Brutish Lord of Thessaly (Halcyon Romance Series Book 4) (5 page)

She turned and slid a hot poker from the fire. “Good, because I’ve been waiting for you.” She brandished the poker before him. “Brace yourself, centaur. This is going to hurt.”

***

Nysa wandered the alabaster hallways, searching for Oreius, half-hoping she wouldn’t stumble across him. King Cheiron’s revelations changed everything.

She now carried knowledge she couldn’t share with Oreius, or with any of his brothers.

And awareness that placed her feet upon another path.

A path she wasn’t certain she treaded with him, or alone.

Cheiron had seized her hand and begged for her to remain with the centaurs. To fight in this War with them. She’d explained about her well, but he’d waved off her concerns, proclaiming they would find a way to keep her here.

How long until Deimos discovered her absence? Then again, perhaps he never would. Her waters would continue to heal, even without her trapped inside the well.

This might be her only chance at freedom.

The risk seemed small, so Nysa had agreed to contemplate his offer.

Thudding footsteps stomped toward her. She spun and glimpsed Oreius rushing to her side. A roguish grin split his face, casting a wicked curve to his lips.

He skidded before her, snaring her waist and twirling her in a dizzying spin.

“Release me!” She laughed, half-heartedly pounding her fists across his back. Instead of obeying her, he halted their spinning and nuzzled his face next to hers.

“Nysa,” he murmured, the rumble vibrating through the tips of her fingers resting against his chest.

Something had changed in him. She tilted her face to peer into his eyes. The haunting pain had vanished. Shining instead at her were depths full of hope.

“Oreius?”

He lowered his mouth, feathering his lips across hers with the gentlest of brushes.

She moaned into his kiss, digging her nails into the fabric of his shirt. Her body had craved this affection from him, and the flares flickering between them were even brighter than she recalled.

The last time he’d kissed her, the bitterness of his regret had tainted the memory. She pulled back from him, aching at the lost connection. “Are you certain you—”

“Aye, lass.” He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. “ ’Tis time for me to move forward, and I want it to be with you. Nysa, I know I called you my friend, but the truth is, my hearts would reach for so much more.”

Her breath hitched as he unbuttoned his shirt. She glanced toward the empty corridor. “I don’t think this is the pla—”

“Easy, sweetling. I know you’re desperate, but I’m certain you can wait for us to find an empty chamber.”

“
Uh
,” she scoffed, punching his arm.

He slipped the shirt from his shoulders and she frowned. What was he doing?

Oh.
Her perusal tripped on his upper left bicep. The mark he’d forged with Sarra… It was gone.

His arm was bare. Haltingly, she seized a step backward. Guilt rose in her throat, clenching it. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Nay, I didn’t. I did this for me.” He closed in on her, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m ready, Nysa, if you are.”

The enormity of his offer dumped onto her like a bucket of ice water. Oreius might be ready to heal, but if she hurt him, the damage would be irreparable.

Yet, taking this step with him, exploring what might blossom between them, was something she’d yearned for since the day she’d gazed upon him. Nysa leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. “Yes, I’m ready, Oreius.” She closed her eyes. His dark scent and decadent taste filled her senses.

He swept his mouth across hers, nipping and coaxing her mouth to open for him.

She parted her lips, drinking in his kiss, and weaving her fingers through his locks.

Oreius performed the
morphos
into his human form, and he pressed his large body against hers, thrusting her back against the wall.

Whimpering, she rubbed herself along him, one hand inching toward the thick erection pressing into her belly. She wrapped her fingers across him, through his breeches, coaxing her nymph powers to manipulate his arousal.

He groaned, low and rumbling, into her mouth while his sex throbbed urgently in her hand.

Oreius might be ready for kisses, but lovemaking was an entirely larger step.

For now, they would pleasure each other.

Nysa glided her fingers beneath the waistband of his breeches, brushing the tips of them along his long, rigid shaft.

He jerked and thrust himself into her hand, grunting in deep-seated need.

Pumping harder, she gripped him in her hand. He rolled his hips into her, growling against her neck. His teeth nipped at her skin, his tongue soothing across his bites in delightful, sensual flicks.

Oreius palmed her breast in his large hand, squeezing and rolling the tip between his fingers. He lowered his head to press heated kisses to her breast through the fabric of her gown, and his other hand dipped beneath her skirts to skim the inside of her thigh. His fingers found her nub, pressing across her slickness and delving inside her.

She bucked against him, riding his hand until the crests of ecstasy building wouldn’t be denied any longer. Spears of pleasure spiked through her and she cried out his name, squeezing his length in rapid strokes to force him to join her.

His release flooded through her, bolstering hers to continue until they both shuddered and collapsed together to the ground, heaving irregular breaths.

He clutched her against his chest, those massive arms enclosing her in a security she hadn’t ever experienced. “Mine,” he purred sleepily, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She curled against him, praying to the gods he was right.

Oreius glanced at the silver-haired female sleeping beside him. After their pleasuring, he’d gathered his sons, and together they’d stepped through the Portal to North Gate. He’d seen to the care of the twins, and then promptly carried her to his bed, where they’d both fallen asleep.

His, the most peaceful slumber he’d had since Sarra’s death. Removing the false bonding had been a step forward in his healing. Seducing Nysa had been the next.

She might not be his mate, either, but he cared for her. Something deep in his soul wouldn’t relinquish its hold on her.

He’d been in love before, and he was falling again.

Grinning, he swept the stray locks from Nysa’s forehead, smoothing them back to reveal her lovely face. That delicate nose and those petal-soft lips. She understood him so well and didn’t demand more than he could offer.

Someday, he might be ready to offer her everything.

He only prayed she would remain at his side until that day.

