Moon Borne (Halcyon Romance Series Book 1) (12 page)

Nearing her, he hesitated. His hands were inches from her body, aching with the yearning to touch her. He rested his hand on her arm, without force. Simply pressing his skin to hers made him hunger for her.
Want her so bad.

She flinched from his contact and tilted her face aside.

Bitterness spread through his gut. “I disgust you, don’t I?”

Kyme made a little whimper in her throat, an apologetic noise.

Hating himself, he veered toward the boat. It might be best to leave her on this island.

“Arsenius, wait.”

He froze at her use of his name.

“No,” she whispered. “No, you don’t. Quite the opposite, actually.”

His heart thumped in his chest as he whirled around. “I was weak.”

She bit her bottom lip. “No, you were strong.”

He scoffed, but she stroked her delicate hand up his arm. Her fingers found one of his scars and circled it. Kyme’s touch was the most powerful aphrodisiac he’d ever encountered. He’d consumed plenty, not of his own volition.

Focus, fool.
It took every ounce of his will to concentrate on her words and not the stiffening of his shaft.

“Scars are,” she murmured, in that soft, lilting accent of hers, “symbols of honor. You fought and survived. Or, in your case, you were beaten, tortured, and you survived. Only a strong man could. Strong of body, strong of mind.” She tapped his temple. “And strong in here.” Her fingers brushed down his chest and rested on the organ inside that beat uncontrollably.

Damn, want to kiss her. Kiss her. Focus.

Her cheeks flushing a bright pink, she withdrew her trembling hand and stepped back from him.

A challenge of seduction? He grinned.

Accepted.

***

Sweet Artemis, what was she doing? Being so close to Arsenius, everything was at once blocked out and heightened. The heat warming her was from his body, not the sun. The fragrance in her nostrils was not the salt of the ocean, but the dark spice of a man intensely aroused. His heavy breathing and the rapid beating of his heart coaxed hers to follow suit.

Kyme yearned to fall into his arms and stay inside them forever, regardless of how forbidden his embrace was.

“I-I don’t touch men. They don’t touch me.” Gods, she sounded ridiculous. She took another step back.

“Are you afraid of me, Kyme?”

“N-no,” she stammered.
Nice, very convincing.

Those grey eyes flashed silver. The corners of his mouth curved as if he grasped her shyness.

“Men don’t touch you.” He claimed a step forward, closing the distance between their bodies. “Do you want me to touch you, Kyme?”

Mesmerized by the huskiness of his voice, she was helpless to do anything but nod. Especially when he kept purring her name.

Arsenius raised his hand and carefully smoothed his callused fingers along the side of her face. She lowered her lashes in delightful surrender.

Suddenly, his face was beside hers, his rough cheek pressing against hers. “I don’t suppose men kiss you either?”

Her eyes shot open.

“May I kiss you?” His lips parted, waiting for her reply.

Even more shocking than the question was that he would bother to ask. He didn’t seem like the type of man who did a lot of requesting.

As though reading her mind, he grunted, “I don’t take what isn’t freely given.” The hardness of his voice reminded her of what he must have suffered.

Desperate to drown out the world, to comfort his past, and to betray the reasons why she shouldn’t, she leaned in and whispered her answer.

Arsenius’s lips were like nothing she’d imagined. On a man so hard, they were silken. She’d expected him to kiss like he fought—hard, brutal, bruising. Instead, his lips pressed against hers with tenderness. Oh, but his kiss wasn’t uncertain. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip as though savoring her. Groaning, he gave her lip a little nibble, before he urged her mouth open and delved his tongue inside in the most suggestive of manners. He repeated his thrusting. Slow, deliberate.

His entire body was rigid, quavering ever so slightly with the effort of reining in the passion she perceived beneath his surface. As he eased one hand around her waist, his other cupping her cheek, she sank into his weight, delighting in how enjoyable it was to be held by another.

She’d been wrong. Nothing, not Moonlight, nor opium, was as addictive as the taste of Arsenius. Decadent, rich, and dark, his scent made her long to run her tongue along the rest of his body. She buried her hands in his soft dark hair; he grunted and drew her tight against his body. She moaned at the hardness of his chest, his steel arms, his…

Oh my.

Suddenly apprehensive about what she’d agreed to, Kyme stiffened. Arsenius broke their kiss. She expected anger to flare in his eyes.

Those beautiful depths were full of something else entirely—a reverent softness.

As if he understood the concerns flying through her mind, he winked. “Don’t worry. I’ll not come inside you. Not that way.”

***

Arsenius rubbed his hands together and blew on them. A chill crept into the air tonight, like summer and winter were battling one another. Fight each other as hard as they might, the outcome was always the same. Summer would always win the first, winter the second.

He grimaced at his contemplation. So many things about his existence he’d struggled to accept. After a time, he’d stopped fighting. He was a monster—no question.

He hadn’t always been so. Once upon a time, he’d known no darkness. He’d been a gentleman in a world filled with laughter and light. Lena, she’d been his light.

Then everything had changed. After he’d undergone the
morphos
, he’d had to invent a new definition of himself. The world was no longer pure, so full of hope and possibilities. Now he discerned the world for what it truly was. Dark, evil, polluted.

Until he met Kyme. Her presence challenged his previous resignations about his life. He’d long given up hope of ever finding a wife, of having children, a family. Lena had been his one shot at a child and since he’d failed so miserably, he bloody well didn’t deserve another chance.

He understood his fate. There were some mortals the gods deemed fit to continually punish. Whether from their own impiousness or the jealousy of the gods, many had been condemned. The myths were full of them and Arsenius’s name would one day be amongst them.

After being tortured in almost every manner conceivable, he had nothing left for the gods to seize. He’d made sure of that, keeping no possessions. Even the purchase of his ship had been in Thereus’s name.

