Earth Borne (23 page)

As she opened her mouth to protest, he raised his hand to cut her off. “Promise me, Melita.” Hard amber eyes pierced her every defense.

How would Philaeus respond when he learned of Kalliste’s death? Bile churned in her gut, rising in her throat. Even more, now that Thereus had bonded with her, what would happen to him if she did indeed hang for her crimes? She swallowed hard, the acid burning on its descent. “I promise.”

Sweet Demeter, how am I ever to fulfill such a vow?

Chapter 21

“Wife,” the word came out as a low growl. Thereus had waited all day to be with her. After the declaration of war, the tasks piled up. Letters to Halcyon, to his estate. He and his brothers had spent hours going over whom to recruit and when. They’d poured over ledgers of names and supplies.

The weariness in his body dissipated the instant he noted Kalliste sitting at her dressing table, brushing her long mahogany locks. Refusing to be the beast he’d been with her last night, he stomped back his horse. He would show his wife he was capable of civility.

Thereus paced to her, snared the brush from her hand, and continued the task. She moaned sweetly as his hands caressed the silken strands.
Aye, my love. I’ll prove I can be gentle as well.
He bent and indulged in the heady fragrance of her perfume. His honey nymph. He growled, unable to suppress his lust.

If someone had only told him he’d one day be paired with a woman like her… By the gods, the things he would’ve done differently. Regardless, here she was.
Mine.
He pressed delicate kisses along her hairline and down her neck. She melted against him, moaning. He kissed her skin again, determined to release more of those feminine cries.

“Thereus,” she murmured, “I must speak with you.”

He ran his tongue along the delicate curve of her neck. “No words right now, my love. I’ve had more of them today than I can bear. Let me hold you, let me love you. We’ll find another use for our mouths tonight.” To emphasize his point, he kissed lower, untying the laces on the opening of her shift, and revealing her soft, luscious breasts.

Her protests were cut off as he claimed one puckered nipple between his lips and suckled it first, then the other. Her head fell back in surrender. How had he ever survived without her? When the burden of the world had been on his shoulders, how had he ever imagined some whore might soothe him? He shook his head. Kalliste did. Her touch calmed him, entranced and tamed his horse. He was at her mercy.

Scooping her in his arms, he carried her to the bed and deposited her on the edge. “My love, tonight I will show you I can be civilized.” He shifted lower down her body, so his head rested between her sweet thighs, and grinned. “Starting by doing the most ungentlemanly things.”

***

The rain came hard the next morning. Melita brushed a strand of hair from Thereus’s sleeping face. He was so peaceful, yet she didn’t miss the lines of strain upon his face last night. Her mate was exhausted from bearing so much upon his shoulders. How could she add to his burden?

She snorted.
A nice way of avoiding your responsibilities, Melita.
Agrius was right. She did have to tell him, but not yet.

The weight of many duties fell upon him. The nurturer in her refused to add to it. He hungered for her. Last night was proof. Making love to her eased him. If bonded centaurs’ mates affected them thus, she might deem the myths to be true.

She traced her fingertips along the solid black band circling his upper left bicep and squinted at the scripture.
My name. Melita.
Long ago, she’d concluded the marking was an inking the males did to themselves. She’d never guessed the ethereal ritual behind it.

He nuzzled against her, causing her lips to curve into a smile.

She would do more good for him like this.
Let him have the happiness he’s longed for.
Despite Agrius’s reassurances, deep within her heart she grasped her lies, her deception and betrayal, would not be so easy to forgive. Through loving him, she might atone for her sins.

Before Philaeus learned of her treachery and—bond or not, truce or not—came for her.

Agrius had tried to reassure her, but what if even the King could not raise the law above her crimes? What would become of Thereus? With the bonding, her death would destroy him. She couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason any harm befell him.

She spread her hand across her stomach. Though she sensed no babe growing within her, soon she might be carrying Thereus’s child. One night was all it took the last time. Telling him her true identity might be softened if she also disclosed she was with child. At least, he wouldn’t lock her in the dungeon.

