by Desiree Holt
“Whoa.” He tossed his hands up. “You should be thanking me, nymph. I rescued you from that monster.”
“Rescued me?” She scoffed. “I chose to be his prisoner, you fool. Now, you’ve ruined everything.” Ugh, males. He blocked her path to the window, so she shook her head, stormed through the doorway, and down a set of grand ebony stairs.
“Where are you going, Ekho?” His footsteps thudded as he pursued her. “That is your name, right?”
“Yes, and where do you suppose? Back to the castle to try to mend this disaster.” With any luck, they wouldn’t have noticed her absence yet. She rushed to the bottom of the stairs, but he leapt off the side of the staircase, landing in front of her, and she smacked into his solid chest. Umph!
His steel grip fastened around her upper arms, unyielding despite her attempts to wriggle free.
“Let go of me, you brute!” She blew her breath, swirling the blue mists of her powers into her words, but they sputtered and died on her lips.
Petraeus froze and then blinked, cocking his head. He eased his grasp but didn’t release her.
She squeaked in disbelief and jerked her arm against his iron hold. “You have to obey me.”
“Actually,” he bunched his brows together, “I don’t think that’s true anymore.”
Chapter Three
A triumphant grin tugged at his mouth, but Petraeus smothered it, instead focusing on the emotions playing across Ekho’s face. Frustration and shock, then finally a smoldering fury that brought a delightful flush to her cheeks and a lovely sparkle to her eyes.
“Yes, you do.” She cleared her throat. “Release me.” She parted her lips and blew an iridescent blue mist toward him.
He braced, but once again, didn’t suffer that agitating pull which normally accompanied her demands.
“Well, well. This is rather awkward.” He let loose the smile, relishing his restored freedom.
“It can’t be. This makes no sense.” She squirmed again, her full lips curving in a pout.
He shrugged and swept her over his shoulder, carting her up the stairs.
Her small fists pounded into his back. “You will release me, centaur.”
At her curt tone, his stubborn side rebelled. He’d waited months to take his revenge upon her.
“Fine, have your way.” He veered sharply to the right, into his bathing chambers and, before she could fathom his intentions, tossed her.
Straight into the large pool.
Of frigid waters.
She surfaced, screeching and flailing about like a wet kitten.
He crossed his arms, smirking at this satisfying vengeance, but she continued to flap her arms, gasping and choking.
Bloody hell. He dove into the pool and scooped her, a sodden, stuttering mess, against his chest.
“What kind of nymph can’t swim?” he ground, more ire directed at himself than at her.
“You…you boorish cad,” she chattered, her teeth clacking together while she shivered in his grasp. “Release me at once.”
He arched a brow and strode through the waist-deep pool to the other side, depositing her on the tiled floor and seizing several steps back. “Forgive me, but I assumed all nymphs could swim.”
“Well, you assumed wrong.” Her legs stretched perpendicular to the pool, she smoothed her damp, clinging skirts, which only served to fasten them to her skin even more. “What kind of savage pitches a female into an icy pool?”
He bared his teeth at her. “A centaur.”
She froze and flicked her wet-lashed gaze to him.
Hell, but he wished these waters were colder. She was naught but a slight, slender creature, and gods, he’d enjoyed carting her around, cherishing her lithe body against his much larger one. He’d delighted in exerting some form of domination over her since she’d wielded his reins for so long.
Oh, how he’d love to bend her to his will and make her cry with his requests.
He’d lied to himself earlier. He didn’t want a dozen nymphs in his bed.
He craved only one.
Petraeus stalked forward, closing the distance between them. His horse thrashed inside him, demanding he succumb to that luscious scent and what it meant, but no.
Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he crushed her mouth to his, growling and plundering her mouth with his tongue.
Gods, she was so sweet and compliant.
For once.
A purr hummed in her throat and she tangled her fingers in his locks.