He rubbed his hands together once more as his focus drifted to his cabin. Being with Kyme was unwise for so many reasons.

She was the first thing he’d craved in years.

As he searched the organ beating in his chest, he grasped it wouldn’t be long before she claimed his heart. If she hadn’t already.

He shouldn’t be too concerned. His curse only applied to those who loved him, not the opposite. His mother died and his sister had been abducted because they’d loved him. Ares remained untouched. The bastard refused to gaze upon him. Each of Arsenius’s pleas to his father had gone unanswered. That he’d permitted Arsenius’s
morphos
was a miracle.

He inhaled the seductive night air. He’d picked the right woman to crave. Kyme was an Amazon. She’d never fall in love with any man. Her kind weren’t capable of such affection. Moreover, she was a Chosen of the gods. As long as he never broke her virtue, she’d continue to be.

As much as he wished to be with her, first, he owed Thereus an apology. He searched the ship until he located the centaur below in his quarters.

“Come in.”

Arsenius stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat. He was no good at apologies, well, not to males at least.

Thereus poured them each a drink. He handed a cup to Arsenius, switched to human form, and sank onto the edge of his cot.

Arsenius leaned back against the wall. He cleared his throat again. Damn, this was hard. “About last night.”

Thereus held up his hand. “Enough said.” He shifted around on the cot.

“You truly believe there’s another way?”

His friend grinned. “Of course I do. She’s your mate. Don’t make the mistake of throwing away such a gift.”

Arsenius scoffed. He’d never pegged his quartermaster for a romantic. “If I don’t hold her as my slave, there’s nothing to stop her from leaving—”

“So you work your other charms, son of Ares.”

“Care to elaborate?” Arsenius glared at him.

Thereus rolled his eyes. “Kyme’s an Amazon.”

He scowled. “I know that.” He was not the imbecile his friend implied… Was he?

The centaur snorted. “I’ll only clarify this once. Kyme’s a fiery lass who’s spent her entire existence in an isolated meadow with other females. You seek her allegiance? Offer her a trade she can’t refuse.” A wicked grin spread across his face as he tilted his cup in a toast.

Arsenius narrowed his eyes, his heart pounding. “Are you suggest—”

“Aye.” Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Seduce her.”

Chapter 11

Kyme smiled as she snatched a towel and dried off after climbing out of the bath Arsenius had thoughtfully ordered for her. Perhaps a gentleman did dwell beneath his rough surface.

A gentleman whose kiss made her question her entire existence. She pressed her fingers to her still burning lips.

Was his kiss the same as any other male’s? Was this the passion her sisters experienced every spring? If so, how had she lived so long without it?

Kyme shook herself. As pleasurable as his kiss had been, it wouldn’t happen again. She had a duty to her family and her goddess to remain untouched. Arsenius had controlled himself on the beach, but she wasn’t so sure he’d be able to again.

She retrieved a shirt from the cabinet and drew it on. A tap rapped at the door as she slipped the last button through its hole.

“Are you finished?” Arsenius called from the other side.

“Yes.”

He poked his head inside and the instant his gaze fell on her, those intense depths grew dark, hungry. Suddenly uneasy that she had no other garment, she crossed her arms over her breasts.

Thankfully, half a dozen of the small boys onboard scrambled into the room and drained the tub. They weaved in and out, filling buckets and tossing the soiled water over the side of the ship. Regret that she’d never have a child fluttered through her, the pang sinking deep until she shoved it aside.

Arsenius grinned at her as the boys badgered each other good-naturedly. The captain leaned back against the wall next to the door and crossed his legs. The lads gawked at him, searching for approval, as they scurried past.

She softened and was reminded of what one lad, Jason, had told her this evening as he’d filled the tub. These boys were orphans. If not for the
Adrasteia
, they’d be starving, on the streets.

Perhaps you have a heart, after all, Arsenius.

She reclined in the chair and with the brush he’d procured for her, untangled her long, damp tresses.

After the boys finished their task, Arsenius locked the door and strode to the desk. He caught her hand in midair and plucked the brush from her grasp. She opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was doing, but she lost her words as his large, warm hands swept her hair off her neck. Shivers tingled down her spine and she sucked in a sharp breath. No one had brushed her hair since she’d been a small child. She’d adored sitting by the fire, her godmother’s sure hands deftly combing through her tangles.

Arsenius’s hands were nothing like her godmother’s.

They most certainly weren’t clumsy, as she’d have expected from a male. They were strong, nimble, and familiar with this task. Did he practice on his lovers? “You’re fairly accomplished at brushing hair.”

He froze mid-stroke, his body tensed.

She at once regretted her terse statement, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Nay.” He let the word hang in the air for a minute. “My—” He cleared his throat. “My sister’s hair.” He paused. “It was so unruly she’d shriek like Medusa whenever her maids brushed it.” A chuckle curved his lips. “She never screamed for me.”

Flames of guilt lapped up her cheeks. Of course he’d cared for his sister. “Thereus told me about her.”

He resumed his brushing, though his strokes were less tender, more rushed. From his haste, she sensed he didn’t wish to discuss his sister, yet her curiosity piqued. “What is her name?”

After he gave her hair a few more tugs, he set the brush on the desk and sighed. “Lena.”

Arsenius strode to the other side of the desk. He planted his arms wide apart on the desktop as he stared at her for a long moment. She sensed a question upon his parted lips, but he didn’t voice it.

This was the perfect time to interrogate him, when his defenses were down. “Why did you capture me? Who hired you?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why? Are you sworn not to?”

He nodded once.

“You were sent to capture me, not my sisters?”

Pain flickered across his eyes before he closed them and inclined his head. “You were my priority.”