“Sweet Zeus. A griffin?” He tossed his head in disbelief. “I thought they were extinct.”
“I wish.” Airla dusted the snow from her cloak and gown. “Nasty creatures.” She scrunched her nose. “They always assume we’re after their stores of gold. Can’t a nymph enjoy the mountainside in peace, without the threat of being torn to shreds?”
Her casual tone loosened his tightly clenched jaw. How could she be so relaxed about these fearsome monsters near her home? “There are more of them? By the gods, why do you come out here?” Fool-headed nymph. She’d get them killed. Make a nice meal for the behemoths.
Airla paused in her dusting and arched one brow. “What else are we supposed to do? Hide away in our caves all day and beg the giants to protect us?” She snorted. “No, thank you. These invisible walls shield us. We can handle a griffin, or even two. If you don’t believe me, watch.”
Oh, he did. He gaped as she crossed through the invisible wall and marched straight to the griffin.
Males. Airla blew out a puff of icy breath into the wind. Then she focused on taming the beast. The one outside, not the one inside. A griffin was far easier to manage than a lustful centaur after his mate.
“Well, that was quite unnecessary.” She advanced to several paces away from the creature and held up one hand, commanding her roots.
From behind her, the other nymphs stepped forward, out of the invisible boundaries, and copied her movements.
The beast backed up, eyeing the snaking roots suspiciously.
“We’re not your meal, griffin. Nor are we after your gold. Now, leave us be, or we’ll trap you here for the next millennium or so.”
The beast lunged forward, squawking once, before flapping its massive wings and, beating them hard enough to cause swirling clouds of snow, ascended to the skies once more.
Airla nodded in satisfaction at her sisters before glancing toward the rock wall. Lycus watched her, those pale blue orbs incandescent with intensity, with possession. Until he gave a pained grimace, gripped his side, and staggered to his knees.
“Lycus!” She raced to his side. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t have to answer. The blood-soaked tatters of his shirt spoke for themselves. “Damn that griffin.” She winced in empathy and ducked beneath his shoulder and helped him to his feet. “Let me take you home and clean those wounds.”
He didn’t protest, hobbling along beside her to their cave. First, she mixed a potion of healing herbs to aid him and coax him to slumber. After he drank, she bade him onto the bed, lying upon his stomach. Since his clothing was already badly torn, she grabbed a dagger and cut off his shirt. Inhaling sharply, she finished slicing through the stitching and peeled off the bloodied strips of cloth. Four inch-wide gashes of almost a foot long each slashed diagonally across his back. The wounds puckered and dribbled fresh blood down his flesh.
She squeezed her eyes and inhaled a steadying breath before focusing on the task. This was going to hurt. The very notion of causing any living being harm made her stomach coil, but this must be done.
Airla strode to the hearth and poured the pot of warm water into a basin, then dipped a cloth inside, wrung it, and pressed it to his wounds.
The ropy muscles of his back and shoulders jerked, but he uttered no sounds.
Brave and strong. Was that because his hearts were cold?
No, she didn’t believe that. Today, he’d been the lad he used to be. Engaging in games with her, teasing and jesting. His deep, rumbling laughter echoed in her ears.
Yet this male before her was so hardened from that lad. If the tales he spoke of regarding Krete were true, this current torment must be nothing new for him.
She padded around him to rinse the cloth once more, but he seized her wrist. “Airla. You’re one damned brave nymph. Thank you. For today. For saving my life. Gods know I don’t deserve,” his eyes shuttered and the drink’s effect took hold as he yawned, mumbling, “you.”
The night passed in a dizzying blur. Lycus attempted to speak, but his words slurred together, and besides, whenever he did, Airla pressed her fingers to his lips and hushed for him to be silent.
“Sleep, Lycus. And you will heal.”
The soft pads of her fingers against his lips tempted his tongue, and he licked her fingers, groaning at her taste, sucking first one, then another into his mouth.
