Earth Borne (5 page)

Her confidence bolstered with each step she took through the hallways. She might not be the true mistress of Westgard, but she loved every inch of it. Every crack in the walls, every drapery, every painting and statue. This was her home and she’d fight to stay here. She must convince Thereus to go, because she, as sure as Zeus loved lightning, wouldn’t. Melita refused to relinquish her home to his less-than-virtuous ways. She wasn’t going to abandon her son. Regardless of her unworthy birth, these were her people and they needed her.

No, Thereus must be made to leave.

Her mind set, she went in search of the male who, with one kind word, could destroy her.

In the Great Hall, she strode toward a group of servants. “Where is your Master?”

A maid tittered nervously. “He’s gone for a morning run, milady. He’s expected at any moment.”

She’d already waited for him long enough. Melita stormed to the heavy wooden doors guarding the Portal. Upon perceiving her, the two guards opened the doors. One of them spoke the enchantment and operated the Portal for her. Four feet wide and eight feet tall, it shimmered and rippled as though made of water.

Portals were a gift from the gods to their descendants. They were an excellent means of transportation—provided one used them correctly and the Portal hadn’t gone rogue. As with all magical things, the more ancient they were, the more of a sentience they developed. The Portal at Westgard rarely acted improperly, although once she found herself in the middle of a waist-deep swamp. She’d sworn she’d heard snickering. After a few stern words to the Portal, including a threat of disassembly, it never happened again. Of course, both Melita and the Portal understood it was an empty threat. With the proliferation of humans, the gods seized the knowledge of creating Portals from them. New Portals were forbidden and old ones were prized.

While it was impossible for humans to use them, if they happened to stumble upon one, it was unlikely they would ignore it, as they had in the past. Humans were obsessed with their new god of Science. The concealment of Portals became a priority and stricter measures had been enacted for their use. If she destroyed this one, they’d have to resort to using the system of ropes and baskets for ascending to the castle.

Upon exiting the Portal, Melita shook off the slight tingling, the sensation of dozens of feathers being brushed roughly across her skin, and headed toward the stables. While centaur territory consisted mostly of male centaurs, many of their females belonged to the Lapith race, and so they did keep horses. The stables were used by both. Even centaurs liked a good rubdown after a long run, after all.

Though her eyes were not as sharp, her nose not as precise as a centaur’s, she located Thereus inside the dimly lit stable. Like a sunflower, her petals stretched to face the sun.

Her legs froze underneath her, refusing to obey the commands of her mind. Thereus indeed had gone for a run. His rich, masculine scent of evergreen and dark spice was strong enough even for her to catch at a distance. He stood at a washbasin, scooping water in his hands and splashing it first against his face, then through his hair and along his body’s human half.

Damn.
She hated that even a single glimpse of him made her will crumble. He snared a brush, the large muscles of his arms bursting with strength. She refused to recall that night, when the steel of those arms enveloped her. When she’d been pressed up against hard muscle, something even harder thrusting between her thighs, bringing her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined possible.

Oh, blast it.
Her knees weakened. She would not muse about
that
night. She would not let him detect her arousal. And she most certainly wouldn’t march to him, grab that brush, and give him the best rubdown of his life.

Melita clenched her fists and counted to five, then ten. As a mother, it was a trick she often employed whenever small Lucian set her nerves on fire.
Ha.
The trick also worked whenever his father did the same. She waited until he finished, an absurdly long five minutes, before making her presence known with a cough into her hand.

“My Lady.” He smiled at her as he donned a black leather vest. Thankfully, he’d passed on the puffy ivory shirt. She hated such frivolous clothing, especially on him. It was like putting a pink ribbon on a panther. Absurd. Glancing at him sent an awareness shivering down her spine. His clothing resembled that of a pyrate. Both dangerous and exciting. Was that how he’d spent these past years?

“My Lord.” She copied his greeting, without the smile.

“I doubt you have sought me out for the pleasure of my company. Is anything amiss?”

Her words stuck in her throat. She hadn’t expected his civilized response. Indeed, she’d anticipated continuing their quarrel from the previous evening.
Yes.
“I wish to continue our discussion from last night.”

“Ah, you are completely right. I
was
a brute, and you were right. I’ve never taken my responsibilities seriously. It is something I intend to change, if you’ll permit me.” He flashed her a cocksure grin. “Will you accept my deepest and most sincere apologies, my Lady?”

Chapter 5

Sensing he’d won by beginning with an apology, Thereus assumed his most gentlemanly bow, his tone and manner impeccable. Dressed in his own clothes, he felt so much more like himself, and yet at the same time, so very changed.

He smirked as Kalliste’s cheeks blushed a bright pink. Before she formed a response, he took her hand in his and kissed the top of it. Her skin was heated and he’d detected her interest the moment she’d arrived. Hell, he could scent her from miles away.

Like their horse counterparts, centaurs loved sweet things. Craved them. Kalliste’s skin carried a trace of honey he found irresistible. So much so, he dared a small lick of her hand. He closed his eyes in bliss before releasing her hand, wickedly satisfied with himself. She might loathe him, but his wife could not deny her physical response to him. It gave him hope. She might be his yet.

Pretending nothing was amiss, that her pupils were not erotically dilated, her skin not flushed, he commenced his seduction. “I have a proposition for you, Kalliste. Thus far, I’ve done nothing to convince you I’m a changed man. You are correct in declaring our marriage would’ve ended in five weeks’ time. I am also aware that I cannot stroll into your life and make demands. My proposal is this: give me those five weeks to convince you of my worth as your husband. If, after that time, your wishes have not changed, I will absolve you of your marital obligations. Moreover, I will leave, never to interfere again.” He smiled as she bit her lip in indecision. His grin widened at the flash of hope and desire in her eyes. It was the perfect bargain.