She moaned against her pillow and scrunched her pixie nose.

Yesterday, he’d been too anxious to explore their feelings for each other to ask what had happened with the King. He was certain she’d aided his father, just as she had him.

Her selfless nature brought out yearnings within him, desires to become a better male. First, he should begin by thanking Agrius and Eione. They’d risked much to bring Nysa to him. His ungrateful, wretched self had better ensure they experienced his full gratitude.

Nysa’s full lashes fluttered open and she cast him a bright smile. “
Mmm
, take care, centaur. I may grow accustomed to awakening in your bed.”

He chuckled and grasped for her hand, but a sudden churning in his gut tossed him in the opposite direction. Slapping a hand across his mouth, he heaved and grimaced. Spiraling pains spread from his left arm down to his stomach.

What madness was this?

“Oreius?” Nysa peered over his shoulder while he shook his head, trying to reassure them both this would pass.

“It’s your arm, isn’t it.” She slumped, sighing. “The reversal didn’t work.”

What was she saying? He swiped the sweat beading his forehead with the back of his hand. Aye, the bonding prevented any male from intimacy with another female, but Oreius had never truly been bonded to Sarra. Though if he had been and this was the result of adultery, he could well imagine why any male would avoid it. ’Twas worse than after a night spent imbibing of too much liquor.

His head pounded in time to the racing pulses of his heart. He didn’t wish to be sick in front of Nysa, so he gingerly rose and staggered from the chamber, clutching his head in his trembling hands.

If he weren’t about to empty the contents of his stomach, he’d march straight to the village below Great Meteoron and have strong words with Antiope. How in the bloody hell could she have done this to him?

She’d ruined every possible chance of a future with Nysa.

One he hadn’t realized he craved so badly…

Until it had been torn from him.

***

Nysa sniffed and brushed aside a stray tear. Falling for Oreius had been a foolish endeavor from the start.

Despite the conversation she’d had yesterday with his father, she had proof not everything was within the great King’s control. Oreius might have been willing to move on from his past, but perhaps his soul wasn’t.

Mayhap this was the Fates telling them their paths weren’t mean to flow together.

Heart clenching, she dressed and strolled down the stairs, out into the gardens. Cutting past the hedges, she wandered through the forest, seeking solace in the woods. The crushed leaves beneath her feet released their comforting earthy scents into the crisp morning air. The well she belonged to rested in a forest such as this one.

She pressed forward, through an area littered with rounded, moss-coated boulders that resembled an ancient ruin. A forgotten temple?

Hmm.
The soil in the center appeared sunken. Almost as if… She treaded forward, digging her sandals into the dirt to get a closer look. Suddenly, the ground around her rumbled, the vibrations rolling up through her toes, and crumbled beneath her.

Nysa tried to leap away, but the entire forest floor had disintegrated and she skidded down an earthen rockslide to the bottom.
Oomph!

She crashed into the crushed stone floor, winced, and flexed to determine whether her body remained intact. Everything seemed to be well, other than a few bruises on her legs from her landing. She coughed into the dust-coated air, wiping the smudge from her cheeks and eyes.

Beams from the dawn’s rays slashed through the hollowed opening, providing dim illumination. She blinked into what appeared to be an ancient chamber. Scuffling forward on her hands and knees, she crept along the wall, then braced against it to stand. The ceiling rose several feet above her head and she glanced warily at it, praying it wouldn’t collapse on top of her. The path in was too steep to climb, but there might be another entrance at the end of this chamber.

Squinting, she made out a darkened area that might be a corridor. Nysa prodded her hands along the wall, stepping cautiously along the uneven ground, until it became as smooth as marble.

No, not marble. Stalagmite. Twisting stone towers of uneven heights rose from the cavern floor, some nearly touching the stalactites that mirrored them, hanging from above.

She wound through the rocky icicles, careful not to stumble, and toward the tinkling rush of water. An underground spring? Her pulse raced as she clambered forward. This spring might be inhabited by one of her kin. How wonderful that would be.

“Ho there!” she called, straining for any response other than her echo. None came, so she sank next to the bubbling source of water, cupped her hands, and drew a deep sip. Sweet and clear, the liquid soothed her parched throat, cleansing away the dust.

She’d been wrong. No exit lay this way. The cavern ended in this underground spring, and the water flowed from an opening far too small for her to pass through.

Huffing, she rose and trekked to the hole she’d accidentally created. She craned her neck and stared at the steep cliff, pursing her lips. The risk of injuring herself trying to climb the rock wall was great.

Oreius would note her absence. He’d come for her.

She closed her eyes and rested against the wall.

“Well, well,” a masculine voice tsked from above.

Nysa froze. That wasn’t Oreius.

That was Deimos.

Her throat clamped as though he gripped her by the neck, yet he didn’t touch her. What villainous power was this? She shuffled backward into the wall, but Deimos hopped into the cavern with godly agility. When she’d first encountered the charming male, she’d fallen victim to his divine beauty. Like the predator he was, he concealed his dark nature behind a trustworthy appearance. He was tall and brawny, though not as large as a centaur. His short flaxen locks were immaculately combed away from his face, those bright azure eyes contrasting against his bronzed skin.

Cocking his head, he stalked toward her. “How did you get out, nymph?” He pressed forward and seized her wrist, and she cursed her nature.

She was a nymph. Every fiber in her being refused to allow her to fight back.

Nymphs always submitted.

She lowered her head in defeat. “How did you find me here?”

He scoffed. “I went to your well, only to discover the waters nearly dried up. Even odder, when I questioned my spies, they reported rumors of a nymph prancing about centaur lands, healing wounded souls.” His lips curved in a sneer. “Truly, you made it so easy.” His fingers dug into her wrist.