Earth Borne

by Rachael Slate

  Melita often found herself staring at the pair of them, wondering, what if… What if her dark centaur Lord had never gone away? Even better, what if her sister had asked her to change places before their wedding? Then she would have been his.

  Instead, she watched others living their lives, happy and in love. Oh, but she wasn’t blind. She wasn’t the only sad soul in the world. Oreius, Cheiron, and even Hector and the other brothers shared her misery. They were missing what Agrius and Eione had.

  Today was different. Today, as she sat across from her friend, sipping her tea, Melita was an equal. Indeed, she had as equal a chance at happiness as Eione did. Yes, her situation with Thereus was complicated. At least it wasn’t finished. The Fates had not yet woven the conclusion of her story, and mayhap it would end happily.

  “You must tell me. What of your husband?” Eione’s smile sparkled.

  “Well, he’s returned.” Melita hid her sly grin behind her teacup as she took a sip.

  Sharp eyes narrowed back at her. Eione was ready to play her game.

  A laugh bubbled on her lips. “Oh, Eione. It’s so perplexing.” She peered out the window and down into the gardens where the boys were playing. “Yet sometimes, I sense it’s all very simple.”

  “It certainly appears so, from the way he kissed you.” Eione tapped a finger against her lips and smirked. “Do you still love him?”

  The maiden had proven such a confidante, Melita had told her nearly everything. Her smile washed away, a footprint in the sand smothered by the lapping waves of her fears.

  “Are you afraid he’ll leave again?”

  Eione’s question was straightforward, yet she possessed no answer. Was she afraid? In some ways, Thereus leaving was the perfect solution. If she ignored the beating of her heart.

  Could she trust him? He left once. In truth, he’d used and discarded her, treated her as though she hadn’t even existed. No matter how hard she dismissed it, making excuses for him, her heart ached.

  They’d been so close to making love, yet she’d never let it go that far. A part of her, deep inside, didn’t trust him with her body. He must have sensed her reluctance, because he’d pulled back as well. A sign of his sincerity? A man who planned on leaving wouldn’t take the time to court her.

  Melita sighed. “Your question is more formidable than it seems.”

  “Indeed.” Eione smiled wistfully. “If it’s any consolation, once he’s bonded to you, you won’t have to worry anymore.” Her smile grew. She leaned in and whispered, “Believe you me, Aphrodite is a clever goddess. There’s nothing like a bonded male.”

  Melita laughed as she brushed off her friend’s words. “I place no faith in the bonding.”

  “It’s real, Kalliste. From what Agrius has told me, your husband is going to ask you to perform the ceremony with him soon.”

  She arched her brows. “Well if he is, he has not spoken of it to me. The only happily bonded couple I’ve seen is you and Agrius. The two of you are simply blessed by the gods to have found someone you can love with such devotion.” She shrugged and stared off into the distance.

  “Oh no, I can tell what you’re thinking.” Her friend leaned in closer. “Hmm. How easy my mating to Agrius has been. Well, I regret to rip you from such an illusion, but easy isn’t part of love.”

  “Whatever do you mean? He adores you.”

  “Yes, well, that doesn’t mean our path hasn’t been difficult. Would you like to hear the story of how we met?” She eased back.

  “You’ve never offered before.”

  “You’re right.” Her fingers wrapped around her teacup. “I never told you because it makes me sad.”

  “Sad?”

  “Yes, sad, because of my family. You see, how I met Agrius, well. I ah, I shot him.”

  “You shot him!” Melita jolted out of her seat.

  Eione laughed and waved at her to sit. “Yes. I was out hunting and mistook him for a stag. Fortunately for him my arrow only pierced his hide.”

  Melita gasped at the violence of her friend’s story, but Eione chuckled. “There I was, with a dead, well, nearly dead centaur at my feet.” She shook her head. “My father hates their race, but I refused to leave him. Thankfully, he was semi-conscious and I demanded he turn human. Then I dragged all eighteen stones of him to one of my childhood play-caves.”

  “What happened when he awoke?”

