Water's Mark - Cancer

by Rachael Slate

  The shadowy crab crawled forth, into Balius’s castle. “Now, where are you, scum? Time to collect what I am owed.”

  Theron whipped his head. Owed? What did the fiend mean? And where was Balius? Surely, he ought to be present, gloating. Drained, he struggled to his feet and followed the crab. At least he might gaze at his brother’s face when Loimos executed him. Cyane’s death—and the deaths of his people—would be avenged.

  The right way, this time.

  Empty halls echoed their footfalls. No guards. No men, women, or children. Where in Hades was everyone? They ascended a spiraling staircase to the top of a tower. Balius’s chambers. Therein, on the enormous bed, lay his brother, pale and unmoving.

  But not dead. His chest rose and fell, rattling breaths strained.

  Theron had come here with the intent to infect Balius, but could his brother already be dying? The crab scuttled to Balius’s bedside, bracing one pincer. “I’ve come to collect, Balius.”

  “Do it,” Balius wheezed. “You’ve already taken everything else from me. Death will be a mercy.”

  Theron clenched his fists and stormed to the bed. “Mercy is the last thing you deserve.” Hatred and pity warred within him. His entire life, he’d admired his brother. Viewing him so weak and helpless, it should have sated his vengeance.

  Yet, the wet cloth containing Cyane rested damp against his chest. Wasn’t this what she would have wished for? The punishment of her killer? Nay, his heart whispered. Cyane was a nymph and above such ruthless emotions. She would have healed Balius, regardless.

  She was better than I am.

  The crab cast a sly glance at Theron. “Mayhap your brother should have the honor.”

  Theron’s chest tightened. This was what he’d waited years for. The only thing which had gotten him through such trying times.

  But this was no longer what he craved.

  Balius slid his scrutiny to Theron and his dull blue eyes widened. “Brother?” he rasped. “Is that you?”

  Theron inclined his head at the frail figure. This was not his enemy, but he did still have the chance to fight the one who was.

  He wound his arm, his armored claw forming around his hand, and slung it straight into the crab’s jaw.

  The scourge crashed backward, slamming into the wall.

  Theron was ready, lunging across the bed to swipe his claws at the creature again. He snared one of the creature’s eight legs and wrenched it off. The beast howled and Theron struck again, snatching Loimos’s flailing claw in his mighty pincer. They battled, the crab flinging his claw from side to side, attempting to loosen Theron’s grasp.

  He grabbed hold with every ounce of his strength, but the massive fiend flipped him onto his back—the most vulnerable position for a Karkinos. His legs flailed, and he arched his spine, desperately struggling to flip back over.

  The crab managed to pin his claws to the ground, scuttling atop him, and now, Theron stared into the face of death.

  Cyane floated through carefree waters, further and further away from the pain and agony she’d suffered. As a Pegaeae, she could glide to the spring on Mount Ida and rejoin those sacred springs, never to be mortal again.

  Tempted, she sighed, surrendering.

  But then, a male’s cry shattered in her ears, breaking the peaceful silence.

  Theron. He remained in the mortal realm and he needed her.

  How had he broken through the pestilence? Did it matter? If she didn’t return and aid him, he’d succumb to it once more.

  Her heart would never allow that. She couldn’t relinquish the one tie she had to this realm. The one thing she would risk even her immortal soul for.

  His love.

  Cyane hastened into corporeality, her waters condensing and spilling forth from a pocket. Odd. She slithered across a tiled floor, examining the scene forming above her. An enormous shadowy crab pinned an equally massive glowing blue crab beneath him. Loimos and Theron.

  The black crab’s grip was iron-tight as he released his jaw, opening his mouth to spew an inky breath toward Theron.

  No!

  She streamed forward, between Theron and the dark mist, into a shield around Theron.

  An armor of water.

  Loimos reared, and Theron squeezed out from beneath him. She slipped off his body and poured herself into her human form beside him.

  “Cyane?” Disbelief and hope rushed through his tone.