Of course, he’d never abandon his wife and son again. Ever. He’d win her over. He didn’t doubt it, not for a second.

“My Lady? Are we agreed?” He interrupted the wheels no doubt spinning about in her head and held out his hand. She nibbled on her lip before extending hers, trembling. That would not do. Snaring her hand in his, he stepped closer to her and purred, “Sweetling,
melita
, all great pacts must be sealed with a kiss.” He raised her chin in his other hand, and ignoring her dazed sigh, kissed her firmly. Her lips obediently parted and a wave of sensual heat blasted through him. Ignoring his lust, he focused on seducing her. He would tease her a little. Leave her panting for more. Show her how he could make her feel.

Too soon, he had to rein his horse in. He’d never experienced such a rush. If he didn’t stop, his horse would seize control and he’d find himself in human form, undoubtedly erect and ready for her.
Slowly, must go slowly.
He pressed his lips against her hairline, drowning in her sweet scent.

“What did you call me?” Her voice was high-pitched, her breath shallow. Oh, hell, had he displeased her?

“
Melita.
It means honey-sweet. Forgive me the familiarity.”

“Oh no, don’t be. I rather like it, actually.” The corners of her mouth curved into a smile.

This was the first time he’d made her smile. His heart melted in a pool of warmth.
She will be mine.
He longed to stay like this, with her in his arms, forever, but there was another matter of utmost importance to discuss. With a sigh, he released her. “Permit me to carry you home.” He offered his hand.

“No, thank you. I’ll walk.”

If he hadn’t seen her blush, he’d have assumed he’d angered her. Yet the color in her cheeks was so sweet. He’d never witnessed Kalliste display such feminine sensibilities. Or mayhap he’d never known her well. Perhaps, he’d never tried hard enough. Of one thing he was certain. The frequent coloring of his wife’s cheeks meant he was one step closer to winning her.

***

It killed Melita to refuse to ride on Thereus. She longed to be close to him, but she was already behaving like such a fool. What precisely had she agreed to? She was supposed to be convincing him he was better off elsewhere. Instead, she’d agreed to his courtship. That wasn’t the worst of it. She’d permitted him to address her by her real name. If she was thinking clearly, she’d have screamed at him for using such a term of familiarity with her, as Kalliste would have. Instead, she’d become light-headed and weak-kneed at the purr of her name upon his lips. How many nights had she dreamed of it? How many times had she prayed he’d view her for who she truly was?

It was such a foolish thing to do. Only Alkippe knew her name, and she was infinitely careful never to use it except in secured privacy, lest anyone should guess her identity. Now, Thereus’s deep voice would be echoing her name throughout the halls. Her traitorous lips curved into a smile. She cursed them as well. Her foolishness would send them to the executioner’s block.

Once back at Westgard, the time for hiding Lucian’s existence from his father would be over. She had no choice but to tell him. What she lacked were the words. She stuck her hands behind her back and clasped them tight, lest they betray her nerves. How would he respond? Would he be glad? Would he be angered? Would he run away again? Though it defied her reasoning, a twinge of pain clenched her chest. His departure was what she hoped for, wasn’t it?

She stopped and faced him. “My Lord, there is someone you should meet.”

With a sly grin, he bent and whispered in her ear, “Don’t fret,
Melita
. I know about Lucian.” He clasped her arm to steady her as she gasped.

“How?”

He let out a soft laugh. “Ah, this is my castle, my Lady. I have my methods.” He winked, unsettling her even more.

How dare he jest? The mother in her arose, her protective instincts flaring. “Does it please you, my Lord?”

His features softened so remarkably that she had her answer. “Aye, Kalliste, it does. Exceedingly. I only wish I’d been here to see the lad born…” He trailed off, making her desperate to hear what other confessions he kept hidden within his heart. She had no right to any of them, especially since she could never reciprocate.

“Would you like to meet him?” she blurted, and held her breath, awaiting his reply.

He grinned at her. “Very much so. Come, breathe before you faint.”

Exhaling, she mirrored his smile, strolling from the stables first, Thereus close behind. The castle lay a quarter mile away. Though she enjoyed the walk, Kalliste had insisted upon being transported by “one of the beasts.” Melita despised how her sister had never differentiated between an ordinary animal like a horse and the magnificent centaur. As she stepped outside, she paused. Kalliste would never walk.

If Thereus was to stay for five weeks, he’d soon learn his wife had changed many of her habits. Melita didn’t recall them all. She’d taken too many pains to transition in the first place. With Alkippe’s mentoring, they’d adjusted the servants to a newer, kinder mistress. The Lady Kalliste began taking her meals in the dining hall, instead of in her rooms. She took walks and stopped barking at servants or treating them with indifference, instead offering compliments.

She befriended the heads of staff, taking an interest in the management of the household and the accounts. Often, she visited the villagers. Over the course of half a year, the mistress of Westgard made dramatic improvements in her disposition. The servants attributed the transformation to Lucian’s birth. Motherhood changed women. It had certainly changed Melita. The servants had accepted her and taken their changed mistress into their hearts, and Westgard castle was a happy place.

Would Thereus accept his new wife?

He would recall only the wife he left behind. How was she to manage a balance between the two? Before he asked, she decided sticking as close to the truth as possible would arouse the least amount of suspicions.

As they walked, she offered, “I do not ride often these days. I find the exercise quite refreshing.” She bit her tongue before she added “and necessary.” Hopefully, Thereus would conclude Kalliste’s rounder figure a result of having a child, and not from Melita’s nymph blood. A few inches shy of six feet, she had a figure with a generous dose of curves. Though of the same height, Kalliste had been stick-thin, Melita voluptuous—one of the only ways the two were truly distinguishable.