Breath of Fire

by Amanda Bouchet

  He looks up. Warm steam replaces his even hotter tongue, licking over me. Storm-gray eyes glitter from under thick lashes, clumped and spiky from condensation. His face is flushed with heat, and damp hair sticks to the sweat on his temples.

  “Turn.” One word, the command so deep and sexy that my stomach flutters wildly.

  I don’t even consider disobeying. I turn, and Griffin grips my waist, his large hands nearly circling it. He feathers kisses over the small of my back, and I shiver, goose bumps flaring on my skin. Then he bites one rounded side of my bottom hard enough to make me squeal.

  He licks where he bit. “Brace yourself against the rock.”

  Catching my lower lip between my teeth, I do as Griffin asks. My hands touch the warm, moist boulder.

  He rises and sweeps my hair aside, kissing my shoulder and then my neck. His hands splay over my ribs, and my breasts grow heavy, aching for his touch. Griffin leaves his hands maddeningly still on my sides, not sliding them up. Desire and heady tension gather inside me again, coiling deep in my belly. I push backward with my hips, needing to feel him.

  Griffin presses back with a low, masculine sound that sets my whole body alight. “Spread your legs,” he rumbles in my ear.

  I widen my stance, and he drags my hips back. He leans over me, his fingers pressing into my sides. “You are my heartbeat and my every breath.”

  I exhale, the air leaving my lungs with a soft whoosh.

  Griffin wraps one arm around my waist, lifting a little, and uses his other hand to position himself. He enters me with one long, slow stroke. Then he surrounds me, holding me against him with one arm and bracing his weight against the rock with the other, his hand right next to mine.

  My head falls back against his shoulder. I turn my face, he turns his, and our lips meet.

  He moves slowly, his rhythm far from steady but heartbreakingly intense. The rawness of his lovemaking overwhelms me, just like everything his great, trembling body is telling me along with the pounding thump of his heart against my back.

  “Do you remember the first time I told you that you were mine?” Griffin asks.

  I drag my cheek over his jaw, drinking in his ragged breaths. His slow, deep thrusts leave my head spinning. “You forbade me to die.” His declaration terrified me. Secretly thrilled me. Maybe even made me feel safe for the first time in my life even though I’d just been shot.

  Griffin’s much larger hand curls over mine on the boulder, lacing our fingers. “It wasn’t about the vow I bargained out of you, forcing you to stay with me.” He lets me take back my weight, and his now free hand slides up my abdomen to cup my breast. He teases my nipple with the tip of his callused thumb. When he pinches the pebbled peak, giving it a wicked little tug, sensation erupts inside of me.

  He starts to move faster, turning our joining harder. His skin slaps mine in the damp heat, the sound incredibly erotic. He dips his head and presses his lips to that spot below my ear that always turns me into a hot, jumbled mess. “I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were meant for me. That I was never letting you go.”

  I flex my fingers under his, grasping for balance as my heart pounds and my whole world tilts. “That makes one of us,” I gasp out.

  Griffin rocks into me hard, pushing me up to my toes. My heavy heartbeat thuds between my legs.

  “You knew, too,” he rasps in my ear. “You knew the second our gazes locked across the crowded fair. Your chest rose. Your lips parted. Your green eyes shimmered like emeralds, and they were all I could see.”

  I envision myself through Griffin’s eyes—flushed, nervous, excited. Maybe some part of me did know that night, and then I denied it for weeks, refusing that instant, visceral spark.

  “You were full of spirit and daring, and you made me laugh. I loved you from our first conversation. I yearned for you to love me back.”

  I want to answer, to tell him that I’ve loved him for far longer than either of us knew, but I’m too caught up in the feel of him moving inside me. His confession and his body drive me toward a shattering release. Pressure builds until I can scarcely breathe. I moan, and Griffin shudders behind me.

  His hand squeezes mine on the rock. He thrusts into me and roughly tugs my nipple again. Pleasure blazes through me. The assault on my senses is too powerful. Gasping, I slam my free hand against the boulder and then cry out when the spasms rock me.