  She yearned to embrace him, but the crab stared them down, and they nodded at each other. “Let’s end this, together.”

  Theron offered her his giant pincer and she slid her hand onto it, squeezing. They both glowered at the menacing crab, who scuttled sideways and back, assessing.

  “You can’t have him, Loimos. I told you, he’s mine.” Cyane molded a flaming bolt in her hands, preparing to defeat this pestilence once and for all. “Leave my people alone.”

  The declaration of possession spread through her, solidifying her determination. This was her home. These people were her family.

  Theron was her mate.

  Never could she abandon them. Indeed, she’d fight to the death to save them.

  As she braced her bolt to strike, a spear pierced through the middle of the crab, and he shrieked, staggering backward to crash onto the floor.

  Cyane gawked from the crab to behind him. Balius brandished the other end of the spear.

  “Thank you for your aid,” Balius panted, “but Loimos was my demon to kill.”

  Theron strode to the crab, whose body was collapsing upon itself, shrinking into the nothingness from whence it had been spawned. As the last inky tendril vanished, he lifted his gaze to Balius, one fist clenched.

  Cyane wedged between the brothers. “Whatever your feud, you must both realize it began and ended with Loimos.” She jerked her chin toward the empty space on the floor where the crab had dissolved.

  Then she stepped aside while the two stubborn males glared and danced sideways about each other. This issue was one they had to resolve themselves.

  She prayed they’d choose the right course this time.

  Theron inhaled through his nose, attempting to steady the rage pouring through his veins. With the pestilence gone, he should have experienced relief, but all he viewed was his brother’s duplicitous face.

  The memory of that moment of utter betrayal flooded his vision.

  Instead, he studied Cyane, purest love shining in her beaming expression, and he discarded his rage. Theron crushed her into his embrace. “I feared I’d lost you.”

  She tilted her chin to peer at him. “You almost did, but I couldn’t part from you.”

  “I will be forever grateful you didn’t. That you didn’t renounce your faith in me.”

  “We could all use a little redemption every now and then.” She squeezed his hand and twisted toward Balius. “Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t deserve Theron’s forgiveness, lass. He is right to seek my death.”

  Theron scoured the male’s features, searching for any hint of deception. “Death would be a mercy, did you not say?”

  “Aye, it would. But first, allow me to explain?”

  Theron dipped his head and Balius heaved a sigh. “On one of my long journeys, the disease lured me. It began as a whisper. A pestilence in my ear, uttering professions I knew to be false. Yet, my pride overruled my reason. Once I beheld its perfect destruction, a scheme formed in my mind.”

  “Against your own people, your own blood?” Theron grated.

  “Against myself.” Balius lowered his head. “I have no excuse, but there is a reason behind my actions. Hemera.”

  Talos’s wife.

  “She was mine,” Balius ground. “Promised to me by the elders, yet suddenly, on the day she molted, the elders changed their mind and handed her to Talos. Hemera consented, abandoning our love. I was to stand by as my female was claimed by another. By one whom I should have been able to trust. The betrayal festered in my heart.”

  “Tal
os would have relinquished his claim, if you had but asked.”

  Balius raised a hand. “I did ask, the elders. They refused, and so Hemera was stripped from me and bore my brother’s child instead of mine.” Grief welled in his tone. “I couldn’t stay, so I escaped, sailing across oceans to forget them both. It was then that the disease drew me to it.”

  “Aye.” Theron scratched his jaw. “That bloody Loimos had a persuasive manner.”

  Balius fisted his hands. “I yearned to destroy them, to erase their traitorous scheming. Before I fathomed what I was doing, I’d surrendered to the blackness and it had consumed me. After, I was no longer in control. My thirst for vengeance cost me my soul. I’m only glad it hasn’t taken yours, too.”

  His brother regarded him with deep regret in his frown, and Theron’s righteous anger eased a little. “Where is Hemera?”

  “Gone.” Balius tossed his head. “I took her with me, when she begged to remain with her husband and son. So anguished was she, that she beseeched the blackness to consume her, and it did.”