She grimaced. Using a babe as persuasion.
Coward.
She’d finally claimed his affections and her heart shuddered at the fear of losing them.

***

“We head out this afternoon.” Thereus’s declaration was welcome news to Melita’s ears. They’d spent the past few days in endless preparations and the yearning to return home burned in her veins. She straightened from where she’d been leaning against a windowsill, staring into the gardens. Her dreamy smile widened at seeing Thereus and she rushed into his waiting arms.

Thereus wrapped those steel arms around her, pressing her body tightly against his. He always seemed to crave her touch. It wasn’t enough for them to be in the same room, or sitting beside each other. If his arms weren’t enclosed around her, his hand rested atop hers. Always his focus was transfixed upon her.

Not that she was much better. She still caught her breath every time he marched into a room, anticipation shooting through her whenever his gaze grew heated. Her hands were never satisfied, either. His body was exquisite. His muscular form radiated his strength, teasing her nymph senses.

He had the most wicked sense of humor. The things he whispered in her ear made her feel as beautiful as he declared she was.

His tender side melted her heart the most. How he played for hours with his son, or converted the power in his body into the most gentle of caresses.

***

They journeyed to Westgard, and despite the preparations for war, the castle was in profoundly good spirits. Melita held her breath as they entered the Portal.

Alkippe shouted for joy the moment she spotted Thereus’s bonding mark. “Milady, milord. ’Tis wonderful news! We’re ever so pleased for you both. I’ll throw a celebration this eve, I will.” She clapped her hands and barked orders to the servants.

Melita released her hand from Thereus’s and drew the centauress aside. “Alkippe, I’ve not told him who I am yet.”

“It’s all right, dear. You’ll tell him when you’re ready, or not. It matters not, so long as you’re bonded. Now, let’s celebrate!”

She embraced Melita before trotting off to make the preparations.

Her friend’s acknowledgement should have eased her. Instead, bitterness churned in her stomach. The temptation to keep the truth to herself found strength in Alkippe’s words. After all, it wasn’t only her neck she risked. Alkippe would be executed along with her, if Melita failed to earn Thereus’s forgiveness. Lucian would be motherless, or worse… She shuddered. If Thereus renounced his son, would
he
come for Lucian?

What of Thereus? Would it break his heart, would he resume his pyrating? She wrung her fingers and shoved her fears deep, locking them away. Perhaps she didn’t have to reveal herself to Thereus. The past might be best forgotten, and what mattered now was their love for each other.

***

The past week was not at all how Thereus had envisioned his life would be. Days spent caring for his people, attending to castle matters, and preparing for a distant war. Hallways filled with a child’s cries and laughter. Nights spent making love to the same woman.

Everything he’d dreaded. He’d never envisioned it to be so wonderful. A deep space within his soul had changed. It wasn’t only Kalliste and Lucian. Mayhap it was those years alone. Of never trusting anyone other than himself. He’d finally let go.

Thereus trusted Kalliste. He was utterly himself with her. She laughed at his jests, she understood him as no one ever had. She’d call him on his temper, warn him when his tricks went too far.

Her love was always there. No secrets between them, their pasts laid bare. Living for years as a pyrate, he’d learned no one was genuine. Except for Arsenius, he had no true friends. Every conversation seeped with dual meanings. Everything was lies, deception.

Kalliste was a breath of fresh air. A crisp wind billowing his sails.

This morning, Thereus sat in his office, going over the ledgers. A knock rapped at the door.

“Come in,” he bellowed. Alkippe strolled inside. She didn’t speak, so he glanced up at her. The centauress’s face had gone paler than the walls of his father’s palace.

“What is wrong, Alkippe?”

“Please, milord, send him away.” Her lower lip quivered as she stared out the window.

He frowned at such a strange request and strode to the window.

