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. Th
ey’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.
Staring at the ground beside him, he steadied his trembling fists. He was Lucian’s sire; therefore, he possessed the rights to his son. No matter what, that was truth. The Prince would not seize his son, regardless of any agreement his wife had made. His heart pounded, as though screaming to be heard. She would do no such thing.
Fire burned in his vision as he lowered his glare once again to rest on the scoundrel.
“You will not touch my son.” Authority echoed in his voice, surprising even himself with how like his father he sounded. This time the bastard had the decency to cower a little.
The Portal behind him shimmered, revealing Kalliste’s form. Thereus caught the glint of his dangerous grin reflecting back at him. “Ah, there is my dear wife, come to set you straight.” He shifted his attention off Philaeus to rest on Kalliste. Her face grew as pale as ice. Instantly, he regretted this meeting, the pain it must be causing her.
Her brother, however, peered past her, at the Portal.
Thereus opened his arms and waited for his mate to claim shelter within his embrace.
Very slightly, Kalliste shook her head. He puffed at the odd behavior both siblings exhibited.
Philaeus spun on his heel. “Well, where is she?”
“As you see her,” he grumbled, sweeping his hand toward Kalliste.
A sharp and evil menace flashed in his eyes. “Oh no, don’t tell me…” He snickered. “You mean to tell me this whore is your wife?” He pointed in disgust at Kalliste.
“Of course she’s my wife.” She grew paler by the second. Damn. Why wouldn’t she come to him? He cursed and stormed past the Prince. She must be in too much shock. Her gentle nature possessed no defense against such cruelty.
Philaeus’s words in his ears stilled his steps. “Pray tell, where is my sister, Kalliste?”
The pieces snapped together. The inkling he’d once had, though subdued, rose again. Could it be? Had she deceived him? Was this creature before him not his wife?
“I-I don’t know.” He stumbled out the words, his pride deflated. Those tender moments, the secret thoughts he hadn’t shared with anyone else, were they lies? He blinked at his wife. “Kalliste?” he pleaded. Gods, don’t let it be true.
She shook her head ever so slightly. “No.”
“Do not concern yourself, Thereus.” Philaeus closed the distance between him and the false Kalliste. “She’s an expert seductress.” His smirk of even, white teeth gleamed with menace. “After all, I trained her myself. Didn’t I, my lovely Melita?”
“Did you miss me, wench?” He swaggered to her, cupped her chin, and wrenched her toward him, planting a vile kiss upon her lips. Instead of fighting his kiss, the woman stood still until he pulled away, scoffing. “See? Nothing but a harlot who would mate with any man,” he eyed Thereus, “Or beast.”
Thereus’s horse reared, but his human half absorbed the betrayal, the deception. His legs froze. She’s not Kalliste. She’d deceived him of her true identity, and who knew what else? Did she even care for him?
“Well, hmm? Where is my sister, whore?” Still gripping her chin. Philaeus thumbed the lips he’d assaulted. She didn’t answer him, so he raised his other hand to strike her.
A growl arose from Thereus’s throat, his horse rising to her defense despite the broken faith of the man deceived.
Philaeus glowered at Thereus and dropped his hand. “Never mind, I shall uncover the truth.”
Before Thereus blinked twice, the Prince’s men seized the woman, who didn’t struggle as they hauled her through the Portal, Philaeus retreating with them.
His head reeling from these revelations, Thereus sank to the ground. The Portal shimmered and they were gone, bringing him for the first time in his life to his knees, gasping for air.
What the hell was going on? Thereus shoved his hands through his hair, staring at the Portal. The woman hadn’t even struggled.
She’s a nymph… Could she have even defended herself? She did with the wolves. Aye, because his love had given her the strength. In this moment, he’d not been strong for her. His horse screamed at him to rescue his mate. Melita. He let out a hysterical laugh as he grasped the absurdity of her true name.
His bruised ego was equally stubborn. He remained where he was and tried, unsuccessfully, not to consider what happened. His horse stomped its hooves across his pride, rearing and demanding him to storm through the Portal after her.
Hooves clanked to his right. He glimpsed Alkippe’s strained face. She snarled at him and slapped him hard across his right cheek. Then his left. She raised her hand to strike him again.
This time he’d recovered enough to grab her arm. “What in Hades are you doing, Alkippe?”
“Well, someone had to knock sense into you, Thereus.” Not
since he’d been a lad had she spoken to him thus.
“Mind your place, housekeeper.”
“I am,” she snarled back. “I’m trying to keep this house together. This family together. Why aren’t you?” The accusation in her tone cut through him.
“She betrayed me. Lied to me.” He scowled at the marble tiles on the floor. “I don’t even know who she is.”
She softened. “Aye, you do, milord. She’s your mate. That’s all you need to know. That evil man could be doing anything to her.”
“Mayhap she deserves it.” He snorted, instantly regretting the words. Her brother wasn’t hurting her, was he? Melita, if such was her true name, had probably been scheming with her brother this entire time.
Argh! He was so bloody confused, he simply shook his head at her. The centauress would confess everything. “Would you care to explain to me what the bloody hell happened?” Either she’d talk, or he’d toss her in the dungeon.
“Thereus,” she employed her tone for admonishing children, “Melita is Kalliste’s half-sister. After you left, Kalliste died in childbirth to Lucian. The child needed a mother, so I, yes, I convinced Melita to take her place.”
Kalliste was dead? He scrubbed his hands across his face.
Alkippe patted his arm. “Someone had to rule this castle, or goodness knows what would have happened to us. Melita didn’t seek to deceive anyone. She’s always loved you. Her affection was not false. If you allow your ego to rule your heart in this, there is the true betrayal.”
“Why did I never meet her? Where did she come from?” This was all so bloody confusing.
“She arrived with Kalliste and employed a cloaking enchantment to conceal herself, until… Well, until by accident, you caught the scent of her one eve. Recall that, milord?” She raised her brows. “The maiden you claimed in the stairwell? The one you discarded right before you abandoned us? That was Melita.”
He cringed beneath Alkippe’s harsh words. Although he’d had an inkling of the same conclusion, to hear it aloud struck him with the truth. He rubbed at his bonding mark, cinching around his bicep, its grip tightening with each agonizing breath his lungs drew in. “Melita.” Her name burned in his throat, a liquid fire forged from his sins.
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