  Poor Hemera, and poor Talos and Keyx. How wrong they’d been about her.

  Cyane placed a gentle hand on Theron’s arm. “He has suffered enough.”

  “Aye.” Balius pressed forward, brandishing a sword. Theron leapt in front of Cyane, shoving her behind him, but Balius flipped the sword, hilt facing Theron. “Take your revenge. I’ve long been awaiting it.”

  Balius kneeled before Theron, sword braced above his head in supplication.

  A tremor raced through his right arm, half-begging him to accept the sword, yet his mate’s calming presence behind him demanded more.

  He had to be worthy of her.

  “Nay.” Theron swept aside the sword. “I won’t execute you. My thirst for vengeance is fulfilled. My soul is at peace. I pray yours will find the same.”

  Cyane circled around him and offered Balius her hand. “Your people will forgive you if you share the truth with them. You can earn back their trust. That is your path to redemption.”

  Balius’s shoulders shook, a sob cracking his voice. “I don’t know how.”

  “We’ll be there to guide you.” Cyane knelt before him, clasping his hands in hers. “Your destiny lies yet before you. Your people have need of you, and I have need of your people.”

  Theron watched his mate offer forgiveness to his brother, and his heart warmed. He was a fortunate male indeed, to have such a benevolent female by his side.

  She would steer him onto the right path.

  The path they forged together.

  “Where are the rest of your people, Balius?” Cyane murmured. The pain and suffering this male had experienced were sufficient punishment. Now, the only healing he required was through compassion.

  “They’re… they’re…” He bunched his brows together, blankness masking his features. “What did I do?” Balius scratched his head, furrowing his brow. “After the blackness consumed Hemera, it demanded them as well, but I refused. Oh, aye. I concealed them.” He leapt to his feet and rushed through the corridor.

  Cyane and Theron dashed to follow him, through winding tunnels, until they halted in the archway of a luminous cavern. Inside, dozens of watery caskets rested, like the shimmery walls that concealed the fortress.

  “They’re gone?” Theron treaded forward.

  Cyane pressed her hand to one liquid case. “No, they’re sleeping.” She glanced from the casket to Balius. “You saved them.” Even in the haze of his vengeance, he’d protected those closest to him. Surely, that counted for something.

  “Can you open them?” Balius cocked his head at the cases. “I cast a spell so I couldn’t.”

  “I’ll try.” Cyane focused her palm on the case next to her. Closing her eyes, she encountered the enchantment, and with a deep pulse of her powers, she released the clasp locking it.

  The glass waters splashed down around a slumbering female, who sputtered and blinked as she awakened. “Lord Balius?” she panted, regarding her leader.

  “Agnete.” Balius rushed to her side and crumpled to his knees before her. “Forgive me.”

  “Shh, of course I do.” She embraced him, tears spilling across her cheeks.

  Cyane smiled at Theron, who bowed his head, with mists pooling in his eyes. Lightened, she glided from case to case, releasing every last one of Balius’s people. Buzzings of thanks and exclamations of forgiveness resounded across the cavern.

  After she opened the last watery casket, Theron scooped her into his arms. “Our work is done.”

  She tilted her face to his. “Our future together is only beginning.”

  “Aye, what did you mean when you said you have need of our people?”

  She curved her lips mischievously and trailed a teasing finger downward across his chest. “What would you like to know?”

  He nipped at her finger. “Everything.”

  “Well,” she hummed. “You, my love, are in possession of a vast army. I’m soon to be Lady of an enormous territory. My brothers might presume they’re the only ones who can plot and scheme, but I’ve taken on a mission of my own. I don’t ever wish to leave your side, and you can’t abandon your people. There’s no reason why we can’t have both.”

  “Join our two worlds together.” A quirk curved his lips. “Why, you clever minx.”

  “Your people are nomadic. I hope a sea voyage isn’t beyond their capabilities.”

  “Indeed, it is not. We would gladly fight for your cause, my love. Fear not, we’ll earn our place on your lands.”