  Griffin’s guttural groan and the tightening of his muscles around me send a wash of heat down my spine. He clutches me hard through his own climax, and I want to give and give and give to him until I almost cry with the need.

  Still trembling in his arms, unraveled, I realize there is something I can give him, something he needs. “I swear to you I’ll be more careful. In dangerous situations, I won’t take unnecessary risks.” Magic jolts in my veins, binding the vow into my blood and my bones. Now I’d better remember it.

  “Cat.” Griffin drops his face into the curve of my neck. Both his arms circle my waist. “My wife.”

  A giddy, nervous sort of elation bubbles up through me. “Not yet.” I try to turn in his arms, find my legs useless, and simply drop. Griffin catches me and then picks me up. I lean my head on his shoulder. Now that the danger has passed, adrenaline has been absorbed, and desire has been thoroughly slaked, it’s hitting me—the nearly dying and then healing process. It’ll take its usual toll, and for the next few days, all I’ll be able to do is eat, sleep, and watch Titos digest the Hydra.

  “Soon,” Griffin vows.

  I feel his promise, too, and smile as he walks us both out into deeper water.

  CHAPTER 23

  Ipotane are beautiful. Who would have guessed?

  The entire herd is stunning—powerful, arresting, with fluid, predatory movements and a volatile edge that makes them utterly impossible to ignore. No wonder there are so many Wood Nymphs hanging around. Scantily clothed, if dressed at all, the female creatures vie for the attention of the male warrior beasts. I can hardly blame them, especially since the female Ipotane don’t seem to care. Even I feel more than just common curiosity toward the strikingly handsome males escorting us into the heart of Ipotane territory, and I have no interest in discovering the intricacies of interspecies contact.

  My mouth still goes dry at the sight of the Ipotane Alpha. Only a blind or severely deranged person wouldn’t admire Lycheron’s sculpted torso, thick, corded arms, and fearsomely handsome visage. There’s even something devastating about his sleek horse body, jet-black and muscled for war. Not even the equine ears poking out of his waist-length ebony hair detract from the raw beauty of his masculine face and form. His chest is a work of chiseled art. It’s hard to take my eyes off it, not only because it’s jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but because there’s a huge, hoof-shaped scar imprinted into his left pectoral.

  I resist the urge to fan myself, hoping my sudden spike in body temperature is due to the hot springs and steaming fountains peppering the sultry Ipotane vale and not to the blatantly sensual creature giving me a more-than-thorough once-over.

  Lycheron saunters over, leaving behind two pouting Dryads. The Nymphs shoot dirty looks in our direction, particularly at me. I glare back. I’m so good at making friends.

  “Hand over your weapons.” Lycheron’s command rolls out of him like a rumble of thunder, deep and threatening.

  “You have us surrounded,” Griffin answers coolly. “Isn’t that enough?”

  I have to hold back my smirk. With a few words, Griffin challenges the other Alpha male’s ego just enough to leave us with our weapons but not provoke an attack. I knew I was marrying this man for a reason.

  Lycheron doesn’t like being outmaneuvered. His lips draw back in a snarl, and he rears, pawing the air.

  My eyes drop—and widen. “Good Gods, look at the size of his—”

  Flynn elbows me in the ribs, and I choke back my word
s. But it’s huge. Huge!

  Lycheron’s hooves hit the ground again. He tosses his long black mane of hair over his shoulder, and then his eyes land on me. They’re not a frightening color, or glowing, or horrible at all. Mother had no idea what she was talking about, and it maddens me to no end that I let her scare me half to death with her stories. Lycheron’s eyes are a warm honey-brown, almost tawny in color, and rimmed with the longest, thickest, darkest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a man.

  Horse.

  Whatever.

  “If my guards let you into the valley, you must be bearing a gift for me.” His slow perusal of my person from the top of my head to the tips of my toes sets off a series of nervous explosions in my belly. “She is acceptable.”

  Acceptable? Acceptable!

  Griffin steps in front of me. Flynn boxes me in on my right, and Carver gets so close to my left that our arms brush. Lycheron’s eyes narrow at the muscular wall of no standing between him and me.