His greedy hands tore at her damp gown, ripping the fabric from her body. Need pounded through him, the ache spreading deep into his ballocks. He didn’t stop until she rested nude before him, her swollen lips bright from his kisses.
“Ekho.” Her name rolled along his tongue while he drank in her beauty. He traced one fingertip across the rosy peak of her breast and closed his palm around her flesh, the lush handful plump in his hand. She was bared to him, but her bent knees concealed her sex. Unacceptable.
She’s mine.
The irrational reasoning thundered in his ears, righteous. After twisting her to face him, he planted both his hands on her knees; she parted them for him, exposing her delicate pink flesh to his admiration.
Petraeus rumbled low in approval, the ache in his shaft no longer avoidable. Shoving down his drenched breeches, the water ebbing around his thighs, he gripped his width, squeezing, unable to deny he would take her. He stepped between her legs and brushed the tip of his cock against her entrance, groaning at his desperation for her. This was more than the pent-up lust of these past celibate months. From the moment she’d first whispered in his ears, he hadn’t been able to claim any other female. Gazing at her now, he didn’t want anyone but her.
A profound impulse formed his urges, but damned if he could rationalize it at this moment.
Grunting, he pressed himself alongside her slickness.
“Is that all you’re offering, centaur?” She undulated her hips forward, rubbing.
“Saucy wench, you can have all of me,” he rolled his hips backward, “if you can handle me.”
“Challenge accepted.” She snared her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her fiery sensuality called to his beastly nature and he flung aside any reasonable thoughts he might have produced.
He dipped his hand between them, the driving instinct to pleasure her overwhelming any of his urges, and stroked his fingers across her bud. Petraeus unleashed his feral instincts, drinking in her airy mewls and quivering shudders. His sultry nymph responded to his every touch, his every kiss, and surrendered to his will.
Must have her.
Must make her mine.
She writhed against his hand, bucking, sharp screams passing her lips. Until, finally, she rested against him, panting and limp.
Resounding satisfaction thrummed in his veins, despite his arousal being neglected. Absently, he scratched at his arm, a stinging burn spreading across his bicep.
With a sensual smile, Ekho closed her hand around his length, reciprocating the pleasuring. He tossed his head back while her fingers slid along his shaft, pumping and fondling, milking his release from him.
Her caress drove his horse to the edge and his hips jerked forward in a sudden, all-consuming spike of bliss. “Uhn,” he ground, releasing every drop of himself onto her stomach.
She quivered in his arms, clutching his shoulders, as another cry escaped her throat.
Slowly, his heaving chest relaxed and the stiffness in his muscles dispersed, thrusting him back into his reasoning mind. He exhaled against her locks, washed his seed off her, and gently pulled away from her, his cock still rigid and demanding, though his body had been sated.
Mayhap Ekho’s potency stretched to her other nymph powers as well.
She draped her body across the floor, her crooked thighs parted for him in offering. He’d be a fool not to accept.
“Don’t tell me you’re finished already, centaur,” her seductive taun
t rustled in his ears.
The itch pricked at his arm again, so he swatted it. A feverish heat spread through his body. He scooped the frigid water in his palms and splashed his face, shaking off the liquid. His dazed mind cleared and he blinked at the beautiful nymph who’d screamed in ecstasy in his arms.
Twice…
Oh, hell. He glanced at his upper left bicep and panic clinched his chest.
He’d been right.
She was sent here to doom him.
* * *
Ekho stretched on the tile floors. Her body had never been so relaxed. Then again, she’d never bedded a centaur before. Strangely, he’d not accepted the offering she’d presented him. What was wrong with Petraeus?
Certainly not shyness or inexperience. He’d ravished her body with unequaled prowess—the most decadent lover she’d ever had.
Oh, well. He’d been a welcome distraction, but that was all.
Now, she must resume her post and follow their plans. Or everything would be ruined.
Humph. She plucked the tatters of her dress. Well, the youngest lord’s rakish reputation would suggest he kept feminine clothes somewhere in his castle. Sighing, she rolled to hop to her feet.