  “Although,” she intoned, “if I were to return with a mate of my own, one might say those lands would belong to him as well.” She inched her mouth close to his. “And the cause we would be fighting for, is our own.”

  “Well,” he hoisted her in his arms. “Then there’s just one last thing to do.”

  “Oh, and what is that?”

  He cast her a devastating grin that curled straight to her toes. “Make you mine.”

  Chapter 10

  After a couple of days, Theron’s band of warriors transported him and Cyane home. Balius promised to join them shortly. Well, home for only a short while longer.

  Soon, they’d have a new home. He cared not how many Minotaurs he had to fight. He’d reclaim her lands—their lands—and brave this new world together.

  Talos had been the first person he’d sought upon his return. His brother rested across a shallow tide pool from him, reclining with his head against a boulder.

  Theron grinned at Talos. “Tell me again, how did you ever convince that hard-shelled Elissa you should be the lucky male to breed her?”

  Talos snorted. “Not all of us need shackle women to persuade them to have us.”

  “Ooooh.” Theron clutched his chest, pretending to be offended, but he couldn’t help chuckling. Never would he have paired Talos with Elissa, but the two seemed happy together. On the other side of the tide pools, Elissa clasped Keyx’s hand, her other pressed to her belly. The breeding had been a success, and soon, Keyx would have a new sibling.

  A new family.

  Just as I will. Theron wiped his hands on his breeches, anxiety coursing through him. Not fear or trepidation, but extreme excitement pulsed in his veins. He couldn’t wait to claim Cyane as his mate.

  This time, there wouldn’t be any darkness between them.

  When he’d informed Talos of the truth behind Balius’s betrayal, they’d grieved together. It should never have come to such, that two brothers would be divided because of their instincts to mate with the same female. Theron vowed to search through the ancient scrolls and interrogate the elders, to determine exactly how such a travesty had been permitted to occur.

  First, he’d ensure none doubted Cyane’s heart belonged to him.

  “Best of luck.” Talos leapt to his feet and clapped Theron on the shoulder, squeezing. “You’re going to need it with her. That nymph will never allow you to be anything but the best of yourself.”

  He rubbed his
hands together. “I’m counting on it.”

  “Off you go, then.” Talos dipped his head in encouragement.

  Theron grinned and headed toward the Mating Pools. A narrow, smooth-walled passageway led to the most sacred pools, reserved only for fortifying the bonding between mates. And for the breeding.

  No one who performed the mating ritual therein would be able to renege on their vows to their sworn mate. Theron had no intention of ever doing so. He was a most fortunate Karkinos indeed, to have earned the love of Cyane.

  Rolling his shoulders, he marched proudly through the tunnel, toward the gleaming blue glow at the other end. A series of shimmering pools awaited them, and to secure their bond, they’d have to pass the tests in each one.

  The Mating Pools were a trial of the male’s prowess, and his worth of his chosen female.

  As he entered the first cavern, Cyane emerged from the opposite tunnel. She wore naught but a gossamer gown of blue silk, which revealed far more than it concealed.

  Sweet gods. His length thickened and strained against his breeches. This was going to be one bloody amazing night.

  He shrugged off the heavy robe he wore, baring himself—and his keen erection—for his mate’s approval.

  Her perusal roamed across him, and she bit her lip, edging forward. They met in the center of an ankle-deep pool. He curled his fingers beneath her chin and tipped her face to his. The luminous waters in this enchanted cavern didn’t compare to the iridescent glow in her depths. She was dazzling, in every way. “I’m the luckiest bastard to ever have trod upon this path.”

  She pressed a hand to his bare chest, “Well, let’s see if you pass first.”

  Saucy wench. Her teasing tone shot jolts of lust straight through his cock. Groaning, he bent to claim her lips, parting them and stroking his tongue against hers. He slanted his mouth lower, across the supple skin of her neck, and fisted her gown in his grasp. The thin, wispy fabric tore easily in his hands, fluttering around her feet. He sank to his knees, kissing a path downward, and clutching her luscious body in his arms.