  “We fought—mostly about him being a trespasser on my father’s lands. He was so brooding yet passionate, well, how could I not fall in love with him?” She smiled playfully. “The Lapith-Centaur War destroyed my family. We lost lands, wealth, true, but that happened a long time ago.” She scoffed. “We were content, though the hatred in my family never diminished. If any of them found Agrius, they’d kill him. Without question. I had to choose between them. I chose Agrius, and we stole away.”

  “Is that why you haven’t married him yet?” she prodded.

  “Yes. I write them, my family. I write letters, hoping one day they’ll forgive me. I want to marry him, I do. I long for both halves of my family.” Tears misted in her violet eyes.

  “I’m sure they’ll approve eventually.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. Such familial love had to be stronger than ancient hatred.

  Delia glided into the room. The time for private confidence expired. The woman’s immediate grimace of disapproval over their lack of composure was like a pot of cold water thrown onto a hot fire. It left everyone choking on the smoke.

  Thereus rubbed his temples. Exhaustion claimed his mind. While his limbs burst with robust energy, a haze obscured his clarity. All he wished for was to find Kalliste and hold her. To savor her soft curves in his arms, her sweet scent in his nose.

  He would be denied a while longer. In their human forms, he and his brothers reclined around a long oak table, his father Cheiron at the head. They’d been debating this war for hours, and hadn’t yet reached a consensus.

  From Agrius’s constant stares, he guessed his brother wished to speak of other matters. Damn it, he was sick of talking, of explaining himself. Yet Agrius was the sole person who’d kept silent during the interrogation about Kalliste. His questions would be the hardest to answer. Of everyone, he’d hurt Agrius the most. Faking his death was quite possibly the most foolish scheme anyone had ever conceived.

  Only now did he perceive its full ramifications. His brothers, though they loved him, did not trust him. They were unwilling to rush into a war with him and some unheard-of army.

  “Why should we involve ourselves in a clear dispute amongst the gods?” Hector’s baritone rumbled through the room. “Surely, Hades and Persephone have appealed her banishment for millennia.”

  “Aye.” Oreius pounded his fist on the table. “Why must centaur blood be shed? ’Tisn’t a matter of who will win, but how many will die.”

  Thereus advocated for the devil, as he argued for Hades. “It’s not a question of whether they’ll start a war, my brothers. ’Tis whose side we’ll be on when it begins.”

  Hades and Persephone weren’t the sole gods forming an army. Though, being gods, they were bloody silent on the details—something about a rematch of Troy. Who they would be fighting was the question of the day. Rumors whispered of the sun god Apollo heading the opposing army. This made no sense, since Apollo had fought on the side of love during the Trojan War. However, if Zeus sided with Hades, and the god of the Underworld failed… One might overthrow the Supreme Ruler—Zeus—himself.

  Murmurs shuffled through the room. Whether of agreement or dissension, he wasn’t sure.

  “Too much uncertainty beclouds this for us to pledge our loyalty. No one speaks of when this war will take place.” Hector folded his hands on top of the table. Had his decision been made?

  “Aye. The gods count time differently from us. We might train an army of soldiers, only to watch them age and die centuries later, without ever having been called upon.” Oreius snorted, seeming to side with Hector. Damn, another one lost. “
To take those men from their families and fields without a damn good reason is unfeasible.” How would Thereus convince them when he possessed no valid argument for their concerns?

  Cheiron remained silent during the entire discussion, which wasn’t unusual. His sire would weigh everyone’s opinions and make, as always, a wise decision. His father knew Gaven and Nazrin. Even though they were the sons of the frivolous wind god Zephyrus, their hearts were pure.

  Thereus dropped his weary head into his hands and grunted a response as everyone headed to the dining hall for the evening meal.

  He scowled. It was evening, and he’d missed Lucian, who would soon be asleep. He’d barely spent any time with his son today. What a pathetic father he was turning out to be. In the future, no matter how busy, he’d make time for Lucian. He’d missed his son’s first four years, he’d be damned if he would squander any more.

