Earth Borne

by Rachael Slate

  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.

  Though Thereus said nothing, his appreciative stare raked her body hotly and she warmed from his hunger.

  She frowned. The one time she longed for a man to look at her with longing, and he had to be the one she couldn’t have.

  They approached the Portal and crossed together. As they strolled
to the atrium, Thereus insisted on threading her arm in his.

  At the door, she paused. “Are you all right, my Lord?” She glanced at him sideways. What must be going through his mind? At least he seemed eager.

  “I’ve never been better.” He bent and kissed her cheek. With a most determined clenched jaw, he strode past her and marched into the atrium.

  Melita’s heart fluttered inside her chest as she followed.

  ***

  There, inside the atrium, the centaur child played with his nursemaid. Thereus’s heart pounded. No, his centaur child. His son. Thereus couldn’t suppress the grin that exploded on his face each time the thought passed through his mind.

  With dismay, he glimpsed his hands, empty of any gift with which to greet his son. Children were often timid around strangers and a toy would have aided his cause. It pained him to be an outsider to his son. No longer. He would devote his every energy to winning the affections of his family. In winning his son’s, his mother’s might come more easily.

  He well remembered how it was to be a centaur child. He’d been so wild, he’d have periodic changes in nursemaids. More than one was dismissed in tears. Until Alkippe. She was one feisty centauress and had reined in each of his unruly behaviors. Well, at least as a child. As a man, no one had been able to tame him.

  Kalliste’s fingers brushed his arm and he focused on the present. He clasped her hand and pressed it firmly. She squeezed back. The reassurance meant everything to him. Together they approached Lucian.

  “Mama!” He wrenched free of his nursemaid and scrambled into Kalliste’s outstretched arms.

  “Lucian, my darling.” She combed his hair with her fingers and kissed his forehead. “My love, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” At his mother’s words, the lad peered at Thereus, curiosity brightening his eyes. They were green, precisely the same shade as his.

  He cast an awkward smile at his son and wished he knew the protocol for such a situation. Clearing his throat, he fought back a pang of jealousy that his son would not run into his arms, as he had Kalliste’s. His wife rescued him again. She whispered a few words in Lucian’s ear. The lad glanced at her for reassurance and edged from the safety of her arms to approach his father.

  Acting beyond his years, Lucian stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, milord.”

  He chuckled. His son was an intelligent, well-mannered, not to mention beautiful, child. Even so, he refused to have such formality between them. He crouched to Lucian’s level and grinned at him. “It’s an honor to meet you, son.” He nearly choked on the last word, torn between crying and laughing. Since he never cried, he let out a chuckle instead and pretended the laughter was what caused his eyes to mist. He grasped his son’s hand, but instead of shaking it, he held it, savoring the weight of Lucian’s small hand in his. “Please call me Pappas, if you like.”

  The lad beamed and sprinted into his mother’s arms. “Oh, yes, Pappas!” The room echoed with the sweetest laughter Thereus had ever heard.

  He glanced at Kalliste, but she burrowed her face against Lucian. Every mother desired a good father for her children. With time, he would become just that. He would begin now.

  Thereus strode to them. “My Lady, might I spend some time alone with Lucian?”

  She smiled at him. “An excellent idea. In fact, well, I was hoping…”

  “Aye?”

  “Ah, he is having difficulty transforming into human form clothed. I’m afraid he’s taken to running in the hallways nude, which the elderly staff find quite horrifying.” She pressed her lips together as though trying not to laugh.

  Thereus chuckled. “My brothers told me stories, things I did, the likes of which surely traumatized our servants. I’m afraid, my Lady, it may be something he’s inherited from me, and therefore, beyond correction.” He smiled inwardly. How many of his traits had he passed on to his offspring? The notion filled him with such pride, though in the future he might experience more exasperation than gratitude. For now, he was simply thankful to have a future.

  “Oh dear, I shall prepare the servants, then.” This time, her laugh rang clear and light.

  He grinned at her before bending to Lucian. “I do wonder, Master Lucian, if you might give me a tour of your charming garden?”

  Ignoring his question, his son eyed him. “You’re dressed strangely.”

  “Aye, that I am,” he conceded. “Can you guess why?”

  He frowned, his small face scrunched up. “You look like a pyrate. Are you a pyrate?” His eyes widened in excitement.

  He dipped his head. “Indeed, I am. Mind your manners and go and give your mother a kiss goodbye, or I’ll force ye to walk the plank!”

  The lad giggled and eagerly ran to do as he was told. Kalliste left them, pausing a second at the doorway before gliding away.

  Lucian trotted to Thereus. “Oh, it’s not my garden, ’tis Mama’s.” He tugged on Thereus’s arm and, holding a hand to his father’s ear, whispered, “She sneaks in here in the night, when she thinks I’m asleep.”