Airla mewled or, at least, he thought she did, before twisting her fingers free. “There’ll be none of that, centaur.” She tsked, but her admonishment did nothing to ease the heavy weight of his cock pressing into the furs. He longed to roll over and request her assistance with that as well, but each time he tried, the searing cuts across his back reminded him of why that was a very bad idea.
He must have whimpered or uttered some other pathetic noise, for she huffed and sank onto the bed beside him, cradling his head into her lap. Her fingers smoothed across his forehead, while a soft tune hummed on her lips. “There now, better?” She paused and shifted as though to move aside, but he shot out his hand and clasped her thigh.
“Nay, don’t leave me.” What a wretched bastard he was. Reduced to pleading for his mate’s comfort.
“It was never my choice to leave you, Lycus.” Her tone hardened a little, but anguish rang in her words, too. “You took everything from us.”
“I didn’t mean to curse the nymphs.” He sighed, defeated by himself.
“I don’t mean the nymphs.”
He forced open his eyes and tilted his face toward her. Those were definitely tears glistening in her eyes. She blinked and one salty drop landed on his lips.
“I loved you.” Her eyes squeezed and a handful more drops fell. “We could have been so much. Yet you never trusted me. Look where that has brought us.”
His mind was fuzzy, her words blending together and echoing, round and round. “Airla, I never stopped loving you. Vow to be mine and we’ll build our future together.” He reached to brush the tears from her cheeks, but she shook her head, away from his hand.
“Pray pardon, but I can’t.” Gently, she lowered his head from her lap, onto the bed, and padded from the room.
Leaving him alone.
Alone. Like he had been for a century.
Mayhap, that was his true destiny.
He stared after her, the heat shared from her body draining from him. Cold. Lonely. Frozen. He was bloody tired of being those things. Not when the opposite was almost within his grasp. If he closed his eyes, he viewed a different future awaiting them. One full of warmth and laughter and light. He only had to prove to her that it was still possible. It would take time to earn her forgiveness. Time and patience, and an iron-clad will.
Because, bloody hell, no. He didn’t wish to be alone anymore.
He wanted to fight.
For her.
Chapter 7
One month later
Airla huffed and peeled the root vegetables for the stew she was cooking. Lycus had gone to the King’s castle. Again. Just as he did each day.
Every day she watched him depart, waiting hours for his return. When he finally did, he winked at her, then prowled through their caves, assisting the nymphs with various labors. Lycus had gathered these vegetables. He’d even shoveled off the skating pond, employing his brawny strength and not his powers—as though that were some sort of testament. As if these tasks were a form of penance. That somehow, he could earn her forgiveness—and her love.
This afternoon was no different. Upon his arrival, he constructed new shelves, carrying the lumber, hammering the wood. He’d tossed off his shirt and his decadently built frame made concentrating on these vegetables impossible. His muscles flexed and gleamed, enticing her nymph nature into a restless state. Her grip tightened so hard on the blade, the hilt made marks on her palm.
Every eve, he gazed into her eyes, as if searching for an answer to his request, and then sighed, kissed her forehead, and retired to his bed.
For a century, she’d guarded her heart. Kept it frozen. Suddenl
y, Lycus appeared and threatened to thaw it. Well, curse him. The fury that had consumed her for a century slowly slipped from her fingertips, melting. But how was she supposed to relinquish a freedom she hadn’t even tasted yet?
Airla chopped the vegetables and dropped them into the pot. She peered into the simmering liquid, stirring it for hours, lost in those bubbles. Finally, it was ready, and she scooped out bowlfuls for her sisters. Around a flaming hearth, they shared their meal, more in silence these days than before Lycus’s arrival.
She guessed what they must be thinking. That she must be mad for not accepting him. He’d made no secret of his bonding to her. Their curious and confused scrutiny irked her to no end. As always, tonight, a gathering flocked around him, murmuring soft praises and ogling his delightful muscles.