  The urge to behold his mate shot through him again and he bolted to his feet. Thereus flashed to centaur form and wound through the halls to join the others.

  Divided amongst three long tables, the dining hall crowded with dozens of centaurs, Lapiths, and numerous other descendant species. The fireplaces on either end were ablaze, casting warmth into the otherwise sterile alabaster room. The far wall displayed his father’s table, where his brothers dined with their mates and children. The tables overflowed with roasted meats, succulent and dripping with fat. Demeter’s gifts adorned them—loaves of bread, platters of vegetables and fruits. Enough ale, mead, and wine graced the tables to make even Dionysus intoxicated. He smiled. Too much time had passed since he’d attended a centaur feast.

  The exhaustion swept from his mind the instant he spotted Kalliste. She was radiant, in a gown of indigo, her long hair loose about her shoulders. He grinned as he caught her gaze, flashing her a wicked wink. Striding to Lucian first, he patted his son’s head while the lad spoke animatedly with his cousins. The boy would not miss his company this eve.

  At Kalliste’s side, he sniffed the air and caught a nervous tension seeping through her pores. Sweeping her hand in his, he reclined on the multi-hued cushions, his centaur form so enormous the table reached his middle as surely as his human form did when he sat on a chair.

  Kalliste’s focus darted around the room. She was doing this for him, was here for him. He bent, intending to give her cheek a soft kiss. Once he inhaled her scent, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. She was far too luscious.

  The people in the hall vanished from his vision, leaving his sweet nymph and him in their own world. He clenched his jaw, fighting not to kiss her.

  Instead, he nuzzled her neck, her rapid pulse encouraging his own. Her breasts rose and fell, and he was damn near undone. Had he been in human form, he’d be so hard he wouldn’t be able to hide his erection.

  “Eat, my Lord.” She waved to the plate in front of him. Food held no appeal for him at this moment. Only she sated his appetite.

  “Everyone is watching us,” she murmured against his cheek.

  “I don’t care. I’m not hungry, Melita, not for food. I need you.” She shivered under his words. Proof she felt the same.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered into her ear.

  “For what?”

  “This.” He shot to his feet and tossed his mate over his shoulder, ignoring her exclamations and the gapes of shock on everyone’s faces. Like the savage centaur he was, he strode out of the hall with his pyrate’s booty.

  Several of his brethren hollered and applauded, causing a satisfied grin to tug at his lips.

  He shifted her slight weight to his arms and carried her up the stairs to his chamber. Safely locked inside, he set her on the floor. The horse and human inside him were at war. His animal half saw nothing wrong with what he’d done. His civilized side struggled to muster an explanation for her.

  He steadied her teetering feet and met her gaze. Damn the human, his animal craved her. Now. He didn’t stop to contemplate whether her face was flushed from embarrassment or from having been carried upside down as his lips ravished her.

  His bonding mark burned, a throbbing that pulsed through his entire body. “I’m so sorry.” He pressed stolen kisses along her silken flesh.

  “No, you’re not.” She laughed.

  “Aye, you’re right. I’m not.” He nipped at her rosy lips, but she placed her hands on his chest and peered at him.

  “I need you,” he begged. He was bloody pleading. Had he not been in such misery, he would’ve howled at how ridiculous he’d become. At how low the mighty lustful centaur had fallen. At how weak she’d made him. Was it like this for every bonding male? He hadn’t ever appreciated how agonizing the process was.

  “I know.” She smiled and her touch upon his cheek was utterly tender. Her fingers dragged downward, tracing the muscles of his chest. It took everything in him to remain still. Was she accepting him? He didn’t dare—

  “Take me, Thereus.”

  He growled, flashed to human form, and held her against the wall. His lips were everywhere, tasting her, savoring every inch yet devouring all of her at the same time.

  His heart thundered, a steady pounding in his ears. How yielding, how sweet his nymph—he wrenched his lips from hers and cursed. Of course, that was it. She was a nymph. She couldn’t refuse.