  He raised a brow.

  “She sits there and cries.” Lucian pointed to a stone bench set under an arbor of exotic flowers.

  Ah, the honesty of children. Did she shed tears because of him? “Why does she cry?”

  “Lasses like to cry,” Lucian offered.

  He laughed. “Indeed they do, son. Should you ever cause one to do so, it’s a good idea to present her with flowers.” How much he’d missed, and how much he still had to experience. Offering his son advice about courting women was only the beginning. Aye, fatherhood agreed with him immensely.

  Thereus studied the atrium. It was a spectacular combination of rugged wilderness blended with the warmth of a hearth. The atrium radiated a cheerfulness suiting Westgard perfectly.

  His son expressed little shyness. Once he’d begun talking, Lucian hardly stopped to take a breath. The little centaur possessed a wealth of knowledge about the workings of his castle, and Thereus found his expertise most helpful in catching him up on the last few years. His home was so different from how he’d left it. Westgard was thriving.

  Though his son ought to resent him, Lucian heartedly accepted this stranger into his world. Children were so resilient. Too bad his wife was an adult and understandably wouldn’t trust him as easily. Still, he was making progress. Each smile, each gaze, each touch, brought him a little closer to entering her heart.

  Warmth spread through Melita as she sipped her afternoon tea. Thereus’s acceptance of Lucian meant more to her than she could ever express. Deep in her heart, she’d gained the knowledge that should she ever be punished for her crimes, Lucian would never again be an orphan.

  Her fingers brushed the cheek Thereus had kissed before she stopped herself and diverted her attention to her guest. The wife of Hector, Thereus’s eldest brother, was visiting. She pasted on the obligatory smile all the while guessing the Lady Delia called upon her to gather gossip. Melita had nothing against her companion, but she hated to be under the scrutiny of others. When she could, she blended into the background. Part of it was her nature, and of course, the other part, her desire to keep her secrets.

  Delia had never met Kalliste, so she was safe on that account. Unfortunately, she also possessed a voracious appetite for gossip—something the Lord of Westgard’s return had no doubt whet. Delia wouldn’t relent until she’d witnessed how the reunited couple interacted.

  Melita bit down on a biscuit. How much longer could she explain her husband’s absence? She didn’t wish to interrupt his time with Lucian. Although, several hours had passed. A quick peek wouldn’t hurt. Besides, if Delia witnessed Melita, or rather Kalliste, and Thereus acting as a courteous couple, she’d be at least satisfied, and she’d have nothing of serious consequence to report.

  “Come, Delia. Do you fancy a stroll? Let me show you a new plant I’ve acquired for our atrium.” With angelic blonde hair and hazel eyes, Delia was undoubtedly a beauty. Did her beauty permeate her su
rface? The Lady was even more frigid than Kalliste had been.

  She offered her companion a tolerant smile before she opened the doors to the atrium and swept her arm for Delia to enter.

  Melita stepped up beside her. A grimace of horror and shock twisted Delia’s features.

  Squealing, Lucian bolted past them, in human form, and nude. She opened her mouth to apologize, but it wasn’t Lucian’s nudity capturing Delia’s attention.

  Shouts of “Avast ye scurvy bilge rat!” and other pyrate speech echoed in the sun-drenched chamber, followed by peals of Lucian’s laughter as Thereus chased his son around.

  Had that been all, she might have been warmed by the scene.

  Instead, she was painfully hot. Her husband was also in human form, and as unclothed as his son. She fought the urge to fan herself as her skin flushed.

  “Magnificent,” she whispered, unable to contain the word. His large, powerful body was composed of hard, lean muscle. Her survey drifted down to the part of him that was utterly male. Heat pulsed into the corresponding area on her body, as she was reminded of that night.

  Just as surely, it also flooded her with the memory, the shame of what she’d done. Her guilt was enough to churn her fiery blood to ice. The passion of the moment and its circumstances were no excuse for her actions. Every day she breathed, she lived with the iron shackle of her shame around her chest. It didn’t matter that what she’d done had been in her nature, as a nymph. It was still wrong. So wrong. She clamped her lips, grateful for the reminder. Her guilt gave her the strength to resist him.

  Melita fought to contain her rising hunger, refusing to admit how deeply he affected her. She would stop drinking him in so greedily. Immediately. This second. She would look away. This instant. Very well, any moment now.

  At last she succeeded in fighting her primal urges, and she loudly cleared her throat. Bold Delia did not remove her leer from Thereus’s form, though he seemed aware of their presence. An unwelcome jealousy flared in Melita because another woman gawked at her husband. How absurd.