident she’ll accept, as soon as
your
marriage is over.”

An ancient darkness inside of Thereus seized control, a force not even his horse was capable of mastering. It wasn’t jealousy or hatred compelling him. A far more dangerous compulsion churned within. Much closer to madness.

“Mine, she’s mine!” Snarling, he lunged to tear out the centaur’s throat. All he saw and smelled was blood, before the darkness claimed him.

Chapter 17

“
Ugh.
” Melita wiped her mouth on her sleeve and shuddered.
I should have seen this coming.
She’d been waiting in the atrium for Thereus when Petraeus accosted her. He hadn’t been forceful, only very determined. Though he likely hadn’t intended his kiss to be unpleasant, it was.

Blast it. He’d never been so bold as to kiss her before. She’d deemed his offers more of a jest. Or a convenience. His kiss obliterated those beliefs.

She shook her head, unable to comprehend his motives. Although Petraeus cared for her, he didn’t experience attraction. Her nymph side declared it so. He hadn’t enjoyed their kiss either, hadn’t been aroused.

Was it for Lucian? Was Petraeus so honorable? Her instincts told her it went deeper. Underneath his impeccable exterior she sensed a darkness. His brother’s abandonment had hurt the youngest centaur, but perhaps she’d not grasped how profoundly. Her husband’s reappearance must have further irritated his old wound.

Petraeus would never force her to marry him. Yet why hadn’t he ended his courtship of her, even after her husband’s return?

Melita sank onto a wooden bench nestled into an arbor of white roses. On top of her troubles with the youngest Lord, she also suffered from a growing unease about his elder brother. She’d never intended to submit to Thereus and she refused to be another conquest to him. Yet tenderness echoed in his touch, as though she was sacred to him.

This torment in Thereus was far more than lust. Darkness ate at him, a parasite destroying him from the inside. She couldn’t bear the desperation in his eyes.

Melita shuffled her feet, impatient for him to arrive. For him to finally explain why he’d rejected her—twice.

She rinsed out her mouth in the small stream to her left. It wouldn’t do for him to catch another male’s scent on her. Scanning the plants, she plucked a mint leaf and chewed on it.

Shouts from outside splintered the atrium’s serenity. She rushed toward the clamor and grunted as she shoved open the heavy door. Half a dozen centaur bodies blocked her view. Steel arms enclosed around her waist. She gasped as one of them hauled her over his shoulder and galloped down the corridor, away from the scene.

“Put me down.” She pounded her fists against thick, dark hide. Her body bumped against him in time to the pounding of her heart beats.

“Hush, Kalliste. Stay in this room. Trust me, please?”

Melita exhaled her anxiety as Agrius set her in her chamber. His amber stare pierced her. She swallowed the thickness in her throat as he shut the door, locking it behind him.

What was going on? Where was Thereus? Was he all right? Why had Agrius dropped her here? What of Lucian? Biting her cheek, she fought against the scream inside her chest. She wasn’t a child to be locked away while something, obviously unpleasant, was occurring.

Deep in her belly gnawed the flutter of unease that someone had discovered her secret. Reason told her not to be so foolish. A thousand other explanations were possible. She sank onto the edge of the bed with a huff, sensing the wait had just begun.