“Where are you going?” A sharp note permeated his question.
“Where do you think?” Huffing, she perched her hand on her hip and twisted toward him. A mistake, for the breathtaking male’s hair and clothes remained disheveled from their pleasuring, the fire in his eyes not yet quenched.
More important things. Don’t be distracted.
“You can’t go back there,” he scoffed. “I rescued you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” She shook her head at him and wandered to the armoire, digging inside for clothing. Aha. She removed a long red gown. “Can I borrow this?”
Suddenly, he was at her side, his large, firm hand closing around hers. “No, you cannot. You’re not leaving.”
“Oh, just watch me.” She tugged her hand free and donned the dress, then spun on her heel.
“Wait.” His footsteps thudded behind her. “You can’t leave because you’re my mate.”
Mate? She drew to a halt and whirled to face him.
Oh, gods, no. The bonding was a union fashioned by the goddess Aphrodite between a male and a female descendant of the gods. A black band would encircle the male’s arm, proclaiming his loyalty to the female, and she would experience pure ecstasy at his touch. Well, that explains a few things.
But mate him? No. Ekho had greater ambitions than becoming the plaything of a possessive centaur.
“Ah, look.” He raked a hand through his damp locks. “I don’t want to be bonded to you.”
She stiffened. “Good. Neither do I wish to be your mate, so we are in agreement.”
He dropped his hand at his side, a scowl knitting his brows. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t wish to be bonded to you and there’s nothing I yearn for more.”
Ugh. She wrinkled her nose. “Well, isn’t that a most romantic proposal. Forgive me for not swooning. The shock of your devotion is too much.” Rolling her eyes, she stormed to the balcony.
“Ekho, you can’t do this.” He folded his arms across his brawny chest. “No, I won’t allow you to return to the dungeon I rescued you from, where you were being held prisoner and being tortured.”
Males. She wrinkled her nose. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not yours to command. We aren’t bonded, nor will we ever be. I absolve you of any commitment between us. Farewell, Petraeus. You were amusing.”
She snapped her fingers and the wind swept through her, whirling her into nothingness and transporting her to her cell inside King Philaeus’s castle.
Precisely where she was supposed to be.
* * *
Petraeus gaped at the empty space where Ekho had stood a moment ago. By Zeus, how had she vanished into the winds?
Panic seized his chest, followed by frustration and resentment. He hadn’t asked to be bonded to any female, and certainly not to one who wouldn’t have him.
Sounds like Hector. His eldest brother suffered that fate and Petraeus had sworn he never would.
Because he’d never bond to anyone.
His body and soul at the whim of a female who could take another? Nay, indeed.
Yet wasn’t that precisely what was happening? He scratched at his arm, at the thin band encircling it beneath his skin. Thereus had thwarted the bonding for years. Mayhap he might offer Petraeus advice?
He snorted. Unlikely. If he so much as uttered a word of this to any of his brothers, they’d cast him out.
At two-and-thirty, he was the youngest of King Cheiron’s five sons. He was nothing but the black mark in their family. Had always been.
He’d been but a young lad when their mother, Queen Atalante, had passed tragically. Everyone had been so consumed by their grief that he’d been handed from one nursemaid to another, more of a burden than a member of their clan.
His father and Hector were too busy ruling their Kingdom. Oreius had been brooding and surly long before his mate had passed, and the loss hadn’t improved his temper. Agrius and Thereus were close, leaving Petraeus as the odd man out.
His horse urged him to follow after Ekho, to rescue her again, but then what? He’d committed a grievous offense, slaking his lust on his unclaimed mate. The gods would punish him for it.
He marched to the cabinet and seized a bottle of rum, then strode to the hearth and stood before the flames. Bracing his arms on the mantle, he bowed his head in resignation while he downed the contents of the bottle. The liquor burned through his veins.