Bloody hell.
A Lapith party approached Westgard. Rich purple banners preceded a dozen horseback soldiers. The one with the largest feather in his helmet appeared too young to be Pirithous, so Philaeus it must be.

He growled, glaring out the window, as he recalled what Kalliste had said about him.

The horsemen rode steadily toward the Portal. Damn. “Is this a normal occurrence?”

“No, milord. He’s never visited.”

What was he to do? Thereus burned with the knowledge of what her brother had done to his wife, yet the Prince was an ally and must be welcomed. He rammed his fists into the marble mantle of his fireplace in short, quick jabs. The sting of the split flesh on his knuckles helped him to focus. The cracked stone didn’t ease him as Philaeus’s face would have, but it would have to do. He hung his head and calmed his thundering breaths. Thereus snarled at the banners one last time before storming from the room and charging toward the Portal.

He barked to the guards to admit the Lapiths. The drone of the housekeeper ordering servants to prepare food drifted from the far corridor. Thank the gods, Kalliste tended to the fields this morning. They’d feed them and send them away before she returned. He’d do anything to spare her this audience.

The Portal shimmered and half a dozen men marched into his Great Hall. Maintaining his intimidating centaur form, he glared at them from his throne.

“Philaeus.” His greeting was curt; he dared not utter more words. Certainly not of hospitality.

“My Lord Thereus.” The tall, spindly bastard was impeccably dressed, a male who obviously took great care in his appearance. His ruddy hair was smoothed and tied at his neck and his mousy eyes gleamed brighter than the gold buckles on his velvet green jacket.

“Why are you here?” Thereus’s tone carried a note of displeasure he simply refused to hide.

“Does one require a reason to visit one’s sister?” Philaeus smirked at him. “I heard news of your most fortunate resurrection.”

He narrowed his stare at the man. His skin prickled, his nose scented a sharp, unpleasant note. An obvious lie. He had to uncover its source, before Kalliste came back.

“I don’t have time for pleasantries, you’ll have to forgive me. If you’ll tell me your business, we can discuss it and you can be on your way.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Very well. I’m here for the boy.”

Thereus blinked. Had he heard correctly?

“He should be of an age, as we agreed.”

“We agreed?” Thereus repeated, utterly confused.

“Why, yes. My sister and I have an agreement. Our father is on his deathbed, and most unfortunately, I am unable to produce an heir. Lucian will be mine.”

Thereus’s blood shot to a boil. “You’ll not have my son,” he growled, launching from the throne. In a flash, he stood before Philaeus, grabbing him by his puffy lapels and hauling him a good foot off the ground. “You’re not taking my son.”

The male seemed unfazed. Disgust rather than fear twisted his sneer. “Put me down, you brute, or my men will end you this second.”

Thereus laughed at the pathetic threat, even as he eyed the weapons aimed at him. His own guards stomped their hooves, enraged as well, and he didn’t doubt if he flicked his wrist to snap Philaeus’s neck, the whole room would quickly be filled with blood.

The image of Kalliste witnessing such violence stabilized him. He dropped the weasel with a grimace.

An irritating flash of triumph sparked Philaeus’s smirk as he adjusted his jacket, mumbling, “This is why I hate dealing with
animals
.”

Thereus clenched his jaw, determined to let the offense go. Barely.

“My sister has not told you? Well, not that you were here to tell,” he added, a snide curve tilting the corners of his mouth. “Don’t fret, I’m sure my sister will provide you with other heirs. I mean,” he scoffed, “it’s not as though you’ve been around to grow attached to the boy.”

Now he fathomed the reason for her brother’s visit. In Philaeus’s mind, it must be better to claim the lad before Thereus did grow attached.

A gauntlet had been dropped. He growled in fury. Underneath his anger, despair curdled. Was it true? No, it couldn’t be. Kalliste adored their son. She would never have agreed to such a contract. He must hold on to what he believed was truth, otherwise the lies would tear him apart.