  Kato steps forward, lifting the golden fleece from his shoulders. He tosses it to the Ipotane Alpha.

  Lycheron catches the treasure and then turns it over in his hands, his fingers sliding admiringly over the springy wool. A slow smile spreads across his face.

  “Artemis gave this up?” His chuckle is low, pleased, and genuine, and Gods help me, awareness ripples through me, puddling in every place it shouldn’t. “I’ve long coveted the fleece. Rumor has it the archer brought it from Attica centuries ago, before the people there eschewed the Gods and magic collapsed in their world.”

  My ears perk up. A world without magic? It’s hard to imagine.

  Lycheron throws the fleece over his broad back, leaving his magnificent, scarred man-chest completely naked. The bright gold garment on his glossy black coat is eye-catching, to say the least. “Did you steal this from the Goddess?”

  Kato shakes his head. “Artemis gave it to me of her own free will.”

  The Ipotane Alpha arches ebony eyebrows, saying without irony, “You must have pleased her greatly, then.”

  Kato’s expression doesn’t change, but a flood of color hits his cheekbones.

  “Why are you here?” Lycheron asks.

  “I am Alpha Sinta,” Griffin announces, officially usurping Egeria. “I need you and your herd to guard the Sintan border while I seize the Tarvan throne.”

  There’s a beat of surprised silence. Then Lycheron throws back his head and laughs. His laughter goes on long enough for a muscle near Griffin’s eye to tighten ominously.

  “The Power Bid already?” Lycheron keeps laughing. “Petty humans asking me to get involved in their petty wars.”

  Having already moved up next to Griffin again, I cross my arms and glare. “Petty humans don’t make it this far onto the Ice Plains bearing a Goddess’s gift.”

  Lycheron leans in and sniffs me. It’s unsettling. He cocks his head. “Magoi. Strong. But still human, girl.”

  Girl? My eyes narrow. I open my mouth.

  Griffin’s hand circles my wrist, squeezing. “I propose a challenge.”

  Interest flickers in the Ipotane Alpha’s eyes. “What sort of challenge?”

  “A battle of wits,” Griffin answers. We talked about this, preferring brains to brawn since we all figured Lycheron would be bigger than Griffin, which he is. “Answer my riddle correctly, and we’ll leave. Answer it wrong, and you and your herd will protect Sinta until my task in Tarva is complete.”

  Lycheron doesn’t answer straightaway, and nerves start hopping inside me like living things. Finally, he says, “I accept your challenge if it’s a best of three, and I’ll name the tasks. To begin with, it will be my riddle that you answer without any help from your companions.”

  A shadow flits across Griffin’s face. This time, I think we’re being outmaneuvered. “And the other two?” he asks stiffly.

  Lycheron smirks. “I’ll name them as they come. I only anticipate needing the first two.”

  “If I win, you’ll come to Sinta?”

  “If you best me, I will protect your insignificant border for no longer than six months.” Lycheron’s bored tone tells us how likely he thinks that is to happen. “If I best you, you must pay a forfeit.”

  “What type of forfeit?” Griffin asks warily. The Chaos Wizard warned us that a bargain must be struck. I guess this is it.

  “You’ll give the Magoi girl to me.”

  I stop breathing, my insides contracting hard.

  Griffin refuses flatly.

  Lycheron’s mouth lifts in a small but confident smile. “Are you really in a position to say no?”

  “I am,” Griffin bites out. “And I refuse. Categorically.”

  Lycheron’s smile fades into a flat, penetrating stare, focused entirely on me. “Her scent intrigues me.”

  Well, that’s just disturbing. I lay my hand on Griffin’s arm and shrug almost apologetically. “I swore I’d stay with him. Magoi blood… Binding vows… What a pain.” Literally.

  “He can undo it,” Lycheron says.

  “Never,” Griffin growls.

  Lycheron doesn’t look amused. At all. His lip curls slightly, and then his shrewd gaze slides over Kato’s tattoo. “Then I’ll take his snake.”