Aye, this would work. He’d stamp out the impulses of his horse and soon enough, he’d forget the fiery nymph who’d tormented him for months.
Chapter Four
Four weeks later
Petraeus licked his dry lips, peeling one eye open. The bottle in his right hand was empty, and his body was too heavy to heft to find more. Damn.
A feminine laugh chimed on the breeze.
Hmm? He groaned and rubbed his face. For a second, he’d imagined he’d heard her voice.
Ekho.
These past weeks, he’d done everything in his power to forget her sweet whisper. To forget her. Numbing his person and his mind against the searing ache that relentlessly flamed through his body. He inhaled and puffed out his breath, rolling onto his back.
“Aye, I’ll wake him,” a masculine voice resounded off the wall to his right.
“Who’s there?” Petraeus grumbled, lifting his head and twisting his neck to peer around. Alder. “Oh, it’s you. Who were you talking to? I thought I heard a female.”
“No one, and I’m glad to see you too, mate.” The impish satyr seized a handful of apples from the bowl on the long table and, perching on the edge, juggled them. “You’re a sorry sight, though, I must say.”
“And you are never a welcome sight.” He winced at the thudding pangs in his head. “Leave me be and don’t make me regret offering you a bed.”
Two decades ago, he’d come across the orphaned satyr wandering the woods on his lands. The scrawny lad had been cast out of both his nymph mother’s fold and his father’s satyr clan. Unwanted and broken, he’d been easy bait for ruffians. Petraeus had insisted at once that Alder become his houseguest. Two lads of the same age, they’d caused as much mischief as they’d stumbled into. Usually, Alder’s presence lightened his mood. But not since Ekho.
Alder caught the last apple in the air and took a large bite. “You could always go after her.” No hiding the encounter with Ekho from his best—and most meddlesome—friend.
“Or I could stuff that apple down your throat.” Petraeus slumped his head back onto the floor. “Aye, that would grant me greater pleasure.”
Alder crossed his burly, furred legs and scratched his head. His curly, ruddy locks and fair skin hadn’t changed since childhood, but he’d sprouted as tall as a centaur, and though his frame had filled out with the muscle of one too, he re
mained that spindly lad.
A weight dropped onto Petraeus’s chest—an apple.
“You have to eat something other than your sorrows.” Keen russet eyes squinted at him. “I owe you everything, Petraeus. Just know that.” Alder patted his shoulder and snatched another apple from the table before strolling from the chamber.
Petraeus blinked, gawking after him. What had caused his friend to express such sentimentality?
A pity he hadn’t reciprocated. He glanced to the apple. Aye, Alder was the best friend he’d ever had. Mayhap the satyr was right. Ought I to go after her?
A cool breeze swept across his chamber. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
Free Deimos.
He froze at the whisper in his mind. Was this the lyssa claiming him at last, driving him to madness?
His cock stirred, and he raised his head to frown at it. That piece of his anatomy had hung limp and useless since her departure. Why the bloody hell did it rise now?
A sudden chill iced his spine and a violent shudder tremored through him. The whisper echoed through his mind and he shot straight to sit.
Sweet gods, that was her. He wasn’t mad or imagining things.
She’d ignored him for weeks. What did she seek now? Another request. Well, he bloody wasn’t going to…
Nay. His legs hopped to stand and dragged him to the door, obeying the persuasion without his permission. He stumbled through the doorway and down the staircase, his muscles stiff from lack of use. The nymph’s request pulsed through his veins. He performed the morphos into centaur form and galloped straight for Great Meteoron.
His brothers had gathered at their father’s castle to discuss the situation regarding Oreius’s new mate. The evil being named Deimos had kept her prisoner and abused the grief-healing powers of her well.
Petraeus had ignored the summons, just as he’d dismissed the invitation to his brother Agrius’s wedding last month. He simply wasn’t in the mood to be surrounded by merry bonded couples. Well, so much for his wishes. There’d be no avoiding his brothers and their mates today.