Airla scowled into her stew, the food no longer appealing. After setting aside her bowl, she rose and stormed from the cavern, down a long tunnel that led deep into the mountain. A bath in the heated pools would soothe her.
Not even King Zethes welcomed her company anymore. Assuredly, no comfort was to be found with Lycus, either. Unless she surrendered her will to him. Damn them all and this blasted bonding.
After removing her cape and dress, she waded into the soothing waters. From far inside the mountain, these springs flowed, heated by the volcanic depths. It was the warmest place, aside from the giants’ castle, and frequented often by the nymphs. Except tonight, the pond-sized pool in the subterranean cave was unoccupied. Praise the gods. She stepped over the smooth rocks and dove beneath the water’s simmering surface. Slowly, she rose out of the water and the vaporous mist clinging to its surface, spreading her hands across her head to smooth the moisture from her locks.
A clank of rock sounded behind her. She whirled about, only to face him. Lycus. “What are you doing now, spying on me?”
The blast from his arousal fanned through her and the dark possession in his eyes tightened her throat. “I didn’t know you were here. Was going to wash away the day’s exertions.” His stare was almost sharp enough to penetrate the mist. A focus so resolute, he simply stood, frozen.
The reminder of his innocence flashed through her mind. “You’ve never seen a woman nude, have you,” she murmured, lowering her hands and wading through the steam toward him, her bared form on full display. He wasn’t the only one who could taunt and tease with glimpses of his glorious body.
In this game, she was the master.
Lycus gulped at the entrancing sight of Airla, shimmering droplets dancing along her supple curves and vaporous wisps framing her figure. He had no answer for her question, no ability to form one. Those rounded globes with their rosy peaks, he couldn’t peel his eyes from. His palms ached for him to sample them, to treasure her. Swallowing even harder, he traced his perusal lower, across the ample contours of her hips, down to the cleft between her legs. His cock gave a rebellious jolt; a triumphant smirk formed on her lips.
Her fingertips dangled at her sides, but then, slowly, she trailed them across her belly, up along her chest, between those succulent breasts. He yearned so badly to taste her, to caress her, to savor his mate.
To make her feel what she did to him.
Engaging in a war of passions with a nymph hadn’t been his best plan of attack. She was far more skilled in these games.
Airla brushed her finger across her bottom lip, piercing him with the promise of seduction. Firing his insides and turning them into a puddle.
Yet, he was her bonded male, and his touch could melt her, too.
Slowly, Lycus peeled his shirt from his body, shrugging it off and tossing it to the ground. Her eyes grew dark and she ran her tongue across her lips. A quirk in the corner of his mouth, he tugged off his breeches, his full erection springing free. Confident he had her attention, he strolled to the pool and waded, ducking beneath the heated waters. Damn, but they didn’t soothe away this agonizing ache. He kicked to the surface, the water ebbing around his waist, and faced her. She’d grown from the maiden he’d called friend, but that young lass was yet inside her. The compassionate heart and saucy spirit.
Aye, she’d grown stronger, fiercer. She’d survived and proven her will.
Gaining her trust wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. If he’d been aware of her resentment all these years, he would have striven harder to locate and save her.
“You can pretend a great many things, Airla, but I remember everything about you. Your dreams and hopes. The things you want.” He seized a step closer to her. “The things you need.”
Once, she’d permitted him to wrap his arms around her and shield her from the world. Her trust was what he wished to reclaim.
She swept aside her locks and lifted her chin. “You assume I’ve forgotten the same things about you?” Tilting her head, she advanced on him, close enough to trail a finger across his chest, making his skin spark and ignite. “You’re exactly the same. Always presuming you know what’s best for me. That I require your protection. But, Lycus, I’ve survived a century without you. I’ve learned to defend myself. Even if you hadn’t sent me here, I would’ve had to find a way on my own.”