  Kato rubs his neck, frowning. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “The snake is gone.”

  Lycheron stamps a hoof in irritation. “If you have nothing to offer me, then the bargain is off.”

  “Fine,” Griffin snaps, “as the challenge you’re proposing in no way resembles my original offer.”

  Lycheron scoffs. “No girl. No Drakon. I have nothing to gain. Only the fleece on my back is keeping me from crushing you where you stand.” He leers at me. Winks. “Except for you, matakia mou.”

  My little eyes? I’ll show him eyes—the evil kind. I glare. Too bad we didn’t keep the golden lyre. We could have offered it up for the bargain. I’d have happily thrown it at him if I could lift it.

  “Are you on friendly terms with the Hydra?” I ask.

  Lycheron’s ocher eyes spark with rage and take on a sudden, luminous quality. “The Hydra ate two of my Nymphs last week on our migration. It mistook them for human women.”

  I guess that’s a no. “If we lose, we’ll kill the Hydra for you.”

  Lycheron snorts, clearly skeptical, but then his eyes gleam with interest again. “How did you get past the Hydra?” he asks suspiciously.

  “Very quietly,” I answer in the same bored tone the Ipotane Alpha used earlier.

  “Do we have a deal?” Griffin asks quickly.

  Something like reserve clouds Lycheron’s expression for the first time. Is he suddenly seeing more to us than he did before?

  Nevertheless, he nods once. Bargain struck.

  * * *

  “I run but never walk. I have a mouth but never talk. I have a head but never weep. I have a bed but never sleep.”

  As soon as Lycheron says his riddle, my mind goes completely blank. It’s the strangest thing. I can’t think of anything. All I can do is stare at Griffin, holding my breath and hoping his brain is still functioning, because mine isn’t.

  Luckily for us, and Sinta, and likely all of Thalyria, our minds don’t work anything alike.

  “A river,” Griffin answers almost immediately.

  Lycheron swishes his tail, a low rumble resonating in his throat. He demands they arm wrestle for the second challenge, unsportingly assuring himself a win. Griffin’s defeat isn’t immediate, but it doesn’t take long.

  Griffin ducks his dark head toward mine, cursing softly under his breath. “Flynn’s the only one who’s ever beaten me.”

  “That was like you arm wrestling me. It was hardly fair.”

  His mouth a flat line, he shakes out his arm. It must be aching.

  For the third challenge, Lycheron wants to summon Artemis, pay
homage, thank her for the golden fleece, and ask her to set the final task. Not only do I not want the Goddess, undoubtedly followed by the archer, anywhere near Kato, or Griffin, or any of us for that matter, but… “There’s a reason people don’t just casually summon Gods!”

  Lycheron shrugs his massive shoulders. The human ones. Well, male anyway. Entirely, hugely, beautifully male.

  “‘Call a God, lose a soul,’” I quote. “Sound familiar?”

  Lycheron’s eyes meet mine with new interest, and I shiver. His previous interest was already more than enough.

  I turn my back on the disturbingly virile Ipotane Alpha and gather my group. “Even the most powerful Magoi don’t use those spells. The scrolls holding those chants were hidden centuries ago because even Hoi Polloi can do them, but they were almost never educated about the consequences. It’s not actually magic, it’s just words. But string the words together, and you get a death trap. People finally understood how dangerous it was and locked the knowledge away. Gods always take someone as payment for being summoned. They come, but they never leave alone. It’s risky, treacherous stuff.”

  Lycheron chuckles behind me, and I stiffen, hating the visceral impact the sound has on my body. Warmth washes up my back. My nape prickles.

  “The Magoi female is right. But we’re on the Ice Plains, matakia mou. Different place, different rules.”

  I spin around, treating the Ipotane Alpha to my death stare. “What does that mean? Different place, different rules?”

  Lycheron eyes me like a bug. A bug he’s seriously considering dragging off to his horse den, but still a bug. “I live in the shadow of Olympus. I am not some human dabbling in matters I don’t understand.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  His ears flatten tetchily. “You doubt my skill? I am a creature created by the Gods.”