  What the hell was he thinking, anyway? Mating without the bond? For a centaur, such behavior was vulgar. Dishonorable. A centaur’s mate was to be cherished.

  Claiming females was part of their nature, yet when it came to mates, there were rules. Unspoken codes. They weren’t to be treated the same as the wenches they took.

  His entire body shook from the tremors of his hunger as he forced his hands to unclench the fabric of her skirts. To release her.

  No matter how badly he ached for her, he refused to claim her without the bond. She deserved the best of him. He’d vowed as much and refused to break his oath.

  “No, Kalliste. I can’t do this, yet. We must discuss something first.”

  Though her lips were delectably plump from his kisses, he tore his attention from them to peer into those mahogany pools. Pain clouded their beauty, and instantly, he regretted this whole situation. Did she conclude he was rejecting her? How could he explain he was actually trying to accept her—completely?

  Even more, what right did he have to ask her to join with him when she didn’t love him yet? She needed more time. He might not have any to offer her.

  “Sweetling.” Glancing aside, he shook his head, unable to speak with her like this, when his lust overpowered his sanity. What was the best method for broaching the subject with her? Never in his life had anything terrified him more.

  She frowned and he hated seeing confusion in her eyes. Hated that he’d put it there. He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I must speak with you.” He ran his hand through his hair as he shot her an apologetic grimace. “Well, let’s face it, I’m a bloody mess.”

  She raised a brow, the corner of her mouth curving. “Indeed?”

  Saucy wench. “Give me an hour?” Gods, he hated how desperate he sounded.

  “Of course.” Her hands trembled as she straightened her dress, betraying her light tone.

  “Will you meet me in the atrium?” A public place, so he wouldn’t be tempted to take the coward’s way out and ravish her.

  “An hour.” She tilted her head and glided away.

  He sank onto the bed. With deep, steady breaths, he managed to calm his horse. Muttering, he rehearsed his speech. His arm burned, reminding him he was running out of time. The lyssa was becoming harder and harder to fend off.

  He wasn’t worthy of bonding with her if she didn’t love him. Yet he might not have a choice.

  Damn. It wasn’t merely him craving her affection. He was bloody terrified of becoming like Hector. Of bonding to a female who felt nothing for him.

  At the very least, tonight he had to explain the bonding to her. She had a right to know what was coming.
He prayed if she didn’t desire him, she would refuse. Her rejection would kill him, of course. Better to suffer now, when he might have a chance at freedom, than be bound to her forever.

  With heavy footsteps, he trudged to the gardens. As his hand stretched to open the wooden door, out marched his brother Petraeus. A glint in his eye immediately set Thereus at unease.

  “Brother.” Petraeus nodded once and strutted past him.

  As he did so, Thereus caught a scent on him. A sweet honey scent belonging to him. His horse roared as he snatched his brother’s arm and wheeled him about. Grabbing him by the collar, he glared, nose to nose, his senses confirming Kalliste’s scent. His growling eliminated his use for speech. The other centaur understood his meaning.

  No repentance shadowed the insolence in the bastard’s smirk. Petraeus brushed off his arms. “Tastes like honey, doesn’t she?”

  Blood-dark fury colored Thereus’s vision. “What the hell does that mean?” It was more of a threat than a question.

  “It means, brother, you’re not the only one who’s begun a new life. I’ve made an offer to Kalliste, which I’m confident she’ll accept, as soon as your marriage is over.”

  An ancient darkness inside of Thereus seized control, a force not even his horse was capable of mastering. It wasn’t jealousy or hatred compelling him. A far more dangerous compulsion churned within. Much closer to madness.

  “Mine, she’s mine!” Snarling, he lunged to tear out the centaur’s throat. All he saw and smelled was blood, before the darkness claimed him.

  “Ugh.” Melita wiped her mouth on her sleeve and shuddered. I should have seen this coming. She’d been waiting in the atrium for Thereus when Petraeus accosted her. He hadn’t been forceful, only very determined. Though he likely hadn’t intended his kiss to be unpleasant, it was.