“You think it doesn’t kill me that I did this?” He snatched her hand on his chest and squeezed it. “I know you’re strong. I also know where you’re weak. Believe me, I praise the gods the Hyperboreans found you. That they helped keep you alive. Yet now I’m here and I’m begging for a second chance to be what I should have been.”
She pursed her lips, growing still. The lust drained from him at the indecision in her features. “What exactly do you propose? Even if you could free me, the Minotaurs occupy Krete. Where would you send my grove?”
His inadequacy tightened his chest. A centaur longed to provide for his mate, but where in this world could he send her if not to Krete? The Isle was all he knew. Sighing, he closed his eyes in resignation. “I would have to relinquish you once more, until I could make Krete safe for you.”
She snorted. “I won’t be sent away again, Lycus. If the centaurs are fighting for their homeland, then the Hamadryades will, too.”
He gaped, struck by her declaration. “Nymphs can’t fight.”
Steel flickered in her gaze. “This one can.” Her features softened and she sighed as though in resignation. “Until you can trust in me, you must understand why I will make you no vows. Tonight, all I can offer you is this moment, the same one you’re offering me.” She lowered their hands to her breast and a groan thundered in his throat. Her softness would be his undoing.
Lycus spread his fingers across that firm, delicate weight, never so tempted in his life. He could renounce everything he’d determined to hold on to, just for one touch.
He bent forward and pressed his mouth to hers, and giving in to the sweetest surrender.
A quiver coursed through Airla from the flutter of Lycus’s lips across hers, his large, rough, and warm hand giving her breast a gentle squeeze. His thickness drove into her belly, so rigid and demanding, while his mouth seemed intent on erasing these lost years.
Everything that might have been flashed in the front of her mind. They could have grown up together, awakening to love as youths, dancing on the edges of passion.
The male in front of her was no lad. His kiss wasn’t sweet and uncertain. He was a virile male and his body demanded what it sought.
To devour hers.
His fingers skimmed across her skin, tracing her curves, but no hesitation permeated his actions. This magnetic attraction between them was unlike anything she’d experienced, or dreamed possible, and she never wanted his exploration to stop.
But he did. Of course, he did. A rippling shudder striking the air between them, he jerked back. “Airla, I can’t do this. ’Tis too much to ask of any man, and even more of a centaur.”
Dismay crushed her. “I know.” Head bowed, she waded from the pool and shrugged on her dress.
“I would wait another century, would toil every day to earn your trust once more, but I fear your
grove doesn’t have that long.”
“You think this is about recompense?” She frowned and spun toward him. “That you can restore what was lost through your actions, but you’re wrong. I don’t want the sweat of your labors, Lycus, or your pretty words. I want your trust. If my people can be freed, we are going home.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can’t fathom what evil awaits you there.”
“Perhaps not,” she combed through her wet locks with her fingers, “but it’s still my choice whether to face it.”
“You’re asking me to send the woman I love into fires worse than Hades.” Grimacing, he whipped his head.
“If you truly love me, then, yes,” she murmured, facing away again. “If Zethes’s plan fails, we’ll freeze here anyway.”
“That’s not entirely certain. I know of another way.”
She stilled. “Explain.”
“I must speak with my brother, Rhoetus.” Splashing behind her indicated he quit the pool, too. Then a soft, warm breeze blew across her locks, drying them.
“How?” She angled toward him and forced her admiration off his perfect form. “You said he was in Thessaly.”
“Remember when I told you my siblings have powers over the elements? Rhoetus belongs to the Aether. If I can see the stars, I can communicate with him.”
“That would mean departing this place.” She knit her brows together. “You might never find your way back.”
“That’s why I would like you to come with me.” He pulled on his clothes and extended a hand toward her. “We need only venture beyond these borders, to where the sun sets at night.”
“What about my tree?” Though the boundaries weren’t far, she’d never been even a few miles from her tree.
Air's Mark (Lords of Krete Book 3) Page 5